“That’s incredibly fascinating and an unusual account”. He leaned back with his arms crossed and looked at me across the small round table where I sat, along with my psychologist.
I had an appointment with my GP in the same building as my psychologist’s office. He was to renew some prescriptions and update my medical certificate that details the conditions of my disability. I had explained to him why the sleeping pills he had prescribed me months ago stopped working after a few days. He said it’s normal because the body gets used to it. What we’ll do is increase the dose. I objected to this by saying that the dose is perfectly fine and my issue isn’t pharmacological. I’ve had severe depression and ptsd which I’ve battled since I was 16,17 and I’ve adapted to the symptoms. Merely correcting the sleeping patterns disrupts me and triggers intense anxiety because it exposes me to the daily routines and the emotional unsafety I encounter in being awake during the day as well as sitting with the expectations that come along with a normal circadian rhythm.
He said, ah, because it makes you face everything you hadn’t dealt with while it was just as easy as taking sleeping pills?
No. This is the only way I can remain alive. When I’ve faced these systematic battles without sufficient resources, understanding and support it’s led me to such desperate extremes that I’ve attempted suicide. That’s why my psyche reacted so viscerally to being snuffed on its only safe space : the peace of mind the night affords. I don’t live in conditions conducive for emotional security. I’ll have to deal with the underlying system before I pull the plug.
“I’ve never heard this before. You’re unusually conscious and aware of this.”
She’s an unusual woman, my psychologist quipped, to which we all laughed. I was beaming because I was believed and relieved that a man of his stature saw it fit to concede to my self-knowledge. It was a validation I could believe.
I’m not disabled by my inability to adapt, but because the system isn’t equipped for someone like me. And it’s easier for people to put that on me than jeopardize their blind trust in the infallibility of the system. If it’s all you have it’s not unusual that these cognitive dissonances arise. No one wants to live in existential uncertainty. But I’ve had to. That’s why my insight and vision is so piercing – clarity is all I have to survive, to avoid being exploited and deceived.