I can't disagree with them that it seems like a type of insanity; however, if it is insanity, I have been insane for as long as I can remember. For example, I was fairly adept at dividing large numbers by the time we learned long division in school. There was no way for me to calculate earned run averages for the pitchers on our make-believe teams without that. When Mr. Reed was showing us the proper way to divide big numbers in eighth grade, I told him about the method I figured out years earlier that also worked. He challenged me on that. I proved it to him.
Maybe that one example does not sound like it is so far out of normal, and maybe it doesn't sound like something that should raise concern. Perhaps, it even sounds like something that I could use to my full advantage. That, too, is a problem. Much of my spirituality is based upon the premise that evil and good reside in all of us, and that the measure of how evil or good we choose to be is in how we treat others and not in how much wealth we accumulate.
That doesn't sound insane, does it? Of course, it doesn't, and that, too, is a problem. When I examine any one aspect of my mind, nothing seems out of whack too badly. However, the resulting behaviors are bothering those who are closest to me. I agreed to seek some mental health help at my daughters' requests.
The VA offers mental health care. I met with a psychologist who talked to me about what all was going on in my life, and why I thought this path was important enough to seek. After a fairly in-depth conversation, he told me that I was welcome back there anytime I felt immediate care was urgent. However, because I had no urge to act immediately, he suggested that I get into primary care mental health. He also encouraged me to take some classes as a means to overcome what has become pretty severe social anxiety.
I did as he suggested. I met with another psychologist who had me fill out a test in which I was to determine on a scale of 1 to 5 how I felt about various aspects of my life. We talked about why I felt like I needed help with my mental health.
I told him that I had reached the point in my life where I don't care about things as much as people close to me believe I should care about them. On some matters, I agree with them. On other matters, they just don't see things the same way I do, but that has been something that has afflicted me my whole life. I suggested to him that had my parents noticed certain behaviors in me and had me tested, that I may have fallen on the spectrum.
He agreed that the class the other doctor suggested was a worthy starting point. We set another appointment, and I was on my way.
The next appointment was for thirty minutes instead of sixty. We covered how things were going, and how I was feeling about things. I felt it was working. I was leaving home to meet with people, and I was getting to have intellectual discussions about resolving problems. I pointed out one exercise, though, that I struggled with terrifically.
We were to imagine ourselves at our 100th birthday parties. The assignment was to think of who we would want to be there, and what we would want them to say about us. The psychologist who conducted the class did not believe me on this: if it's my party, I'm not going. I don't care who goes, and I don't care what anyone has to say about me. She suggested that maybe it would be easier if I thought of it as my services. It was. I won't be there. I still don't care who goes, and I still don't care what anyone has to say about me.
I told him that I know what the intention was, but that the only person who has to have a high opinion of me is me. If I have a high opinion of myself, then I must, of course, behave accordingly. If I behave in conflict with my opinion of myself, then I begin adding weight to the cross I must ultimately bear for the life I've led. I told him that I don't really regret anything I've done to help family members, but that I wish I had taken disagreements on some matters to fistfights rather than to allow those issues to be swept under the rug. Either we would have hated each other for twenty years, or we would have resolved the issues that twenty years later have us hating one another and gotten over the injuries from the fight.
I told him that I felt our conversations were therapeutic for me because they were getting me out of the house to somewhere I can vent. We set the next appointment, which was truly a disappointment.
The doctor began the third meeting by putting the same test in front of me that I had completed at our initial meeting. He was adamant that we begin our half-hour meeting that way. One of the questions was about whether or not I felt I was a danger to myself or others. This is always a difficult question for me to honestly answer. I am not an immediate threat to myself, but I often have thoughts about death, and particularly my own.
Most of them are philosophical thoughts about existentialism, but some, if I am honest, are about suicide. The first recollection I have about that is from the fifth grade. I have learned to control my mind when those thoughts creep in, but sometimes I must simply sleep them off due to their persistence. Most of the time, I can just expel the thought. Sometimes a nap works. Sometimes the thoughts persist over a couple of days. All I can do is sleep them off. That doesn't happen often, but it happens often enough that I know how to deal with it.
Anyway, he told me that if I cannot identify something that I want to change about myself, then he didn't see why primary care mental health was needed or how it would help. I told him that getting out and talking to him about my state of mind rather than isolating myself was the change in itself. He said in that case he would see me again.
I told him he was wrong about that, too. You see, his opinion of me doesn't matter to me, either. However, to accept the appointment to spill my guts out to someone who thinks I am wasting his time is not weight I want added to my cross.
I hope the doctor learned something from me. I hope he learned that some people don't fall into categories that can be determined by a test he hopes his patient fails, but I don't really care because that is weight on his cross, not mine.
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Here are some posts related to mental health:
Welcome to My Nightmare
Is Not Caring Anymore a Mental Health Issue?
Surviving in a Sea of Depression
Inner Struggles
Conflict
