Betwixt and between, at the corner of No and Where. (Now here?)
As I suspected it might, this morning consisted of quite a lot of “But how do you feel about your impossible situation?” and “I feel like crap about it! What do you think?” What else am I supposed to say? “Oh, yes, it’s jolly that there’s no separate intake for the psych ED, so even if there is an emergency, I’ll be stuck waiting for hours”? To hell with that lie.
I came home, I ate lunch, and I slept until five, at which point the First Doctor called — yes, really, the first psychiatrist I saw on anything resembling a regular basis. We had called him hoping he would take me back, since the Current Doctor is just not helping matters and may be making them worse. So the First called and said he’d be happy to have me back, and I am booked in with him next Wednesday at 3:30. If he can’t find my record, he will have to start over. I may insist he start over anyway, that Things Have Changed and rather dramatically too.
I can do it. Nine days? Eight? Just turn up the benzos and listen to this body, this poor complaining belly, which is sorry that it cannot articulate more clearly when it is hungry and when it just feels sick. I may do it in a very laid-bare way, no convenient sugarcoating (convenient for YOU). Making reality pleasant is exhausting. Reality isn’t, just now.
— I told Jessica the thing that I keep having to tell everyone else: I don’t have choices, not really. I have realities. She can offer me all the choices in the world and I’ll still be restricted to the ones that work within my reality. My paradigm. My resources. So if I have to have realities, by God I’ll have them as myself and not someone who answers “I’m fine, thanks!” to every inquiry about my well-being. If you honestly care to know, then I will tell you honestly. If you’re making small talk, well, I hate small talk, so at least you’ll be deterred in future.
In other news, none of my professors wanted to list their textbooks on the school’s bookstore site, so I have to pay for them all out of pocket. One course is asking for one required text… which will set me back approximately $150 plus shipping. Has it not occurred to these people that we haven’t got our financial aid money in hand? That some of us have got to come up with money to live on as well as buy our bloody textbooks? I’ll be broke by the time the check does come at this rate.
Refuge in Audacity 