My therapist is about to tell me what I have.

what-me-worry2

My therapist has issues with psychiatric labels (as I do), but over the past year I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure out exactly what I have, flip-flopping back and forth between Complex PTSD, BPD, Avoidant PD, and even the covert form of NPD. Trying to figure out what I have is driving me nuts!

Although I have a BPD diagnosis (and Avoidant PD), those were given to me in the 1990’s and he has said things that indicate to me he thinks BPD may no longer be accurate. It’s true I don’t act out in Borderline ways the way I used to. But is that because I’ve gotten so good at mindfulness it’s become second nature to not act out, or did I actually manage to somehow cure myself of it? Or was I never a Borderline at all? I think I was–or still am–especially since I was diagnosed with it TWICE).

Complex PTSD seems a likely candidate (if he recognizes diagnoses that are not in the DSM). But here’s the worrisome thing. He has said things in session that make me concerned he may suspect narcissism. Of course I could be reading a lot of things into what he says too based on my worries. I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere on the spectrum though, even if I’m not very high on it. If that’s the case, then I’m back to where I was a few months ago, when I thought I was a covert/fragile narcissist. Or maybe I have something that never even occurred to me I could have, like OCD or Social Anxiety or some dissociative disorder. Maybe I have more than one diagnosis. That’s why this not knowing is driving me insane. I HAVE to know and put a stop to this insanity so I can stop trying to diagnose myself!

We didn’t meet this Thursday because of my lack of funds this week–and I also wanted to attend Holy Thursday services. I didn’t make it to church though because I came home and passed out instead (see my last post). Yesterday I sent my therapist an email letting him know that even though I realized all the drawbacks of psychiatric labels and respected his ambivalence about them, that knowing mine would help me feel more in control. Knowing what he thinks I have would provide me with a sort of closure on all this self-labeling nonsense and I’d be able to focus more on what I’m doing to get better, instead of on “what the hell do I have?” I assured him that anything he told me wouldn’t hurt my feelings, but would come as a relief.

He answered promptly and said he’d be happy to share his opinion with me since I want to know. I see him again Monday and he will tell me then what he thinks. OMG. Of course, at the end of the day, his opinion is just an opinion. But I NEED to know his opinion.

I’m both excited as hell and scared to death.

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My delusional fantasy.

deathbed

I think a lot of anger at my parents has been triggered.
For years I’ve avoided thinking about my past or made excuses as to why my family treated me the way they did. I haven’t felt this enraged at them since adolescence. I guess this is good, all that anger has to come out. But what to do about it? I’m also realizing how HURT I feel by all this–that’s another thing I tried to deny or avoid thinking about. I can’t avoid it anymore, and I can’t escape the pain and the rage.
Someone posted the four stages of healing. Anger was one of those stages. But I don’t feel like I can move on by myself from this.

I still dream of a reconciliation–something like, on their deathbeds, they make amends to me and tell me how sorry they were for fucking my mind up so bad I can barely function in the world. Then let me know they are putting me back in the will. I know that’s delusional and will never happen because their souls are gone and they will always think I’m unworthy because I don’t measure up to their ridiculous, unrealistic standards, but I still think that it’s the only thing that would ever make me feel happy. At the very least I would feel vindicated.
But nothing would really change of course; the damage is already done to my psyche and has been that way for a long time.
But I still have that fantasy.
I can’t let it go.
A sense of closure would be lovely, but I don’t think I’ll even ever have that.

Closure.

closure

Closure can open new doors, even as one door is closing for good. There are so many other doors we can’t even imagine. Doors that may be right in front of us but we can’t see until we accept that the old door will never open again.

Sometimes just apologizing to someone can lighten your emotional load and bring closure to an uncertain or painful situation.

I had been struggling with severe guilt and shame over some things I said to someone whose views I respect. I never had ill intentions or alternative motives but this individual reacted in (what I thought was) an extreme way to my obliviousness and insensitivity.

While this individual has still chosen to no longer be friends, I respect their views about that and I think that decision is for the best.

For my part, I just feel so much better now that I apologized and had the opportunity to thank them for their friendship when it was needed. It’s no longer necessary, and because I reached out in sincerity and humility, I feel like I can finally move on. I feel so much lighter and freer than I did before I reached out. There has been closure, and that’s always a good thing.