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I re-read entries
Periodically.

The last 10-or-so amuse me, but seem to confirm Cherish's hunch.

I have some serious mood issues. It's getting a little ridiculous. I transition so seamlessly, too. One day, I'm on top of the world, my life is looking awesome; everything I do is genius, and "right". Then I have a day like yesterday, wherein the moods fly like motherfuckers.

What the fuck, buttercup?

Cherish figures (most recent guess) I'm Bipolar I. The way she tells me about it, I think it prolly fits well enough: mostly moods, semi-psychotic. I won't look it up, because I know if I do, and see Dr. P, she'll cast that aside. Yeah, I love that, "Let me help you, but not helping myself."

Okay, I actually have a second reason. I started using medical terms for stuff, back in the day. I doofed up something that meant "hyper" instead of "sits there and drools". I think everything else was close enough. I couldn't pronounce shit worth fuck, but, the doctors always knew what I was on about. Problem was, I looked it up, therefore I must be faking.

The things I was trying so hard to use the medical terms to clarify were the "spacing the fuck out" stuff, the facical ticks that Risperidone lent me, and some other similar shit. I prolly blinked my ass off, telling them, "I have tardative dsykenesia." DO YOU SEE MY EYES BLINKING A MILE A MINUTE, SHITHEAD? Lithium has a new tic for me: my lip pooches out when I'm not actively paying attention. I've actually, though, had this occur while trying to talk. It only hurts if I don't bite my lip to stop it. Oh. And, my jaw clenches at night before I sleep. Sometimes that hurts, too.

Anyone been with me long enough to remember when my legs were failing? Thank JEBUS that went away. The docs didn't find shit, and didn't care for my anxiety over it. I was scared shitless I'd be wheelchair-bound. In the end, it magically went away.

I am kind of thinking about letting Dr. P in on this journal.

I think maybe she needs to see my freakouts, as I do, as they happen. I keep seeing her on my good days; I was so cheery about the stalker, for example. I think I'm the only person I know who jokes about rape. Something's wrong with me, man.

Maybe, maybe, she'll change her mind about abstaining from diagnosis, if she reads this stuff. Did she refuse, or, decide it was impossible? I've been miffed for months over it. For some unknown reason, a name in which to call my Crazy is what I really want. I spent my early years studying myself; I want a result.

No offence, doctors of [Lambert's city]; you guys do not live up to my expectations sometimes. When I say, "Jeusxfuk, I'm feeling like shit, and it just won't quit!!" I'm not expecting a presto-cure. When you have more than two acronyms attached to your name.. and you don't function as a therapist, cognitive behavior therapist, or do much more than monkey with my meds.. I feel a little lost.

Yes, Dr. P insists on social training, and functional stuff. She's not to blame for the puppet-wicket Mental Health doofs. She recommends stuff that doesn't happen, because she's new to town. MH doesn't do caseworker stuff. CBT is only done in groups. Depression help is done in groups, unless, for some reason, you can bypass that barrier. Serious 1-on-1 stuff is totally void.

The whole situation is inept and cruel.

I keep telling normal people that I've gotten as far as I have, with my sanity, because I've made a stink, until someone helped me. Actually, the analogy I frequently use is, "I pretty much expect to have to bring a gun in to get help, in the next breakdown." Yeah; in this town? You have to be violent before anyone gives a shit. Suicide has the same issue -- if you ain't violent, you ain't worth saving.

Again, a point to be made: my GP is my real support. That dude: Dr. Y is a fucking fantastic doctor. If I may? He's the medical side of why I am mostly okay today.

You know what really, really pisses me off?

Doofuses like Michael Moore telling everyone that Canada's healthcare is fucking great. Shove it up your ass, you lying jackass. Fuck; I mailed that doof, telling him a fucking eyewitness account of the "superior emergency room".

YOU KNOW WHAT'S WORSE???

People always tell me, "Well, hell, it's worse everywhere else."

WHATTHENOTHERFUCKL.

And, that's supposed to comfort me? You know, because one of my paranoias isn't societal implosion? Why add to it, by trying to make me grateful for a rotten hunk of meat? "Oh yeah? Well, in the USA, they don't get rotten meat; they get a hoof."

I can't wait. I want to live through this societal collapse, and claim my place amongst the victors.

You Missed:

*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

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Circa 2010