There is a long stretch of time between when I admit that I have a problem and when I start to do something about it. It’s not because I don’t want to do something about it. It’s usually because I just don’t have the energy for it. I recently noticed that I have obsessions, the kind that are normally attributed to those with Asperger’s Syndrome. I obsess over television shows. To be honest I’ve no idea why I didn’t notice earlier. I’ll start a series and I won’t stop watching it till I’m done. At least 2 or 3 a day, I’ll barrel through them if I’m sick or tired or anything. I’ll notice details and mistakes that the directors make from not taking into account an event that happened 4 or 5 seasons ago.
The problem at hand, I can’t finish anything I start. I never have been able to. I’ll start a book and get about 2 pages in before I have to stop. Then 4 months later I’ll start another one and get just as far. Even if I have the entire story, character development, plots and twists all worked out, actually that makes it harder to write it, I get bored that it moves so slow in real life. The same goes when I’m making a game, I’ve created a hundred games in my, with mechanics and alternate rules that I never put to paper or even try to make properly. It’s annoyed me for years and it continues to do so. A recent internet search (I know I shouldn’t trust it, but I can’t help myself) has me debating with myself if I may be a bit bipolar, which can in some ways make sense, possibly AD/HD, which will also make sense. So I sit and I ponder and I backprocess. In the end I come up with two options. Talk to a psych or just work on it myself until I have a way of fixing it.
Thus I come to the true issue, psychiatrists/psychologists. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t like them. When I first went to them it was in a place that did this weird exchange/rotation system. So they would only have each person on staff for like 3 months. It was really annoying, cause they all did the same damn thing. Give me tests, ask me stupid questions and expect me to answer truthfully. Cause the person who wants to kill themself is going to be reliable and truthful. Frankly it’s one of the most stupid things I’ve seen. Or had seen. Cause next came being hospitalized and “treated”. The trick to getting out is not to be better, but to act better. If you have an eating disorder they let you go if you hit a certain weight. If have depression and act happy they think you are fine. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out the best way to kill yourself is to pretend to be better long enough to get out.
I’ve gone back to a few psychs (I call them that cause I’ve been to both and generally they are as bad as eachother). One of them was actually helpful, but I couldn’t keep seeing that one once I was no longer going to that college, well they were kinda helpful, I dunno, maybe I pretended they were. More recent attempts at going to professionals have been absolute failures. It’s always the same, I walk in and they give me a test to see if I have what I already know I have. I sit there look at the questions and immediately know how I should answer in order to appear “Normal” or not as I will. I suppose since this time I’m seeking help it’s ok to expect the truth. But the truth is hard, the nasty part of my head is more active when I’m trying to get help. I can’t help but feel like lying.
It took one of my friends poking at this before I realised another layer to the problem. When I get given those questionnaires I’m always left alone with them. Which brings up two things; Sometimes I have questions about the questions but don’t feel like I can ask cause the person has left the room, like “What kind of date do you mean by date?”. Then there is also questioning why the hell they left. I mean don’t they care? I understand that the most of the time people want to be alone, but they should ask right. Everyone is different. I’m different, surely someone who works with people who have problems would understand that asking a simple damn question makes a difference. It’s frustrating and does my head in and I didn’t even realise it till a few days ago.
So I recently stopped writing what was probably my best chance of writing a book properly. It’s been gathering dust for weeks and I’ll probably never get back to it. Just start another story at another time, or maybe not write again, who knows. Starting a project takes a lot of work, sometimes I don’t know why I do it, I know I’m just going to stop in a few weeks. Maybe I should talk to someone about it, but professionals annoy me, so I probably won’t. I don’t think my friends can help (Sorry guys no insult meant, but it is what it is). In the end I guess I’m going to backprocess and post about it on the internet.
So, long and probably boring post over. If you made it this far then I hope you enjoyed the read.