I went to the informational lecture for Bariatric Surgery. It was a big step for me. I hate myself and have since I was 3 and molested by the babysitter’s husband. Ugh, reading that is ugly. Makes me think I want your pity and I don’t. It happened and I couldn’t stop it. Whatever.
So they tell you about 3 ways of dealing with obesity through surgery. Tell you about the support that they’ll give you when you go to get it. A counselor, support groups, nutritionist all these people there to help you through making your stomach about the size of your fist from one that’s the size of I don’t know, the head of an elephant? At the end they pin this little gem on: “If you go and tell other people about what you’re planning you won’t get the surgery.” Charming, isn’t that? Guess what I did, thinking; “Okay this is the one time I’ll reach out and get help.” Yes I did.
So I decided that I would wait a while and let people ask me if I started it and tell everyone I decided not to do it. I have this little memo pad I’ve been recording my food intake since Easter. I have the elliptical that I STILL can’t get my fat @ss on. BUT I have gotten out of the recliner and gotten out to do more physical things around and outside of the house. The apple tree has been dropping pips and apples as has the pear tree. I spend every afternoon (well almost every afternoon,) picking them up with one of those old lady claws. I try to get out of the house and ino town to do something at least 5 times a week. I know it’s not enough but I’m building up enough strength so my body stops hurting.
When my Mother made it clear in her passive aggressive way that she really wasn’t going to put my father into a nursing home and I was stuck dealing with him and his dementia I gave up. I stopped going out and doing things with my friends. I stopped looking for things to occupy my time and I started sleeping more. I decided that I should probably die. I couldn’t just out right kill myself though. Everybody would say it was because I wanted attention because that’s the kind of low down pathetic type of denial that my family lives in. Don’t get me wrong. In the “real” world they’re wonderful people. They just couldn’t give a rat’s @ss to take time out of their lives and read up on mental illness never mind actually asking me personally why I acted the way I did and how I am dealing with it. I mean they might learn something like more than one person in our family has mental illness. And god forbid anyone actually talk about what happened at the babysitter’s house. Personally I don’t think about it all that much or any of the other times I was molested by neighbors or people I knew. Still pretending it never happened has NEVER EVER healed the foundation of my tattered soul. I know that sounds dramatic but I am seriously f^cked up and would rather not be. I’ve worked hard alone to undo the years of twisted sh!t that have shaped me into a fearful, obese, closeted person when I could be out feeling free from these brain shackles. I really could use some help from someone that won’t drop small bombs and gaslight me or patronize me or sneer at me for the heavy load I bear. It seems every person I have met so far has to contribute something ignorant or f^cked up that helps set me back a step or two. I mean it’s not just people there are other things that set me back too.
It brings me down. Some days I feel like I’m 5. Nowhere to go. No one to ask for help from. Really nothing has ever really changed. People I seek help from give me the old party lines. The same crap my parents, all adults dropped on me to shut me up and doubt my own eyes. It took me many decades to realize that I can disregard most of the cr@p that falls from people’s lips like dung from a cow’s @ss. If only all that cr@p gave someone sustenance like manure actually does. Most of the poisonous ether that emits from people’s mouths shrinks brains. I was helpless against the family chorus, the world cast that chants bullsh!t that only comforts themselves so they don’t have to answer the questions they don’t want to think about, that would have saved me years and my self identity.
It took me this long to find that the magic word is “Whatever”.
On the good side. K and I are now talking. How long will this last? Whatever.
This entry is going to probably take time to load. It’s video heavy.
Flagpole Sittah
So I’m posed between sliding down the Razor Blade Slide or jumping off the ladder at it’s apex. Either way I’m looking for a hurtin for certain.
Violent Femmes | Blister in the Sun
Here’s an incomplete playlist for these moments of pure Hell that feel like epiphanies. The clip where Cusak’s character fires his therapist is a favorite of mine. I think that in the future they should develop a reality machine that forces the psychiatrist, therapist, social worker and all those head pieces to experience the soul dangling moments when a person with MI starts to lose their sane. Only then should they get paid.
Pixies :: Where Is My Mind
The ethereal LOUDquietLOUD style of Pixies is the soundtrack of 2 am where I sit in bed and try to sleep but my mind says “F^CK YOU @SSHOLE.” And takes me on a wishful thinking ride into insomnia. That reminds me to take my iPod to bed.
Creep – Radiohead
For me this song only represents adolescence before I realized that my soul was infected by this warped reality. I’m too old to need another person to understand what I’m going through and relate now. Then I thought it was the temporary condition of teen angst.
Radiohead – The Bends (Full Album) 1995
A better representation of Mental Anguish from Radiohead. Atmospheric chops to center you in the pain but even out the fear so you can enjoy it and if not enjoy it obtain some enlightenment to the chaos the brain brings to you unasked, unbidden.
Stabbing Westward – Save Yourself
A bit on the adolescence angst side but a self awakening when you finally realize that you’re caught in the blowing grocery bag of another episode. Especially good when you’re in the toxic clutches of a double mental illness relationship where you both set each other off and the sex is so good ’cause the chemicals drive the brain to sense with all senses as you orgasm together. I see colored auras in geometric empty shapes on the black back splash of my eyes as the rush hits my body. The horrible reality of it all is alone you both exist in the same reality plane but can’t help each other out.
White Zombie – More Human Than Human
Once your nerves are frazzled and you’ve entered the episode proper you might as well find some music to use to cruise through the bad parts. I like to drive and scream and cry when it gets bad. Weird loud and heavy satisfies me.
Nashville Pussy – Wang Dang Sweet Poontang – Weinheim 2000 – Underground Live TV recording
This may seem out of place but if I’m in a particularly dirty place I’d go see a concert with a great raw band. Nashville Pussy fits the bill with some Jameson or Whiskey Sours to ease the drive.
Rage Against The Machine – Renegades of Funk (Official Video)
Then I get angry about something, anything, usually something that has nothing to do with my MI. I know it’s out of control and will go it’s own way until it’s spent itself like a dirty hurricane.
Say jam sucker. Say jam sucker.
Say groove sucker. Say groove sucker.
Say dance sucker. Say dance sucker.
Now move sucker. Now move sucker.
Sometimes the angry music drives you to want to do something stupid. There’s nothing wrong in recognizing this. Playing a deep bass beat can help make the pounding in my head hold on to a point and ride it out. Very satisfying.
