u/GulliblePainting1699

I just texted my therapist asking what her thoughts are on continuing sessions with me. After the absolute fiasco that was Wednesday’s session. I haven’t gotten a response yet, but a good chunk of me is definitely hoping that she’s already contemplating dropping me so she doesn’t have to deal with this stuff anymore. That way we can nicely and calmly mutually agree on me leaving. It would be easier to do it if she also agrees I should. Not that I can’t just quit. That’s 100% in my wheelhouse too.

I don’t know if I can continue. And if I can, for how long. I know therapy is supposed to be difficult or uncomfortable or whatever. I know that. I know it’s supposed to suck. But I don’t think I’m strong enough to handle doing something that sucks weekly or near-weekly without just taking my easy way out. I know I shouldn’t be happy about any part of how I acted towards her or myself yesterday. It was horrible. But maybe if she sees it as proof I’m too volatile to work with, I can take my out.

I know people here told me I might benefit from therapy. But I don’t believe in my ability to stick it out long enough to receive any of those benefits. I don’t know how long I would have to.

I don’t know why I didn’t think about this sooner. I knew my period was coming. Sort of. I was somehow also surprised by it? I feel like I don’t have a good memory for what they’re actually like. I’m sort of also crying at the thought of being on it. I don’t know. Anyway, I know there was an upcoming trip where swimming might be a thing. I’m just… I’m exhausted. I’ve skipped so many swimming things due to being on my period that it’s exhausting. I hate this. Why was I cursed to be born this way?

I’ve only seriously tried tampons once. I don’t remember how long ago this was. A year or two? It was like 100° F. And the power had gone out. So we couldn’t run AC. Couldn’t even run a fan unless you found a battery operated one. The rest of the family decided to go swimming because of how painfully hot it was. I was on my period. So I decided to try to put one in. Which is something I had been intentionally avoiding trying. Something went wrong. It hurt. I think. I don’t know. I don’t remember. I don’t remember if it actually physically hurt or if it hurt in my mind. I gave up immediately, went to wash my hands (which might have been shaking slightly, I don’t remember, I remember the major events and that’s it), and just toughed out the heat without having to swim.

Counting down until I can get a hystorectomy. Then I don’t have to worry about the planning times for trips that involve swimming or worry about whether it would be worth it to try again.

I don’t know if I’ll get advice or not. I don’t know if I’ll want it either.

This is mostly a vent, fair warning if you proceed with reading it. I tried to post this to the sub that’s actually about PMDD but I don’t have enough karma or something. And I don’t want to wait.

My mom has never used the term PMDD by name, but she talks about how she used to struggle with severe mental health issues including suicidality, and they fell at exact times during her menstrual cycle. She says things really improved when she got on hormonal medication to correct it, and that that could be an option for me. I don’t know. I don’t want it to be. I did used to take depo-privera shots or whatever they’re called to stop my periods. Not for mental health reasons so much as for not having to deal with the blood and whatnot. I find it gross. I don’t really remember what I was like during or before the shots. I have a terrible memory for emotions. My first near-suicide attempt might have been on the shot. I don’t know. I don’t remember. She has suggested me trying it again or something similar. I don’t know. If that would do anything.

Some of my episodes severe enough to send me to the hospital were just before my period. Like, that’s the truth. I don’t want it to be though. During my last inpatient hospital stay (which was hell) my period started there. I tried to hide it because I knew what she would say if she knew. Although she figured it out anyway. Sometimes on some days I contemplate (if I ever fully decide to commit suicide again) to intentionally do it during a different time during the menstrual cycle. So it can’t be blamed on a specific phase. I went through an account on a different social media site finding posts where I talked about wanting to sh/actually sh-ing/wanting to kill myself and matching the date to dates on my period tracker app. A lot (I didn’t do the statistics to actually figure out the percentage) were during the luteal phase. But it was really all over. I got a twisted form of validation from that. Whenever I’m sad or having an episode I like to check my period tracker app for validation. To make sure it isn’t that specific phase.

