Tomorrow it'll be a week since I saw my psychiatrist, and a week since I was promised a call to arrange a meeting (intended to happen this week) with the hospital psychologist, with a view to my starting dbt. Guess what? Nothing. Nada. Radio silence. I've been trying so, so hard not to think about it, and with each day that's passed, to not get worked up by it. But now, I'm angry. No, I'm not angry. I'm raging, and beyond frustrated. I rang the mental health nurse yesterday afternoon and left a voicemail, he never returned my call. Even if he had nothing to tell me, I would have appreciated acknowledgement of my concerns. I rang my consultant's secretary this afternoon, she assured me she'd pass my number on to the psychologist again. No call. I don't doubt my psychiatrist's intentions, I really don't, but I have absolutely no faith whatsoever in the system in which she works. I can't quite fathom how a psychologist who clearly doesn't even have enough time to make a phone call could possibly be in a position to take on a new client. I also sincerely doubt that I'm the only one who has been promised dbt.
So now what? Now I wait, again? I'm in limbo with the hospital. I'm in
limbo with Therapist. My GP has done everything he can. I have asked for help in every possible way I can. And still, still, I find myself in a situation where once more, it's up to me to manage, to keep going, to not let it get on top of me, to not feel hopelessly disappointed by the incompetence of the very system that's supposed to be my ultimate source of help.
It's been suggested more than once that I either write to the HSE, or go to the media. I doubt it would be all that challenging to have a piece published outlining all of the failings I've come up against this last few weeks. But I can't. Why? Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid that what little help I'm getting will be taken away. I'm afraid that I'll be seen as nothing more than a typical bpd patient, acting out, looking for attention. I don't want to appear critical of my consultant because I do believe she's doing the best she can. I feel like I'm completely hamstrung.
After that appointment last week, apart from feeling insanely emotional, I actually started to feel hopeful. There was a real, concrete plan taking shape. But as the week has slipped by, that little flicker of hope has started to dim. I don't want to keep my hopes up, because I don't want to deal with what seems tonight like the almost inevitable disappointment that is coming my way. It's easier to be angry. I'm hoping I can turn that anger to something constructive rather than damaging. I've got to help myself. I've got to try harder. I'm not entirely sure what that means, or what it might entail, but I feel I've been left no choice.
I'd love to think that I could write a post tomorrow telling you that I was worrying over nothing, that the hospital has come through, that I'll be seeing the psychologist next week and starting dbt the week after. But really?
Here's a little thought for the HSE. Don't make promises you can't keep. Don't offer services you can't provide. Don't give false hope to people who are at their wits end. Not only is it not helpful, it's cruel, damaging, and for some people, might just be the straw that breaks the camel's back.
Labels: challenges, coping mechanisms, DBT, frustration, psychiatrist, support, treatment