Pfysch
This is not a dress rehearsal.
- Sep 29, 2025
- 13
I've been anticipating an upcoming surgery for months, I don't want to say exactly because the subject matter disgusts me. I need something removed. It was supposed to happen on Thursday.
I did the paid leave and work absence shit as far I'm advance as I could, I've done everything as cleanly and transparently as I can. And the insurance is denying it. Their reasoning is medically incoherent, and my doctor is waiting to talk with someone on their team, which will likely take weeks and will near certainly push the surgery back by at least a month.
I've spent so much fucking time and energy, AND MONEY on this already. My pre-op visits together were about $800. The hospital is asking for $50k without insurance, which is completely untenable.
After I was on the phone with insurance last Friday (for three hours with eight different people) I got so frustrated and disgusted that beat my legs and head until I physically couldn't anymore. I used to do this more as a kid. It's self harm that doesn't leave a lasting mark, it's easier to hide, and it's also just my first, incredibly strong impulse with that kind of frustration. Probably relating to my autism. The hospital told me today about the insurance's bullshit business decision, and I did it even more. My thighs are mostly purple, they'll probably become moreso in the near future, my whole scalp is invisibly bruised (I can't even open my mouth its full range), and worst of all my hands and arms have some visible bruising.
I can't tell anyone how much this is affecting me. Even if I want to abstractly, I go through a list of people close to me and I can't do it. A few bad experiences in the past have made me fucking incapable of telling anything resembling the truth about self harm or suicide. I feel like, on a visceral level, it's worse to tell someone you're going to hurt yourself than to do so. It's an unfair position for the other person. A lot of my friends constantly complain about having to play crisis counselor. There's no point in me bringing this shit up, it feels inherently manipulative.
I can't even smoke weed about it on the slim off-chance the doctor hears back in time for the original date. The other drugs I have suck and won't be helpful. They won't even make me feel cathartically worse. I think I've done a good job of keeping things under wraps. I have a twisted pride in how good I am at that. The only person who's even see me mildly yell about it frustration is my mom.
I really want to see my partner. I really fucking wish I wasn't like this, but my partner is the only person I find any sort of comforting. I saw them pretty briefly this morning on the college campus, before I got the call. I tried to go out with them but they implicitly refused by not texting their ride, and getting picked up shortly thereafter. They're also doing pretty badly right now. They're struggling academically, largely because of untreated ADHD in my view. I asked to see them tomorrow, and they said no, and they won't explain why. They leave me on read constantly, and I don't blame them, it's clearly anxiety, but I feel like if they understood how I felt they'd be more responsive. But I can't tell them. I couldn't even tell them I was stressed about it this morning. I'm supposed to be the stable one. This feels so pathetic. It's not an emergency surgery. It getting moved wouldn't be a huge deal to most people.
If I do see them, there's a very high chance they'd see the bruising or see me flinch from it. I really can't explain it to them. They have no history of suicidality, and I don't think they have history with self harm either. They know I have, in vague terms. They were the biggest reason I didn't kill myself back in November, but I can never tell them that. It's unfair.
I really, really want to see them. Physical comfort and weed are basically my only real ways to cope (after 10+ years of 20+ therapists) and I can't have either of them right now. This feels so fucking pathetic. I'm considering just getting high anyway. The surgical scheduler seemed to believe there was virtually no chance of the surgery happening on time. Even if it did, I'd probably still have bruises by then. I don't know how I'd begin to explain it to the medical team.
I'm thinking about killing myself a lot, but not really considering it. It's one of the only thoughts that I find comforting. When I'm driving alone, my whole internal monologue is rehearsing what I'd say in a spoken and recorded sucide note. It's what I think about to fall asleep, too. I still hope I die via suicide eventually, but now isn't the time.
The only things I want right now are to see my partner, get high, and hurt myself more, in that order.
I did the paid leave and work absence shit as far I'm advance as I could, I've done everything as cleanly and transparently as I can. And the insurance is denying it. Their reasoning is medically incoherent, and my doctor is waiting to talk with someone on their team, which will likely take weeks and will near certainly push the surgery back by at least a month.
I've spent so much fucking time and energy, AND MONEY on this already. My pre-op visits together were about $800. The hospital is asking for $50k without insurance, which is completely untenable.
After I was on the phone with insurance last Friday (for three hours with eight different people) I got so frustrated and disgusted that beat my legs and head until I physically couldn't anymore. I used to do this more as a kid. It's self harm that doesn't leave a lasting mark, it's easier to hide, and it's also just my first, incredibly strong impulse with that kind of frustration. Probably relating to my autism. The hospital told me today about the insurance's bullshit business decision, and I did it even more. My thighs are mostly purple, they'll probably become moreso in the near future, my whole scalp is invisibly bruised (I can't even open my mouth its full range), and worst of all my hands and arms have some visible bruising.
I can't tell anyone how much this is affecting me. Even if I want to abstractly, I go through a list of people close to me and I can't do it. A few bad experiences in the past have made me fucking incapable of telling anything resembling the truth about self harm or suicide. I feel like, on a visceral level, it's worse to tell someone you're going to hurt yourself than to do so. It's an unfair position for the other person. A lot of my friends constantly complain about having to play crisis counselor. There's no point in me bringing this shit up, it feels inherently manipulative.
I can't even smoke weed about it on the slim off-chance the doctor hears back in time for the original date. The other drugs I have suck and won't be helpful. They won't even make me feel cathartically worse. I think I've done a good job of keeping things under wraps. I have a twisted pride in how good I am at that. The only person who's even see me mildly yell about it frustration is my mom.
I really want to see my partner. I really fucking wish I wasn't like this, but my partner is the only person I find any sort of comforting. I saw them pretty briefly this morning on the college campus, before I got the call. I tried to go out with them but they implicitly refused by not texting their ride, and getting picked up shortly thereafter. They're also doing pretty badly right now. They're struggling academically, largely because of untreated ADHD in my view. I asked to see them tomorrow, and they said no, and they won't explain why. They leave me on read constantly, and I don't blame them, it's clearly anxiety, but I feel like if they understood how I felt they'd be more responsive. But I can't tell them. I couldn't even tell them I was stressed about it this morning. I'm supposed to be the stable one. This feels so pathetic. It's not an emergency surgery. It getting moved wouldn't be a huge deal to most people.
If I do see them, there's a very high chance they'd see the bruising or see me flinch from it. I really can't explain it to them. They have no history of suicidality, and I don't think they have history with self harm either. They know I have, in vague terms. They were the biggest reason I didn't kill myself back in November, but I can never tell them that. It's unfair.
I really, really want to see them. Physical comfort and weed are basically my only real ways to cope (after 10+ years of 20+ therapists) and I can't have either of them right now. This feels so fucking pathetic. I'm considering just getting high anyway. The surgical scheduler seemed to believe there was virtually no chance of the surgery happening on time. Even if it did, I'd probably still have bruises by then. I don't know how I'd begin to explain it to the medical team.
I'm thinking about killing myself a lot, but not really considering it. It's one of the only thoughts that I find comforting. When I'm driving alone, my whole internal monologue is rehearsing what I'd say in a spoken and recorded sucide note. It's what I think about to fall asleep, too. I still hope I die via suicide eventually, but now isn't the time.
The only things I want right now are to see my partner, get high, and hurt myself more, in that order.