Alice In Chains – Rooster
MI is a silent struggle. People want the romance of it, the drama but they don’t want to hear the soul ripping pain that each episode brings and tears a hole in your psyche. They think they understand but they don’t. They don’t understand the alienation, the complete destruction again and again that has to be over come with rebuilding and growth that is harder and harder to place personal faith in that it’ll happen again after another episode rips apart your life and sh!ts all over your friends, family and self. Yeah, this video depicts military men and their tragedies. There are no MI sufferers who get medals for bearing the anguish that comes with nature’s cruel joke while resisting the temptations of doing what the pain bids you to do while your under the black cloud of an episode.
Soundgarden – Fell On Black Days
Let Cornell tell it: “It’s about trying to step out of being patterned and closed off and reclusive, which I’ve always had a problem with. It’s about attempting to be normal and just go out and be around other people and hang out. I have a tendency to sometimes be pretty closed off and not see people for long periods of time and not call anyone. It’s actually, in a way, a hopeful song. Especially the lines “One more time around/Might do it,” which is basically saying, ‘I tried today to understand and belong and get along with other people, and I failed, but I’ll probably try again tomorrow.’ A lot of people misinterpreted that song as a suicide-note song. Taking the word “live” too literally. “The Day I Tried to Live” means more like the day I actually tried to open up myself and experience everything that’s going on around me as opposed to blowing it all off and hiding in a cave.”
I isolate in the hopes I won’t “infect” anyone else around me with my illness. I tend to influence others in my life depending on my mood. People tell me that that’s not so but they like to deny many things that I experience. I may be ill, I’m not insensate.
Nine Inch Nails – Head Like A Hole
There are so many people out there that “want to help you!” I’ve found that that kind of good intentioned blasphemy comes with a toxic compromise to your soul. When you’re ill it’s easier to be taken advantage of. And people get lazy or they don’t understand or their empathy is absent. You have to be strongest when you’ve been kicked by your own brain into a corner. Don’t just take anyone’s hand. Remember to hang on to your anger. Don’t show it but bite the hand that feeds you pills. This is the time to let your intellect take over while letting the general public (or those who seek to temper your illness so they don’t have problems with you,) think you’re a compliant idiot.
Johnny Cash – Hurt
Still allow yourself to grieve. No one celebrates your journey through H3ll on earth. Make yourself the priority. I do this by creating my own soundtrack to the steps that I fall down in each episode. They’re the hooks that hang me at the end of the day and keep me stuck to this material plane so that the people I truly love know I will put up with anything to be there for them. You’ve got to find your motivation or the hurricane winds will drag you all over your mental junk yard.
Start in the morning or the night before if you don’t get up before 9am.
I will usually remember to do this about 3 am when I am most creative and moving around. An episode will render me ghoul’s hours.
Use about 4 ½ lbs. boneless skinless chicken breasts, one of those big packages. Try to get one with as little fat on the breasts as possible. Take it out of the freezer or the fridge, take it out of the plastic tray it’s in.
I flick the raw fat I trim off the chicken at the 3 cats who weave about my legs like sharks in a tank. I feel justified in not throwing anything away. What’s a treat for them is one less thing to rot in my garbage. There are some days that I can not literally step outside my door. Like today. The mail is still in the mailbox, I haven’t returned the videos I got from the library, I still haven’t ordered the take out chinese food that I want so bad because I just can’t leave the house. I stayed up all night last night. Took a 3 hour nap around 3 pm after I let the cats in from the back yard. I spent all yesterday trying to cheerlead myself into leaving to just take the videos to the library. I’m so ashamed I haven’t asked my son to take the videos to the library preferring to pay the late fee and the scowl of the librarian to dealing with my son’s pitiable look or disgust.
16 oz bottle of cheap Italian dressing (or make your own).
I like to make my own on a good day. I have an enviable spice rack that includes Black Salt, Old Bay Seasoning, Turmeric, Jaggery, Coriander Seeds, Fennel Seeds from our garden, spices most people don’t even know what to do with. When I’m creative it’s like a joyful artist palette when I’m depressed I avoid most but the basics overwhelmed by the thought of the range of tastes and smells.
1½ cups rice, make white rice but you can make brown just adjust for cooking time.
You can use couscous or orzo or a mixture of rices like wild rice, long grain or basmati rice. Adjust for cooking times and liquids. Usually I just go for my Government white rice. It’s easy and that’s what an episode requires.
1 to 2 cups vegetables sliced. Look for appropriate left over vegetables or “fresh” ones ready to go over to the dark side or frozen ones like: corn, onions, mushrooms, carrots, not green peppers or cruciferous (broccoli, cabbage types,) or vegetables with distinctive flavors that will over power the dish. Slice the vegetables into medium size slices about ⅓ inch width.
So I don’t feel guilty I’ll clean out the fridge at this point. My excuse is that I’m looking for extra ingredients that will add to this dish. Reconstituted sun dried tomatoes, chopped garlic preprepared, wilted chard, wilted cilantro, rusting mushrooms, cooked onions, anything in the vegetable chiller that doesn’t have to be thrown out and isn’t designated as a an ingredient for another dish. Is there a bit of chicken that is leftover from previous meal hiding in the bottom shelf? Toss that in. Toss in the parsley that is in the tube I bought a month ago. Whatever but use careful judgement, sniff everything and make sure there’s no mold or out it goes. When I’m done I’ll not feel so bad having regained some insight into what I actually have on hand and having cleaned a little in the process.
I usually have the chicken breasts in my freezer as I bargain shop all the time. $1.99 for them per lb. is an okay deal. When I take them out I put them in a bowl that’s a bit bigger than they are and dump about ⅓ to ½ the bottle of dressing over them turn them over in it a few times and let them defrost the day. Have animals? Cover the mix with a pot lid. If the breasts are already defrosted put them in the fridge at this point. The lid doesn’t matter unless you’re a dirty college kid.
One of the cats has gotten clever. Titan has learned to jump up on the counters and investigate around. I suspect the bastard has licked the plastic I use to cover the marble board where I cut my foods. I have more than one so I always have one drying in the sink drainer while the other waits on the marble board. I’ve learned to cover foods or put them in the fridge after he devoured a cup cake I was saving for my son off the kitchen counter.
Use a largish loaf pan (glass or metal will do,) to bake the breasts with the Italian dressing in. Add the vegetables but submerge them under the breasts in the dressing. Cover the loaf pan with aluminum foil. Bake at 325˚ or 350˚F for about 2 to 3 hours depending on how hot you make the temp. Low and slow makes a nice moist breast.
