Relapse

     I'm dreading my shrink appointment Thursday morning. I actually like her, and am desperate to get better, so I'm working really hard not to work the system by telling her what she wants to hear. Not to mention, I found out that I can actually see her in private practice after the semester ends, which really makes me want to try to be at least mostly honest with her. For me, whenever I was suicidal before, I effectively hid it from whatever pdoc I was seeing at the time. I'd rather not lie to her. The problem that presents me is that, if I don't lie to her, things could go very badly for me. She's a mandated reporter, meaning that if she realizes just how much of a risk I am to myself, I can easily be put into a 72 mandatory hold. While I do want help, I don't think an involuntary 3 day hold will do anything other than stress me out more.

     Unfortunately, being honest with her also means admitting to her that I relapsed pretty badly with self injury over the past week or so, after over 6 months being clean. It's frustrating losing that progress, but it's scarier to have to think about telling her that.

     In... better(?) news, I had a great heart to heart with a good friend of mine. Admittedly, I felt terrible telling him most things, since his fiancée is my best friend who is currently in the behavioural hospital, but he swears he doesn't mind. He thinks I should commit myself to getting intense help now, whatever that means for me, even if it means having to take a sabbatical from school. He's convinced that I'm worth that and that, really, my degree would be useless if I end up not being able to make it to graduation day anyways. He's supporting my decision that I need to wait until after graduation, though; he's been making such a huge effort to check in with me pretty frequently. Bastard even has me going to the gym daily again; I'm already to the point I can jog a quarter mile without stopping, which is monumental for someone like me. I love seeing how much God has blessed me in this season, and how clear He's made it that, even with all He's allowing me to struggle with, He's given me support systems too. It makes me feel that much more selfish for being so suicidal, admittedly, but I still couldn't be more grateful to how much effort my friend is investing in me.

     On a sadly funny note, he has PTSD from his time in the military, so it's rather amusing when we go out together because our mannerisms mirror each other quite a lot. I actually trust his PTSD enough to let him sit facing the door, which he says he thinks he should be grateful for.