ellen degeneres – Silent Scream

A while back, forget which day, I mentioned on this blog that I’d really wished I could talk to a psychologist over the phone. It was the Ellen Show post if you want to glance at it. As far as I remember, it is the only time I’ve mentioned it.

Last week, partner came home from a meeting with his psychologist. (I was unaware he’d even gone, I thought he was giving a blood sample.) He hands me a note, which was the telephone number he’d gotten from his psyc, a number for phone consultations for a psychologist. I thanked him. And a few minutes later, my heart broke.

I do not recall saying anything to him on the subject. I’d only mentioned it here.

Now, I know at one point he was monitoring my online activity. Things he’d say on subjects I’d googled a few days previously. I found the dongle on the back of my computer. If he is – well, basically stalking me – I don’t know how he’s doing it. He’s the tech-savvy one, not me.

So him coming home with this number shattered me. I felt very violated.

But I checked the stats on that page, and it only looks like it was me that reviewed the page. So let’s say I did say something to him about it and have forgotten I did.

This is the person who says he’ll get me water/tea and ‘forgets’ by the time he’s out the bedroom door. If he forgets so easily, or quickly, how did he remember I wanted that phone number? Because if I had said something, it would have been months ago. Long enough that I’ve forgotten I said it.

I can only imagine what he’s telling his shrink about me. I know how he lies, with silence and a downward look. Maybe a little handwringing and a sniff. A monotone ‘she does the best she can.’ which is true – but the monotone voice says ‘not a damn thing’.

Sometimes, yes, he does need to look after me. When he remembers. What is he telling his shrink? I’ll be damned if I know. But… here’s the rub. I’m starting to feel crazy.

He has never had to look after any person other than himself. Ever. He’ll help his mom or dad, sure, but there’s always someone else there, as ‘back up’. It is not his job! He’s the ‘sicko’. HE IS THE SICKO. It’s everyone else’s job to take care of him. That is the way things are. It’s how it’s ever been. And he seriously resents having to look after me.

Unless I am in the hospital. Then he’s there every day. Moisturizing my feet. Combing my hair. Reading to me or watching a TV show on a laptop. People tell him how amazing he is. How dedicated and loving. They admire him.

Munchausen by proxy? Well, no. Not unless he’s triggering my illness. And I can’t say he isn’t. Maybe he just likes the admiration people give him. Doctors and nurses. It makes him feel important.

It makes me feel sick.

I’ve been struggling with depression. Not cut your own neck depression, but curl up in a ball and rock, kind of depression. My brain just cycled around all the things I’ve screwed up in my life. It’s a long list. There’s a person on my social media list, who is constantly posting affirmation memes. In honesty, it drives me nuts. Get over it or shut up! Which is totally the wrong thing to think, much less say. I do understand. It’s how she’s dealing with her shit. It’s not how I do. Which got me to thinking, how do I deal with it?

Up until now, distraction was my game plan. I play an MMORPG. Or, I did, until just recently. I’ve not played for a couple of months, and it really is impacting my mental health. Without that distraction, I sink deeper into depression. It was literally my only social contact (as I don’t count social media as ‘contact’). So without that distraction, what to do?

Browsing through youtube, I came across an Ellen DeGeneres show. I watched it, got a giggle, and watched another. And another. Soon, Ellen was the only thing youtube suggested to me. I’ve known of Ellen for a long time but didn’t watch her. Now I was watching a couple of hours every day. She really did cheer me up.

It wasn’t instantaneous. It took weeks. But I’m not as depressed as I was. I’ve still got a way to go. I really should see a psychiatrist. But gawd, that would require going out X amount of days, and all the prep work that means. I can’t just decide to do something and pop out the door on a whim. Two days at least, for planning. From shower to dressing to being able to breathe. I’ve tried finding someone to talk to, who would talk to me on the phone. That was a washout. That would truly be perfect for me.

So for now, I watch The Ellen Show, get some giggles, and hope it brings me up enough to stop rocking.