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best cake in purgatory
I didn't realize how much it was fucking me up not knowing what was wrong with me. I always give the advice to others not to let the DSM dictate who you are, but there's something to be said for having somewhere to start.
I am so very thankful I finally have someone to listen to me. Finally. Someone who acts like they give a shit. Someone who is taking the time to find out what's wrong, so they can do what they can to make things better.
Funny thing is, he's a social worker. Not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. Maybe that's why it's going so well with him. We have a lot more in common than all the others I've seen to treat my mental illness. That helps too.
All I ever asked for was help. All I ever got was shit.
I don't know why. I don't think I have deserved all the shit people have given me. All the loads of nothing-doing. All the malpractice and plain neglect. You've seen people worse than me? I'm sure you've seen people better off than me as well.
I live in the town with the "best hospital in the world". Too bad they treat locals like livestock. Stick a numbered tag in our ears, push us through the gates. Keep it moving. Got a downer...pump them full of drugs, drag them down the shoot by their feet, whatever it takes to keep the procession moving along.
I get the full diagnosis report next week, although he gave me the basic run-down already. Bi-polar disorder with PTSD and severe Anxiety Disorder.
Sounds about right. It's not all in my head. Although, it's all in my head.
3:20 PM - Friday, Aug. 23, 2019
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