Category Archives: Rants
I am uniquely ME: I reject the double-standard in antipsychiatry
Warning: rant. I am coming out with this right here, right now: So bipolar is okay. Schiz is okay. Depression is okay. These, I hear, are maybe growing up problems or “extreme states” or maybe a “spiritual crisis.”
So lyme disease we can blame on the tick. Cancer we can blame on a tumor. A car accident on a drunk driver and a bump on the head can be blamed on a brick.
Alcohol on the bottle. Child abuse on the parents and spousal abuse on the spouse. Overeating on sugar. Not eating on….
Oh, that, my friends, is a moral problem.
Get real. Do I hear a double standard in antipsychiatry?
I’m sorry, but eating disorders include anorexia and eating disorders are REAL just like any of the other so-called mental illnesses are real to those that suffer from them. You can call these conditions “mental illness,” or anything else if you don’t like the word “mental illness.” It’s just a name, right?
It’s psychiatry’s fault that they called them “mental illnesses” and imprisoned people, which they never should have done. It’s psychiatry’s fault that they lied to people and said, “It’s for life,” when in fact, most of these so-called “illnesses” are temporary. It’s psychiatry’s false claim that the “only” cure and “best” and “safest” cure is medication, when these pills are hardly safe and really shouldn’t be used at all, or extremely rarely. It’s psychiatry’s fault that they lock people up willy-nilly when really, it makes no sense to further punish them who are already suffering enough! It’s psychiatry’s fault that these doctors poke fun at patients, belittle them, and devalue their patients. In turn, if these doctors are going to treat their patients that way, I don’t think they are very valuable as doctors, do you?
I hate psychiatry. I hate what my psychiatrists did to me. I hated that they denied me care, saying that eating disorders were “nothing” or “trivial.” I hated that they lied to my parents, betrayed my confidentiality, treated me like a child, and raked in thousands from our family. I hated being tied to a bed and left for dead for six hours. I hated their antisemitism. I hated that they treated me like I was an imbecile. I hated the way they mimicked me, poked fun at me, laughed at me behind my back and right in front of me, yelled at me, called me a liar. I hated the quacks. I hated the accusations. I hated that therapists sexually abused me. I hated the “state hospital” threats, and the real state hospital, and electroshock, and force-feeding. I hated being stripped naked, searched, and thrown into an empty room like a caged animal. I hated the forced drugging. I hated that doctors saved my life only because in doing so, they were avoiding an imagined lawsuit.
This is healthcare? No, it ain’t. Healthcare for the very rich…I’ve heard they sometimes get private rooms.
I have an eating disorder and it’s no different from any other so-called “mental illness.” If anyone in antipsychiatry wants to discriminate against me because they feel that my having starved myself was some “moral choice,” go ahead.
So depression is a moral choice too. And schiz is the devil. Cancer, that’s a bad habit. And it was your fault that you walked into the woods and got bitten by a tick. I can play this game, too. If you want to say anorexia is a choice, then I can say YOUR DISEASE was your choice, too. Go screw.
Just don’t bother then
You are allergic to the phone?
My only friend who enjoys conversation with me is on vacation in fucking Alaska for a month.
No one else will even open their mouth and the world is a silent place for me.
Look at me. What’s wrong with me?
Shall I turn it off? Will that make it ring? What’s the trick to it? There’s a manual somewhere but it doesn’t teach you friendship.
No one likes me anymore. Am I an ugly fuck? When I was a kid I believed I didn’t have friends because I was the shortest kid in the class, and because I wore glasses. And because I wasn’t very athletic. I couldn’t hit that home run. Boy, I wanted real bad to hit that home run. I figured if I could do that, I’d have it made. Everyone would like me then, and I’d have lots of friends, and, I’d even be what they called back then “popular.”
I was so fucking jealous of the kids that I believed were popular. Anyway, they didn’t have it any better than us rejects.
Well, that, I guess, was junior high.
Friendship still sucks bad.
Things that suck and things that don’t suck
Okay, I’m gonna start off by listing what sucks and then I’m gonna list what doesn’t suck. I’m doing this so when I’m all done writing this, I can end and feel reasonably decent that there are a few things that don’t suck in the world.
Okay, what sucks….
