I’m Not Psychotic… I was Tested.

I’ve been trying to decide how much of this wacky world of attempting to get my shit together I wanted to share with y’all. People around me freak out a little when I mention writing about something too private. There are some legitimate concerns like what future employers might find. Other concerns make me giggle a bit. “People will know if you write about it.” Seriously? Because I’m pretty sure people can tell I’m a crazy fat woman without having to read this.

Anyway, today, I had a long interview session thingy with a case manager at the facility that I’m getting therapy from. The first interview was to determine if I was crazy enough for them. I passed that one. Today was all about finding out what flavor of crazy I am.

Snozberry crazy, I’m snozberry flavored crazy.

Okay, so, the session was like being twisted up and poked for the sore spots. Honestly, though, it wasn’t that bad. I think it might be because I have the most fucked up sense of humor ever. The people at this facility are kind and share bits of themselves with you while you tell them things, so you don’t feel judged. That is a big deal.

The session starts out with questions about the past 30 days. The past 30 days have been a big ball of fucking cluster fuck fabulous in some ways. I had plenty of batshit crazy to hand him with that. Then we talked about current relationships. Turns out having a stable, loving, relationship with a kind, stable man who treats me well and is like SUPER functional even if he is the weirdest man I have ever man I have ever met feels like I’ve made major strides in my own mental health.

Then we talked about past relationships. Yeah, we don’t need to go there again. I told him about my blog and how blogging about the last douche bag helped me so much, and how I feel like it means something that I’m open here. He seemed oddly impressed.

Okay, now here comes some of the things I find hilarious that probably only I would find funny.

I told him about the time I went to a crisis unit in 2000 because I was self harming. I referred to that period of my life as my super batshit insane period. He laughed at that. Then I told him I was sent to my college counselor, and I immediately realized it was a terrible idea because that woman was not prepared to handle a highly intelligent, self harming, eighteen year-old with a bad attitude and authority issues. It wasn’t really her fault.

Then the fun question happened: past traumas. We discussed the relationship things again and my weirdness with male sexual attention. We discussed how rough this year has been. Then we tried to discuss any traumas further back. I had to sit there and blink at him for a few minutes. I’m pretty sure being the weird, socially inept, fat girl during school is trauma enough. I can’t remember any traumas. This how it went:

Me: I sort of coped by thinking nothing that happened to me was that big of a deal, but still, it’s just weird. (Laugh)

Him: I know. I don’t know what to think.

Let me explain. I have all of the classic symptoms (depression, anxiety, self harming, eating disorders, and strange reactions to sexual situations) of someone who had childhood abuse, more specifically childhood sexual abuse. There was NONE.

Me: Right, I mean no one is as fucked up as I was without something.

Him: Seriously, nine out of ten people who come in presenting with the problems you had had sexual abuse. (Understand I’m laughing because this is how shit happens to me. I can’t be a normal kind of batshit, so he is looking perplexed and laughing at the same time.)

Me: I know, right? No one is that depressed and cuts themselves without something.

Him: I guess you are that one person in ten.

Me: I get that more than you would think.

Later, he asked me what my six month goal was.

Me: I used to be this super kick ass woman. I’ve been losing her. I want to find her again. I don’t know how to put that in shrinky speak.

Him: *Blink then laughs* I’m typing that. I like that. My six month goal is that I want to be the kick ass woman I used to be.

We take our wins where we can

Finally, he was talking to himself while typing up my diagnosis. I have major depression something without psychosis and general anxiety disorder.

Me: So I’m not psychotic?

Him: No.

Me: Shit, I’ll take that as a win. That’s a gold star moment for the day.

He laughs for like 4 minutes and looks at me and said “I completely forgot what I was typing.”

Me: That happens to people around me more than you would think.

He typed for a few minutes then told me when I was 18 I had Borderline Personality Disorder.

Me: That’s a special flavor of batshit insane, isn’t it?

Him: Yes, yes it is.

Me: So, I improved?

Him: Yes

Me: Holy hell, not only am I not psychotic, but I’m also normal crazy instead of a special kind of crazy now.

The reason why these people will be able to help me is because he laughed as hard as I did.

I finished my second week of water aerobics, and I love it. I now have a nickname from the regulars. There are days when I tell myself if I can make it to the water everything will be okay.

The fantastic truth is everything will be okay.

Also, I will be that kickass woman I used to be.