There are many things that make me abnormal. One of them is that I have a very odd relationship with religion. I'm not talking about my relationship with God, I am talking about my relationship with religion. These are two separate things to me.
I grew up in an atheistic household. The closest thing to religion or God we had in our lives was that we listened to Christmas songs at Christmas time and we had a mini nativity scene in our Christmas decorations for some reason. It was my mom's, she's not a bible believer, I think it just reminded her of her childhood. I wasn't taught by my parents that God didn't exist, God just really wasn't something that was talked about very much. As I got older, there was more of an anti-religious attitude, at least that I picked up on. Not like we should be intolerant of religious people, just that religion was a bit on the wacky side. Something to be made fun of.
The thing that is odd about me is that most people who grew up like this grow up to be majorly turned off by religion. I'm the exact opposite. I absolutely love religion. I get really excited when I encounter Jehovah's witnesses and I take their pamphlets. I'm not about to convert, but I take their pamphlets. I love the idea of being righteous or attempting to be righteous. I love the idea of certain things being holy. I like the idea of praying and humbling yourself before a higher power. Of having faith in a higher power to protect you and help you through times of darkness. I like the idea of being a servant of God and doing God's work. I like the idea of having a sacred text with sacred laws.
Whenever I see positive references to religion in peoples' facebook statuses, I almost always like them.
But I don't think that the bible, or any other single religion on Earth, is true. At least not literally true. I kind of think it's like this - the bible is a single facet of the icosahedron that is truth. For those who don't know, and icosahedron is a twenty sided geometric object.
I don't really believe that Jesus died for our sins. But I like Jesus. I have him as one of my inspirational people on facebook. I will make references to Jesus in conversations. Like the other day, I was talking about how I have done dangerous things in the past and I was protected, perhaps by a higher power, but I wouldn't count on that higher power to protect me again. Because it was like when Jesus was tempted by Satan, and Satan told Jesus to jump off a cliff or something and God would save him and Jesus said, "do not tempt the Lord thy God." Or something like that.
Anyway, so I don't know if this is a result of having delusions of a religious nature or if it was something that was present in me before that.
I may revisit this topic again later.
Edit: So I posted this and I was re-reading it before I shared it on facebook. In one place instead of writing "Jesus" I wrote "me." Interesting.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Undiscovered Talents
I would appreciate it if people who read my blog would like my "Rachel Zuhl" page on facebook. Not my personal page but my writer page. Thank you. I also have a "Party Like Jesus" page, but I haven't really been asking people to like that yet. You can if you want though.
So I am getting ready to make a book trailer for my memoir. My sister is big into film making so she is going to help me with it. In the book trailer, she will be interviewing me, but the entire thing is scripted. I wrote the script a few weeks ago. I tried to make it humorous. I am hoping it is not too confusing.
Anyway, so I was thinking about back when I first realized that I was delusional, back in early 2008. I mean, plenty of people had told me that I was delusional, but I didn't believe them because I knew better. I decided to make the best of this situation and write a book and become famous. Because I knew that when life gives you lemons, the smart thing to do is make lemonade. And I was pretty sure that I could make lemonade out of these lemons that life had given me.
I didn't know that I was any good at writing. In fact, in the beginning I was thinking about having it ghostwritten. Which is funny, because I think the only kind of people who get their books ghostwritten are famous people. Because if you're not famous and you're not a good enough writer to write a book then you can't have a book. But then I decided to write it myself, because I was on a writer's website and I read a comment from an author, an author who's book I had repeatedly seen on display at bookstores, saying that he didn't think his book would have been as successful as it was if he hadn't have written it himself.
It's kind of odd because I don't even see myself as that great of a writer but people act like I am. I originally decided to write not because I thought I would be good at it, but despite not being that great at it. It turns out though that I am good at it, apparently. I don't know what it is about my writing that is good. Maybe it is because I use a certain kind of humor, a certain kind of subtle humor. I don't really know.
