Ever since the new therapist essentially told me I was fine and suggested that the reason I feel like crap sometimes is because I expect to, I’ve had this inner struggle. I’m full of what ifs.
What if the reason I’ve been so miserable for so long is because I wanted to be miserable?
What if I really had been making stuff up?
What if I convinced my old therapist that I was sicker than I actually was without knowing it?
What if I’m just lazy instead of depressed?
You get the idea. Yes, there has been 15+ years I’ve felt miserable. But what if it was self- induced?
The whole idea is embarrassing. I’ve had so many people think I was fine over the years, what if they have been right and I just didn’t want to see it? I never thought of myself as an attention seeker, but what if I am? I have distinct memories of being miserable, but I feel like it was my fault I felt like that–I wanted the attention. The fact that I want to share this post with people I know looking for someone to tell me that I’m wrong for thinking all of these things means I’m making things up for attention. Right?
That leads me to wonder about my meds. Do I really need them? I know the placebo effect can be powerful. I don’t know what they would do to me if I didn’t really need them, but if I am making shit up to begin with, I should be able to stop them, right?
I want to look to other people to confirm that I’m sick. But if I’ve done such a good job convincing people, they can’t tell me the truth, just what I’ve led them to believe.
I’ve stopped reading things about bipolar, believing that I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. The speculation that I had schizzoaffective disorder merely a result of me not wanting to let go of my symptoms. And if I don’t have either of those things, I’m fine.
Part of me wants to say that this is just one giant symptom, but the bigger part of me says its true.