The Fallout

The part before an appointment I dread is horrible. But the part after is worse.

Where most people fit into safe/not safe to talk to, in the weird system in my head, my psychiatrist falls under ‘very unsafe’. I did “good” in that I spoke, I tried my best to convey my realities & answer questions. I even admitted the extent of my social phobia, bc he asked direct questions. But this is causing so much unrest, noise, pain in my head.

I can’t stop playing it over and over and over and over. What I said, what I should’ve said, what I didn’t say. But more, the ways he shut me down, waved me off, interrupted me. Dismissed my ME. Asked things like “and I started you on the pregabalin, yes?” (no!). Told me my coping strategies are “wrong”, told me using diazepam to get out of the house is wrong, too. Told me what was going to happen in my treatment. Like a child. I feel myself bracing for impact every time I speak, knowing it could be met with a knowing nod, a new dx written on his notepad in big letters, or a big red buzzer of interrupting and “Wrong”. And then I’m not sitting in an office in a hospital but in the place of all my trauma. Looking at my hands and feeling all the empty space, space I am expected to fill with my words, words that will inevitably be the wrong ones.

I don’t think I can keep doing this.


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