When the breasts are done chill them separate from the vegetables until cold so they slice as nicely with a knife blade that is NOT serrated. Reserve the liquid that bakes out of the breasts. Take out about 1 cup of it and pour it over the dry rice in a ceramic 3 quart Corning ware type dish. Add about 2⅓ cups water that has had 2 typical chicken bullion cubes dissolved in it or use broth or stock equivalent. Leave the rest of the liquid with the breasts as they chill. Microwave the rice uncovered in the ceramic dish placed in a glass pie plate that fits the ceramic dish. This way if the liquid boils over it won’t dirty the floor of your microwave.
The breasts easily shred so be gentle when you slice them. They soak up any sauce or dressing you use on them so use extra if you want a very defined taste. The other night I made a General Tsao’s sauce from a packet to cover the chicken. I should have made 2 packets as the chopped chicken sucked up all the sauce leaving it drier than I liked. My son didn’t care and he ate the rest leaving me happy that I didn’t have to consume or look at my mistake.
Now you have 3 cooked breasts and some flavorful rice ready to be eaten.
1. You can serve a breast or half a breast depending on your appetite with the vegetables and sauce poured over it and the heated rice on the side immediately foregoing the chilling process.
2. You can slice the breasts for a fast, fast stir fry by heating a wok with the pan juices and tossing in the chicken slices after chilling and slicing. Add the vegetables and thicken the sauce with a tablespoon of cornstarch dissolved in ⅓ water. Serve it with the rice.
3. You can heat up the slices and serve it over basic greens or dressed up greens with the heated up rice that is mixed with the cooked vegetables (or not, your choice,) on the side.
4. You can keep the slices chilled and get some soft taco sized tortillas, heat one at a time for 15 seconds in the microwave (or a small fry pan no oil or water in it preheated HOT, toss one tortilla in wait about 15 to 30 seconds and flip it over until tortilla is soft and pliable,) lay some lettuce or greens in the middle top with chicken slices and cover with about 3 Tablespoons pan sauce. You can add the cooked vegetables if you’d like and roll it up burrito style (both sides folded over so the sauce doesn’t drip on you.) Use Ranch or Blue Cheese Dressing after tossing the chicken slices with hot sauce and enjoy a faux Buffalo Chicken style wrap.)
5. Cold chicken can be chopped roughly and made into a sandwich staple by adding mayonnaise, dill weed, white pepper and some minced onion or dried chopped onion, sweet relish and some minced red bell pepper depending on your taste. Fancy the chicken salad filling up by adding the mayonnaise, dried cranberries, chopped walnuts and thyme. Use the tortillas like above or bread or hard tack. Place some greens on the bread or in the wrap as you like. I like as much texture as I can get. It’s almost as important as taste.
6. The chicken is mild enough tasting that any leftover chicken and vegetables can be made into enchiladas. This is what I did: 1 can olives drained and chopped, 1 can corn drained and chopped, 1 recipe enchilada sauce made and hot (I buy the el cheapo packets in the spice aisle), about 10 to 12 soft taco style tortillas, 1 to 2 cups cheese, (sharp cheddar is my favorite type,) 1 pint sour cream, hot sauce. Add about 1½ to 2 cups shredded chicken to the corn and olives mix them up well with about ⅓ of the recipe of enchilada sauce. Warm up the tortillas so they’re pliable like I directed above. Lay a log of chicken mixture in the middle maybe 1/4 cup and top it with some cheese. Add some of the rice from the original chicken dish about half of the chicken mixture on top. Roll up burrito style or open ended if you don’t mind a totally messy dish. Fill a lasagna pan that has the bottom covered with a bit of the enchilada sauce, with these rolls. Cover the rolls with the leftover sauce making sure each one is covered well. If you run out of sauce add some canned tomato sauce (add about ½ tsp cumin, ½ tsp garlic powder, ½ tsp chili powder and ½ tsp oregano to ½ a 15 oz can of tomato sauce, if you have time slowly simmer these ingredients until they have cooked down to about half the original volume.) to the tops. Sprinkle the rest of the cheese over the rolls. Bake for about 20 minutes in a preheated 350˚ oven. Use a cake server to ease out the tortilla rolls easily. Make sure it’s a sharp server so you can get off the baked on tortilla. Place 2 rolls on a plate place a dollop of sour cream on top. Add hot sauce. I suggest Tabasco Smoked Chipotle or Cholula Smoked Chipotle as they aren’t as vinegary as most of the American hot sauces are.
One of my favorite house ingredients is almost anything with tomatoes. Sauces for spaghetti or enchiladas can be prepared with canned tomato sauce or canned chopped tomatoes, or canned whole tomatoes or fresh tomatoes or sun dried tomatoes or tomato paste. Just about any tomato product can be incorporated into a tomato type sauce recipe. Just make sure it isn’t already seasoned with spices and/or herbs. And personally I prefer fresh not cooked salsa so this recipe does not hold true to my rule.
The chicken’s enough to feed you for a few days if you’re solo and can be made into a variety of dishes so you’re not sick of them too soon. It’s also enough for a family for one or two meals. You can double it by using a glass or metal lasagna pan. Refrigerating or freezing the ingredients after they’ve been cooked ensures that if you typically forget what’s in the fridge or can’t seem to drag yourself to open the fridge door they won’t rot wasting what food you do have.
There is a homeless alcoholic man that comes to the wellness and recovery center that I work at. I’ve known him from my past but hadn’t seen him for at least 20 years until recently. Typically he comes if the weather is inclement. Sometimes he just comes in and hangs around. Since we serve lunch he usually stays for it and may sit in on the morning group. He will talk in group but he doesn’t join any other groups nor does he do any art. He mooches money and rides from members of the center. Sometimes he harasses other members in the center then tells them he’s just kidding them. He’ll drink alcohol and come in stinking of booze. He’s tried to hug me while he was inebriated. He’s tried to hug other members of the center with negative consequences. He’ll sit on the couches or if he feels especially rowdy he’ll kibitz at the art table.
He is in a dysfunctional relationship with one of the staff in the center. One day around Thanksgiving I think, he wrestled her down even after she asked him to stop rough housing with her. Later he flipped out on her and trashed her kitchen and wrote a nasty phrase on her fridge. She didn’t call the cops and he left when she threatened to. She was really upset and vowed that when she saw him again she was going to throw his belongings outside and not allow him into her apartment.
She accepted him back into her apartment saying that it’s cold and Winter and blah, blah, blah. She complained that he didn’t do much when he was there except maybe cook and make a bad mess. I had a conversation with him once this summer about what we remembered about our shared school experience. I mistook him for someone else but then quickly realized that he wasn’t the person I thought I knew. I stopped getting involved with anything to do with him when this event happened: I had given him a ride to a place (a friend’s house,) that he asked to go. When his “friend” wasn’t there he decided to have me drive him around town looking for said friend. I told him no and said I’d take him into town. He asked me for money. I said no, I don’t give money out to people. I also had things to do not involving ferrying someone else around town for a couple of hours. I was respectful but firm.
