More pills, More Problems

So, I asked my mom what it was she thought that Innercept had done for me.

Well, that's an easy one, darling. They educated you on your condition!

Ha!  Ha! HA!! HAHA!! What a laugh. No, they didn't Beev. I was never educated on any conditions at Innercept. Not my bipolar disorder, my schizophrenia, my body dysmorphic disorder, my OCD, my tourrettes, my anorexia, my narcolepsy. None of those. No education! No education! NO EDUCATION WHATSOEVER!.

I'll tell you what I was educated on. Collusion. The problems with beating things up to relieve aggression. How to smuggle tea and crumpets in to stable. Boring, worthless things I zoned out. Videos on quantum physics. Stupid videos. The Miracle Worker. Never a dull moment at Innercept, that's not for sure. But no mental illness education.

But that's all right. That's okay. You just keep thinking that, Beev. If it makes you happy, you keep thinking it. Because I know it doesn't mean a thing to you that I say they didn't teach me shit. What would I know after all? I'm the one with bipolar disorder! I can't tell left from right, up from down, or manic from suicidal depression. We know that information's in there, Rachel. That wisdom that Innercept bestowed upon you about your conditions! Your condition!

Be healthy! Have Fun! BAAAHHH!!!!! (HEAD EXPLODES). Whoops, inside joke.

So it makes my parents feel proud of themselves to think that Innercept helped me understand my condition, force-fed me urine samples, and now I can relax and be at ease with whatever shitty mind-altering substance anyone throws at me, knowing that it will help calm my "mental state." I'm sick of this bullshit.

No, no no no NO!! There was no education. I don't know a damn thing more about bipolar disorder than I knew at the beginning. Ups, downs, whatever. I don't need to know. I don't want to know.

I will tell me what Innercept did teach me. Interpersonal relationship skills. That's it. That's it. There groups don't mean shit. Therapy doesn't mean shit. I don't fucking know how therapy is supposed to work. Sitting there, talking to my therapist about the weather, a meaningless dream I had. Every. Single. Fucking. Session. What was I supposed to talk about? Issues that actually matter to me?

I'm not as fucked up as you think I am. I have nothing to say. If I said the things that mattered out loud, it makes the pain worse. Swiss cheese Adderall holes in my mind. Not my brain, my mind. Pockets where there are no happy neurotransmitters. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. That's what I keep telling myself. Don't think about that embarrassing moment that no one thought was even a big deal, small deal, or any sort of deal, and no one even remembers. Don't think about it and it will go away.

But they don't go away until I gave up adderall. So many problems I didn't have before being on the prescription medication.

All in all, Innercept is a freak show of idiots parading as doctors and power-hungry war mongerers parading as staff members. It is fun, in a way. I had a blast, in a way, when I wasn't being fucked up the ass. I am better off now than I was before Innercept. Sure, maybe I could have had an education instead of Innercept and be making a living. But fuck school, I can channel, I'm too cool to go back.

So that's it. That's the gist of it. The kids are pissed but the parents love it. And that's all I got to say.