It's SOP at the psychiatrist's office during an appointment to answer a litany of questions which, by the 2nd or 3rd visit, you've already memorized. Me being me, I preempt the doctor by answering the questions before they're asked.
No, I'm not doing any illicit street drugs (which, when the shit comes down, is really kind of senseless because while it'd yes, be an extra expense, and my mom already calls me a drug addict because I take Valium for my severe anxiety, I'd be far less perpetually pissed and on edge and I might get a decent night's rest, unlike last night, when I woke up at 1am and couldn't get back to sleep. It's the first day of school and I have to caffeine myself through a 4 hour lecture, which could've been avoided altogether, had I not been treated like a 9-year old (see "homicidal intentions").
When asked if I'm having any suicidal ideations or intentions, I always lie and say no, and brush her off. I have no plan (nor am I very good at suicide attempts, trust me) and I love my son too much. But does suicide cross my mind? Daily. Like, walking erratically through store parking lots hoping to be "accidentally" smushed by a zooming car, like thinking.
Homicidal intentions? Again, I say no, but as time presses forward, my hit list grows larger and if I knew my psychiatrist had mob ties and I had enough money, I'd have baseball bats flying at the heads of an awful lot of people I know. Alas. (It just occurred to me that I *do* have an overprotective, unimaginably strong teenage son, and out hit lists could cross-check, so we'll leave that open as an option for now.)
Do I hear voices in my head? Only the din of my own...regaling observations, ideas, criticisms and songs. I don't have multiple personalities, I is what I is. I am my own best friend.
Something bothered me at the tail end of my last phone conversation with Guy. Some blahbety blah about my spending time with my friends, and an implication by him that almost literally all of my friends were virtual or online-oriented, not that there'd be anything wrong with that. I'm sorry if I don't BBQ with the Douchebags down the block and host Christmas cookie baking parties with all of my undergraduate brethren. In my own defense, I did say that I had numerous friends who are ACTUAL people I ACTUALLY spend time with, though, unfortunately, some of them ACTUALLY live far away, so our communication is remote but no less meaningful. Is Guy's daughter in Germany not really his daughter because he has to Skype with her? My point.
Any psychosis? Well, jeepers, Doctor, isn't that why I'm here in the first place? I should really ask her for a more narrow definition of what she deems "psychosis," because there's Pleasantly Charming Psychotic Annie versus Impetus to Self-Mutilate and Overdose Psychotic Annie. Sometimes that line is verrrrrrry fine and Lord knows, switcheroos hour by hour.
Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me. Pandora's on and Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher Man" just came on. Pay no mind to the fact that Springfield was a lesbian in the first place, but everyone used to equate this song with my first husband, whose father was a minister. Last night, my erstwhile spouse happily announced his engagement to his girlfriend of the last few years, clearly the only woman alive capable of putting up with how utterly, slothfully, impossible he is to live with. He's nice enough, but too milquetoast to manage The Offbeat Drummer and too head-shakingly wussy to command an ounce of respect from Luke, who wants to spend all of his time with me, because I'm way cooler. As I understand things, the fiancee was on an online dating site for EIGHT YEARS before she finally caught the eye of someone, who happened to be my ex-husband, so she's going to marry him. (No, I can't say I've been on a date in about half that time, but you all know I'm saving 2nd virginity for someone.) She's nice enough too, but has a tendency to order Luke around and over-mother me when I'm fucking within earshot! She pulls crap like baking competing cakes for Luke's birthday, and lecturing him about his swearing, whereupon, if I hear her or encounter a potential parental overtaking, I really, REALLY Mama Bear claw her out of the scene and remind her sternly that Luke HAS a mother and she should kind of butt the fuck out. I just laughed at Craig's announcement, but Luke's pretty pissed. He was so pissed, in fact, that he said he'd rather I be betrothed to Guy than his dad to this woman.
DANG.
If we're going to talk Dusty Springfield, this is really the only song (apart from "Don't Sleep in the Subway") on which she appears to which I can relate. Seriously.