While he and this staff member were at her apartment “socializing” he mentioned that he had a long torrid affair with my sister. (He will almost always ask me how my sister is doing and will tell me if he’s seen her driving in town. My sister wants nothing to do with this man. She’s seen him shuffling around town and knew him from school.) Of course this being a jealous stab at the staff member she came in and told me herself what he said. I at first got angry but then started to laugh and told the woman that she had no reason to fear. My sister would never have gone out with him then nor now, he was pulling her strings. I laughed it off and told my sister. She was grossed out but was like “whatever”.
More shenanigans happened at the center when the Christmas season came on. He came in, invited by his companion and left to his devices by the other staff members. He caused a scene and insisted that he didn’t mean my sister, sidled up to me and told me I had to listen to his apology at the lunch table as I tried to finish my lunch. I told him what he said didn’t matter, no apology was needed. I had nothing to say to him and I was not involved with whatever he was dealing with. The rest of the day was punctuated with him having a tantrum and then pleading for forgiveness and then tears and then anger and swearing. He slammed his hands on the art table to make his point and demanded my attention and then other peoples’ attentions. It was very dramatic and to say the least uncomfortable.
Any time I have seen him (on the street or in the center,) he brings up his apology and my having to accept it. I usually just leave after repeating that it’s old news and I don’t want to hear it.
My mind is in a spinout as I’m seriously considering quitting this job. There are so many red flags that it’s distracting me from pinning down what’s really bothering me about the job. Is it that an alcoholic homeless person is allowed to come in and be unstable in a place that is for people who are suppose to be working on their recovery? Is it the fact that this person is allowed to drink clandestinely while in a business that is about sobriety and recovery? Is it that the business rents from a religious institution and the potential of this person’s drinking may help us lose the space we rent? Is it that this person who is homeless and an alcoholic threatens people when he is unstable and is unpredictable? Is it that this person panhandles and asks for rides while he’s at the business? Is it that he constantly feels the need to discuss his personal issue with me that I tell him doesn’t need to be talked about? Is it that his behavior (and smell of alcohol on his breath,) trigger me and make me want to leave?
(More later on:) is it that he is in a dysfunctional relationship with one of the staff at the work place and she allows him to come in? Is it the fact that she knows he’s drinking and has brought booze to the center? Is it the fact that most if not all of the staff are enabling him to behave this way by not making him leave? Is it that this same worker came in a few weeks ago and told us that this man abused her and then tore her kitchen apart writing “You’re a BITCH” in permanent marker? Is it the fact that everyone agreed that he shouldn’t be allowed in again because of his abusive behavior and yet again everyone is allowing him to come in because it’s cold?
Is it the subtle mental manipulations from the head that suggests to me that I am wrong like the head saying that I must be sick and that I have to be more professional and answer questions in group with clear answers instead of vague dismissive ones like I did ONE TIME that wednesday (homeless abusive man was there in group.) Is it the fact that everybody seems to be involved with everyone else’s business with staff? Is it the fact that the person who is manager doesn’t want to be manager there? Is it that one of the other staffers is constantly taking things home that have been donated to the center without permission? Is it that no one seems to know the operating protocol for the center? Is it that enforcement of any common sense protections against serious potential problems are not administered and serious problems are denied or brushed under the rug? Is it the fact that this problem with particular person was suppose to be addressed back when the abuse happened?
I wrote the italicized paragraph 2 days ago (1/7/15) while I was very upset and feeling like I was in the wrong but somehow there was something weird afoot.
I’ve talked to at least 4 people about it because I felt so confused about what happened on Wednesday. (What happened was that the guy came in again. No one told him to leave, everyone spoke behind his back and he drank while he was in the center. He also ridiculed one of the other members and again told me of his apology. And the manager derided me for not participating in group.)
When I try to bring up an issue I think is a problem I’m brushed off as if I don’t know what I’m talking about or told that it’s not an issue or I’m told that what I perceive is not what is going on. If I take anything to the place I can expect it to be pilfered by one of the workers who’s already taken at least 3 things I’ve brought for the good of the whole center. The whole place and staff seems very dysfunctional. One of the workers told me that they don’t like to make decisions and will foist it of on anyone else who’ll make it for them. Another is constantly asking me for meds she can’t get so she can get some sleep. Another’s head is buried in the internet more than half the day when she’s not doing the bare minimum of her job.
Am I being too sensitive? Am I expecting too much?
After talking to the people I knew about handling this whole situation professionally I came up with a short list of positive things I could do to come to a resolution to handling this whole state of affairs at the center.
List my issues (this is just for me and a potential meeting with the director from the home office.)
Ask specifically about the policy on dealing with potentially violent people in the center.
Ask if we can post the center’s policies up so everyone can see.
This is why I refused to give a detailed answer during the group: I was very disgusted that what was agreed upon last time about homeless abusive guy was ignored. I don’t feel that anything that is said or done in the center is serious. Why be involved if I am going to have to deal with two faced decisions? I felt that I was at risk and his alcohol on his breath triggered me. I really didn’t want to be there.
I feel that there are a few solutions:
Quit. Don’t go back.
Quit this position but ask if I can volunteer at the center. That way if I feel threatened in the future I can leave immediately.
Quit this position but ask if I can work at the center in the city.
Don’t quit, wait to see if the director from the city has a better suggestion or if her input will solve the issues that have been long standing and work until another crisis arises.
Don’t quit. don’t say anything but withdraw from any social interactions with any of the staff or clients.
Quit but see if I can become an independent contractor so I can teach WRAP and IPS at the center like I wanted.
The first day slip sliding down depression’s narrow throat. It’s not a warning. I’ve seen the red flags. I know that I’ve side glanced at them like a primitive wary of incurring the wrath of an ancient god. If you clothe the baby like a girl the demons won’t steal it away. I’ve clothed my unease in activity.
I got back in bed my head heavy my eyes labored. My chest is burdened with the thought that I won’t be able to stay here. All the positive talk of leaving and change being a good thing has done nothing to touch the fear of the future and the sadness of the past’s obliteration. Today I will leave the house I think, the beauty of the ocean will not be here for me much longer. What should I do? What will I do? So I come online and escape reality, writing of the present. I promise myself I will walk to the ocean. It’s what my Mother would do. My father would sit in his easy chair and drink himself into rage or petulance. He’d make himself unwittingly into a stormy sea.
