So here's a question, with maximum bolshiness and resentment
When did my mood disorder get to be about everybody else's feelings?
Damn thing's like a particularly obnoxious family member. I can cuss it. I live with it. I know what living with it's like. Other people's feelings are irrelevant, and it's fairly presumptuous of them to act like they matter.
I'm not talking about the people close to me, who actually care. They're a) emotionally invested in my continued existence and b) mostly too smart to pull this shit anyway. They have a right to an opinion, and they care enough to express it well.
I'm talking about the people who claim to be helping, who seem to have infested my life like fleas. Pass the comb and tweezers, because I need to get rid of these parasitical fuckers. God, there's a lot of people making their wages by sticking their noses in my misery. I'm talking about my shrink laying down the guilt trip about how he saw me outside clinic hours [a) your clinic hours are stupidly limited and you have the power to change them, and indeed you'll have to now the government are starting to force the mentally ill back into work; b) I didn't want to see you at all and you insisted on this appointment; c) hello, you're getting paid to be here and I'm not]. I snapped, "Well, I'm sorry I'm insufficiently grateful."
I'm talking about my shrink's need to make it All About Him. Whenever I express frustration with a screw-up or with my own crappy experience, he gets all, "Did I say that to you?" Yeah, um, dude, you're not the only source of information in my entire life. Do not snatch the hat, jam it on your head, and then yell at me for making you wear it. You might need to be the Good Guy; I don't care. I was complaining that Omoigui (specifically, I mentioned his name; Omoigui is Rashid's boss and takes over his cases in his absence, so his behaviour is relevant) told me buspirone was addictive, and Rashid goes "Did I say that to you?" Me: "Is your name Omoigui? No? Well then." He's not interested in discussing my problems, just really interested in making sure I don't blame him for them. Boring. He's just not that important in my life. I would happily never see the guy.
They just cannot hear "go away and leave me alone." It kind of reminds me of those guys who can't bear to hear that lesbians don't hate them and don't secretly want them; we're just completely fucking apathetic. Or a guy in a bar (or kerb-crawling) who just will not take no for an answer. Gimme drugs and keep your 'wisdom' to yourself. I accept it's probably painful for someone to hear that their opinion and their actions are worse than useless to me, but hey: maybe they shouldn't have had such a sense of entitlement in the first place. It's not my fault their entire self-esteem is based on getting to run my life.
And if I ever hear the phrase "duty of care" again, I'm gonna strangle someone. As far as I can tell, it means, "Hey, we decided it was our place to make decisions about your healthcare without asking you first... why aren't you grateful? Whaddaya mean, stop standing on your toe? Standing on your toe is my way of helping!" When your duty of care involves ignoring the disabled person's stated wishes, that doesn't come across as very dutiful or caring. Infantilising much?
Someone talks honestly about her experiences, don't decide you have to spring into action and Fix It Right Now. Shut the fuck up and listen. When her account reaches a natural pause or conclusion, the following phrase may be useful: "How can I help?" Then you shut the fuck up again and listen to the answer.
They do something, without asking me, that leaves me worse off. And then they pitch a fit because I'm ungrateful and that hurts their ickle feelings. And they can be as thoughtless, negligent or insulting as they like, but god help me if I'm not always careful to be subjective and "I feel" and polite and gentle. Mentals must exercise twice the control of neurotypicals, however little energy they have for it.
Yes, the wound is festering. I dig bits out and give it a scrub when I'm feeling brave. But you people are like the Victorian doctors who took over everything and then the death rates went right up because you were dirty and clueless and more trouble than you were worth. Keep your fingers out of it, because you're not helping and the damn thing's sore.
ETA: Oh look, they've contacted me to tell me it's part of their supportive, responsible duty of care. If I throw a stick, will they leave?
(Also posted in gimp_vent.)
Damn thing's like a particularly obnoxious family member. I can cuss it. I live with it. I know what living with it's like. Other people's feelings are irrelevant, and it's fairly presumptuous of them to act like they matter.
I'm not talking about the people close to me, who actually care. They're a) emotionally invested in my continued existence and b) mostly too smart to pull this shit anyway. They have a right to an opinion, and they care enough to express it well.
I'm talking about the people who claim to be helping, who seem to have infested my life like fleas. Pass the comb and tweezers, because I need to get rid of these parasitical fuckers. God, there's a lot of people making their wages by sticking their noses in my misery. I'm talking about my shrink laying down the guilt trip about how he saw me outside clinic hours [a) your clinic hours are stupidly limited and you have the power to change them, and indeed you'll have to now the government are starting to force the mentally ill back into work; b) I didn't want to see you at all and you insisted on this appointment; c) hello, you're getting paid to be here and I'm not]. I snapped, "Well, I'm sorry I'm insufficiently grateful."
I'm talking about my shrink's need to make it All About Him. Whenever I express frustration with a screw-up or with my own crappy experience, he gets all, "Did I say that to you?" Yeah, um, dude, you're not the only source of information in my entire life. Do not snatch the hat, jam it on your head, and then yell at me for making you wear it. You might need to be the Good Guy; I don't care. I was complaining that Omoigui (specifically, I mentioned his name; Omoigui is Rashid's boss and takes over his cases in his absence, so his behaviour is relevant) told me buspirone was addictive, and Rashid goes "Did I say that to you?" Me: "Is your name Omoigui? No? Well then." He's not interested in discussing my problems, just really interested in making sure I don't blame him for them. Boring. He's just not that important in my life. I would happily never see the guy.
They just cannot hear "go away and leave me alone." It kind of reminds me of those guys who can't bear to hear that lesbians don't hate them and don't secretly want them; we're just completely fucking apathetic. Or a guy in a bar (or kerb-crawling) who just will not take no for an answer. Gimme drugs and keep your 'wisdom' to yourself. I accept it's probably painful for someone to hear that their opinion and their actions are worse than useless to me, but hey: maybe they shouldn't have had such a sense of entitlement in the first place. It's not my fault their entire self-esteem is based on getting to run my life.
And if I ever hear the phrase "duty of care" again, I'm gonna strangle someone. As far as I can tell, it means, "Hey, we decided it was our place to make decisions about your healthcare without asking you first... why aren't you grateful? Whaddaya mean, stop standing on your toe? Standing on your toe is my way of helping!" When your duty of care involves ignoring the disabled person's stated wishes, that doesn't come across as very dutiful or caring. Infantilising much?
Someone talks honestly about her experiences, don't decide you have to spring into action and Fix It Right Now. Shut the fuck up and listen. When her account reaches a natural pause or conclusion, the following phrase may be useful: "How can I help?" Then you shut the fuck up again and listen to the answer.
They do something, without asking me, that leaves me worse off. And then they pitch a fit because I'm ungrateful and that hurts their ickle feelings. And they can be as thoughtless, negligent or insulting as they like, but god help me if I'm not always careful to be subjective and "I feel" and polite and gentle. Mentals must exercise twice the control of neurotypicals, however little energy they have for it.
Yes, the wound is festering. I dig bits out and give it a scrub when I'm feeling brave. But you people are like the Victorian doctors who took over everything and then the death rates went right up because you were dirty and clueless and more trouble than you were worth. Keep your fingers out of it, because you're not helping and the damn thing's sore.
ETA: Oh look, they've contacted me to tell me it's part of their supportive, responsible duty of care. If I throw a stick, will they leave?
(Also posted in gimp_vent.)