Doctor Doctor

I went to the doctors this morning and I somehow managed not to cry. This might not seem like much of an achievement, but to me it's a really big deal. I hate anything even remotely medical and I have for a very long time. 

My first experience with hideous medical appointments came when my mum came downstairs to find me working out on an elliptical machine at 6:30 in the morning, desperately trying to burn off 500 calories before I ate anything that day. Ironic and hypocritical given my mother's own attitude to food and weight-loss but, as you know, my mother can do no wrong. 

Obviously I'm being sarcastic. 

This snowballed into therapist appointments with a blind guy who also treated my mother, referrals to organizations that told me I was too heavy to have an eating disorder and a particularly hilarious meeting with my mother and a nutritionist during which she lied through her teeth and I tried my hardest not to scream. 

I saw a number of therapists over the years. Starting out with my mother sandbagging me by bringing a therapist to the house without my knowledge, countless councilors and a variety of psychological practices including CBT, talking therapy, human givens therapy and a particularly hideous series of meetings with a psychoanalyst. 

Sigmund Freud could never. 

Throughout this time my mother continued to starve herself, lie about her condition and pepper my day with a variety of cheerful phrases including "go stick your fingers down your throat", "go and cut your arms" and "you have to stop eating, that's the bottom line". 

My mother the poet, right? 

Now moving onto medication. I first started taking medication when I was 15. I started off on fluoxetine for my depression and I still take it today. I don't know what it does anymore if I'm perfectly honest, but I've been on it for so long I'm afraid to stop taking them. 

I've had some good experiences with medication and I've had some really really bad ones. Lamotrigine saved my life and I can't imagine existing without it and, as I said, fluoxetine has been part of my daily life for over 18 years. 

Other prescriptions haven't been so successful. Venlafaxine had been sleeping 16 hours a day citalopram caused me to stop taking my pills when  convinced myself I was better. I even enjoyed a particularly hideous day when my doctor told me to immediately stop taking everything else and only take what they prescribed me that morning. All I remember from that day was walking around feeling detached and numb. As if the entire world had been covered in Vaseline. 

Nothing quite beat pregabalin though. A drug that is now illegal to posses without prescription, classified as a Class C substance and the only drug I've ever overdosed on and been hospitalized. 

An event my mum's boyfriend described as "very annoying". Is there any wonder why I turned out the way I did?

Other hideous events have included doctors threatening to get the police to break down my front door, once again being told I was too heavy to have an eating disorder and a wonderful appointment during which I sat on the floor crying and telling my doctor that I wanted to kill myself, only for her to let me walk out the door. 

Fast forward and I diagnosed myself with "medical phobia", not a thing by the way, and avoided medical appointments at all cost. There have been tears, shouting and even being banned from a local surgery. It hasn't been pleasant, but now I realize that it's not medical appointments that are the problem, but that I'm convinced I would be treated in the same way by other professionals. 

My current doctor has never met my mother, and never will. And while I appreciated my doctor prescribing me valium over the phone whenever I told him I was spending an extended period of time in her presence, I'm very thankful that the two of them will never interact. This separation means that when I tell them all the awful things her and her boyfriend have said to me, he doesn't sympathize with her. He doesn't brush me off or sit in silence while I tell her what she said. He acknowledges and agrees that the things my mum and her boyfriend have said to me are unacceptable, and he even told me that it was obvious that we no-longer speak. 

Apparently I seem a lot happier, who would have thought?

Today we talked about changing medication, decreasing dosages and even put together a mental health plan. I actually left my appointment smiling and feeling positive for the future. I didn't cry. I wasn't angry. I didn't feel afraid. 

If you'd have told me even a month ago that I would feel this way after a medical appointment, I would have laughed in your face. After today though, I'm feeling a lot more positive. Positive that I can return to the doctors without crying, positive that I have found the best doctor for me and positive that I'm making progress in dealing with my BPD, 

Stay safe on the road

Jess