Emotional Abuse?

I had an interesting appointment with my counsellor Amanda the other day.

A few weeks ago, in a Healthy Relationships group that Amanda happens to facilitate, we took quizzes to determine our attachment styles. My scores were nearly even for each attachment style (anxious, secure, avoiding). Amanda said that typically means that somebody has a “disorganized attachment style”, which only happens when someone is abused as a child. I was extremely confused, as I didn’t remember being abused as a child. I decided that the quiz was wrong (which is always possible) and moved on with my life.

In my most recent individual appointment, I brought this up. I asked if that quiz actually meant that I was abused. Amanda began by saying that it is entirely possible for a single quiz to be wrong. But then he said that I obviously did not have a lot of my needs met in childhood, and that it is possible that this was experienced as emotional abuse. She was being vague, so I explicitly asked, “So does that mean I was abused?” She then said something like “Some people find a label helpful, and others don’t.” It was possibly the most irritating non-answer of my life.

Afterwards, I was left wondering, had I experienced emotional abuse? Was I just being dramatic? Is Amanda one of those counsellors who overanalyse everything and end up convincing their clients of nonsense? It was really confusing. It still is.

Wikipedia’s definition of Emotional Abuse is the following:…”a form of abuse, characterized by a person subjecting, or exposing, another person to behavior that may result in psychological trauma, including anxiety, chronic depression, or post-traumatic stress disorder.” This is a very general definition that focuses on the impact of the actions instead of the actions themselves. What I mean is, physical and sexual abuse seem to be defined by the actions that constitute them. Emotional abuse seems to be defined by the impact that actions have.

In my opinion (and that of my counsellor), my childhood is partially to blame for my mental health issues. My 16 year old sister also has many psychological diagnoses, despite very small family history of these conditions. I love my parents and I believe that they did their best to raise us, but it’s reeeeally easy to mess your kids up, and unfortunately, they kind of did. I don’t know if I feel comfortable calling what I went through “Emotional Abuse” because it was so comparatively mild. But thinking about this has been incredibly strange.

There is no conclusion to this story. It isn’t really a story. I am just confused, so I typed some words in an effort to put my feelings into words. So here it is.


Medication Fuckery

So my doctor and I have been talking about changing my medication for a while now. I am on the maximum dose of Effexor, and I have not yet been majestically cured of my depression and anxiety. I have met with the school’s psychiatrist a couple of times, and she has recently suggested that I try adding something to my current medication, and if that doesn’t help, to completely switch to something different. The psych and my GP have both advised that I change medications in the Summer if that is needed, so that’s something to possibly look forward to.

I am now taking Gabapentin (Neurontin) with my Effexor. It is mainly used for nerve pain, but is sometimes used to treat certain anxiety disorders. So far, I am not a fan.

First of all, you have to take this nonsense pill three times a day. I have better things to do with my life than take pills all day. I already take 3 Effexor pills (1×150 and 2×37.5), 1 Cytomel (a thyroid medication sometimes used with other medications to treat depression), 2 vitamin Ds (1 take 2000 IU in the hopes that it makes me happy), and 1 iron pill. It is annoying enough to have to take my iron with lunch because it affects the absorption of the Cytomel. Now I am just taking meds all day.

Taking 3 pills a day is an annoyance I could probably get used to. But what really makes me dislike this medication is how it is making me feel. I have been under a lot of stress lately so I can’t entirely blame the Gabapentin, but I have definitely been more anxious since I started taking it. Granted, I only started yesterday, but I have already taken 4 pills, so I’ve essentially been taking it for 4 days. Kind of.

Anyways, I had a big meltdown last night when I became EXTREMELY angry about something my step mom said. I got into a non-fight with my girlfriend that consisted of me asking her repeatedly why she was mad at me when she definitely was not. I realized that my emotions were out of control, so I took half a milligram of Ativan to chill the fuck out.

Today started well; I got up early to exercise and felt great. But I had a job interview in the afternoon, and I did not have the energy for it. I dragged myself there reluctantly, and became extremely anxious while waiting in the lobby. The anxiety was so bad it manifested as a severe stomach ache, which I had during the entire interview.

Now, I am feeling incredibly depressed. Partially because I was supposed to hear back about a different job today, and it was one that I really wanted. I feel like a failure for not having a job yet, and I am anxious about my finances. But my current depression feels worse than what I would normally experience in this situation. I feel irritable, distant from people, and unable to do anything productive. I have no idea how I managed to write this post, to be honest.

Maybe I am just having a rough time and blaming this new drug. Or maybe this is just normal for beginning a new medication. But I am miserable, and I can only imagine how much worse I will feel if I have to switch my medication completely.

For now, I just say:

Fuck you, Gabapentin

Fuck you, evil stepmother

Fuck you, Sarah. It’s a new med. Calm down.


This Stupid Morning

Warning: I am currently feeling marginally less like the ray of sunshine and force of positivity I normally am.

This morning sucks. I am in an awful mood. I have an awful day ahead of me. I have an awful week ahead of me.

I woke up at 5am to shower and eat breakfast before going to yoga at 7. Yoga was supposed to start my day in a positive way by releasing endorphins and providing a sense of accomplishment. Yoga was cancelled. I then found out that my best friend might be moving to BC in a year, so that’s super great. I am currently waiting for my 9:30am appointment with my counsellor, hoping she fixes my entire life.

Later this evening, I have an interview for a full-time position that begins next week. I don’t want to do the interview. I don’t want to do the job. I want nothing to do with any of it, but I need money to survive so I really don’t have much of a choice.

Tomorrow, I have an interview. Friday, I have an interview. Maybe I should feel relieved and excited in these job prospects, but instead I am filled with misery and dread. And it feels like things will be this way for the rest of my life. I will work and I will hate it. Forever.

Further, I have no fucking clue what I want to do with my life. What even do you do with a math degree other than become an actuary, which I do not want to do in a million years? I am currently thinking mathematician, math technician, or policy advisor… which are all very different things from one another. I am aware that these are the desperate rambles of a madwoman. This is why I do not wake up at 5am.

I am still living at home until July, which is A+. My step mom keeps the house extremely cold despite everybody else’s discomfort because fuck everybody who isn’t her.

Anyways, this post is derailing in a massive way, so I need to stop typing and put my head between my knees for a while. I might delete this later, because it presents a bleak picture of the world at large and of me as a person. We’ll see.