I have 1st year med student disorder. Or maybe call it hypochondria.
Now, now dont get the wrong idea, this is more of a quirk than anything serious. I just get a little dramatic when something unusual happens. I see a symptom, I get concerned that I have something serious that has that symptom. It's not like I go to the doctor very often (but if I had my druthers) I just prefer to be as not sick as much as possible.
So when it comes to mental illnesses, you could imagine how freshman psych was for me. At the psychiatrist visit the other day the psychiatrist almost had to say "no, you don't have OCD, you don't have PTSD, you don't have ADD" you'd think I WANT to have all of these illnesses I cling so tightly to the tinyest trait. Which is why I know I don't have a personality disorder.
I couldn't explain what they are, I really don't know much about them, but I know one thing...I don't relate. 3 years ago I sat in a special psychiatric urgent care office and explained how I was feeling. I wanted my life to end. I was very mad. Seething mad. The benzodiazapine that had allowed me to study, and had briefly revealed the possibility of completing my dream of finishing school had been stopped, because a new Nurse Practitioner I visited decided it was too controversial.
I had been a good girl my whole life. I may have had a little sex and smoked weed 5 or 6 times in my life but I always did "the right thing." I always listened to adults, followed rules. Even when I was being naughty and rebellious I felt guilty about it. I felt like I should win awards I tried so hard, and what did I have to show for it? Nothing. And at that very moment, "nothing" was what was ahead of me. I had it drilled into my head from as early as I remember, how shameful it was to not have a degree. Having experienced, from the Ativan, what it felt like to be able to study, I knew that a degree would never happen- and so all I had to look forward to was "nothing"
I had this strange feeling that was hard to explain. I wanted to be bad. I think I wanted to punish the world for taking every ounce of my energy and returning nothing. My heart felt very "punk" and not all this pansy-ass new mellenium punk I am talking nasty skank heroin punk. The person listening to me heard me explain these feelings and I think thought I was "anti-social" (which is how I felt at the time) and diagnosed me with an unnamed "personality disorder"
I am opened minded, and I know something is wrong so I take suggestions, but that never made sense to me. I even brought it up to the woman, and she said "oh that just means you have learned some unhealthy things that need to be unlearned" or something like that. My therapist thought it was a "trendy diagnosis" and perhaps irresponsible. The psychiatrist agreed, and said that they saw me for one day feeling very angry, and assumed it was a pattern.
The title and subtitle of my blog read like this:
The sometimes profane personal diary of a woman with Social Phobia, Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, A Personality Disorder(!?) and Suicidal Tendencies. Good times.
But today I retire the "Personality Disorder" from the title.
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