Apparently I'm more screwed up than I thought...

First, the IMPORTANT news...my Sister and Brother-In-Law aren't any better, but they aren't any sicker either (although I can't confirm that). So, I'm not sure if that's good news or bad. But my BIL's Mother, has been battling Alzheimer's for like 15+ years (maybe more), finally passed away on Friday, so one more punch to the gut. Then, this weekend, they lost another good friend to Covid. It's wearing them both down during a time when they don't need it.

Thanks to everyone for your well-wishes though. We aren't really a video-chat family, I couldn't do that myself, let alone get someone else to do that too! Sometimes I have to do it for work, but I always turn the camera AWAY from my face (that might be an issue for someone considering starting a YouTube Channel, right?).

On my front, Friday's therapy session went worse than the first, and I was told that, although she was still willing to work with me, she felt that my trauma from being locked up was too severe of a problem, especially since she works for the people that did it, and if I wasn't willing to go to another in-patient facility (yeah, I haven't shared that with my Sister yet, I figured she had enough on her plate), then I needed to consider a trauma specialist. Apparently, I'm a lot more f'ed up than I thought, and I thought I was pretty f'ed up in the first place! Yeah me.

So I didn't stitch at all this weekend because my brain was running 90 miles an hour. My only two options are being locked up again (although I'm not sure how locking me up is going to fix a problem caused by locking me up) or going to a new, strange therapy place with people I don't know. If I have to physically go there, then it's impossible. Or, I could just quit it all again and live in this current state that continues to decline...oh, the choices.

I filled out the basic online form for the new people, but they have to talk to me on the phone, which means I'll have to actually ANSWER the phone when they call...a feat onto itself, since I don't like talking to anyone anymore either. If they can't do the paperwork online, then there is no way. The place I'm going now doesn't do paperwork online either, I just had an "in" and got around it. There is something to be said for the "comradery" of the medical community.

My therapist also wants me on a much stronger anti-anxiety med, which means...yep, you guessed it, the dreaded shrink aspect. Yeah again. Apparently, the trauma place can do that, but he's a he. I don't do well with men in that capacity, never have. They are lucky to get two words out of me, that's if I can speak at all (which is usually the case).

She doesn't want me to give up and just go on disability, although she realizes it is probably going to be my only option, but she wants to take every avenue she can to prevent it first. I guess I really slammed home the need for a "real house" and I can't do that on disability. Never give a therapist a goal, that's rule #321! I'm once again falling into my own traps! And then she threatened me with the end of Covid, which would mean the end of online therapy sessions, questioning my future role in therapy, to which my answer was, "well, I guess we'd be done because there is NO WAY I'm stepping foot in that building"...yeah, that didn't go over too well with someone who wants to work with you long-term.

So, it's new therapists for trauma, shrink for new meds, keep the therapist I have now for Asper-related issues, and bleed money that probably won't get me a house anyway. It's the ultimate catch-22! I do have insurance, but their mental health coverage SUCKS! I found that out when I stayed in the Hotel California. Granted, at least until the end of the year, I have a HUGE build-up of medical reimbursement (which I have pre-deducted out of my paycheck to cover such things...and since, thanks to Covid, I didn't have all the expensive doctor visits I usually do that drains that dry, I have enough to cover this for now). But next year might be a different story.

Granted, I knew trauma was a HUGE part of this mess, my little "hospital visit" did make all this mess worse, but then again, had they not been pumping full of the wrong kind of drugs because they didn't know how to treat an Asper, I wouldn't have ended up there in the first place. So, here I am again, in this vicious loop of "do I" or "don't I". Somehow, I knew I'd end up right back here at square one. I promise though, I will tell you guys about why I decided to torture myself like this again.

Hell, maybe just the threat of the torture might be enough to snap me out of it...I did actually go to Walmart and Target to get groceries and stuff on Saturday...meaning I ordered them online the night before (so I wouldn't chicken out) and picked them up from the parking lot, but it's something I haven't done in two weeks, so it's something, right? Now, if I can just put gas in my car before the light comes on again, then PROGRESS (but I'm not counting my chickens)!