So I bucked up the other day, I went to a shirk. I forced myself with everything I had in me, like starting a 15 page report for school to get out of bed and go. I was so scarred and nervous, I have never been to a shrink before. I didn’t know this guy from Jack.( which incidentally was his name) You get there give them your 15 bucks, fill our some paper work and look around in the waiting room and wonder what the lady next to you is there for. There really are a bunch of crazy people in the waiting room. Kinda scary.
So I talked to this guy we will call Jack, and he was actually very nice, the first impression of him was great, I got to sit in a recliner that had duck tape strapped around the seem of the seat, I fount this partially odd for no good reason, but it was the first thing I noticed. I never thought it would be good for me to spill out my feeling to someone who is getting paid to listen to them, but it actually helped, If Jack was pretending to really care he did a good job and that is fine with me. Told him about my drug abuse of opiates, and all the other drugs I have tried and done which to no surprise filled up a whole page almost, he could hardly keep up. We then actually talked about ADD and ADHD for some more time. He thought it may be a good idea to talk with my doc. about going back on meds for this, well I am not really excited about this, but may be the best thing for now.
Then to the problem of why I did drugs he says I am having post traumatic stress disorder, which I really don’t want to talk about at this time, but its kinda crazy, because I never really knew what I was feeling there was actually a term for it. I have had these reoccurring thoughts in my head about an event that had happen almost like flash backs. Yea that is the best way I can describe it, you don’t know what it does to people. The thought just keeps repeating itself into your brain and you get this feeling that I really have a hard time describing, it almost eats at your insides and feeling like it needs to come out. Maybe in the future I can talk about this some more. Its just really hard to even relive it in the now, since I am constantly reminded of it subconsciously. I feel really sorry for the guys and girls that come back from Iraq and Afghanistan, what they see I can’t imagine, but it makes me cry. I’m a 27 year old dude, with a few friends over there, and most of them rarely talk about it, just like I don’t like to talk about my shit that had happened to me. Its a bummer.
Take care,
pol
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