I don't even read that much anymore. I used to read a lot when I was in fifth and sixth grades. Then I stopped. I would still read on occasion, but not nearly as much as I used to. Nowadays if I read I usually read nonfiction. And not usually memoirs. I can't even think of a single memoir I have actually finished reading off the top of my head.
My dad tells me that people who think they are really good at something, like writing, a lot of times aren't good at it at all. They don't know good writing, they lack both the skill to write well and the skill to assess their writing properly.
So I am getting ready to make a book trailer for my memoir. My sister is big into film making so she is going to help me with it. In the book trailer, she will be interviewing me, but the entire thing is scripted. I wrote the script a few weeks ago. I tried to make it humorous. I am hoping it is not too confusing.
Anyway, so I was thinking about back when I first realized that I was delusional, back in early 2008. I mean, plenty of people had told me that I was delusional, but I didn't believe them because I knew better. I decided to make the best of this situation and write a book and become famous. Because I knew that when life gives you lemons, the smart thing to do is make lemonade. And I was pretty sure that I could make lemonade out of these lemons that life had given me.
I didn't know that I was any good at writing. In fact, in the beginning I was thinking about having it ghostwritten. Which is funny, because I think the only kind of people who get their books ghostwritten are famous people. Because if you're not famous and you're not a good enough writer to write a book then you can't have a book. But then I decided to write it myself, because I was on a writer's website and I read a comment from an author, an author who's book I had repeatedly seen on display at bookstores, saying that he didn't think his book would have been as successful as it was if he hadn't have written it himself.
It's kind of odd because I don't even see myself as that great of a writer but people act like I am. I originally decided to write not because I thought I would be good at it, but despite not being that great at it. It turns out though that I am good at it, apparently. I don't know what it is about my writing that is good. Maybe it is because I use a certain kind of humor, a certain kind of subtle humor. I don't really know.
I don't even read that much anymore. I used to read a lot when I was in fifth and sixth grades. Then I stopped. I would still read on occasion, but not nearly as much as I used to. Nowadays if I read I usually read nonfiction. And not usually memoirs. I can't even think of a single memoir I have actually finished reading off the top of my head.
My dad tells me that people who think they are really good at something, like writing, a lot of times aren't good at it at all. They don't know good writing, they lack both the skill to write well and the skill to assess their writing properly.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Tired Controversial Issues
So I am sitting here with a little bit of time to kill, and I think I will write a tired post about my position on the most over-debated issue ever - abortion.
One of my conservative facebook friends posted a good article on facebook a couple weeks ago about the whole pro-life/pro-choice thing. It was basically about how pro-life groups care less about saving unborn babies and more about punishing women for having sex. They want women to have a child to feel the consequences of their actions.
I am pro-choice, but I think that if you are going to be against abortion it should be because you genuinely want to save the lives of unborn babies. I haven't talked to many people about the abortion issue but the people who I have heard express their opinion who were pro-life said something along the lines of: "If you can't handle a baby you shouldn't be having sex."
I think this is the worst reason for being pro-life ever. Sure, maybe if you aren't responsible enough to handle the consequences of your actions you shouldn't be having sex. But it takes a certain level of responsibility to abstain from sex, and if you don't have that then you are not responsible enough to handle a baby. We are talking about a real living person here. A baby should not be a form of punishment.
Some people might argue that there is always adoption. I would argue that the act of carrying a baby for nine months requires a certain level of responsibility.
My views also comes from the belief that a "life" isn't just simply something that is physically alive. It is a whole lot more than that. It is a spiritual state. I don't know when the soul enters the body. Actually, my belief is that it kind of comes and goes during pregnancy and hangs around the mother, and then when the baby is born it becomes permanently implanted, or at least implanted until death, unless it leaves it temporarily for some sort of out-of-body experience. That's what I think. At any rate, if you abort a baby, the soul didn't lose its one shot at life. It can continue to seek ways to enter our world again, through hanging around some other woman, waiting for her to get pregnant.
