paranoid personality disorder

I sat up from the bed, and he knelt on the bed and looked up at my movements.

After wandering around the living room in slippers for a long time, he finally entered the room with a medicine box in his hand. He was hanging his head, wondering what he was thinking.

Push him on the bed, apply some medicine to his face and body, at this time he has become good, without saying a word.

I reached out and touched his forehead, and he shook his head and rubbed it.

After withdrawing my hand, I put the things back into the medicine cabinet. I pulled a blanket for him and looked at him with a cold face: "Go to sleep on the sofa."

He put his arms around the quilt and paused: "Why can't I sleep on the bed?"

I wiped my hands with a wet wipe and glanced at him: "Or just get out now."

He took the blanket and obediently went to the sofa.

I tossed and turned in bed for a while, and finally texted the therapist from before to see if I could come tomorrow.

In the end, I felt a little drowsy holding the phone, fell asleep, and woke up in the middle of the night suffocated by urine.

Turning on the small light by the bed, he was about to go to the toilet in a daze, only to find a head beside the bed, sitting on the floor with his head on the bed.

After I turned on the light, I saw him move his head and look at me.

I guessed it was because I fell asleep, I reached out and touched his head: "Why are you here?"

He grabbed my hand and rubbed it on his swollen old Gao's face: "I can't sleep."

I asked: "Why?"

He lowered his eyes and rubbed his face against my palm: "No reason." Then he said, "It's always been like this."

I moved to the side: "Come up."

He rolled up, got into my quilt directly, and let out a sigh of relief: "It's better to sleep on the bed."

I touched his face: "Go to sleep."

I got up to pee, moved to the side, he stretched out his hand and grabbed me, looked at me with his eyes open: "Are you going to sleep on the sofa?"

I looked at him, ridiculous: "Why should I sleep on the sofa?"

He said oh, it's a little too much to be obedient.

When I came back from the bathroom, his eyes were still open. I lifted the quilt and lay in. He approached me and asked in a low voice, "Can I hug you to sleep?"

I said, "No."

Hearing his laughter behind him, he chuckled: "Okay, then let me know when you can hug and sleep."

I ignored him, and felt that he was getting closer again, breathing on the back of my neck.

The next day I got up a little early, and when I moved, I found that I was still being hugged in my arms. As soon as I moved, he withdrew his hand.

I turned around and saw that his eyes were open, clearly he had been awake for a long time, without any sleepiness at all.

I fished out my phone, but it wasn't seven o'clock yet.

He squinted at him for a while: "Do you usually wake up at this hour?"

He nodded: "Almost." Then he sat up from the bed, "What's for breakfast this morning?"

I paused, remembered something, and asked him, "Where's Xu Zhao?"

He was stunned, and sneered: "I don't know." After a pause, he looked at me, with the corner of his mouth curled up, "Probably dead."

I didn't speak.

He laughed twice, and spread his hands: "I don't know, I took him out yesterday, he beat me up, and then left by himself, I thought he came back."

I ignored him, packed myself up, finished washing, changed my clothes and prepared to go out: "You can eat by yourself."

He followed me, watched me open the door of the hall, and asked me with a smile: "Why, are you going to find Ah Nuo?" I glanced at him, and he continued to smile, "I think I can find it before you. Woolen cloth."

Ignore him and close the door.

I arrived at the psychological counseling room after eight o'clock, and they hadn't started work yet.

I found a breakfast shop nearby and sat there for a while before going in.

I just went to work, so I guess I was quite free, I knocked on the doctor's door, pointed to myself: "I brought someone here last time, I sent you a text message last night, but I didn't receive a reply, so I took the liberty to bother you. "

The doctor smiled: "It's okay, please sit down."

The psychiatrist's surname is Lin, and he looks to be in his thirties, very young, and very calm and gentle.

I sat on the sofa, and the doctor asked me what happened last time.

I looked at him for a while, then leaned back on the chair and thought back: "The last time I brought him here, you said that he seemed to be an acting personality, and he acted like a completely normal person in front of you."

He lowered his head and seemed to rummage through the information, and said, "Oh, is there a Mr. Mo?"

I nodded.

The doctor pushed his glasses, looked at the mouth slowly and said: "Really, can you talk to me about the specific situation?"

I deliberated for a while, and said with some helplessness: "He once intervened in the relationship between me and my ex, which caused me to break up with my ex."

The doctor responded faintly, and said softly, "And then?"

I looked at a pair of calm and indifferent faces, and thought about my words: "It seems to be suicidal?"

The doctor glanced at me: "Him?"

I nodded and thought for a while: "And this kind of suicidal tendency is very strange. Let's use this analogy. He wrote the suicide note, then handed the knife to my hand, and asked me to kill him."

The doctor seemed a little surprised, he took off his glasses: "Do you mean that he gave you the control over his own life?"

I thought about it for a while, and felt that this summary seemed inappropriate at all, so I shook my head: "It seems that I shouldn't say that."

The doctor looked up at me for a while, then lowered his head and wrote something: "Paranoid personality disorder?" He shook his head, "It's not like that."

He looked up at me for a while: "I don't know if you can tell me the specific situation?"

I thought about it, and then I told the doctor what the man had said to me: "He said something, if he doesn't die by my hands, what's the point of his death."

The doctor's hand holding the pen paused, he put down the pen, and looked at me through the lens for a long time.

I looked seriously into his eyes.

Nothing to see inside.

After a while, the doctor lowered his head and picked up the pen to write something. After putting down the pen, he pushed his glasses: "From your description, the patient actually entrusts the control of the whole body to you."

He formed a triangle with his hands on the table, looked at me and continued: "You can try to understand his inner thoughts, and then give me feedback, so that I can prescribe the right medicine, can you?"

I thought about it, but didn't speak.

The doctor still looked at me in the same posture just now: "This stage actually needs the support of close people. I hope I can get out of the predicament as soon as possible without causing too tragic consequences."

When I left the consulting room, the doctor also prescribed some medicines for me.

I hung out in the sun for a long time, ate a casual lunch outside, and then went to the cinema by myself to watch three movies in a row.

When the show ended, everyone was a little dazed, and the lights were already on outside.

Now, the most important thing is whether I want to carry such a troublesome person and the burden of such a troublesome person on my shoulders.