I have to go back tomorrow. The news is not good. There is still no psychiatrist available for me. I have to see the same woman again and another woman psychologist. That is all there is.
There have been tears. Not hopeful. Not happy. Wishing I had never been born. Why me? Why was I born like this? Why did nobody notice? Why all the time I have to work harder? Why cannot I get help? Why is everything in life such a ruddy great battle all the time?
My head hurts. It is starting to detach from the world again. My ears ringing painfully, constantly. Loudly. I watch myself from the outside.
This is the moment when I wonder if it worth it. This is the moment I have to use all the strength. I am not even worth them providing me proper help. My feelings of worthlessness enhanced still further. Guilt at breathing the air.
Maybe in a day the ordeal will be over. Or maybe it won’t. Such uncertainty I cannot cope with. And everything out of my control. Dependent on some stranger who might or might not know anything.
My head hurts. So very very much.
Waiting for the second assessment.
When the anxiety is more than my head will take
The world no longer real.
Happened last time too.
The answer to every question…
“I don’t know”
Vaguely hoping this time will be better.
Hoping for the best.
Preparing for the worst.
Worrying they will once again fail to see the obvious
And Occam will end up with hair extensions…