I am going to stir up the pity pot real good and think up some doozies for ya’ll and make a brilliant list. Here’s my list:
I guess it sucks when you walk into a store and make a joke with another customer (cuz it’s a little on the hot side, you are waiting in line, so, hey, time to lighten up, right?) and the other customer looks at you like you are from Outer Space.
Now, granted, it’s possible that you’ve cracked this joke in Language X, and this other customer doesn’t speak Language X. What if the other customer is Language Y-speaking, and you didn’t even know it?
Well, fucker, crack your joke in Language Y instead and that will get you a laugh.
Language barrier aside, people looking at you like you are CRAZY completely sucks, right?
Oh, okay, the other customer was busy with their ipod and had earphones in. So you go look. You really look hard. No, no earphones. Yep, you’ve been profiled.
Why? Um, because of the little shuffle you have that shows the world you take meds, or because you dare to wear that Suicide Prevention t-shirt, or because you have some very old scars on your arms (it’s summer, remember?) or because you are stupid enough to bring along some STAFF member with you who is “supervising” you and telling you, “No, it’s not appropriate to buy that,” while you are in the store. Don’t do that. Shopping with staff is a dead giveaway. Don’t go around in a van, either. You don’t need supervision, baby, if you are an adult. Or do you just look a little strange like me?
So, okay, getting profiled sucks. Getting judged before you even get a chance sucks. Being turned down from the job based on what you look like instead of what your skills are sucks.
Okay, so people look at me and say, “Ugh” and just don’t want to deal with me. I’m told people pretty much stay away because no one wants to have anything to do with a person with “problems.” Fine.
To change the subject.
Was it today that Zimmerman got off? I think it completely sucks anytime anyone gets shot.
Okay, onto what doesn’t suck.
I like that I write. I love that I write. I love that I still have this ability. I love that it makes me NOT INVISIBLE ANYMORE. DO YOU HEAR ME LOUD AND CLEAR? I think you did this time.
Might as well add yet another post
I mean, I might as well. Love you guys just for reading all the shit I put on here. It’s useless crap, right?
I have no one else to talk to so that’s why I rant on here. But I’ll tell ya something. My phone rang today. I had pretty much forgotten what my ringer sounds like. I was rather surprised to hear the sound of it and I did the appropriate thing. I picked up the phone. I have it paired to a headset and I did it right. I pressed the right button.
Folks, I know I did it right. I know I pressed the right button. I swear up and down I did. But the person hung up as soon as we connected and I’m rather certain it was a wrong number to begin with. Someone out of state. Um, Florida. Who knows, possibly some spammer.
Okay, so we get these calls all the time. My phone rarely makes a sound, but these sounds are important to me. They stick out at me and I’ve learned not to ignore them the way I’ve filtered out all the shouting in the hall. That’s just neighbor shit and the maintenance guys that haven’t learned to work quietly and show us residents some respect.
Now we have received notices telling us that they are doing hall floor waxing…I suppose we go through this from time to time…starts at 10pm and ends god-knows-when…2am from what I recall. Loud fucking loud like drilling and each time they come by, they hit your door with a bang. Disrespect….But really. I don’t have kids that have to show up for school the next day, so maybe I should just not complain. They tell us not to walk out in the hall during that time. Most of the time, they just wax and don’t bother telling us ahead of time they are going to do it. So I’ll consider this progress.
Shit, world. See my shirt? It says BITCH on it and that’s why no one talks to me. That is, literally no one. I try to make jokes and even my jokes are going sour.
I badly need to get the fuck off Facebook. I’m crappy at the social thing.
I’m telling myself right now: Is this what “social” has boiled down to? Facebook and nothing else?
A few other things, too. I don’t know what. A good night’s sleep might be nice. I don’t ask for a lot. Most folks, by the time they are tired and worn out like I am, don’t really do. Just to hold my dog and cry my eyes out another time.
The necessity of friendship
Guess I need to take Puzzle out. After that, we’ll come back in.
Someone called, guess it was last week. Said, “Julie, you need help, you need people in your life.” Then guess what she did. She pointed away from herself, to the freaking mental health system.
No, she didn’t invite me out for coffee. This is a person whom I’ve phoned when she’s sick to check up on her. And called just to say hi, how are you.
