My Mom

So, I would like to say, my mom bugs the shit out of me.

I live in a room upstairs in my parents house. It is not my room. It gets ravages by my mom on a daily basis. I am not allowed to have any supplements that were not prescribed by a doctor, or they get taken away by my parents.

I am sick of this. I don't give a fucking shit. So I buy some. Gingko biloba, with some others. Both my parents talk to me about it, lecture me, plead and cry. My mom, the nosy little bitch, found a receipt in my room. They told me those supplements were very, very alarming and could lead to a relapse. All of them.

Well, then I go to the naturopath, and he said the only one that could potentially interfere with my meds is the gingko biloba. What I took from it was, it probably wouldn't, but he wanted to err on the side of caution. The other ones didn't really matter. Which makes me wonder. Why did my parents make a big deal out of it? Because they wanted to. They want to think everything I am about to do is going to lead to my mental collapse.

It makes me a nervous wreck. I get nervous every time I hear either one of them near my room. Not anymore, but I did for awhile. Paranoia, paranoia. I don't even know what I'm scared of. Just stay the fuck out. I need my space. That room is my space. I don't need my mom coming in and picking up the floor. Like I give a shit if it is dirty. I clean out the dirty dishes, not on a daily basis, but in a timely fashion. So stay the fuck out.

I get annoyed when my mom tells the doctors my latest "relapse" was caused my excessive caffeine consumption and nicotine gum use. Fragile, fragile brain! No it wasn't. It wasn't a relapse. I'm a mystic, baby. I am so glad I finally have a word to describe what I am. Before I thought it was just a fun-filled splooge fest of paranormal/psychological experiences.

I will never be well enough to leave this house, according to what they think. I will acquire a menial service labor position, folding bedsheets or waiting tables, and that will be the living I make for the rest of my life. Excuse me, but I am way, way too intelligent for that, thank you very much. I am going to channel spirits, write books, do other things of an spiritual energetic nature, be famous, go far. I can't concentrate worth shit right now. I am not going to live off welfare for very long.

My mom gets pissed when I buy energy drinks. She thinks they will lead to some sort of relapse. Never have before, Beev. I have explained to her again and again. The only time when caffeine affected me negatively was when I was on Geodon. It was something about the way these two drugs interacted. I don't get that on the medications I am on now. And even so, an energy drink every so often didn't cause me any problems. It was only when I drank something like, say, an energy drink, a full pot of coffee, a couple cups of tea, a liter of mountain dew, and a diet coke. That was enough to cause some adverse reactions. That is my idea of extreme caffeine intake. Not one energy drink. And only on Geodon. I can drink all that now with no adverse reactions.

My favorite thing ever was when I dated the scientologist. That was my favorite thing ever. Not because I liked him a lot, which I did, I did, but because of the way it scared my mom. Here I was, in prescription drug paradise. Innercept, where there motto is, "When in doubt, overmedicate." Or "With each resident, medicate the shit out of them so they are too apathetic to complain about the shitty program." And everywhere you go, every coffee mug, stapler, hand-held razor, bathroom scale, pen, toothbrush, autobiographical account of Innercept, everything has a prescription drug name printed boldly on it. Like it is a walking, breathing advertisement for prescription drugs. And I was pissed about this. And I was dating a Scientologist, which freaked the shit out of both of my parents, especially my mom. "OH NOES!!!!111111one1111!! He might convince her she doesn't need to be heavily sedated all the time!"

And I loved the effect it had on her, because instead of making her angry, which it did, but she didn't react by getting angry. She reacted my getting worried, whiny, mopey, sad, self-pitying. It scarred her, it did. She didn't know what to do. So my parents pulled me out of the program (WOOT WOOT), took me home, let me do the fuck what I wanted. I got a much better psychiatrist, one that prescribes drugs, but hates to. And he said, "Hey, you are over medicated, over institutionalized, maybe you would do better if you weren't on so many fucking medications!"

So I went off some of the worrisome medications. Still, I liked the scientologist. We texted constantly. But my mom was still paranoid, paranoid, paranoid. Sure I read her email on occasion. Not anymore though. I see she leaves it up. I don't dare look. Not because I respect her or her privacy... because it is always nothing more than an upsetting reminder of everything I already know. No new information. But it depresses me to read that she still thinks that stuff. So I don't bother anymore.

Anyway, I read her email one day, last year, and I found out she was sneaking in to my room and reading my texts. I was upset for a number of reasons, one of them was the shall we say graphic nature of some of the texts I sent him... but also for the obvious reasons, I needed privacy.

Anyway, so we went back to Innercept to clean out my apartment in January of last year. And I was pissed about that, but I didn't say anything to my mom. And then we were having one last meeting with my so-called therapist, and at the end the hands me my journal, which I never gave her, it was my own private journal of stuff I didn't intend to share with anyone. Weird thoughts I had, mostly dreams, things that embarrassed me a little bit, but it was mostly just the manner in which I treated the journal, as a safe place where no one would judge the stuff I had to say. And I knew she had read it. Innercept found it in my room, gave it to her, and she read it.

I actually have gotten over hating her for it. All the way, all the way. I know her on the spiritual plane and like her. A lot. I realize now that it wasn't her fault, it was the fault of other people at Innercept. Someone found it in my room, gave it to her, and told her to read it. Because at that point, at home, I was overtaken by a heavy bout of mysticism, and was acting funny, and they wanted to make sure I had no plans of self-harm, and was taking no drugs. Which is not a good excuse. That does not waive my right to privacy.

Anyway, I found this out, and I wanted to scream. So there were these two things together, at the same time. My mom, and Lea. So I am standing at my apartment, while my parents are helping me clean it out... and I suddenly go into an altered state of rage. I don't have anger problems, I don't get angry very often. But when I do get angry... Man, I have problems. And now I was angry. So I go into an altered state, and start charging at my mom, with a malice in my eyes, holding my arms in a threatening fashion... like I was about to attack her. And I thought I was going to, until I got right up to her and my inhibitions started to take control. But I could see the fear in her eyes. I scared the crap out of her. And she asked me what was wrong, and I told her. You read my texts. You have no right to do that.

Anyway, that's what happened. Both my parents hate the scientologist. My mom is more traumatized by it. The thing that bugs me about it is, my mom thinks everything about me is ever so fragile. Like, this guy is going to come and change my firmly held beliefs about everything. Here I was, calmly accepting I have a mental illness, and wanting help, calmly accepting that I needed to be on medication for the rest of my life. And in comes the scientologist, and warps my view of the world, and my mind is so fragile, I can't hold my own in any of these situations.

I never really believed it was a mental illness. But there comes a point when you are like, if that's not what it is, then why the fuck did all this stuff happen, for no apparent reason? I couldn't see a reason, at the time. I never thought the medication helped. But there comes a time when you relax and submit, submit to the daily raping in the mouth, anus, and vagina.

There have been other times where my mom refuses to let me do things, see people, because she is worried that they might warp my fragile view on reality. Psychics and the like. Because they always say, ahhh, your mental state if fine. You have had some spiritual things happen to you. That's what Renee said. *Gasp!* That's what Renee said! But here I go not remembering things correctly, because Renee is my mom's trusted psychic, and everything she says is true.

I don't even want to get into that though. The whole issue with psychics and this.

My mom takes pleasure in worry. That's why I don't like her. She needs to get my mind off me. I told her once, it's okay to worry about yourself for a change. There is a lot to worry about there.