I was reading this local free newspaper called the Capitalist Papers a couple weeks ago. It is real right-wing publication. It had an article about famous people who were, to put it bluntly, accidents, but their mother chose not to abort them. It was supposed to be some sort of argument against abortion. I thought this was stupid. You could make the same argument in regards to choosing sex over abstinence. Have more sex so that you can have more babies - you never know who you might be missing out on by not fertilizing those eggs.
As a former unfertilized egg, I oppose abstinence.
One of my conservative facebook friends posted a good article on facebook a couple weeks ago about the whole pro-life/pro-choice thing. It was basically about how pro-life groups care less about saving unborn babies and more about punishing women for having sex. They want women to have a child to feel the consequences of their actions.
I am pro-choice, but I think that if you are going to be against abortion it should be because you genuinely want to save the lives of unborn babies. I haven't talked to many people about the abortion issue but the people who I have heard express their opinion who were pro-life said something along the lines of: "If you can't handle a baby you shouldn't be having sex."
I think this is the worst reason for being pro-life ever. Sure, maybe if you aren't responsible enough to handle the consequences of your actions you shouldn't be having sex. But it takes a certain level of responsibility to abstain from sex, and if you don't have that then you are not responsible enough to handle a baby. We are talking about a real living person here. A baby should not be a form of punishment.
Some people might argue that there is always adoption. I would argue that the act of carrying a baby for nine months requires a certain level of responsibility.
My views also comes from the belief that a "life" isn't just simply something that is physically alive. It is a whole lot more than that. It is a spiritual state. I don't know when the soul enters the body. Actually, my belief is that it kind of comes and goes during pregnancy and hangs around the mother, and then when the baby is born it becomes permanently implanted, or at least implanted until death, unless it leaves it temporarily for some sort of out-of-body experience. That's what I think. At any rate, if you abort a baby, the soul didn't lose its one shot at life. It can continue to seek ways to enter our world again, through hanging around some other woman, waiting for her to get pregnant.
I was reading this local free newspaper called the Capitalist Papers a couple weeks ago. It is real right-wing publication. It had an article about famous people who were, to put it bluntly, accidents, but their mother chose not to abort them. It was supposed to be some sort of argument against abortion. I thought this was stupid. You could make the same argument in regards to choosing sex over abstinence. Have more sex so that you can have more babies - you never know who you might be missing out on by not fertilizing those eggs.
As a former unfertilized egg, I oppose abstinence.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Mind-Blowing Bouts of Crazy Delusional Thinking
So I'd like to take some time to discuss old issues. Old, delusional issues.
A nice way to combat insecurity and feelings of being judged is with arrogance. That's what I did when I was delusional and my delusional world wasn't going my way. I just decided that I was better than everyone else. I was better than all those mean, cruel, imaginary people.
So I combat feelings of insecurity about being delusional with arrogance. What happens is, first I get mad because other people don't understand what I experienced. Than I realize that what I experienced was so mind-blowing it would be really difficult for other people to understand who haven't experienced it. Then I take pity on them, them poor folk who haven't had their minds blown by intense bouts of crazy delusional thinking.
The thing about being delusional is, or at least one of the things about being delusional is, it isn't pure insanity. There is rationality too. Delusional thoughts and actions rest on the rationality.
Actually, I don't know if I've written about this before, but I'm going to write about it again anyway. One of the things they ask you is "why you?" Why are you the special messiah or whatever? Well, it has to be someone. You've been given this great responsibility, and you must follow through with your spiritual mission. For a long period of my life I hardly even talked. I didn't even trust myself to speak. I needed to learn to trust myself. To trust myself above other people.
I kind of think people thought I was more out of it than I actually was. When I was first becoming delusional, I was writing on my livejournal. I knew full well that writing certain things made me look crazy as fuck. I didn't care. I didn't realize that what I was doing was very dangerous. I didn't realize how important it was to my parents that I appear sane and reasonable, and that they could follow what I was saying and understand what I was talking about.