So today, unlike yesterday I will pry myself out of this house. I will make myself do something meaningful. I won’t cry if I can help it. I will make this a celebration of all that is unique about my childhood home and my parents’ pride. I dare me.
I’ve felt guilty since my Mother passed. Living here my excuse for not cleaning up and going through the mess in the house has been that I can’t deal with my Mother’s clothes. When I see them I cry. Well I don’t. I see them as if I am looking through a microscope. They’re on a different substrata than this earth. They’re not here for me. It’s actually not so much a problem. I could deal with them if I had the motivation.
My problem has become clear to me. I am worn out from constantly working around people and working on cleaning this house up. Before I even moved in here I’ve been cleaning up after my father’s hoarding and general deranged habits. How do I know my father’s habits? I have many of the same faulty logic glitches, the same delusions, the same hoarding practices and the same strange organizational methods that appear when I have an episode. What’s the difference between him and I? He had enablers, people who “picked up” after him. People who helped him look “normal”. People who would lie for him. My father was an alcoholic. I am not. How do I know for sure he was an alcoholic besides the common signs of alcoholism? He had an aneurism back in 2003. They took an MRI of his brain to see how it looked. The doctor told us that he had serious blood spreading in his brain. Then she asked us a weird question (weird for my family not me,) was he an alcoholic? My Mother and Sister kind of fumbled and said well he did drink but not that much. I blurted out that he was a bad alcoholic and drank a lot. The doctor told us that it was actually a fortunate thing that he was an alcoholic. (Of course this was after she kind of looked at us strangely.) He had a condition called wet brain. This is where usually an alcoholic has drank so much for so long that their brain decreases in size. The decrease allowed the blood to spread without crowding his brain so much that he’d get severe brain damage.
I’m not an alcoholic. I also do not have enablers. I isolate and attempt to look “normal” with different ways of coping and allowing myself to be seen by the public. I am adept at lying when I feel I need to protect myself. I can look like a “normal” person. I’ve been trained to present that front. Was it by society or my family, I’m not sure. Probably a combination of both.
I am worn out from the years of quietly and slyly cleaning up a mess that was not mine. I don’t want to do this anymore. The two people who kept this ruse of normality are gone. I don’t want to continue doing it. Especially since this house will not be mine in the long run. I don’t know if I should leave. I can’t possibly afford the rent and the utilities on this house. My siblings don’t plan on helping me out here. I don’t even know what to think. I’m lost and floating in an apathetic cloud.
She and I were talking on the phone. Half heartedly I listened to the tale of her friend whose abusive husband left her nothing and his ungrateful children kicked her out of his house after she cleaned it and dispersed her only possessions. She’s homeless now and my friend was trying to rationalize herself out of feeling guilty for not allowing the friend to stay in her little trailer. I’m not sympathetic.
I keep my opinion to myself. At these times I’m not going to teach my friend a lesson in not allowing other people to manipulate her emotions. She’s also got a boyfriend who stays with her in this trailer who goes out carousing with his buddies and drinks a lot. He’s thoughtless and complains that she doesn’t spend time with her. When she does have time he’s out bumming with his friends at the bars.
She’s with an alcoholic. Her friend is caught in that victim status. They are not bad people. Her boyfriend is over 50 and he’s still acting like a teenager. Her friend is also over 50 and she’s acting like a kid. As far as I know her she’s not a bad woman either. And I know my friend is a caring individual. I think she is angry at me but it could be that she’s frustrated with these people who seem to expect her to pick up after them.
There’s a woman that goes to the Wellness Center I work at. She allows another guy who comes to the Center who is homeless to crash at her house. He gets drunk with her then picks a fight, knocks her down and starts wrestling her. When she protests he says he’s “trying to have a little fun”. Otherwise “he’s okay”. He’s a good cook she says. She feels bad for him. Tells me if she “doesn’t take care of him who will?” Once he started screaming at her then he “got abusive” and took a sharpie and wrote ***** is a bitch on her refrigerator and other things. She came to the center after being absent (she works at the center,) because what this guy did set her off. She told the other workers, and agreed that this guy was never going to be allowed at her place again. The next time she saw him she’d “toss his sh!t on the lawn” and he could drag it to his tent out in the woods.
I have been in bad relationships. I have been the victim. I’ve been the person to cry for others’ sympathy. I’ve been lonely and I’ve put up with other people’s irresponsible and bad behavior because I was scared to be alone. I HAVE been there. I can understand how they’re feeling. The thing is is that I learned that I deal with less b^llsh!t by refusing to allow myself to be dragged into other people’s drama. They are not my responsibility. That Christian thing where you are your “brother’s keeper” is only valid for times when your brother is acting like a responsible adult. I know there are times when we have a lapse of judgment or we act foolishly. But to direct your life in such a way that if you stepped outside of yourself and saw the red flags easily you’d be able to predict where you were going with a relationship with someone else and yet ignored it and then complained about the results? No sympathy my friend. In fact I really don’t want to give you too much of my time listening to your sob story. I’ve lived it and would rather spending my time on something more creative and interesting.
The day before Thanksgiving a friend that I haven’t heard from since my father died this February texted me to see if I wanted to go out with her. This meant going to a dive bar and having a drink. I am aware, well aware that she tends to like to go to these bars that are serious dumps. The dregs of each town they are in go there and drink away their evenings and act like life doesn’t bother them when it is apparent that they have some serious problems but don’t want to stay sober to address them. I’ve cleaned bars like this when I was really young. Chances are high that the next day some kind of vomit will be found in a corner or dark place the next morning. I’ve cleaned that puke up off the floor for less than minimum wage. I owe those people none of my time.
My friend has her issues (I have mine, I’m not unaware, just trying to limit the ones that I’m not responsible for.) I stopped going out of my way to keep in contact with her when many of her own issues became the sole subject of our conversations for the majority of the time for too long. When I stop wanting to share my life with another it tells me that I need a break from the relationship. I was getting to the point where I felt I wasn’t interesting enough for her to hear me. I was also becoming more involved with my Mother’s demise and really didn’t care about other people’s problems. Mom’s eventual death obliterated anyone else’s issues for me. I did not feel the need to entertain my friend’s desire for an audience of one. Right now I still don’t feel obligated to stretch myself out for anyone.