I hate PMDD just, as a concept. I hate the idea that my emotions are determined by chemicals or hormones rather than how I’m actually feeling based on real things that have actually happened in my life. I refuse to take psychiatric medication for the same reason. I’m technically supposed to be taking it right now but I cancelled all future appointments with my psychiatrist. Because I’m a legal adult and can do shit like that. I’d rather be feeling my actual emotions (even if they suck) than put foreign chemicals into my brain to force it to feel a different feeling. I debate getting back on medication to stop my periods because I hate them and they’re a chore to deal with. But I’m scared I will feel better on it. Which would be proof that it was never real.

I sometimes cynically wonder if my mom’s personal experience with PMDD is the only reason she thinks I should have it. Because if I do, if I feel this way because of hormones that I am genetically predisposed to be more sensitive to, then she is blameless. And so is my dad. And so is everyone and everything. I was always going to be like this. I was born destined to be like this. So there is no guilt on her end. I have had years of fights with my family that went nowhere. Or fantasizing about seeing them as little as possible once I’m of age to do it. If I have PMDD, then I have no justification to follow through on my fantasies and threats because it wouldn’t actually make me feel better because why l feel this way is genetic and hormonal.

I just got my period today. By the logic of this disorder (if I actually have it) I should feel better. Instead I’m sobbing trying to type this up. Now I really want to go back on some form of birth control to stop my period. It would mean I wouldn’t have to worry about the blood. And I could prove I have real problems. I know it’s messed up that I want to stay suicidal to make a point. But that’s how I feel.

Second session with her ended early and with me getting dismissed for outbursts. Again. After the same thing happened the first session. This time I raised my fists at her multiple times and also collapsed punching the ground. As well as punching my head several times. I think this should be my cue to quit. If last session wasn’t already.

I don’t want her to be nice to me. It makes me sick. Suspicious. Ever since our first session, I’ve been having recurring dreams or nightmares about one of my old hospitalization experiences. It was… painful and terrifying. I think it’s a warning to myself. “What the hell are you doing seeking help from her, this is what people do to you when they want to “help” you“. I feel like I’m waiting for her to turn evil on me. And every time she says anything about wanting me to feel comfortable in session I snap. Because no way she really does. She wants to hurt me. But wouldn’t she be justified in doing so? With how I act towards her? Were the doctors justified in doing so when they practically assaulted me? Every mental healthcare professional is going to hurt me. But also if they did I would deserve it for being fucking crazy.

I know I should message her this. But that would be hard. Quitting would be so much easier. I’m nauseous at the thought of sending this to her. I’m scared of texting her even to schedule appointments. Why would they do this to me? Over and over and fucking over, in so many different situations and degrees of badness, until I can’t even get the help they tell me to get. But it wasn’t that bad. It’s their job. Well, you’re messed up, what did you expect. You should be glad you didn’t have to deal with 50s-style healthcare.

It’s been my main method of sh for almost four years. I used to be a cutter, but then I got my stuff taken away. This way I didn’t need any stuff. I never quit. And I punch quite a bit harder than I did four years ago.

Right now both my palms are red from impact. They might bruise, I don’t know. I’ve gotten bruised from this before. Both on my hands and on my scalp, I think. I’ve done it hard enough that I had severe headaches and some possible concussion symptoms (increased light and sound sensitivity, inability to work in front of a computer screen, dizziness due to lighting changes).

Last night I tried to “scare myself straight“ by looking up how mental hospitals sometimes handle headbanging if they catch you doing it. Sometimes they’ll restrain you so you can’t punch it. I’ve been restrained before in the past. Worst night of my life, I still have nightmares about being pinned down. So I thought that would motivate me to quit. Knowing that. It just gave me a really bad night’s sleep.

I don’t know what to do. I really don’t. I tell myself it’s not that bad. Because I’ve never, like, passed out. But… I mean… I’ve slammed my head against a concrete stairwell before. Hard enough to feel a bump form. Hard enough that I couldn’t sleep because of the pain. But I don’t know how to quit. How do you quit something you have immediate access to at all times? I can’t get rid of my own fists or ban myself from walls forever.