(no subject)
and I've done it before I can do it again I'm sure but why can't I just think about that then? Why is it so hard to shake it off like I wish I could do like filthy coveralls.... what? go to the doctor and tell her what? Tell her that I'm fucking crazy? Tell her that I've been in the hospital and it's coming back again and I can't seem to make it BE QUIET and that all I want to to do is escape this and sleep and that I eat even more when the noise won't quit and run on sentences seem to fit best? Right. You want to talk about Doc Pawlabinski? Yes I was self medicating and I was throwing every pill I could at my supposed illness to make this damn noise stop which SHE should have been doing and I went and she said you are STONED and you GO TAKE A DRUG TEST RIGHT NOW, ha fucking ha ha ha ha so I did I'm like whatever bitch and I passed. She said well there was "nothing to indicate the level of effect I witnessed" then she adds Abilify to my list of pills and I'm crying and freaking out so she said yeah, you can stop taking it ---- I did and it went away. I wind up in the hospital and what does SHE do? Tries putting me back on that shit. I hid it under my tongue and spit it out then she came in one day and sat down across from me at the table and I said something she didn't like and she got up and just walked out. I had to ask the desk nurse if "she was done with me?" and I filed a complaint about the way she was so unprofessional AND I told HER to fuck off, in no uncertain terms. I told her WE were finished and then I cancelled all my outpatient appointments and reported her to the director of her agency FIRELANDS BEHAVIOR and then reported the whole fucking agency to the Ohio Dept of Mental Health. I hope every one of them rots well maybe not the one lady who was a therapist but she wasn't much help either. THen I have to look at such ugly things. Ugly ugly things inside of me. Why can't I feel deep and abiding, unconditional love for my sons? They are my children and from the day they were born, I LOVE them, but I don't -love- them. Active love, or I don't know what I mean. I don't feel what I should feel. Maybe I wasn't taught that. I should not have had kids. I shouldn't I shouldn't I shouldn't. But.I.Did --- and no, I'm far, far from perfect. I have been both physically and verbally abusive, I've moved them around and put them into bad situations. No stability. No consistancy. NO CONSISTANCY EVER EVER EVER. I'm not dragging them into hotels and teaching them to panhandle, not smoking crack while my boyfriend molests them but they never had stability. They never had a home - for more than five years. No regular schools. Bad stick them in the goddamn basement like wild animals and when they need a time out put them in a closet schools. Damaging. Put in foster care for help where he was abused physically and certainly not loved and further damaged emotionally. I DID THAT UNDERSTAND??? I wish I had the courage to kill myself, I really do. Fighting the truth about yourself is hard. It's the beginning of that song Hey You by Pink Floyd. A dark and metallic place. Crawl the fuck out, right. Put blinders on like I did before and just go. And go. And go. Just do it. Just be. Tremble. Scream. I want to. Hell, I have to. I have no other choice.