On Wednesday I got my ass outta my house to meet up with Elliot and go with him to the meeting he had an appointment to. He kind of needed someone to take his hand and drag him there, so of course I didn't hesitate to act as moral support. Also, spending some time with him is definitely a big plus and the weather was so nice outside so I couldn't see a reason to why I shouldn't go with him.
We got to the location about an hour earlier, just to hang out and whatnot. Elliot treated me to burgers, which was so very nice of him because I hadn't eaten anything that day. We sat on a bench and enjoyed the sun, eating our burgers and smoking cigarette after cigarette. I think I even said something like "I wish we could stay like this forever," because at that moment I honestly wanted time to stop ticking away.
When the time came, we went to the meeting and I waited for Elliot in the lobby area, playing Tekken: Dark Resurection on my PSP. Tekken is by far the best fighting game I've ever played to date and I love the characters and their designs and the many stories the game provides. My absolute favourite character to play as is Hwoarang. He's pretty fucking awesome and he kicks ass, literally. He uses this kicking kind of style when he fights and oh my God, the combos he can do, unf. My second top favourite character is Sergei Dragunov. I mean, just his name is sexy enough to leave me drooling. I can't stop fanboying over him, he's so disturbingly hot it makes me want to roll around on the ground and groan in pain about how unfair it is that an animated character looks the way he does.
Elliot eventually came back and we left the building, in need of taking a smoke again. We wandered around for a bit, looking into the many kinds of clothing stores there, until Elliot decided it was time to buy burgers again and then take the train to my place. When we got there, my little sister looked at me and asked me if I had cut my hair. I was wearing a cap at that moment, so I took it off and showed my new haircut to her. She looked thoughtful for a moment, until she suddenly said "You look like Tony Stark," and I almost wanted to cry right then and there and I hugged her so hard. My little sister thinks I look like Tony Stark! I can't get over that, aaah!
My bby stayed over for the night. Sleeping right next to him, with my arm wrapped over his torso and my head resting by his shoulder is one of the comfiest things ever. I feel safe when I sleep next to him, and waking up by his side makes the next day always seem so much more brighter.
Like every other day, he and I took a smoke or five out on my porch with a cup of coffee in hand, listening to music. We were both in a big Lady Gaga mood that day. When I hear 'Bloody Mary' or 'Telephone' I honestly want to get up and just dance my butt off, even though I can't dance for shits.
I also remembered that Dir en grey's new mini album had released the day before and I immediately downloaded it. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I cried so bad when I listened to it, and I squeezed Elliot's hand so hard it must've hurt.
Elliot had another appointment that he needed to attend to that day, so I followed him to the bus and kissed and waved him goodbye. And when I returned home, me and my Mother decided that it was about time to visit the care centre and get some shit done, seeing as people seem to be completely handicapped and can't do their job as they should.
Let me explain; I urgently contacted the care centre a few weeks ago for my mental health. It's been spiraling downwards for quite some time now and I seriously need help. The doctor that took me in wanted to write out a prescription for me, a set of sleeping pills and anti-depressants that I had been taking a couple of years ago when I still went to the psychiatry clinic for teens. But, seeing as I couldn't go there anymore at the age of 18 I stopped taking the anti-depressants, also because I was feeling better and wanted to try and see if I could manage without them. Still, just because a doctor wants to give me a couple of pills without even knowing what's wrong with me, I won't agree to it. What I want is a psychologist who can help me with my problems, not give me pills the first chance they get, just to get it over with. Only taking pills won't do me any good. Also, I am scared shitless to take anti-depressent or whatever pills I might get, and that's because I about a year ago came to the point where I felt like it wasn't worth it anymore and I just gave up on everything right then and tried to overdose with a bunch of anti-depressants that I had laying around collecting dust. Nothing major happened, I don't even remember half of what happened to be honest. I just woke up the next morning, feeling really tired. But the fact that I even tried to overdose, to end my life, scares me so incredibly much. What if I ever try it again? What if I, at a moment where I just feel so tired of it all, try to overdose again? And what if I actually succeed then? These thoughts petrifies me. My Mother knows about this, and she's been supportive and have said that if it comes to the point where I need to go on a medication, she will take care of the pills for me, so that I won't get my hands on them, just in case.
Anyway, because the doctor couldn't do much for me, she told me that I could contact a psychiatric reception not that far from where I live and ask them for help, or that I could talk to the welfare officer that works there at the care centre. I told her that sure, I can talk to the welfare officer, but that I would need to come in contact with her as quickly as possible. She agreed and told me that she would talk to the welfare officer as soon as she could and that she would give her my number so that she could contact me when she had time for an appointment. She never called.
