My Double Standard OR Explaining Pathetic (for Shiv:-))

As double standards go it could definitely be worse. At least I don't hold everyone else to a higher standard than I do myself. As a matter of fact, the problem is I am not as understanding with myself as I am with others.

Let me explain.

Were I to read a blog post such as the last one I wrote, my response would be much like Shiv's. Someone dealing with all that and still coming out (mostly) in tact isn't pathetic. In fact they are to be lauded for their ability to survive it, supported and encouraged. Mental illness is not a character flaw or a personality defect, it is exactly that: an illness.

Unfortunately I can't seem to apply such thinking to my own... 'issues'. Instead I am pathetic or 'such an idiot' or 'so stupid' as I often mutter to myself. Maybe it's because I believe I lost control. I've been depressed for years, we're talking almost half my life. And I was able to function in my daily life, keep from others the fact that I felt awful. But as my last post stated, this last year was the year I lost control (and I can only think it is because I finally gave up). And the more people made aware of it, the more pathetic I feel.

It seems like everyone and their dog knows just how messed up I am any more.

Just about everyone at the uni health centre, at least three of the counsellors at the counselling centre (though, come to think of it, I got brought up at some meeting they all have -health and counselling sides- after me 'week from hell' which culminated in that trip to the ER and stitches on my wrist... So they all know), two folks at community mental health...
Everyone at work has seen my cuts/scars (short sleeves for work). And now, in order to get into this apartment before the place I'm living in now kicks me out, I'm technically 'homeless' and have a bloody caseworker! Better still? It turns out he graduated from the same uni in the same major and worked at the dining hall, all during the same time I was there!

Do you know how much information caseworkers get? Pretty much all of it. He doesn't know (yet?) that I'm on meds... Or that I cut... Or that I was almost admitted twice.
He does know I'm in therapy (fun times) and probably has a good idea that I'm allowed to keep my cat because I'm 'nuts' (as the apartment I am moving to doesn't allow pets unless they're 'therapy pets'... Hence the prescription for my cat).
Ugh, and they (caseworkers) ask all sorts of fun questions:
Do you have transportation? A job? These I can understand, sound like 'caseworker like' questions.
But:
Do you drink/smoke?
Yes, I drink a bit.
*searching look* Do you think you need help with that?
Are you getting enough to eat? Do you think you're getting enough nutritionally?
I eat like a college student, it's not great but I eat. -and here it's great that he worked the same place I do-
At work, you get something to eat there? No, they don't feed us.
*well controlled surprise on his part* They used to.
Yeah, I remember that, but they don't anymore.
Is M. still there? She was usually good about that.
Yeah, she's there and she let's us eat sometimes but since it's not allowed it depends on who's there (superior wise). (Come on, is it that important that I eat well as long as I'm eating? Quit asking about it!)
And then we get to health (physical/mental).
Do you have health insurance?
No.
It says you're in some sort of therapy/counselling...
Yes'ir
Where are you going for therapy?
On campus.
Are you seeing one of the grad students? No, one of the interns at *hand gesture as I'm too pathetic to say 'counselling centre' to this guy who can't be much older than me*
The counselling centre?
Yep.
(Come to think of it he knows about the meds because where I go for those was discussed too.)
Can you continue going there (uni health and counselling centre) after the summer ends? No.
Will you need help finding some place for therapy then?
*shrug* I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
*searching look* What will you do?
I was kind of thinking about just not doing it. (I didn't tell him that I was thinking of dropping therapy and continuing meds -meaning I need to find a doctor- because I can't afford both).
How about money, about how much do you make a month?
*thinking, adding* About _____
Are you able to live of off _____?
*shrug* For the most part... The cat gets fed, rent gets paid.
Do you have any overdue bills?
I have two (forgot to mention the hospital bill from my ER visit). I'm working on it, I don't like being behind.
*nods*
They even give pretty much the same confidentiality speech as a therapist/psych/doctor might. Only his started with:
Is there anyone you think should be included in this?
*shaking my head no*
*searching look* (he was waiting for me to say my therapist) Alright, well everything we talk about here is confidential unless... (Which followed the basic 'danger to self or others' bit)...
*Me: All that fun stuff.

Yeah, it was all pretty much like that. And he's a nice guy, don't get me wrong (and learned his psychology stuff well). But he's just one other person to ask me how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, etc. Personal stuff (like how I'm eating, for crying out loud!) that I don't talk to folks about.
It's even worse that he thought he recognised me, and probably did since we were probably in the psych program at the same time and I know we had to have worked at the dining hall at the same time (because M. (supervisor) didn't start working there until after I did).

I don't know what in the world I did to deserve this sometimes crippling depression... But isn't that enough? Why add insult to injury?