Strange couple of days. The inevitable hacking cough and burning fever, the aches, which follows periods of intense activity after long periods of isolation has knocked me about somewhat. Not done anything like I wanted to do around the flat.
But I had questions and, in keeping with new me, walked to my psychiatric team's base of operations to seek some answers. Yes, cyclothymic/bipolar worked - even rapid cycling - but I don't particularly self-harm, so why have I joined a waiting list for DBT? It's usually used for those with a BPD diagnosis...
So suspicions exist, and have existed for seven years, and no-one would have mentioned it until sometime next year (maybe) unless I'd asked. Stigma and labels. Complex problems. Other priorities first. One can have one's own little unique blend of issues. Not for sure, just suspicions, more knowledge needed, you're 'interesting' (as the fox said to the rabbit), 'be good to yourself'.
I'm so detached from everything at the moment once more. Looking down from altitude, I can see the warning signals which leads to the suspicions. It does make some sense. Just... just... I promised myself one last attempt to follow this road. This is not the path I was expecting. There's not meant to be even more going on. And so long without any help. I could request a crisis team intervention, but to what purpose right now? I am being well and truly whelmed. The rabbit hole doesn't seem to have a bottom.
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