A really shitty thing happened. One of my neighbours (I will probably never know who) opened and read my extremely personal notes from my psychiatrist.
I meet with my doctor every couple of months and talk to him for around an hour about the most intimate details of my life. I speak about my work, marriage, childhood abuse, therapy, addictions, self harm, suicidal thoughts and whether I’m planning specific methods.
He jots down everything we discuss and sends me a copy when the notes have been written up. That’s what arrived through my letterbox hours after the postman had done his rounds. It had clearly been torn open, read and re-folded.
I was horrified. I am horrified. It is completely humiliating that some unknown neighbour knows these things about me. I feel exposed. I want to close down and not confide in my doctor ever again. I feel stupid for never being concerned this might happen.
I know I am being irrational. The person who read this may be someone I have never spoken to. They might have their own mental health issues and have empathised as they read that stuff.
But through my massively self critical, negative lens I only see judgement. I feel like this person sees me, watches, judges, and I can’t defend myself. I feel nervous going out of the house and coming home. I’m looking at everyone in my street and imagining what they think of me. None of it is good.
It’s making me paranoid.
Photo: Casey Marshall, Creative Commons.