I was broken and they stepped on the pieces instead of trying to mend me.

I've had a few good days now, living like there are no problems at all.

But today I run into it again.

I had an appointment with my psychologist L and psychiatric nurse H. I have met them both a few times now. Todays appointment was to find out what kind of measures/goals we should work towards.

It was difficult. And it really made me miss K and U. It's so hard to have to get to know them and have them get to know me. I had someone that already knew me better than anyone and it is going to take a long time getting anywhere near what I had.

And that make me so sad. I'm really broken. I can resemble this with grieving for someone close to you that have died. But that a loss you're allowed to grieve over. I know I'm allowed to grieve over "losing" them, but they are still out there. I have their private phone numbers and email addresses, but I'm not allowed to take contact. Ever.

I feel lost. I feel alone.

And I do not want to hear people try to encourage me by telling me things most likely will get better. I know that, theoretically. It does not help hearing that!

So I feel I can't talk about what is hurting the most. I don't want any positivism pushed in my face. I need to be allowed to hurt. To cry. To not be logical and reasonable. I stopping myself because I'm to fragile to have you belittling my emotions by being "positive" or telling me that I shouldn't be ruminating on those sad thoughts.

I had to push my thoughts away. Tread water to stay afloat. Pretend that everything is going to be okay. Surrender and accept that things will never be the same. I'm alone and I can't expect to get what I need from the system. Most of you shoved me that very clearly when I was inpatient.

I will never be admitted to any ward ever again. It has been too traumatic an experience for me. I'm maybe more sensitive than most people, but I am worse in so many of my thoughts about things than before because of how I was heard, but ignored. How I was met with rules and staff with blindfold on that are not able to see the person only follows what they have always done and believes are the correct way to get better no matter what personality, experiences or mental illness you have. How I wasn't seen at all. How I was handed pills when I cried and was in emotional pain instead of warmth and care. How I got pushed way too soon. I hated it. If it hadn't been some people working there that saw me and was able to make me feel a little bit better and other patients that I could talk to and share things with, I would not have survived being inpatient this time.

I know this might sound very negative, but that's how I see it.

I was broken and they stepped on the pieces instead of trying to mend me. They just shoved them into a bucket and tossed me and the bucket out when the date they had decided was the proper time for me to go home came. No trying to mend a few of the pieces. "Don't look at the pieces and they will appear not broken"? 
That's not how it works and you of all people really should be aware of that.

If I'm left to myself trying to look at the pieces and try to mend them, they will most likely only break into even smaller pieces. And it hurt too much. But I don't trust you anymore. I don't feel that I can turn to you anymore. You betrayed me. You let me believe that you wanted to help when you only meant that you would keep me alive, but not give me room to process any thoughts or emotions about what have brought me to be there in the first place. 
You gave me not much but more wounds and errors to how I see of myself and the people around me. You made me lose my faith in that you care. I can't trust you anymore. You gave me medication when I needed compassion. You made it impossible for me to tell you the truth in the end. I was (and am) sure that if I had told you how I really was doing, you would only think that I was trying to stay longer. So I had to push it all away. Lock it down. Grit my teeth and try to keep my nose over the muddy water I am trying to stay afloat in. I'm drowning, but it looks like I'm learning to swim.

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Paint me Black

Paint me Black

40, Re

Woman with AvPd (avoidant personality disorder), social phobia, ADHD and depression.

I'm honest and don't hide anything here but mine and others identity.

I'm a mom to two teenagers.

I have weekly individual therapy with a psychologist and I have meetings weekly with a psychiatric nurse.

My wishes is to be able to manage life without braking apart at every little bump in the road.

I want to live, but not like this for the rest of my life. That's why I am trying to do something about it.