We drank. I had an angry orchard hard cider, only one bottle because it smelled like rot. I finished it because I bought the wretched thing and I wasn’t going to waste my money and toss it. We caught up. Her family’s dysfunctions and her partial culling of the undesirables in her life. It may change. She’s accepted people back in the past who “changed” and then sometimes they changed back. I’ve done this too. Then the barrage of anger at her ex boyfriend’s kids who she basically raised and he kicked out of the house. She keeps in touch with them and they act like irresponsible children by not calling her. I just listened again. That is what I do. For a while. The story is old. It’s boring too. I try to listen to myself when I talk to make sure I don’t fall in the trap of thinking that people owe me anything. And on the flip side I don’t give anything I can’t afford to give or that will make me bitter if someone doesn’t return the favor.
Understand, I don’t think I’m any better than they are. I just don’t want to dance that dance anymore. I find it a waste of time.
The guy that the woman I work with “helps” came in to the Center this morning. He sat next to me and tried to small talk me. I have no time for him. Some of the wretched things he’s said about my sister and some of the sexual cr@p he’s whispered to me in the past. He’s bent over my shoulder while I was at the computer to whisper drunk whatever into my ear. I can’t take alcohol on someone’s breath. It reminds me of the past. It’s dirty and fetid and comes with a soul pissing price and I feel violated after someone’s done that to me. I’m not telling that guy how I feel about him. I don’t tell people I wouldn’t trust with a plant something that personal. I never tell the darkness the secrets that shrivel my soul. So he sits next to me as I am trying to finish my lunch. “You don’t like me.”
I said, “You know what *****, that isn’t it. It has nothing to do with like. I have nothing to say to you.” I got up with my soup bowl, munching my grilled cheese and took my dishes to the kitchen. One day he was crying then loud and yelling in the next minute then drunk half an hour later. The next day he’s acting like he’s all sorry and reasonable. “Oh I HAVE to tell you that I didn’t mean your sister”. “You don’t HAVE to tell me anything *****”. “No NO! I HAVE TO!” I walked away. I don’t have to listen to anything. I had to live with that growing up as a kid. Being someone’s lover, wife. I refuse to put up with that now. If you don’t want to get stable, that’s your decision. I am not bound to put up with your volatile self. I will only do that with my own children because children need guidance. After a certain age you should be able to guide yourself. If you can’t, seek some help or run the risk of being ostracized.
Well to wrap this up, I’m under no impression that this is the end of dealing with unstable people or people who seem to get themselves involved with other people’s drama. I may get caught in that sticky web myself. For now I am just trying to row my own little boat to the shore. I am looking at the small amount of tools I have in my boat that I can use to help me out in bad weather. I’m noticing that I’m battered and bruised and out of shape. I’ve been paying attention to the others in the boats around me so much that I’ve ignored my own condition. Am I ready to look closely at my health and change it? Time may tell. My brain may also become too overwhelmed and draw my attention away from my own responsibilities to other people’s issues. So my course is to do the things I can to help myself. Good luck to me.
Okay I skimmed through this and didn’t really read it all the way through. Still there are some very good pointers in this list that I knew but didn’t think of listing in an advice article. Like changing your living situation. So read these. Do you have something to add? So You're Bipolar: Advice for the Newly Diagnosed.
-Oh my -ISP- Dear! Thanks so much for sharing hoarding stories, no need to be sorry for that. I enjoy catching up with you and felt bad hearing your Mom’s news. Geez, they both passed on within a “small” time frame. So grateful you have close family to get through challenging moments like dealing with attic!
-I have FOND memories of your parents and their home. Went their house to go fishing on C’s boat. He’s the coolest!
-Then saw C a few years later at S&J’s wedding. Awesome reunion
-It’s a real treat to hear from you X I didn’t know you’d seen Mom & Dad’s house. I’m sure you saw them at S&J’s wedding.
-Yes indeedy, that’s the 2 times I encountered them Quality vs quantity. The way E always talks of them on FB, she worships them!
-I have such spectacular memories of a lifetime meeting both sets of family at wedding! My bro and sister are so grateful you guys are family! Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people who care about you and want to be in your lives. A listening ear is PRICELESS
-Your brother and sister were very lovely people. It’s a shame that we all don’t live closer together.
-Rmbr L filled in as groom for J since J missed his own wedding rehearsal???!!!!
-I do! (LOL!) It was a beautiful wedding and everyone there was wonderful!
-Funny you mention being closer. Ages ago checking in with you…your companion friend was in Philly and you still visit with him?
-My friend, H is still in Philly. Things were very busy with me helping Mom with Dad and then taking care of Mom. I didn’t have time for Philly.
-In fact H came down when she heard my Mom was not doing well and stayed for a week. She used to live in NE for a while
-I can’t EVEN imagine stress level for you since you lived with them. Their daily caretaker. Loving daughter is understatement. Not sure to admire or think you are CRAZY!!!
If she was a professional, saying this to someone she knew was Mentally Ill is improper. Thinking she was just acting on a friend basis, I believed she thought we were on similar footing and equal. Through out this “conversation I came to believe that she thought I was beneath her and not deserving of respect.
-I love my parents dearly but living with them…of course I would do it no doubt full circle of life thing. But it would have been HUGE adjustment. 9pm curfew or “lights out to bed by 10pm” STILL to this day if Mom & I had to live together again.
That timeline clashes for this night owl
-No doubt LOL! Mom had to “learn me”. When I left & had a family I found out I was bipolar. My habits changed over the course of a few years. It was my choice to move in with Mom. When Dad exhibited signs of Dementia he was become a bit dangerous to live with. I was afraid he would hurt Mom.
-But there was a symbiosis between Mom and I. She gave me some jobs doing lab work when I wasn’t doing well and having some episodes before and after moving in. I forced her to talk to me about many unsavory things that happened in the past. My family has a big denial problem. No one wanted to recognize my father’s alcoholism. No one wanted to recognize his abuse issues. Many still won’t talk about it.
-I can’t lie. It makes me sick and unstable. So it WAS a big decision to move back in. I did it for my Mother because she really did try hard to understand my Bipolar disorder.
-It was so difficult. There were times I was sure I was going to leave. When my father got worse and Mom didn’t put him in a nursing home I sent out applications to apartments in Philly.
-Anyway, long story short: this year was a sad horrible and unexpected year.
-I miss my Mother like no other except C who moved to ND.
-Oh my, Dear. Thank you for sharing such intimate harsh realities. I’m sure moving back in had you naturally “revisit” those unsavory moments. You mentioned you were bi polar to me before. Goes to show FB sometimes only see “small bits” of big picture of what happened. Was abuse mental & physical?
-Mental and emotional. As he lost his mind the physical started to play.
-I tend to not tell people my past. Many things freak people out. My childhood was very bad, It wasnt too bad for some of my siblings but for one other it was bad.