I didn't feel like just sitting there, rolling my thumbs, so I called the psychiatric reception and explained my situation and they said that they would like to bring me in, taking my problems seriously, but for them to be able to do that they needed the care centre to send them a letter of referral. The frustration I felt then, oh my God. Couldn't the doctor at the care centre have done it straight away? So I contacted the care centre and they told me that I needed to talk to the doctor that I visited and that I would have to speak with her when she had the time. I had to wait a couple of days until I was able to contact her, and when I eventually did get a hold of her I explained to her that I would need for her to send that referral for me. She, for some stupid reason, didn't want to do that but wanted me to speak to the welfare officer that she had recommended when I first visited there. I told her that I hadn't gotten a call from the welfare officer and that I couldn't just sit and wait for her to contact me, and that I seriously didn't think that she would be able to do much for me and that I would need help from a psychologist instead. She insisted, saying that the welfare officer had called me and even left me a message (even though I straight up told her that I had no missed calls and no voice- or text messages left for me) and that she would contact her again to tell her to give me a call. I was so angry by then that I gave up and just gave her the ok to contact the welfare officer once more and that I would wait for her call. Once again, she never called.
I told my Mother all about this, and so she decided that enough was enough and that she would help me through this. So, she came with me to the care centre and we got an appointment with a doctor that we told the whole story to. She, thankt the Heavens, took the situation seriously and thought that of course someone should send away that referral for me, agreeing that I was in need of serious help. She pulled some strings for us and got an appointment with another doctor for us that asked me a couple of questions. He was surprised to see that I was smiling when I told him what my problem was, which I replied to "It's a defence mechanism," which it definitely is. He also asked me if I had tried to take my life, which I answered yes, I have. His reaction was "Oh," and he wrote somethig on a letter. Both me and my Mother found his reactions a little funny.
The doctor eventually sent the referral for me and me and my Mother could leave the care centre. I was feeling so incredibly joyous at that time that I just wanted to throw my arms up into the air and scream. Things are finally happening! I'm going to get the help that I need and I am going to get better, even though I have a bumpy road ahead of me I couldn't care less. I'm going to get through this, one way or another.
Oh my God, I appologize for this wall of text and I thank the people who actually took their time to read all of it, you're awesome!
Here are two pictures that I took the day when I followed Elliot to his meeting. Puff, our mutual friend and one of my absolute best friends, told me that me and Elliot kind of look like Dean and Cas from Supernatural in the picture of us two together. Next cosplay, maybe?
We got to the location about an hour earlier, just to hang out and whatnot. Elliot treated me to burgers, which was so very nice of him because I hadn't eaten anything that day. We sat on a bench and enjoyed the sun, eating our burgers and smoking cigarette after cigarette. I think I even said something like "I wish we could stay like this forever," because at that moment I honestly wanted time to stop ticking away.
When the time came, we went to the meeting and I waited for Elliot in the lobby area, playing Tekken: Dark Resurection on my PSP. Tekken is by far the best fighting game I've ever played to date and I love the characters and their designs and the many stories the game provides. My absolute favourite character to play as is Hwoarang. He's pretty fucking awesome and he kicks ass, literally. He uses this kicking kind of style when he fights and oh my God, the combos he can do, unf. My second top favourite character is Sergei Dragunov. I mean, just his name is sexy enough to leave me drooling. I can't stop fanboying over him, he's so disturbingly hot it makes me want to roll around on the ground and groan in pain about how unfair it is that an animated character looks the way he does.
Elliot eventually came back and we left the building, in need of taking a smoke again. We wandered around for a bit, looking into the many kinds of clothing stores there, until Elliot decided it was time to buy burgers again and then take the train to my place. When we got there, my little sister looked at me and asked me if I had cut my hair. I was wearing a cap at that moment, so I took it off and showed my new haircut to her. She looked thoughtful for a moment, until she suddenly said "You look like Tony Stark," and I almost wanted to cry right then and there and I hugged her so hard. My little sister thinks I look like Tony Stark! I can't get over that, aaah!
My bby stayed over for the night. Sleeping right next to him, with my arm wrapped over his torso and my head resting by his shoulder is one of the comfiest things ever. I feel safe when I sleep next to him, and waking up by his side makes the next day always seem so much more brighter.
Like every other day, he and I took a smoke or five out on my porch with a cup of coffee in hand, listening to music. We were both in a big Lady Gaga mood that day. When I hear 'Bloody Mary' or 'Telephone' I honestly want to get up and just dance my butt off, even though I can't dance for shits.
I also remembered that Dir en grey's new mini album had released the day before and I immediately downloaded it. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I cried so bad when I listened to it, and I squeezed Elliot's hand so hard it must've hurt.
