Either or...
Either the military will get me or the alcohol, which ever comes first...
OK, here is my situation…but I need to give you some background information first. When I was in medical school (over 2 years ago) I was on a military scholarship. Well, when I first left medical school (released from the program being more acurrate) in June, I was an absolute mess and pretty much bed ridden for the next 6 months…after about 4 months I was finally able to function enough to interrupt my routine of 20 hours of sleep per day to attempt to contact the military about repaying my obligation through active duty service (I figured the structured nature of the military might be a good kick in the ass to get me going again)…well, apparently, I fell into some kind of “weird void” as no one was taking responsibility for me and I was getting passed around from one office to the next faster than a water-bong at a Grateful Dead concert…this went on for at least a week and a half (the military not being a model for efficiency) before I found someone who had a sympathetic ear and went out of his way to put me in contact with the “correct office.”
So, after being in contact with the correct office/officer and after several more weeks, the last hold up in getting into the military was that they were waiting for a signature before they could cut my orders...and unfortunately they could not give me a time frame as to when that might happen...all I could get was "it could come back with a signature tomorrow or it could be several months down the road." As several weeks turned into months my patience was gettng short and depression was getting worse…and at this point I did not have a job or health insurance (my student health insurance stopped when I left the medical program). So, realizing that I would need some mental health care to deal with "everything," I asked the "military" if there was any assistance available for me…well, again, I fell into that “weird void” of “being in the military but not necessarily being in the military,” so I was told that there was nothing they could do until my paperwork got the appropriate signature and my orders were cut. I even went as far as saying that I really needed to speak to someone rather desperately...whether it was a psychiatrist, a counselor, a therapist or even a chaplan...it really didn't matter, but whoever it was going to be I needed it soon rather than later, or the orders might be a moot point…I think he understood what I was saying…but again, he apologized and said there was nothing they could do for me.
So, by this point we are into January and I am nearing the end of my patience. Sensing my frustration and desperation, my close friend, who I was staying with at the time, suggested an Intensive Outpatient Group (IOP)…and I thought that it was actually a good idea, in spite of it being a "public assistance type of program." What I wasn’t thinking or expecting, however, was to be doing art therapy on the first day…which pretty much consisted of construction paper and watercolor paints…very reminiscent of my childhood memories…like from 3rd grade!! Needless to say, I wasn’t really into it and politely declined the offer…I think my refusal to participate got me the label of “difficult patient” from day one. In light of this, I did proceed to go back the next few days and I just got the feeling like I was at an adult day care, with the obvious twist of mental health just to keep things interesting. But, not interesting enough for me.
SIDEBAR: A few weeks prior to starting the IOP program, knowing that I was nearing the end of my rope, I went out and bought a .45 Caliber handgun...and everyday for next two weeks I would wake up with the intent that that would be the last. Contrary to what you might think, it's actually a very difficult thing to place a gun to your head with the intention of pulling the trigger.
OK, now back to the regularly scheduled program…actually, on second thought and to avoid a really long post I think I will continue in the next...
OK, here is my situation…but I need to give you some background information first. When I was in medical school (over 2 years ago) I was on a military scholarship. Well, when I first left medical school (released from the program being more acurrate) in June, I was an absolute mess and pretty much bed ridden for the next 6 months…after about 4 months I was finally able to function enough to interrupt my routine of 20 hours of sleep per day to attempt to contact the military about repaying my obligation through active duty service (I figured the structured nature of the military might be a good kick in the ass to get me going again)…well, apparently, I fell into some kind of “weird void” as no one was taking responsibility for me and I was getting passed around from one office to the next faster than a water-bong at a Grateful Dead concert…this went on for at least a week and a half (the military not being a model for efficiency) before I found someone who had a sympathetic ear and went out of his way to put me in contact with the “correct office.”
So, after being in contact with the correct office/officer and after several more weeks, the last hold up in getting into the military was that they were waiting for a signature before they could cut my orders...and unfortunately they could not give me a time frame as to when that might happen...all I could get was "it could come back with a signature tomorrow or it could be several months down the road." As several weeks turned into months my patience was gettng short and depression was getting worse…and at this point I did not have a job or health insurance (my student health insurance stopped when I left the medical program). So, realizing that I would need some mental health care to deal with "everything," I asked the "military" if there was any assistance available for me…well, again, I fell into that “weird void” of “being in the military but not necessarily being in the military,” so I was told that there was nothing they could do until my paperwork got the appropriate signature and my orders were cut. I even went as far as saying that I really needed to speak to someone rather desperately...whether it was a psychiatrist, a counselor, a therapist or even a chaplan...it really didn't matter, but whoever it was going to be I needed it soon rather than later, or the orders might be a moot point…I think he understood what I was saying…but again, he apologized and said there was nothing they could do for me.
So, by this point we are into January and I am nearing the end of my patience. Sensing my frustration and desperation, my close friend, who I was staying with at the time, suggested an Intensive Outpatient Group (IOP)…and I thought that it was actually a good idea, in spite of it being a "public assistance type of program." What I wasn’t thinking or expecting, however, was to be doing art therapy on the first day…which pretty much consisted of construction paper and watercolor paints…very reminiscent of my childhood memories…like from 3rd grade!! Needless to say, I wasn’t really into it and politely declined the offer…I think my refusal to participate got me the label of “difficult patient” from day one. In light of this, I did proceed to go back the next few days and I just got the feeling like I was at an adult day care, with the obvious twist of mental health just to keep things interesting. But, not interesting enough for me.
SIDEBAR: A few weeks prior to starting the IOP program, knowing that I was nearing the end of my rope, I went out and bought a .45 Caliber handgun...and everyday for next two weeks I would wake up with the intent that that would be the last. Contrary to what you might think, it's actually a very difficult thing to place a gun to your head with the intention of pulling the trigger.
OK, now back to the regularly scheduled program…actually, on second thought and to avoid a really long post I think I will continue in the next...
posted by Hopelessly Depressed at 11:00 AM
6 Comments:
OMG, i'm glad you didnt do anything.... please please please, get rid of that gun! i know that it feels like there will never be an end to the pain, and it might be the only way, but it's not... please believe me, you can fight this
Joyce,
The gun is long gone...actually, I hate guns. I hope my site doesn't freak you out too much.
-James
no no... not freaked... you could say anything and it probably wouldnt phase me... it's just that you seemed like you had a plan in place to take your own life and i cant just sit and read that without saying anything... extending a hand :)
That was the plan but, that was Jan 2004...sorry for the confusion and unintended anxiety created...thanks for looking out for me though.
ohmigosh! lol! i re-read the entry, it totally makes sense now... sorrie!
I agree and have said this on my blog before...people think suicide is the "easy" way out. I've never known it to be easy to make that choice. If it were so easy, it would be the #1 cause of death in the world.
I agree with your take on the IOP as just an adult day care. Seems like the mentality behind it is "let's keep the crazy people occupied so they don't kill themselves or others and we'll give them kiddie tasks to perform because they couldn't possibly be intelligent if they're mentally ill". Ugh, just thinking about it pisses me off.
Take care,
Sid
Post a Comment
<< Home