-Personally I don’t mind telling the past. I just know when people have heard of some of the things I’ve been through their idea of me changes. Some times not for the good. And my siblings have a different view of what happened in the past. Some of the things that happened to me didn’t happen to them. For a long time I thought they knew of certain things. Now I know that I’m not like my siblings and because of the different way I was treated.
–I don’t put one worse than the other, to me it’s all BAD. It’s like molesting/raping. It doesn’t matter if it’s inappropriate touching, sayings, or violent…it is all HORRIBLE in my eyes. I don’t categorize and people deal w stuff diff ways. I understand bi-polar and read extensively of diff types. It’s an invisible disease. People look for broken limbs and that’s “easy” to spot…
Not differentiating between the different types of abuse says to me that she pretty much groups them in together and doesn’t feel they need to be addressed as the different events that they were. It’s a type of belittling, she doesn’t need to hear about them hence she doesn’t need to address them and I shouldn’t bother myself with them.
She also claims to understand Bipolar Disorder but doesn’t know how to spell it and in subsequent paragraphs doesn’t actually understand the disease and the differences nor the recovery process. She doesn’t understand that a person is not the disease either. It’s an excellent and subtle way to denigrate a person who has a disability.
-Very true. I’m BP II Hypomanias and deep depressions.
-My past and child issues played a large part in a long term struggle with Depression. For a long time my sister would yell at me that I just wanted attention. I don’t trust her and that will never really change although I would never tell her that.
-Many people took advantage of me as a child. My parents did not protect me or even ask me why I was showing prominent symptoms of depression, They just told me I was lazy.
-In the end I learned to never trust anyone who told me they loved me. Still it has made me very independent. And I do not despair when I am alone. I can amuse myself.
-Bi polar II….I have empathy for you. Your disease has you simultaneously going through hypo/hyper manias at same time!!!! That mixing together has people doing wreck less decisions like riskiy sexual promiscuity, shopaholics, making unsound decisions like getting behind the wheel emotionally unstable causing accidents…yikes!
She may have empathy but it is very unlikely she has empathy for me. This shows that she doesn’t know the differences between the two concepts. That is very poor when it comes to psychology or psychiatry.
There really is no such thing as a hypermania. Hypomania is just a milder form of mania. There is no going above and beyond manias in an episode. I think by “hypomania” she means depression and by “hypermania” she means regular mania. She also assumes that I make “… wreck less (sic) decisions like riskiy sexual promiscuity, shopaholics, making unsound decisions like getting behind the wheel emotionally unstable causing accidents”. She really doesn’t know much about me in real life. Telling me that I do these things with out asking what my episodes are like and exhibiting such ignorance of Bipolar Disorder is sad considering she’s suppose to know what these illness are and she’s “studied” them.
-Well, I have worked a long time on myself. I feel worse for Unipolar people. I have friends who have MIs and who are worse off in many more was than I am.
-I’ve been a part of NAMI, NORD, MHRH and some other Mental Illness associations. I’ve had my fair share of time in the Mental hospital
-Last time was 2009.
-I’ve learned a lot about myself. I have been able to educate myself and accumulate some tools to help myself. I went to BU to attend a Mental Illness school for people who wanted to learn about their illnesses.
–Yes I know & have had to deal with people with above behavior mentioned! We see it at the office too. We have “group home” patients who have diff levels of disease. Human behavior is natural interest of mine so I always enjoy observing/people watching and reading “into the mind”
At times I wonder who she thinks she’s “dealing” with. And the term “dealing with” is also deprecating. It’s like she’s talking about worms or mold in her house or something. And since she’s accused me of having the “above behaviors” I must not be much different that those “group home” patients. In reality, I am not much different from them. Only in that I have managed to stay out of group homes. Separating us into groups shows the level of discrimination she operates on. Anyone with a mental diagnosis doesn’t have a chance with this woman. I’ve already “lost”.
–I’ve worked on myself and chosen my friends and the people I deal with carefully so my environment is more stable.
-Yes. I go to a “Recovery and Wellness Center” and we deal with group home patients. In fact today I was offered a job being a co-manager with one of the women who operates this place. That’s why I’m trying to sleep at an earlier time lately.
–I’m proud of you, you have come such a long way. Even in face of adversity, you went back into firepit knowing flashbacks were there waiting when you moved back w parents. Is it still difficult to live there now they are both gone? Or do you have it in your heart to forgive esp Dad?
Wow, look at that. She’s “proud of me”. Would you ever say that to someone you met once in your life and had as few as 2 conversations a year with because you knew them through a relative’s spouse? If you notice I never said I had flashbacks. Another attribute pinned to me because I have a diagnosis.
And the assumption that I should forgive my father. This is where I started getting angry. This belief that you have to forgive the people who have hurt you in order to be mentally healthy is popular nowadays. Kind of like the “suicide is a bad thing” belief. People are allowed to bully others into thinking they should be ashamed of themselves because they chose not to do what every idiot in psychology theorizes is good for them. It’s the same with anger and abortion. In the following paragraphs I’ll get a dressing down for not doing what she “rightfully” thinks I should be in the process of doing. I become annoyed and absoute because I really want to ring her @ssh0le bell.
-I never forgive. For me forgiveness requires change and understanding and acknowledgement. Even for my Mother who I loved, she did not fully understand me. The past is the past and I operate on who I can deal with. It is only difficult being here because I feel the absence of my Mother. I turn to laugh at something with her and she will never be able to laugh with me again. I am comforted by the fact that I worked hard to be strong and put up with such massive ignorance and fear and covered secrets. I am settled with my Father’s death because he did not deserve my help and yet I was there anyway. In the end he wasn’t my father anyway. Just a very confused and deluded man who pooped his pants.
-I can not and will not take advantage of a person who is incapable of protecting themselves. Unless they have done me such harm recently that they have earned my rage.
-again, thank you for sharing. I can only IMAGINE your difficulty trusting. I hope to goodness you will entertain this. It doesn’t happen overnight. It tooks YEARS of process. I spent time being angry at people in the past, no rest or resolution in sight. I decided one day I didn’t want to be a prisoner anymore. This person/people consumed my thoughts taking up all the energy space in my mind. I decided I would forgive them bc this would free me like a bird trapped in a cage.
–Once I decided to transition this paridym shift in thought…. I could move on. It didn’t happen overnight but eventually it “came”
-Also forgiving them didn’t mean forgetting or wanting to interact again. I did NOTHING for them forgiving them but did it FOR ME this way I’m not a prisoner anymore. Fill my thought w positives and move on in life. I can’t change their behavior/only mine.
