Psych

It’s been an eventful week.

Over Winter break, my family doctor referred me to a psychiatrist for various reasons. My appointment with the psychiatrist was last Friday.

I officially have a diagnoses for severe OCD, which accounts for the (now officially diagnosed) trichotillomania and dermatillomania I’ve suffered from since childhood, in addition to the facial ticks and repetitive hand motions. This diagnosis does not fix anything. It is not a resolution; but it is a step in the right direction. The medication I take for my depression is also used to treat OCD, so they’ve doubled my dosage in an attempt to get my hair-pulling and skin-picking under control. I’ve mutilated my fingers to the point where I have to wear band-aids; not because I want to, but because I’m afraid people will see and be put off by all of the blood and scabs and inflammation around my chewed-off fingernails. I’m having to style my hair a certain way every day to cover a bare spot that’s just getting bigger from my hair-pulling. I’m considering getting an eyebrow pencil, too.

On the heels of this diagnosis, I’ve scheduled a follow up appointment with the psychiatrist, and an appointment with a behavioural therapist immediately after I return home for the summer. In the meantime, I’ll be taking my medicine and doing my best to distract myself from this nonsense with my Rubik’s Cube and my tangle toy.

The trip to the psychiatrist uncovered something I hadn’t really expected at all; they’re keeping an eye on me for schizophrenic and/or bipolar delusions, hallucinations, and manic episodes.

I haven’t ever discussed what I see with anyone. I haven’t even mentioned it on this blog before. But now that it’s out in the open, I feel like I should share it here. Since I was small, I’ve seen things. Almost never head-on; it’s almost always in my periphery, on the ground, or to my side, or above me. I remember having an imaginary friend I couldn’t see if I looked right at him. He was a shadow that lived on the wall next to my bed. I remember being in hysterics in the doorway of my bedroom when I was little because I saw rats on the floor, even though there weren’t any there. I still see these “rats” or “snakes” all the time. Or I’ll see that someone is walking next to me, but when I turn there will be no one in the hallway. And it’s not shadows, or my hair, or a trick of the light. I see things. I’ve never told anyone because when I did when I was younger, my parents told me there was nothing there and to go to bed. Over time, I got used to it, and knew that there wasn’t anything there. It gives me a spook every now and then, but that’s it.

It’s scary, though. I’m nervous, because I feel like I was the completely normal, totally fine kid for the longest time. I’m twenty-one years old, and all of this is just coming out now? I’m afraid people won’t believe me. I feel like I should have told someone about this before now. I’m afraid I won’t be taken seriously.

Then again, I told my father after my appointment, and he said he’s always had the exact same thing, and he’s never told anyone about it. I don’t know what to think.

That’s all for the time being. Just keeping you lot updated on the insanity that is my life. There’s a lot more that led to the potential schizophrenic/bipolar informal diagnosis by the psychiatrist, but I’m fatigued and done typing for right now. I’ll fill you in later.

Sam, signing off.