Yesterday I read a blog post about narcissistic personality disorder. I read how a survivor of narcissistic personality disorder can easily show signs of post traumatic stress disorder. They can become depressed, aggressive, anxious, paranoid, lose their sense of self-worth…And my sister definitely exhibits every trait of a narcissistic personality disorder.
You know, I’ve been searching for a label for what I am, even though I’m afraid of every label you can name. I want something definable, a term I can write down for anyone to look up on the internet and see all the symptoms so they can say ‘oh! that explains it’. Maybe I just want something to blame, or to keep the blame three feet away from me. I really don’t know anymore. I feel like I don’t even know me.
Part of my scholastic background includes psychology. No, I’m no expert. Yes, I know a few things. I know, for instance, that a psychological disorder can mask itself as something else. For instance, PTSD from a narcissistic personality disorder abuse survivor could look an awful lot like bipolar. It could look an awful lot like me. So is that my problem? Or am I also bipolar? Or just depressed? Or some other label that as soon as a professional slaps it on me I’ll have heart palpitations and an anxiety attack?
I want and don’t want a label. I’m fine with labeling myself, but I’m scared of being labelled by a doctor. Silly, isn’t it? Yet there it is. My second counseling session was cancelled recently, and I’m as ambivalent about that as I am about a label for myself (Great, I didn’t have to get into ALL THAT yet. Oh no! How long am I going to have to sit on this?).
If I could do one thing for myself this morning, it would be to fine tune my emotions so I could only experience one at a time. There are blissful moments when I get that….and yes, this morning, even my deep depression seems a little blissful in comparison because it was just down, down, down without anything conflicting that. It’s the jumble I hate. The back and forth, seeing both sides, unable to make a firm decision even about the way I fucking FEEL that I hate. I’m sitting here typing this out as fast as my RA fingers can handle it and almost rocking back and forth at the same time because I just can’t stop can’t stop can’t stop.
You know, I wouldn’t describe myself as depressed right now, but I’ve got so much sorrow inside me I’m almost in tears. And I don’t even know what it’s about. Listening to music – even happy music – makes me cry because I love music and it can be so beautiful. Watching films or shows I like on tv makes me cry every time a tear jerking scene comes up….even non tear jerking scenes. Bloody anything can set me off right now into a crying jag and I don’t even feel depressed and I don’t know why I feel this way.
I’ve got 2 hours to pull it together. Have an appointment with my rheumatologist today, so I’m forced to go out into public. I wouldn’t choose to do that today. I’d prefer to hole up in my apartment for the afternoon, then maybe sneak out after 6 for a walk under the trees. But I can’t. I’ve got to go to fucking HOSPITAL to see my specialist (one thing I don’t care much for about the health system here. Wish I could go to a private office – less people would see me). At least there’s a blazing sun out so no one will question my sunglasses. I wear sunglasses a lot to hide my face on days like today. Because I’ll tear up and start to cry just about everywhere, and trust me, it freaks people out. The sunglasses hide the tearing up, and give me a chance to take a few deep breaths, look away to wipe the tears that are starting to fall, and pretend that I’m ok.
I’m not ok. I don’t know what I am anymore. My usual thing would be to clam up right now, stop communicating. I get confused into silence. But I’m trying to do things differently, to think outside the box my head is so obviously in. So I’m going to keep blogging. This may get ugly; I don’t know what’s going to come out and a lot of it might be nonsense. I’m also going to tell my brother what’s going on. He’s the only person who really cares, and I owe it to him to let him know what’s going on and that I may be in a downward spiral. I don’t know. I’m just jumbled up.