No, these calls are not returned. Nor does she even pick up. Can I trust someone who behaves in such a manner? I don’t think so. This is a person who washes their hands clean of me, time after time. And allows “professionals” to do the job. What I need is a friend. Which she herself stated.
She states I’m supposed to find these “friends” sitting in “groups” all day? Oh please. Let’s sit across the table and have coffee. More “group” happened in the smoking rooms in hospitals than in the real “groups” run by staff than anyone wanted to admit.
And so, friendships are discouraged at hospitals. You can’t put a price tag on friendship or charge for it, but a good set of ears and lots of laughter works better than pills or therapy.
I do have friends.
You don’t find love in “groups.” But so often, “staff” try to squelch it. You ain’t never gonna find your friends until you walk away.
Start those steps today.
Human interaction
According to my Google Voice records, the last phone call I received on my home phone number was two days ago from person X. We spoke for about 15 minutes about how on earth I was going to get care.
So far, no such “care” has happened.
What the heck is “care” anyway?
According to my Google Voice records, my CBFS worker called three days ago and I told her I did not want her to come over here, but I gave her permission to phone me. She has not phoned since, however I do know that she does not work Thursdays or Fridays. She is rather useless and I see no point in talking to her anyway. I’ve discussed this enough on here and I don’t want to get into it further right now.
Now regarding this “care,” I’m supposedly going to get a “therapist,” but so far, no “therapist” has phoned me and said, “Hey, Julie, I’m so-and-so and I’m from such-and-such agency, and person X or your CBFS worker has contacted me and I’d like to set up and appointment with you….”
I did ask my CBFS worker to inquire about therapists, and person X is supposedly looking into the matter as well. If, indeed there are openings….Person X was going to speak, I mean have an actual voice-to-voice conversation with said therapist….I guess this has not happened.
Actually, it was two weeks ago that my CBFS worker was supposed to get back to me about the matter of the therapists, and she did not.
But more than this so-called therapy, I need a medical appointment. Now it is late Friday and no medical appointment has happened. I guess my doctor has been poisoned, as I said in my previous blog entry, by a spiked pina colada, while vacationing in Aruba.
Person X said that if she could not get my regular primary care doctor to TAKE ACTION, she would find another doctor for me. So maybe that’s what’s in the works. I’m kinda scared to make any phone calls to find out whatever bad news is in store for me, such as….
…there is a six-month waiting list for doctors….
…there are no primary care physicians specializing in eating disorders that take Medicare and Medicaid (actually, I’m sure this is true, it’s got to be) that accept ADULTS……
….Julie, you are fucked……
Guess what? I am 55 and alive, and you know something? The doctor who told me, back in the 1980’s, that eating disorders were not very important, that they were minor and that people with eating disorders were probably “faking it” and that he would not even bother seeing me because schiz and bipolar were oh so much more serious….
He’s dead, of course.
More power to me.
Well, the time passes, the phone has not rung in two days, but I did make a business call I think the night before last that (as I think I told you) I sort of screwed up and resulted in the clearing out of my checking account. I now have negative balance in there due to a red tape error. No, I have not lost money or fallen for a scam, it was just a paypal thingy. I was dealing with an honest company and it was not my fault or the fault of the company, the whole thing happened in a flash and then I figured it out, but I’ve got money in temporarily locked my paypal account instead of my checking account. Anyone who does business with PayPal knows the deal, and has probably made the same error. On the third, namely Monday, I will get my federal check. The remaining negative balance will come out of that, and then I’ll have something in my checking account again…until it all runs out rather shortly. And life goes on. I have never before overdrawn my checking account so I have no clue what the overdraft fee will be.
Bigger than a breadbox? Or do we not talk about food?
And I have $13 left in food stamps and thankfully, some cash, and Puzzle has plenty of meat (which is why I only have $13 left in food stamps to last me till the 11th).
But I wasn’t going to talk about all those minor glitches.
Every doctor on the planet is off for the weekend and taking the next month off, folks. There are no covering doctors, so don’t have appendicitis or break a bone or you are screwed. Never mind something trivial and vain such as an eating disorder. Those things can wait, right? I’ve been waiting for “care” for 34 years now. Maybe I’m just “faking it,” like that doctor said back in 1982, shortly before Karen Carpenter died. Only the doctor himself died, so we can’t really cross-examine him on the witness stand. Maybe he is only playing dead, but he’s been playing dead a while himself. I mean, when they rolled back the stone and found Jesus not there, it had only been three days. If we roll back the stone on this doctor, it’s sure gonna stink bad, whether he’s there or not.
