ugh. i have an upcoming family doctor appointment. -nervous- im only getting it because I'm on disability and also...my parents. this isn't me being all "oh, wow, now my parents are well to do! hahaha!," its more like...well, you know how they say soldiers and people who come out alive out of disasters can have survivor's guilt? do you think the same is true of people who are lifted out of poverty? not that I'm living large or anything, but...wow. -grateful-
i filed legal action against a former psych a long, long time ago. turned into a hot mess...parents pitied me, got a lawyer, i walked away with probation on a reduced charge. and now?
i dunno. im tempted to indulge my retro, antipsychiatry intellectual stuff (foucault, shulamith firestone, that kinda thing), and say its all bogus, or...something more nefarious than bogus. and yet...
-sigh- I don't think its a 'brain disease,' but my 'atypical' tranquilizer seems to help, as long as the dose is high enough, but not too high...the 'sweet spot,' i guess. ugh. it helps that my parents are solidly behind me, now...time to bust out the -other- F-word: 'forgiveness.'
i texted mama, said 'i love you, mama' and waited...anxiously...all of 15 minutes before I got a reply (via text). "Thank you. we love you, too" I dunno...I felt almost giddy. I just said "yay" and put some extra-happy smiley face on the reply text. lol. because...im 36...moving on...
i used to read novels, plays, anything "good" and hopefully, above my comprehension level (fun fact: 120 IQ, bright and precocious...-not- a prodigy...), and now I somehow have a '150 IQ,' or so the psych nurse practitioner says, and I read a lot of left wing news analysis (conflict theory, some straight up marxists...makes me think more critically, it seems). and...and...
-sigh- I used to love Tennessee Williams...I mean, as much as 12/13 year old can love Suddenly, last summer and such...and now? I think I will write, fiction. i've already got a page or two started. the last time I wrote was short stories, years ago...about social class. semi-autobiographical. true story.
the neighbors continue being obnoxious. im trying to do the whole forgive 70x7 and also love thy enemies, per Jesus' commands, and...
I dunno. "mental patients" out in the community often run into static, even without my shady backstory. i was crazier before the Schizophrenia, if that makes any sense. now...im not so 'crazy' (chaotic, disordered), and the medication helps, tremendously, and...
-sigh- social class, yet again. parents are -not- rich, but they're "upper class" for this area, so I guess well to do? at various points in their careers, people tried to "get those over-educated hippies fired from ()!," so...yeah. yeah.
oh, and...im still nervous about the family doctor. im chubs, only partly because of medication. if i really want to get better, I need to push harder, and out and...yeah.
ok. its been real. its been fun. id go so far as to say...its been -real fun- . ha! top that!
