I went and met with that new psychiatrist today. He was a really nice guy, but he is also not going to be my new doctor.

I felt judged and icky the whole time and like everything I said was being misconstrued. I tried explaining that I was very familiar with psychiatric meds because I had not only taken many of them, but also have a pharmacist parent and spent much time at my university medical school library doing as much research on bipolar disorder and treatments as I could after I was diagnosed.

He kind of sat back and rolled his eyes.

I was not a fan.

I legitimately didn’t understand why I was so triggered after that appointment. He made some other suggestions that made me uncomfortable and nervous like discontinuing my bedtime benzodiazepine that I’ve been on for ten years and replacing it with either meds I am terrified of or classes of meds that I have had a ton of trouble with, but he didn’t have all of my information in front of him and so I wasn’t in a position to argue with him.

I think he is a smart and capable physician. I could tell that. I think he is also kind for the most part. I just don’t think he and I are going to mesh well. I was so nervous and not really myself, so I didn’t present well and fumbled a lot of things.

Despite all of that though, I couldn’t have articulated to you earlier today why I felt so triggered after meeting with him. I was very upset. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I knew that meeting with this man made me feel terrible. I cried and cried for a solid hour. Finally, I reached out to a provider to let her know how the meeting had gone and in the process, she helped me identify my emotion.

I felt shame.

I felt it because I was embarrassed that I didn’t really show myself in the best light and that I felt judged and invalidated.

I guess I didn’t know how to name that emotion on my own.

I have also just been struggling in general with my mood over the last few days, with it kind of tanking into the toilet so it’s harder for me to identify individual feelings than it usually is.

Today was a rough one. I had therapy which sort of helped with the anxiety about the appointment, but my plan was to spend the lion’s share of the couple of hours in between therapy and the pdoc with a friend who I haven’t spent enough time with lately. However, her boyfriend was unexpectedly available and in town, so I only saw her briefly and I had to find things to occupy myself with for the following two and a half hours.

I ate too much for lunch and smoked too many cigarettes. I didn’t really DO anything with that time, but ramp my anxiety back up. Then I met with that doctor and then I cried myself into a nap.

I find myself even now still grasping a bit for serenity. I don’t know if I’m wired or want to curl up and cry. I’m all kinds of confused.

Sorry for the rambling post. It’s been that kind of day…

Image from Pexels.


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