Oh no, not this neurotic sh it again

I can feel it coming. I feel a strong sense guilt, but not just about my grandpa. No, it’s more like this general “I should be a better person” feeling. Like, when my grandpa dies, he will go to hell unless I promise to take his place. But it’s not grandiose. I’m not some special savior. It’s just a human soul for a human soul. Or maybe I’ll go to hell and he will rest in heaven, no sacrifices. And don’t I deserve hell, since I’m failing at being good? But intent matters, doesn’t it? I mean, I thought God was supposed to be forgiving.

I don’t want him to go, but I know he’s ready.

My mom wants to watch TV alone, even though it’s our thing. We always watch TV together. This is the 3rd day in a row that she’s promised we’d watch TV together, only to talk about how tired she is in order to “trick” me into letting her off the hook. It’s very obvious what she’s doing, but I play along anyway. I get that she’s tired, which is fine, but the issue isn’t her not wanting to watch TV. No, the issue is her setting a specific time to watch, allowing me to get everything ready, only to call me downstairs when I text her at that specified time to ask if she’s ready and moan about how exhausted she is (or, as in what happened last evening, calling me downstairs only for her to tell me that she took a benadryl because she was “tired and anxious”). If you don’t want to watch TV with me, say that you don’t want to watch TV with me. Don’t string me along, having me thinking that we’re finally going to spend some time together and talk about something other that my grandpa’s illness, the hospital’s negligence, the insurance company’s ridiculousness, or our problematic financial situation.

No one really cares what I want or need. They never do, until I end up in crisis. In fact, I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I can’t have another crisis because the family wouldn’t be able to handle it, as if I just woke up one morning and decided to have an episode because I wanted some attention.

I am the rock; insightful, compassionate, and forgiving, easy to trust, and even easier to rely on. But people are only really interested in me when it benefits them. Outside of a handful of this forum’s members, I have no friends. Not a single one of my “friends” from high school has ever returned a text or call, and you can bet your ass that none of them have ever attempted to contact me first. Even the one person from this OCD chatroom that I considered to be my best friend pretty much disappeared out of thin air as soon as the stresses of college were over. I suppose I really do walk alone.

So here I am, sitting in this room with no one other than my gassy dog, with the light off and my phone flashlight on because that’s the way she likes it, waiting for the inevitable.

My grandpa has a small chance of making it, but I think this is the end. Damn… 86 years… That’s a long ass time. May he rest easy.

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Do you see a therapist, @Sardonic?

No, not anymore. She was delusion confirming. My pdoc got me out of there because she told me it was okay to interact with my “nice” voices, despite the fact that they too were telling me I had to die. I thought they were nice because they said I was a good person, and that I just had to do the right thing “for the good of the many.”


What a terrible therapist.

I think you should look into getting a new one,

It could really help you cope with your grief and get some of your delusions in check.

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It’s hard to have schizophrenia when you are the dependable one, or are taking care of someone else. You’re right about the nice voices, they can be just as dangerous.

I agree. You should try to get a new therapist. Hopefully you can find a good one who can help you through this. Don’t give up on finding one. You might need to see a few to find the one who is just right for you.

No, she’s not a terrible therapist, really. She is an OCD specialist, and I definitely have OCD, but, as I also happen to have schizophrenia, she was definitely in over her head. I don’t fault her for being unable to treat me, but I do think it was pretty irresponsible of her to try and treat my psychosis knowing full well that she didn’t have the slightest idea how.

That said, my pdoc and mom agree that I need to see a therapist, but I really just don’t want to. I don’t want to deal with my OCD symptoms, I don’t want to talk to some random lady about my grandpa, I don’t want to pay some ass hole to talk about my stupid ass guilt complex, I don’t want to talk to Dr. White about the stresses of being black and mentally ill in “50 shades of caucasian” town USA, and I don’t want “cognitive remediation therapy.” Hell, I don’t even want to talk to any professionals about my schizophrenia symptoms and how they’ve changed me. I just want this fu cking nightmare to be over. Feels like I’ve been alive for 50 fu cking years already and I’m not even halfway to that age. How the fu ck am I supposed to live for 80 freaking years when I’m fu cking worn out after 20?

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When things get extreme for me, I like to not focus on the negative aspects of multiple things at once and rationalize things. It’s easy to find something bad about anything in existence, but it’s a trap. I recommend to hang in there and focus on where you want to be in the future, and also start trusting that you have the power to improve yourself from these things and situations.

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