My dad deleted part of my livejournal because of it. I'm over it now but I still think it's kind of weird. True, I was a bit messed up in the head, but I knew what I was saying. I mean, I had some idea what I was saying, it came out sounding a lot more crazy than I intended but it doesn't really matter. I knew full well that repeatedly addressing this one guy and acting like he was reading when as far as anyone could tell he wasn't made me look like I had lost my marbles. The thing was, I didn't even want to say the stuff I was saying. I was pushing myself very hard to say the stuff I was saying. It took guts to say the stuff I was saying. I was proud of myself. To repeatedly act like this guy was reading when there was no sign that he was reading, to spew religious and God related bullshit when I came from an atheistic family.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
A nice way to combat insecurity and feelings of being judged is with arrogance. That's what I did when I was delusional and my delusional world wasn't going my way. I just decided that I was better than everyone else. I was better than all those mean, cruel, imaginary people.
So I combat feelings of insecurity about being delusional with arrogance. What happens is, first I get mad because other people don't understand what I experienced. Than I realize that what I experienced was so mind-blowing it would be really difficult for other people to understand who haven't experienced it. Then I take pity on them, them poor folk who haven't had their minds blown by intense bouts of crazy delusional thinking.
The thing about being delusional is, or at least one of the things about being delusional is, it isn't pure insanity. There is rationality too. Delusional thoughts and actions rest on the rationality.
Actually, I don't know if I've written about this before, but I'm going to write about it again anyway. One of the things they ask you is "why you?" Why are you the special messiah or whatever? Well, it has to be someone. You've been given this great responsibility, and you must follow through with your spiritual mission. For a long period of my life I hardly even talked. I didn't even trust myself to speak. I needed to learn to trust myself. To trust myself above other people.
I kind of think people thought I was more out of it than I actually was. When I was first becoming delusional, I was writing on my livejournal. I knew full well that writing certain things made me look crazy as fuck. I didn't care. I didn't realize that what I was doing was very dangerous. I didn't realize how important it was to my parents that I appear sane and reasonable, and that they could follow what I was saying and understand what I was talking about.
My dad deleted part of my livejournal because of it. I'm over it now but I still think it's kind of weird. True, I was a bit messed up in the head, but I knew what I was saying. I mean, I had some idea what I was saying, it came out sounding a lot more crazy than I intended but it doesn't really matter. I knew full well that repeatedly addressing this one guy and acting like he was reading when as far as anyone could tell he wasn't made me look like I had lost my marbles. The thing was, I didn't even want to say the stuff I was saying. I was pushing myself very hard to say the stuff I was saying. It took guts to say the stuff I was saying. I was proud of myself. To repeatedly act like this guy was reading when there was no sign that he was reading, to spew religious and God related bullshit when I came from an atheistic family.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
A Dark Abyss
So I've already made a post today but I feel like writing another one. This one will probably not make very much sense to a lot of people.
With me there are a lot of emotions associated with facebook. At times it has been an abyss of negative emotions, where I would swim in a very dark kind of negativity that made me suicidal.
I am not suicidal right now, I was just messing around on facebook and I was thinking about this.
There was a time when if someone made any sort of comment about someone being creepy on facebook, I would go into the closet and cry. Then I realized that my circumstances were different. Still, the paranoia about what other people would think eats me up.
There was a time when I couldn't even go on facebook. Then there was a time when I could, but I couldn't directly look at my friends list. I would refresh my profile page many times, hoping that certain people would show up as one of the six friends of mine it showed, because that's how facebook worked at the time.