Well, off to get ready for Year 2 of "God, Is This Really What I Want To Do?" and catch up with the loonies on the train towards downtown.
What HAVE I done to deserve this?
No, I'm not doing any illicit street drugs (which, when the shit comes down, is really kind of senseless because while it'd yes, be an extra expense, and my mom already calls me a drug addict because I take Valium for my severe anxiety, I'd be far less perpetually pissed and on edge and I might get a decent night's rest, unlike last night, when I woke up at 1am and couldn't get back to sleep. It's the first day of school and I have to caffeine myself through a 4 hour lecture, which could've been avoided altogether, had I not been treated like a 9-year old (see "homicidal intentions").
When asked if I'm having any suicidal ideations or intentions, I always lie and say no, and brush her off. I have no plan (nor am I very good at suicide attempts, trust me) and I love my son too much. But does suicide cross my mind? Daily. Like, walking erratically through store parking lots hoping to be "accidentally" smushed by a zooming car, like thinking.
Homicidal intentions? Again, I say no, but as time presses forward, my hit list grows larger and if I knew my psychiatrist had mob ties and I had enough money, I'd have baseball bats flying at the heads of an awful lot of people I know. Alas. (It just occurred to me that I *do* have an overprotective, unimaginably strong teenage son, and out hit lists could cross-check, so we'll leave that open as an option for now.)
Do I hear voices in my head? Only the din of my own...regaling observations, ideas, criticisms and songs. I don't have multiple personalities, I is what I is. I am my own best friend.
Something bothered me at the tail end of my last phone conversation with Guy. Some blahbety blah about my spending time with my friends, and an implication by him that almost literally all of my friends were virtual or online-oriented, not that there'd be anything wrong with that. I'm sorry if I don't BBQ with the Douchebags down the block and host Christmas cookie baking parties with all of my undergraduate brethren. In my own defense, I did say that I had numerous friends who are ACTUAL people I ACTUALLY spend time with, though, unfortunately, some of them ACTUALLY live far away, so our communication is remote but no less meaningful. Is Guy's daughter in Germany not really his daughter because he has to Skype with her? My point.
Any psychosis? Well, jeepers, Doctor, isn't that why I'm here in the first place? I should really ask her for a more narrow definition of what she deems "psychosis," because there's Pleasantly Charming Psychotic Annie versus Impetus to Self-Mutilate and Overdose Psychotic Annie. Sometimes that line is verrrrrrry fine and Lord knows, switcheroos hour by hour.
Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me. Pandora's on and Dusty Springfield's "Son of a Preacher Man" just came on. Pay no mind to the fact that Springfield was a lesbian in the first place, but everyone used to equate this song with my first husband, whose father was a minister. Last night, my erstwhile spouse happily announced his engagement to his girlfriend of the last few years, clearly the only woman alive capable of putting up with how utterly, slothfully, impossible he is to live with. He's nice enough, but too milquetoast to manage The Offbeat Drummer and too head-shakingly wussy to command an ounce of respect from Luke, who wants to spend all of his time with me, because I'm way cooler. As I understand things, the fiancee was on an online dating site for EIGHT YEARS before she finally caught the eye of someone, who happened to be my ex-husband, so she's going to marry him. (No, I can't say I've been on a date in about half that time, but you all know I'm saving 2nd virginity for someone.) She's nice enough too, but has a tendency to order Luke around and over-mother me when I'm fucking within earshot! She pulls crap like baking competing cakes for Luke's birthday, and lecturing him about his swearing, whereupon, if I hear her or encounter a potential parental overtaking, I really, REALLY Mama Bear claw her out of the scene and remind her sternly that Luke HAS a mother and she should kind of butt the fuck out. I just laughed at Craig's announcement, but Luke's pretty pissed. He was so pissed, in fact, that he said he'd rather I be betrothed to Guy than his dad to this woman.
DANG.
