Icebergs and Losing Hope

(unedited. unread) I learned as a little one watching whales off the coast of Northern New England that icebergs are deceptive. They might seem so insignificant bobbing on the surface. Tiny it seemed but what lay beneath the dark ocean waters was what boat captains worried about. These floating blocks of ice could be stories deep. Large enough to sink even the largest and strongest of vessels. Think we all understand thanks to the Titanic. I know you’re probably wondering what could icebergs and therapy possibly have in common. I am just using the metaphor. We are all circling and staring at one small seemingly insignificant piece, the 10 lbs. Easy to shrug off to say it is a gross overreaction on my part. Ridiculous even given what I might be giving up on. It isn’t 10 lbs. It isn’t Depakote. The degree to which I am experiencing pain, sadness and discouragement point to a far greater iceberg. This is a behemoth one might say. Scariest thing is I don’t even know why all of this is getting triggered. I though I had made so much progress. I have been able to find insights and look hard when puzzles arise. I tend to be able to work it through if I let myself. This is different. There is a sorrow and pain that I have not come across in so long. Is it grief? If so, for what? My life? control? What? I don’t understand.
I left session as confused as I entered. yes, there was much that made sense. But what is it that is making me this upset? I know session yesterday did trigger off a lot for me and teasing it into various pieces is difficult. More so since I withdrew to protect myself and some is lost. I know that what I heard, through my clearly distorted hearing is not necessarily what Virgil said. I told Beatrice that. I doubt it would match if she and I both gave our accounts of what happened in session. Beatrice asked if I had any expectations going into that session. I did not. I had a goal which was to stop the depakote. but I had no clear picture of Virgil’s end going in. I actually assumed she would disagree and not let me stop it. I had that much correct. What I didn’t account for was the break neck speed at which the session came undone. It felt odd and confrontational. Though I did not want that. I wanted out of that office. The emotions I was experiencing were so excruciating and I just felt like I had nothing to offer. I had no answers. I spoke my truth. What I received as a cold hard dose of doesn’t matter. there isn’t any other option so get over it. Figure it out in therapy. It is depressed or this. jesus. talk about a terrible feeling. add in the when you get depressed and awful I can 2 PC you and I am still not sure how I managed to find the truck. This wasn’t a reality check. This was a 2×4 over the head—-> YOU’RE SICK—->TAKE THE MEDS—->DOESN’T MATTER WHAT THEY DO TO YOU—>YOU’RE FUCKED EITHER WAY—->THIS IS YOUR REALITY—>YES THERE IS FREE WILL AND CHOICE—> I STILL HAVE VETO POWER ULTIMATELY AND I CAN AND WILL HOSPITALIZE YOU WHEN YOU GO OFF YOUR MEDS BC WITHOUT THEM YOU”LL BE BACK IN THE HOSPITAL IN A MONTH AND IT WASN’T ALL THE NICE LAST TIME.
Beatrice said it was out of concern. Perhaps even fear. She is worried about me and the consequences of that decision. Yes, I know that but I’m not sure my heart does. I’m not even sure my mind does. I have spent the past 20 years trying to gain some control and mastery of my life. Ultimately it may have just been a mirage. I wasn’t supposed to say I’m sick. or that there were no options for me. She was always the first to correct me. You’re not sick. We will figure it out. Have faith. Seems we have run out.

The depth of this iceberg is stories deep. and here I am again face to face with being hurt by the last person in the world I thought would do it. I don’t understand this cycle we are in. I don’t. What I know is that I am decimated by pain and I fight to steer the course. I can give up and just do what I’m told. I guess that is all I can do. but I do not know how to find acceptance when I am drowning in loathing and hate. All I ever wanted was to feel better. To have a life worth living. It wasn’t lofty. I didn’t want a Harvard MBA. I wanted to make it past 21. As each year passed and I slipped past each silent milestone I carved out in my mind I thought it might just be okay one day. I don’t have to be harmed to be well. How wrong was I. I have no power. I never did.


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