Am I aggressive? Is telling Dr. P I don’t want to take the risperidone anymomre aggressive? I don’t know if it’s a language thing (he looked aggressive up in his E>-K dictionary) or what. For me, being able to say I don’t want to do this, it makes me feel bad, is hard. Aggressive? Assertive? In two weeks I had gained about 5 pounds. I don’t need that. I’m still seriously obese even losing those 45-50 pounds. I can’t afford to gain weight. And it never really helped with the nightmares. It made me sleepy, but I didn’t sleep well and often was up with the birds.
The only way I can describe my behavior in his office was completely dejected. I hadn’t slept well in weeks (part of that I think was the risperdone). I was anxious. My pain levels were though the roof. Passive aggressive? That wasn’t my intent. It really upset me and I left in tears. I don’t even think he believes the pain is as bad as I say. I don’t know what my options for changing doctors are. Psychiatrists aren’t a dime a dozen around here. Ones that speak excellent English are even more rare.
At least the orthopedist does believe me on the pain. He’s felt the muscles in my neck and shoulders and can see what a mess they are. He changed to a finer needle to do the injections and they’re still making me wince and cry out in pain. I gave him Dr. P’s number and he’s going to talk to him.
I just don’t know what to do anymore… I feel like a failure as a human and as a teacher. I totally snapped at my 5th and 6th graders for not listening yesterday. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them. But I was so exhausted with teaching the 3 classes before them (including a class of 6 year olds which ended up coloring the last 15 minutes). I did apologize to them.
I think about cutting all the damn time now. It’s been more than 10 years since the last time, and when I made my vow never to do it again. It’s getting harder to resist. I want some pain I can control. I want anything I can control. I can encourage my kids to do their homework and practice for their speaking tests, but I can’t make them. They do poorly and it reflects poorly on me. I’m not their mothers and I don’t want to be. But the mother’s bitch at us when their precious little darlings come home with 60s on their monthly tests.