If we're going to talk Dusty Springfield, this is really the only song (apart from "Don't Sleep in the Subway") on which she appears to which I can relate. Seriously.
What HAVE I done to deserve this?
9 comments:
You have done nothing to deserve this. Great song, though! You sure you're ok with Craig getting engaged? Some women feel latent disgust at the fact their ex's are re-marrying, but you seem ok with it. I just worry for Luke. He has a difficult time with Craig to begin with.
I know you want Craig to be happy. That's how strong your heart is, and for that, I love you and I'm sure Craig does too. Craig will always love you and yes, you're always going to be "Babe #1." You bore his son.
Guy's implication that your only friends are online is bullshit. I see you when I can, which isn't often, but it doesn't mean our friendship is any less important to me or that I love you any less.
How was school today, Princess?
I would rather be friends with freakin Avatars than suburbanites who pick blueberries once a year.
I know Andrea , you are probably thinking, "Get over the blueberries Kate!", which a normal person would. I worked on a fruit and flower farm for five years and it is hard work. Any messy. But it is amazing to see a seedling turn into plant that turns into a piece of fruit.
No doubt, Kate.
I keep thinking and referring back to your line of "controlled boredom."
Annie's having a hard time right now as far as I understood on the phone tonight. She likes her first professor, who's cool, so that that's good.
Let's let her get some rest. I'm used to weird sleeping schedules, but Annie's bipolar and rapid cycling and explained to me on the phone that she's transitioning hour by hour from falling asleep to being the proverbial class clown.
Oh, Annie.
To BMF,
I Completely agree with you that Annie needs all her strength and sleep to get through this semester.
When I read that Guy said "Something bothered me at the tail end of my last phone conversation with Guy. Some blahbety blah about my spending time with my friends, and an implication by him that almost literally all of my friends were virtual or online-oriented, not that there'd be anything wrong with that." I feel like just when she is getting back on the horse , he feels the need to knock her off. I didn't expect her to respond , I just wanted her to know I think her world is filled the exact opposite kind of people.
Nothing wrong with online friends due to distance or circumstances I love my "annie insomnia" chats even though you should be getting well earned rest than chatting to me
School yesterday was far more interesting than school today. Today was the guy who won't let us use our laptops or electronic devices during class. Dood, what else am I suppose to be doing with you talking in that monotone voice looking at Power Point slides? Today was Career Counseling....how to counsel people w/their careers, not how to develop our own. Tomorrow will be a morning class--a nightmare at that--advanced stats an research methods, minding that I flunked stats twice since I got into Adler. :(
Yes, I'm still tired. My sleeping's still not back on track and thank God the prof called for a break today just as my eyes were rolling in the back of my head....
Tomorrow I meet with the Student Services guy about the Americans With Disabilities Act reasonable accommodations formal act. This dude assigns "punishment" 3-pg papers if you miss class because you're sick or have late work...that ain't gonna work if I can't get my regular assignments in on time if I am in a depressive episode...we'll see how it goes! I'm scared....
And thanks, Rob. I enjoy our insomniac chats and links! I don't care if you're on the other side of the Atlantic! :)
To clarify: the "Dude" in question is the Prof, not the Student services guy....he's just kind of an uppity SOB. Need be, I'll bring in bipolar advocates, litigation, you name it....I still haven't had that F straightened out from last term...which may fuck up my financial aid stipend to live on for the next 4 months....eek. :(
I adore PSB. Part of the reason I picked the name Veronica and the nickname Very was because of that album of theirs. Anyways, "I Wouldn't Normally Do This Kind Of Thing" is one of my favorites from THAT album.
I think I still have Ambien in my body from weeks ago, because once it gets past midnight, I start babbling, making no sense, and can't remember wtf I was doing in the morning.
I felt like I was on Ambien during lecture today, again I almost fell asleep right before break & I think it was just carb overload from the Jimmy Johns at lunch. And I've been out of Ambien for like 3 nights!
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