Monday, October 16, 2006

Dr. Jerk is killing me

One commenter on this forum was really nice, volunteering to let me administer him/her the IQ test. Please write me at helpfordepression@gmail.com. What Dr. Jerk and that bitchy little TA don't know won't hurt them. I've had it with doing it their way.

The other course I'm taking with Dr. Jerk is psychopathology, and we're reading several articles about how stress makes you sick -- mentally and physically. That is, I read them when I can sit still and concentrate on dense psychological jargon. I usually don't have a problem with that, since I'm a pretty smart girl, but I'm still so shaken by the events of last week that even a fun Simchat Torah, with lots of social support from friends, didn't really calm me down.

At this rate, Dr. Jerk's ridiculous hoops that I have to jump through to get participants to practice on are creating major stress in me. Not to mention his rude and contemptuous treatment of me.

Unlike most people whose reactions to stress are studied -- they generally get colds, stomachaches, heart disease, or transient bad moods -- I get profoundly depressed. Including suicidal thoughts. (Of course, my sister's bad treatment of me is also exacerbating my depression.)

I've thought about taking the rest of my painkillers in the bathroom at school. Although I'd probably be caught and taken to the hospital, where they'd pump my stomach, and then I'm sure they'd make me withdraw from the program. So it totally wouldn't solve anything, and would only create more problems.

While I really don't think I'll do it, I'm so miserable and stressed that such thoughts come to me unbidden. I fantasize about the suicide note I'd leave:

Blame Dr. Jerk. And Jerusha. And the unanimous faculty. They chose not to be kind to me when I needed kindness, and judged me harshly when I needed forgiveness.

Of course, the more concrete my plans get, the less realistic they seem. And honestly, I do not want to die. I don't want to be in all this pain, and I don't want to feel like every day my life gets worse, but I want to live. I still believe I could be happy. I still believe I will fall in love. And I want to see the children in my life -- whether or not I ever produce my own -- grow up and become interesting people. My friends.

I also don't want the faculty and my sister to "win." To beat me down. I want to triumph over them. And I know that they'd get over my suicide.

Sure, Jerusha was miserable when I was in the coma, but that hasn't kept her from being a total bitch to me now. She should know that her actions have real repercussions. But my life is too precious to teach her that lesson.

So I need to get into a better frame of mind.

I'm not sure how to go about it. I need to let go of this anxiety and anguish. I have so little control over the things going wrong in my life -- maybe I should just assume things will go better, even in the absence of any evidence that they will.

One of the studies I did manage to read described how men who were diagnosed with HIV and then lost a friend or partner to AIDS -- in the days before protease inhibitors -- were more likely to come down with AIDS. UNLESS: if they were able to find meaning in the loss -- or if they were irrationally optimistic that they wouldn't get sick. Then they actually did better. Either they didn't come down with AIDS, or it took longer to strike and kill them.

So I guess I should take a few tranquilizers and painkillers, and just hope for the best.

Maybe I'll get terrible grades in Dr. Jerk's class, unfairly. That won't kill me, although I've always been proud of being able to get good grades. It probably won't keep me from getting the externship that I need to have next year. I met someone at a recent conference who works at Mt. Sinai, she's on faculty there. Maybe I could try to get an externship there through her. Wouldn't be my first choice, but it would suffice.

I really thought these would be years of interesting growth and challenge, not this kind of grinding down my spirit.

Tomorrow I'm going to talk to a former professor from my master's program. She went to the school I'm in now. Maybe she'll be able to help me navigate this morass. She also wrote me a wonderful recommendation letter, so she definitely sees at least some good in me.
Copyright (c) 2006 "Ayelet Survivor"

1 comment:

  1. Email sent. I really hope I can help!

    (((hugs)))<--it sounds like you need them, and I don't know what else to say. I hope your old teacher can help you out.

    ReplyDelete