I'm not sure why I am so weirdly facebook sensitive. That's just how our culture has evolved I guess. I shouldn't care who still has me as a friend. But I do. It means a lot to me to see that I am still friends with people. And for the people who don't still have me as a friend who might know about me and my issues, it really bothers me. I don't know what the reason was. But if it has anything to do with my delusional issues or something I did or said while I was delusional, then I'd like to say that I hope all your children die of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
Because it is so much of a struggle just keeping myself together because I am torn about with regret about everything. It's not because I'm bipolar. But I feel embarrassed all the time. Sometimes I am okay, but sometimes I just keep thinking about things that make me embarrassed and anything and everything makes me embarrassed, and it is like being tortured with electric shocks. And then when I am not thinking about things that make me embarrassed, I have this nagging feeling like there is something I should be thinking about that I should be feeling embarrassed about, and then I feel embarrassed, and I feel the electric shock feeling, even though I am not even thinking about anything.
As time goes by it gets easier to deal with and I develop more and more of a cushion that cushions me from feeling embarrassed all the time. But I don't forget things easily, and I will always remember the things that contributed to my deep horrible feelings of insecurity. And I will remember who didn't have me as a friend.
I don't really know why I even care though. I just think it is insensitive the way certain people are. And I know that this is my paranoia talking, because I am jumping to conclusions about why people did certain things.
I hope that I will one day rise above the insecurity and be happy being who I am, and all these negative feeling will just be a memory.
With me there are a lot of emotions associated with facebook. At times it has been an abyss of negative emotions, where I would swim in a very dark kind of negativity that made me suicidal.
I am not suicidal right now, I was just messing around on facebook and I was thinking about this.
There was a time when if someone made any sort of comment about someone being creepy on facebook, I would go into the closet and cry. Then I realized that my circumstances were different. Still, the paranoia about what other people would think eats me up.
There was a time when I couldn't even go on facebook. Then there was a time when I could, but I couldn't directly look at my friends list. I would refresh my profile page many times, hoping that certain people would show up as one of the six friends of mine it showed, because that's how facebook worked at the time.
I'm not sure why I am so weirdly facebook sensitive. That's just how our culture has evolved I guess. I shouldn't care who still has me as a friend. But I do. It means a lot to me to see that I am still friends with people. And for the people who don't still have me as a friend who might know about me and my issues, it really bothers me. I don't know what the reason was. But if it has anything to do with my delusional issues or something I did or said while I was delusional, then I'd like to say that I hope all your children die of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.
Because it is so much of a struggle just keeping myself together because I am torn about with regret about everything. It's not because I'm bipolar. But I feel embarrassed all the time. Sometimes I am okay, but sometimes I just keep thinking about things that make me embarrassed and anything and everything makes me embarrassed, and it is like being tortured with electric shocks. And then when I am not thinking about things that make me embarrassed, I have this nagging feeling like there is something I should be thinking about that I should be feeling embarrassed about, and then I feel embarrassed, and I feel the electric shock feeling, even though I am not even thinking about anything.
As time goes by it gets easier to deal with and I develop more and more of a cushion that cushions me from feeling embarrassed all the time. But I don't forget things easily, and I will always remember the things that contributed to my deep horrible feelings of insecurity. And I will remember who didn't have me as a friend.
I don't really know why I even care though. I just think it is insensitive the way certain people are. And I know that this is my paranoia talking, because I am jumping to conclusions about why people did certain things.
I hope that I will one day rise above the insecurity and be happy being who I am, and all these negative feeling will just be a memory.
A Love/Hate Relationship
So it's weird because I take the same dose of Adderall everyday. Normally I will feel its effects, and I will feel a little buzz or high. It's happened a couple of times recently where for several days in a row I won't feel its effects hardly at all. Then, after not feeling it for a few days, I will take it the next day and it will effect me stronger than normally like I haven't been taking it for several days. Except I have been taking it, I take it everyday. So anyway, that's what I'm experiencing right now. I feel it in my system more than normal, which makes me feel a bit thoughty but not excessively thoughty, but above all it makes me feel like writing.
So my brain is swimming with happy chemicals right now. And I find myself contemplating things that annoy me. I'm not really angry though, I'm just thinking about these things. When I found out I was moving to this other house for a couple months, I was given a few reasons why, and I was also told that seeing a guy who is a Scientologist doesn't help matters. Also, when my mom left to go home a couple weeks ago after visiting me, she left a note telling me to do my own thinking. She meant she doesn't want this Scientologist guy corrupting my thinking.
