My session with Aisha yesterday lasted less than a minute – I told her I didn’t want to talk, and hung up. I feel very distant from everyone right now. Not angry or upset, but distant. I couldn’t even tolerate being in a room with one of them at the moment. I just want to be alone.
After I hung up, I lay down, curled up and started crying. But then I got curious about which part of me was crying. I closed my eyes, turned my attention inward, and saw a toddler, shiny with tears and snot and saliva, red-faced and wail-screaming. I picked her up, and she banged her head against my collarbone, hard.
I held her, rocking her a little, and she kept crashing against me, but didn’t struggle to get down. She calmed down, gradually, a little, and so did I.
During my lunch break, my GP texted me to ask what was going on, and said that Anna was trying to reach out to her, but that she didn’t want to talk to her until she’d discussed it with me first, and could I please call her? It was the perfect thing to say, and I’m so grateful to her – I feel like even if everyone else is sitting around discussing me, at least Serena has my back. That I’m her priority, not going along with whatever Anna says.
But I still didn’t want to talk to her. I texted her back to let her know I was on strike but okay, and I was cancelling my appointment for tomorrow but I’d see her when she got back from her holiday. She called, then texted to let me know that she’d been calling around and found a psychotherapist who could see me the next day, and a psychiatrist who could see me next week.
I felt an intense stab of pain when she said maybe it was time to get me on the waiting list for a new psychologist. My mind immediately leapt to the assumption that Anna had said she was giving up and she wasn’t going to see me anymore – even though I haven’t decided what I’m going to do and whether I’m going to go back to her yet, the thought that maybe the choice is out of my hands is devastating.
Last night the crisis team from the hospital called me – Anna or Serena must have referred me on to them. I didn’t answer, so they called again today, and texted, then came around to my apartment, but thankfully the intercom is broken so they couldn’t get in. I know I should be mature and reasonable and just talk to them so people stop worrying, but I still don’t want to speak. They’re going to keep coming back until I do.
It sucks that everybody else gets to have boundaries, but I don’t.