Friday, June 09, 2006

Truthtelling in Therapy

I feel so ashamed and guilty about how I behave. While I believe absolute honesty in therapy is extremely important to, (and maybe the cornerstone of), successful therapy, I still hold back and find it hard to explain the bad things I do to myself.

I am going to try right here and right now to get some of those things out, then if I can't bring them up in therapy today I will show this to Dr. X.

For a couple weeks now I have been having increasingly intense and anxious suicidal ideation. I have been feeling so depressed, but also anxious to the point of panic, and irritable to the point of rage. In these rages I have been hitting my head-hard with my fists...A couple weeks ago I flew into a rage when my husband was 1.25 hrs late for dinner. Right before he came home I started hitting and kicking the wall so violently I had huge bruises on my elbows. I felt totally out of control with anger over such a stupid thing.

I feel like my brain is going to explode. I want my brain to stop. It will not just keeps ruminating on all the negative things...flying from one bad feeling, incident, potential incident, to another.

I spent hours on Saturday counting medications I have hoarded (Epival 18500mg, Zopiclone 300mg, Gabapentin 7500mg reading about suicide online, looking up ways to commit suicide, thinking about how I could do it without hurting my family, trying to figure out where to do it. Yesterday I spent hours trying to find out if I would die from an epival overdose. I tried again today, but could not find the dose needed, only the blood levels...but I don't know how that works so not very helpful.

As my anxiety increases throughout the day I have these obsessive visualizations of stabbing myself in the chest with a really big knife. Over and over and over again, until (in my imagination) the tightness in my chest goes away, my whole upper body deflates and becomes relaxed again.

I started an Art Class (drawing) the other day and my anxiety was so acute I could barely breathe and started to have an anxiety attack where I almost had to leave the room I was so anxious. I started shaking (my hands and legs) and I could hear my vice quaking when I spoke...I just shut down and couldn't even think when I was being asked all I wanted to do was get out of was so brutal. Every night I have this intense sense of rage and irritability going on inside me...there is so much energy behind it I feel like I'm going to blow up...and I do start spewing negative and angry words out towards my husband. I feel like I can't control the gets worse as the night goes on, the t.v, or the sound of my husband chewing his food, or my cat's meowing make me feel explosive.

I want to tell my pdoc, but I feel so childish and immature, unbalanced, unworthy, embarrassed, that I have these thoughts, that I behave this way, that I treat others this way, that I have been deceptive (by hoarding medications)...especially the zopiclone, because I keep asking for more.

I am using the new zopiclone I get...(though it is not helping me sleep anymore). I keep asking for more instead of using the stuff I have hoarded from months I can save my stashed sleeping I have a way out or a means of relief if I cannot take it anymore. On Saturday I even thought I should just take 10 or 20 zopiclone....just to get some rest and some relief...not to die, but to calm down and let go.

In my last post I spoke of fearing abandonment by my pdoc. At the time he asked me if I had had thoughts of abandoning him. I took it to mean was I thinking of leaving therapy. Given how suicidal I felt last Saturday ,now that I think about it it maybe he meant "leaving" in permanently, as in suicide. I do talk to him sometimes about my suicidal thoughts, but I sense an uncomfortable avoidance of the topic when I bring it up, so I've been trying to let it go and not talk so much about it.

I recognize the counterproductivity of having all these medications around. They seem to entice me to use them. If they were gone I would have no reason to obsess about whether they would help me die or not, or whether they would relax me or not...they simply would not be here, so I could not use them.

I am going to print this off and try to talk honestly and openly with Dr. X about this. I will bring these meds to my session and if I feel safe I will give them to him.

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