Friday, and life goes on
I was told on Monday that I should see a doctor immediately, preferably that day, even though it was Memorial Day. Person X tried to get me an appointment, but I guess there was no communication, or she communicated with the wrong people.
I do know she has communicated directly, that is, voice-to-voice, actual conversations, with the head of Team 2 of CBFS. However, CBFS is a totally useless organization that does nothing. I mean, they are not even going to give me a RIDE to the doctor’s, so what’s the use of talking to these people?
I guess there is still no communication with anyone medical. It’s mid-Friday and I have not seen a doctor, not had any blood tests, not seen a stethoscope, not had an EKG, not had my blood pressure taken (not that I need it) not been weighed…and I sure don’t WANT to be weighed but you get the point.
Are all these MD’s on vacation? Are they all on pregnancy leave? Have they all been in car accidents? Are they all in comas? Maybe they are all in Aruba, sipping on pina coladas.
Friday, and I am still alive, and meanwhile someone has slipped poison into those pina coladas.
Mantra, again.
Nobody gives a shit about me. Nobody gives a shit about me. Nobody gives a shit about me.
Oh sure, they say they love me, it’s all lip service.
I have no clue why I bought this new phone. Sure, it was only $30, but it never rings and I don’t even get texts. I need it for “business calls” only. That is, trying and trying to get care for my eating disorder. Problem is, all the care that exists is COERCIVE CARE and is non-effective for most people, myself included, so I really don’t see the point.
Why am I even looking for a therapist, when therapy has only once helped out of the 20 therapists I’ve had. One therapist kept me alive but I did not improve. So, so many of them are ineffective or abusive or have no knowledge of eating disorders.
Next week, if I am not deathly ill, I am going to my state rep and explaining that there MUST be improved eating disorders care for people in this state. If this happens, we will see a drop in suicide rates and drop in suicide attempts. I guarantee it.
I am telling you my health is failing. I have told this to a number of medical people and they have poo-pooed what I have said, and done nothing.
My seventh book, derived from my sixth, which was poorly written (I was starved and asleep while writing it) will probably never be written.
It is highly likely that a while back I developed refeeding syndrome and the symptoms have been masked. I have done things, that is, chemical things, to mask these symptoms because I am embarrassed about stuff such as edema. If left untreated for, say, a week, you die. It has been, say, six weeks.
What happens is, everything is hunky dory, especially if you mask the symptoms. I am not experiencing reperatory symptoms yet. What happens is, you are going about your every day thing, and suddenly, your electrolytes drop, and you die.
Yes, I have told doctors, and they have done nothing, not believed me, practically laughed in my face. Emergency rooms know nothing. The local ED hospital kn0ws nothing and will probably refuse to admit me because I won my wonderful human rights case against them.
Guess I’m on my way.
you say you care about me? Naw, you don’t give a shit.
Ambien…Jesus, what a useless drug. Execpt as as date rape drug, but never mind that. Keeps me asleep two hours at most. Last night I took seven of them, of the 20mg size, just to make sure I didn’t go out on a binge run. Was hoping i’d be staggering around so bad I could not leave the house. These pills did nothing. Nada. I read it takes 400 mgs to kill you. There are far better ways to drug yourself up, and there are far easier ways to kill yourself.
Nobody give a shit, like I said.
Well, I just took never mind how much Klonopin, far too much, to make sure I sleep the day away. No sense in living anymore.
Two local community health centers have NO therapists who know anything about eating disorders
Yes, I have asked. I was just on the phone with one of them and told flat out no, they would not even bother putting me on their waiting list. They had no one on their roster that knew anything about eating disorders. And this is a community center that has a lot of young clientele. Say what?
Oh please. No wonder there are so many suicides and suicide attempts in the high schools.
I guess you are supposed to be rich and have private insurance or something.
I told them, “Well, this is why so many people with eating disorders die.” And I hung up.
I am telling you, I am going to do something about this someday.
This Hunger Is Secret 