This post is about the next part of my last 6 months. You can the previous part here.
Trigger warning: this post will mention self-harm, so if you find it difficult to read about that, then please skip this post!
July was not a good month for me, I was getting worse every day, and in the end, I could barely function as a human. I was just tired. I was tired of not being able to do the things I wanted to do, I was tired of feeling so bad every day, and I was beginning to get tired of life.
Part of the plan which my doctor and I created was to begin therapy again with a therapist that specializes in OCD. Since it was the summer holiday, then it was impossible to find a therapist that specializes in OCD and who could also accept the referral from the doctor. Until I was able to find a therapist I went to the doctor once a week, because he wanted to make sure he was there to help me if things got to a point where I was a threat to myself.
At the beginning of August, things got really, really bad and I was in a super dark place, and this was probably one of the lowest points of my life. On the first Monday of August, I went to the doctor, I really did not want to go, but I had to. My sister was going with me because I had gotten to a point where I was only able to leave the house together with someone. The entire time I was there, the only thing I could think about was leaving. I felt like I was trapped, and I just had to get away from the doctor’s office. That day was probably one of the worst days of my life, because of the things that happened and that I did in the presence of both my sister and my doctor.
For this next part to make any sense I am going to give you a little bit of a back story. Since October/November of 2018, I have been digging my nails into my skin on my left hand. At the time it would leave a small mark on my skin, but it would never bleed. Then in May 2020, it evolved, and I started scratching my skin mainly on my left hand, but also on my arms and on my jaw. I would scratch myself so much that I would start bleeding and get these sores on my hand and arm. This scratching thing, it is not anything I can control, I do it whenever I feel anxious or trapped and I can’t feel that I am doing it and it is impossible for me to stop scratching.
On the first Monday of August, I felt very anxious and I felt trapped, and I just did not want to be at the doctor’s. For the first time I can remember, I was being super rude at the doctor’s office, my sister did a lot of the talking that day because all I could think and say was that I needed to leave. I felt like I would die if I stayed a minute longer in that room. I was tired, angry and upset at that point, because I had told my sister some of the dark and scary intrusive thoughts I have, and she was beginning to tell my doctor about these thoughts (I had given her permission to tell the doctor everything).
It felt like I was trapped, and I did not even notice this, but I had started to scratch my hand. My doctor and my sister were asking me if I would be able to stop the scratching, but I could not stop, I could not feel how deep I was going, and I could not feel the blood that was beginning to be everywhere. I can still see my sisters face before my eyes, and I have never seen her so scared and helpless before. My doctor thought it would be best for me to get some professional help right away, so he called the psychiatric hospital and made an acute appointment for me the following morning.
In the next post, I will tell you guys about the fay I got clinically diagnosed. Who knows if I will even post this blog post, I do not know if it is too much and graphic to post.
Until next time!