Saw my psychiatristyesterday for the 2nd time. Was sick with nerves and up at 4am, unable to sleep for worrying. My memory of the psychiatrist was that he was tall and lanky – all angles. I remembered him as dismissive and bored. So yes I was terrified.
My memory lied.
I walked past him in the corridor and didn’t even recognise him. When he doubled back to collect me from the waiting room I was all curled up in a nervous ball. I peeked out from my makeshift shell. Eh? Who was this guy? He was not tall. He was quite short actually. Weird.
Then in the consultation he was really friendly. I felt at ease and blabbed away. I found myself…liking him. What?! I really hadn’t liked him at all last time but he was being kind. I admitted something out loud that I’d never admitted before. He said that the thing I said made him sad. That surprised me and touched me because he was so disinterested last time. I’m not sure if it’s a good sign but we kind of had a laugh. Even when I pointed my fingers to my temple mimicking shooting myself in the head. It was a joke and he laughed and I was surprised again. It’s quite normal to be taken to task by hcp when I try and use humour, particularly very dark humour. I left the appointment feeling positive and confident that I really am getting somewhere with this whole mental illness thing.
I had to laugh at myself: how EUPD can a person be?! That was the phenomenon known as splitting good and proper. From devaluing someone to idealising them. Still, it was nice to like him instead of despise him. Now I’ll have to see what his report says.