Elliot had another appointment that he needed to attend to that day, so I followed him to the bus and kissed and waved him goodbye. And when I returned home, me and my Mother decided that it was about time to visit the care centre and get some shit done, seeing as people seem to be completely handicapped and can't do their job as they should.
Let me explain; I urgently contacted the care centre a few weeks ago for my mental health. It's been spiraling downwards for quite some time now and I seriously need help. The doctor that took me in wanted to write out a prescription for me, a set of sleeping pills and anti-depressants that I had been taking a couple of years ago when I still went to the psychiatry clinic for teens. But, seeing as I couldn't go there anymore at the age of 18 I stopped taking the anti-depressants, also because I was feeling better and wanted to try and see if I could manage without them. Still, just because a doctor wants to give me a couple of pills without even knowing what's wrong with me, I won't agree to it. What I want is a psychologist who can help me with my problems, not give me pills the first chance they get, just to get it over with. Only taking pills won't do me any good. Also, I am scared shitless to take anti-depressent or whatever pills I might get, and that's because I about a year ago came to the point where I felt like it wasn't worth it anymore and I just gave up on everything right then and tried to overdose with a bunch of anti-depressants that I had laying around collecting dust. Nothing major happened, I don't even remember half of what happened to be honest. I just woke up the next morning, feeling really tired. But the fact that I even tried to overdose, to end my life, scares me so incredibly much. What if I ever try it again? What if I, at a moment where I just feel so tired of it all, try to overdose again? And what if I actually succeed then? These thoughts petrifies me. My Mother knows about this, and she's been supportive and have said that if it comes to the point where I need to go on a medication, she will take care of the pills for me, so that I won't get my hands on them, just in case.
Anyway, because the doctor couldn't do much for me, she told me that I could contact a psychiatric reception not that far from where I live and ask them for help, or that I could talk to the welfare officer that works there at the care centre. I told her that sure, I can talk to the welfare officer, but that I would need to come in contact with her as quickly as possible. She agreed and told me that she would talk to the welfare officer as soon as she could and that she would give her my number so that she could contact me when she had time for an appointment. She never called.
I didn't feel like just sitting there, rolling my thumbs, so I called the psychiatric reception and explained my situation and they said that they would like to bring me in, taking my problems seriously, but for them to be able to do that they needed the care centre to send them a letter of referral. The frustration I felt then, oh my God. Couldn't the doctor at the care centre have done it straight away? So I contacted the care centre and they told me that I needed to talk to the doctor that I visited and that I would have to speak with her when she had the time. I had to wait a couple of days until I was able to contact her, and when I eventually did get a hold of her I explained to her that I would need for her to send that referral for me. She, for some stupid reason, didn't want to do that but wanted me to speak to the welfare officer that she had recommended when I first visited there. I told her that I hadn't gotten a call from the welfare officer and that I couldn't just sit and wait for her to contact me, and that I seriously didn't think that she would be able to do much for me and that I would need help from a psychologist instead. She insisted, saying that the welfare officer had called me and even left me a message (even though I straight up told her that I had no missed calls and no voice- or text messages left for me) and that she would contact her again to tell her to give me a call. I was so angry by then that I gave up and just gave her the ok to contact the welfare officer once more and that I would wait for her call. Once again, she never called.
I told my Mother all about this, and so she decided that enough was enough and that she would help me through this. So, she came with me to the care centre and we got an appointment with a doctor that we told the whole story to. She, thankt the Heavens, took the situation seriously and thought that of course someone should send away that referral for me, agreeing that I was in need of serious help. She pulled some strings for us and got an appointment with another doctor for us that asked me a couple of questions. He was surprised to see that I was smiling when I told him what my problem was, which I replied to "It's a defence mechanism," which it definitely is. He also asked me if I had tried to take my life, which I answered yes, I have. His reaction was "Oh," and he wrote somethig on a letter. Both me and my Mother found his reactions a little funny.
The doctor eventually sent the referral for me and me and my Mother could leave the care centre. I was feeling so incredibly joyous at that time that I just wanted to throw my arms up into the air and scream. Things are finally happening! I'm going to get the help that I need and I am going to get better, even though I have a bumpy road ahead of me I couldn't care less. I'm going to get through this, one way or another.
Oh my God, I appologize for this wall of text and I thank the people who actually took their time to read all of it, you're awesome!
Here are two pictures that I took the day when I followed Elliot to his meeting. Puff, our mutual friend and one of my absolute best friends, told me that me and Elliot kind of look like Dean and Cas from Supernatural in the picture of us two together. Next cosplay, maybe?
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