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Ok, so what do you know about prostitution?
I've been in the health system for the last 18 years. I came in at 17, I'm 35 today. If I had a dollar for every prescription...
Mostly, I've been treated as bipolar. This was my doctor's conclusion after 3 suicide attempts on 3 different kinds of antidepressants. Because of that, I have a phobia of medication. So lithium, clozapine, whatever other meds he's prescribed over the past 10 years, I never took them - or enough to see an effect. Two weeks drop-out rule. And he says that's a symptom of bipolar disorder: we're very difficult patients.
But see, it's not just that I'm sabotaging myself. I don't believe I'm bipolar. I'm a pretty bright girl, I can read the DSM; I even wrote a grad paper on ADHD once. Sure, I have some of the symptoms, but don't we all? If I am bipolar, how can I control myself part of the time? Why do I never get in that deep shit? I'm still alive, aren't I? I haven't gone back to prostitution.
I always told him the only cure was me helping myself.
Aide-toi et le ciel t'aidera.
Demande et tu recevras.
If I just reacted differently, if I just saw life at another angle, if I wasn't so... not weak... if I had more control, more understanding of how my patterns work, I wouldn't get in all the shit I still manage to get myself in all the time.
Last time was in Natashquan. Google it, it's at the end of the world. I moved there in August for a new job - or to quit my current good job. By November, I'd done it again. Tylenol. Hospital.
I didn't want to kill myself. I wanted someone to hear me.
The doctor I met there heard. I told him everything: the prostitution, the power I get from it, the depression, the cyclical aspects of things (every October-November, every February-March), the diagnosis I don't believe in.
-I'd decided to start taking the lithium again two weeks before the hospital.-
He suggested I meet a psychiatrist in Sept-╬les. He thought I was "borderline".
He said it in French "personnalitÚ limite" so I had to google it later. Then, I was mad. Borderline. What all the women society already labels as crazy have.
But after doing more research, it started to settle in. It sounds a lot like what I've been saying: something that can't be fixed by medication.
It seems to me that borderlines' problems is they don't know how to live in the world. They're just a compact ball of defense mechanisms that erupt in all sorts of destructive behaviors, in my case semi-alterstates that make me quit jobs, run away; release the stress.
Yesterday, I google therapists. I don't know why. I've become so resistent to the idea that help exists. But she seemed like a match to me. The way she presents herself; the issues that she deals with. I emailed "borderline/prostitution", she emailed back a half hour later.
Will have to tell Mrs. E this coming Thursday. I think she'll be happy.
If only I can stay calm till then.
I mentioned I was looking for a borderline specialist with experience with victims of prostitution. And that I was concerned about becoming a statistic. The 10% suicide success rate of borderlines (which I believe is about the same rate as the prostitute population).
I feel weak but hopeful right now.