So a phrase I hear every now in then, running around the Zuhl household is... She can't assess her own condition! She doesn't know when she's going down hill!
This is a phrase that makes me puke blood. I do know what's going on, bitch. I understand when I am not doing as "well" as you "want," "parents." I do know! I know when I am being plagued with a heavy bout of mysticism, and I know that very well. I just don't go around announcing it, like they seem to expect.
I know my parents. Wouldn't it be so much easier if Rachel would tell us when she's going down hill, so we can be ready to drive her to the hospital and pump her full of medication against her will? Yeah, that would be easier.
Yeah, not really. I understand your concerns. I think you are dumb. I think you know little about anything when it comes to "getting me back on my feet." I think everything you say is dumb when it comes to my "mental illness." I think most things you say are dumb anyway, but especially that. When I have these things happen, I know full well what's going on. What happens is, I get really really scared that I'm going back to the hospital. I would beg and plead with you, "please don't take me back to the hospital!" But I know that implies that I think I need to go! So I keep mum, and pretend everything is a-okay.
It really makes me question your intelligence, some of these funny beliefs you have. Another one that makes me question your intelligence is your assertion that meds help. There is absolutely no correlation between me taking meds and me not having funny issues. They happen on meds, they happen off meds. No correlation. I know how I'm doing. I know I do fine without things of a funny nature beings shoved up my nostrils, like cocaine.
I do well without cocaine. Let's not go off on a tangent here, though. I do well without my parents interfering with my funny things. I do way better. I need things like music, and fresh air. Not dumb hospital narcotics. I don't need that. That's why, when I am having a funny day, I'm not going to say, hey, I'm not doing well, I need help. I would rather shoot myself in the foot. I'm not going to ask for a med change either, or anything else. You are dumb. I hate you, parents. Very much. But I don't say that to your face. I say that to myself when no one else is around.
That's why your words have no weight. It all started when you sent me to Innercept. No, that's not when it started. That's just when it got a lot worse. It started when you slapped me with a guardianship.
What does the future hold? Help for my parents? Help for their anxiety and funny thoughts? Not really. Lots and lots of happiness for Rachel.
That's what the future holds.
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