Wow, so um special day I just had.
I think I’ve told you guys already (whoever reads this thing) that I’m not with my family of origin anymore. It used to be like “yeah you can visit but you can’t ask me to live with you again.” People thought some distance would help them see reason, but it didn’t. Now my parents aren’t allowed to talk to me/I’m not supposed to talk to them either. It’s kind of sad but it’s also kind of nice that it’s some official Not Supposed To so I can say I’m just following the rules and it doesn’t have to feel like some evil choice I’m making. Oh well.
So I had to go see one of “those” doctors, ie: the kind that looks at your head because when your mom’s got something called a personality disorder and your dad’s this like split between the zonked out sarcastic jerk who tries to act nice sometimes and the rage demon who comes out of nowhere and disappears as quickly as he arrived, people want to know what your head is like too apparently. I really wanted to know too because I don’t want to have or adopt kids someday and be the kind of mom my mom was or the emotionally absent dad. That whole “making things/giving presents superwoman” plus “constantly mad and critical and judgey” thing is such bad parenting and I want to make sure my own mind doesn’t make me that.
But um, it’s nerve-wracking talking to a psychiatrist. It’s like your soul is in the principal’s office wondering what it did to be in trouble. I went in there and had to tell him I was taking psych drugs (yeah I know I’m young but that’s part of what makes it terrible) and I don’t want to be taking psych drugs. He thinks someday I can live without it. No Zoloft, no Wellbutrin, no sleep aids for the nights I stay up worrying or hallucinate a hand turning my doorknob – a hand belonging to a person who wants to hurt me and then blink and it’s gone. Somehow he thinks some sunshine, friendship, love, security, and maybe some healthy herbs and exercise can transform all that into a functional human being.
It’s embarrassing to say you’re this young and not speaking to your parents at all, but he didn’t take it to mean I was some brat (thankfully).
It meant a lot that SOMEONE doesn’t think I’m hopeless. Like, someone thinks I’m not actually beyond hope. Being out of school because I “just can’t” and not doing my work every day because “my brain is messed up” is not the nicest feeling in the world but somebody thinks he can fix it or help ME fix it.