Thursday, 22 October 2009

Raffia work anyone?

I am in the Day Clinic in the nearest town a week early because mysteriously a space became available after Dr I.S. made a phone call (after all, he is the boss).  I kind of new what to expect but it's day 4 and already I've had traumas.

Day 1 was fine, I was 10 minutes late (there's a surprise, who can't read a timetable?) and I interrupted the Monday morning review of the weekend but everyone was very welcoming.  I was assigned a "buddy" to help me settle in.  One of the patients is from the village where I live and we have followed that code used between us mentalists not to let on to other people that we are both a bit crazy. We had kind of movement therapy in the morning and I can't remember much about the afternoon except for DBT stuff and then I had my appointment with Dr B. He is nice but I missing my psychiatrist already and am a bit distrusting of new people.  I tried my best with the German but was nervous and the word order came out wrong. Got home and started rereading all the German words I had forgotten from before which describe feeling crap.

Day 2 also good.  We were allowed to play with clay (yippee my favourite!) and so I made an ashtray.  Actually, all the smokers were making an ashtray - if you ever need one just go to Psychiatric daycare, there are plenty. Tuesday afternoons is a games afternoon. I usually kick ass at "Uno" but have rapidly discovered that there are people out their with way better tactics than me. Trivial Pursuit - forget it.  I think if I could read the question it might have helped me but the answers were impossible anyway, all swiss history and the like. anyhoo, bowed out but listened intently.  End of afternoon coffee break was loud, raucous and I was feeling really tired from concentrating by then, as I always am whatever I am doing.

Day 3 (yesterday) - Not good. Morning I was given the task of drawing how I feel. I won't describe it here, would take too long to explain, but it kept my mind occupied for a good couple of hours.  I needed to be kept occupied because I was already anxious from the day before about the meeting which we all have with Psychiatrist/Psycologists/therapists etc. Oh hell, lets just add in the cleaner, the gardener, the prostitutes from next door etc. as when I say the above, I mean a meeting with 5 (or was it 6? Too many to count) personnel in the room. I had to go in, show my half finished picture and then ask questions or be asked questions.  Like, no pressure or anything (note sarcasm). Of course, my head then went into overdrive and I could hardly put an english sentence together let alone a german one and for some reason became horribly embarassed of the fact that I would be speaking German in front of my Psychiatrist.  Bet they're laughing at me behind my back. It was HORRIBLE. And we do this every week. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Then, my bresprechsperson and I had a meeting and basically he brought up the following issues:
1. Was my german good enough, because I hadnt spoken german in the torture room. (I think it's good enough and certainly not brilliant, even worse when I am put in a situation way out of my comfort zone.)

2. Did I worry about people taking the piss or going on about how an auslander should know the language by now etc. etc. etc. (Not really, when you have been purposefully tripped up by a work "colleague" with a full tray of drinks, the same person who ignores you every day and basically tries anything to point out you don't belong here, I am so over it. This is a whole other rant I could go on, but it's not for here. I mean, I'm not saying it doesn't upset me sometimes, if I am upset then everything will upset me, but if I was going to find it a big problem then why on earth would I have said yes to going to the tagesklinik.  Maybe I should stay at home cutting myself and staying in bed all day.  Maybe they are trying to tell me that I don't belong.  But it was like, all right, enough already! And now I have that obsessive thought that people don't like me, that people don't want me to belong and that it would be better to get rid of me so that someone on the waiting list can go instead.  Someone with perfect umlauts or something. Whatever. So now I want to speak even less because I am paranoid someone has said something. 

Leaving post, got myself all in a tizz again.

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