So I get a lecture on what is good for me. How boring. Like I’ve never heard this before. And because I asked for it (sarcasm, in case you didn’t know,) She will self righteously tell me about her wonderful mental health transformation through adopting the current psychobabble like she joined a AA group for people who can’t forgive. Remember I didn’t ask to be told how to do this. And I explained my reasons for not seeking to learn how to forgive someone I don’t want to forgive. I guess I should shut up and just take the medicine and be a good little patient. Still I patiently reply with a courteous response. And throw back the “sharing” term even though I feel that her POV has been forced on me and I lay lacking in her judgement. She must feel so superior right now.
-I respect your growing and your decision. I also thank you for sharing your personal story with me. Don’t think that I am a woman blinded by anger. Sometimes anger can rescue a person. It was one of the earlier tools that helped me out of horrible depression.
There are certain people who never deserve forgiveness. It is not a bad thing for me to not forgive the man who sexually abused my son and was never punished. The connections that webbed through my life and past make sense. nd the anger reminds me why I do not kill myself. Because of the serious depression I harbor suicidal thoughts about 80% of my days. Maybe more. I look forward to death and the escape from a life that was built on a dark path that I did not choose. I understand the play between darkness and light. I understand the need for struggle. I do not like it. It fills my mind with too many thoughts. And the breadth of this disease has convoluted any peace I am able to obtain.
-I think that I should not continue. It’s not good for me to travel down a dark road. I have a hard time finding my way back,
-Please know that I am happy for you. BTW do you have a mental illness?
–Oh my Dear….I’m not claiming to be an expert on life but I would venture to say a combo of your disease is talking along with your personality, outlook on life. It’s not any one thing. A combo. Suicidal thoughts are very present/ real to you. Statistics show guys follow thru w suicide since their methods are more intense, violent, quick. Females tend to “cry out” w overdosing drugs, slitting wrists
Oh look, she’s calling me Dear! Isn’t that sweet? What a way to put me in my place. AND NOT ONLY DOES SHE BELITTLE ME WITH A FAMILIAR AND TRIVIALIZED ADDRESS, she tells me my that my opinion is just a an element of my disease! I really wonder what she thinks she’s saying. And in addition to telling e that what I have to say is invalid she adds on some half @ssed bogus statistics and implies that I was crying out when I tried to commit suicide. What a total douche bag. At this point I’m steaming and want to throttle her.
-No, thank goodness mine are just temporary life blues like when my Dad passed He was one of most influential person in my life. I am so grateful he sacrificed so much for us kiddies I miss him dearly and if someone asked me one wish. Not lottery, it would be to have one LAST live conversation w Daddy
-Thank you X. I don’t “cry out”. I attempted suicide once and only once. I didn’t succeed because I was young and ignorant and didn’t have the right tools. I am not asking you to feel for me. I am merely explaining myself to you. I have been suicidal since I was 10. In fact I know better than to “attempt” suicide. An ex of mine tried to commit suicide and ended up alive with a hole through the back of his head. Because of it he became a hopeless junkie. He had only half his teeth and he didn’t believe I loved him.
–I hv deal countless times w people in your shoes so I wanted to “understand their world” so would research it to know how to deal with it especially on professional level for the office
-And “understand” is stated for lack of better terms bc have’nt walked their shoes but understand meaning knowing the disease how it affects people, what are signs, etc You get drift….
So now I have become one of THOSE PEOPLE that must be dealt with. See she has even researched our world! And she has gone so far as to “learn” it so she can deal with people like me in her office “professionally”. Then she wants me to agree with her poor terms and her b^llsh!t interpretations of what Bipolar Disorder is.
-Not to be mean but you could never know my world. Just as I could not know yours. We are all on our own paths. If I explained in intricate detail what it was like in my head you would most likely try to tell me it was only in my head. For you that would be true.
-Thx for sharing about your BF. trust me I hv heard some CRAZY things and when ppl tell me, I listen. That’s what people need sometimes even me listening ear is priceless!
I didn’t see much listening here. She thinks she knows what Bipolar and Mental Illness is. She’s judgmental and willing to tell me what I should be doing and thinking. This person isn’t someone I’d want as a friend, never mind a professional “dealing” with me. How sad and disappointing.
-And as for understanding the disease, the psychiatrists can not explain it. In fact they keep changing the DSMV because their understanding is only seen through their own glasses and not the glasses of the mentally ill.
-It is true, people do need a listening ear
-EXACTLY you hit hammer w nail. You would not understand my path, what I have been through in life, hardship/triumphs. You have not walked in my shoes and vice versa. Nothing to be mean at all about. That’s life.
-Maybe the mentally ill should be writing the textbooks and journal studies! Yes indeedy, like other diseases there’s much to learn. Like pancreatic cancer. People used to drop off like flies contracting it bc they didn’t know causes, etc. Nowadays there are more options.
-I think the mentally ill should have their say taken seriously instead of having to deal with the stigma that society has burdened us with. Until humans realize that everyone has their issues and good intentions do not replace good care and funding for important research people will keep suffering needlessly.
-We’ll chat soon again. 6:45 wake up time for work. Thank goodness it’s my “Fri” and 3 day wkend ahead. Work hard, play hard! Gnight
Hey you notice she abruptly cuts off the conversation when I don’t join her in the “joke” that people with Mentally Illnesses could possibly write textbooks and Journal Studies (someone tell Mary Ellen Copeland.)
-But then wars and fighting would not be so glorified and given funds and real help would be the order of the day IMHO. Oh well. Until then fear and ignorance will be common.
-‘Night X hope you get some restful sleep!
BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY YOU DON’T WANT TO ENTERTAIN THE NOTION THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIAGNOSIS ARE EQUAL TO YOU.
Wow, it’s enlightening when a person you thought was just a nice decent person turns out to be an insulting ignoramus. It’s too bad too. I thought my “friend” would be a person who would be able to understand me. If not just accept me for who I am and not try to dictate to me why I thought the way I do and that my diagnosis dictated what I did and who I was. How dehumanizing. How degrading. And I bet she didn’t even realize that as she spewed out the b^llsh!t that is being accepted as a way to “deal” with people who have mental illnesses, she was alienating me and proving that the mental health system promotes this disparagement and discrimination.
I saved the back and forth message to see if I could personally weed out the denigrations and diminishment in her words. I don’t do this to make her seem like the enemy but to give myself a way to understand how these words and the way they’re used become a tool for the ignorant to segregate the mentally ill into a place where they’re not taken seriously. I think I’ll post it here when I get it done…
BTW: we talked about this at OASIS today. “Do you think that your diagnosis represents you or are you not your diagnosis?” Something to that effect.