I'm annoyed with people trying to control me. I am going to see who I want to see. And I really don't give a flying fuck if Innercept approves or not. I don't like Innercept. I don't think it is helpful. I think it is evil. So them not approving of what I do doesn't mean shit to me.
And it's funny what my mom wrote because if I didn't think for myself, I wouldn't be seeing this guy to begin with. I would have thought Scientology = Bad and that would have been the end of it. Because that's what the common conception is about Scientology.
And now I'm sitting here thinking about my mom, and how it's strange that she thinks she has some sort of influence over what I do. I really can't pinpoint exactly what my mom has done to make me so angry at her. The details escape me but the angry energy is still there. It's a number of things. Her general ignorance. Her excessive amount of trust in the Innercept program. My mom has faith in Innercept like Christians have faith in Jesus.
Talk about someone who doesn't think for herself. She has blind trust in doctors. She believes what psychics tell her, even when the same psychic has told me things that contradict what they told her. That's a whole other topic though, psychics.
The thing is though, I love her because she is my mom. And as much as I disagree with what she does, I know that my parents do love me and that's why they do what they do, because they think it is what's best. And I know that having loving parents is something that not everyone has and is easy to take for granted, especially in my situation. It's the kind of thing most people don't appreciate until it's gone. You don't know what you had until it's gone. I do have a lot. I have the necessities and I don't even have to work. Except I want to work. I want to be independent.
But anyway, this is why I can't say that I hate my parents. Because that is what ignorant bratty children say.
So my brain is swimming with happy chemicals right now. And I find myself contemplating things that annoy me. I'm not really angry though, I'm just thinking about these things. When I found out I was moving to this other house for a couple months, I was given a few reasons why, and I was also told that seeing a guy who is a Scientologist doesn't help matters. Also, when my mom left to go home a couple weeks ago after visiting me, she left a note telling me to do my own thinking. She meant she doesn't want this Scientologist guy corrupting my thinking.
I'm annoyed with people trying to control me. I am going to see who I want to see. And I really don't give a flying fuck if Innercept approves or not. I don't like Innercept. I don't think it is helpful. I think it is evil. So them not approving of what I do doesn't mean shit to me.
And it's funny what my mom wrote because if I didn't think for myself, I wouldn't be seeing this guy to begin with. I would have thought Scientology = Bad and that would have been the end of it. Because that's what the common conception is about Scientology.
And now I'm sitting here thinking about my mom, and how it's strange that she thinks she has some sort of influence over what I do. I really can't pinpoint exactly what my mom has done to make me so angry at her. The details escape me but the angry energy is still there. It's a number of things. Her general ignorance. Her excessive amount of trust in the Innercept program. My mom has faith in Innercept like Christians have faith in Jesus.
Talk about someone who doesn't think for herself. She has blind trust in doctors. She believes what psychics tell her, even when the same psychic has told me things that contradict what they told her. That's a whole other topic though, psychics.
The thing is though, I love her because she is my mom. And as much as I disagree with what she does, I know that my parents do love me and that's why they do what they do, because they think it is what's best. And I know that having loving parents is something that not everyone has and is easy to take for granted, especially in my situation. It's the kind of thing most people don't appreciate until it's gone. You don't know what you had until it's gone. I do have a lot. I have the necessities and I don't even have to work. Except I want to work. I want to be independent.
But anyway, this is why I can't say that I hate my parents. Because that is what ignorant bratty children say.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Arrested and Taken to Innercept's Prison
So, Innercept requires that I have 20 hours of scheduled work/school/volunteer activities. For awhile I only had about ten. Innercept recently found this out. They also knew that I had missed the psychiatrist appointment they had forced me to schedule at a time I knew I wouldn't remember, and that I had missed a therapist appointment because I had forgotten about it. Therefore, Innercept decided I should go to the Innercept prison.
It was Halloween a couple weeks ago on a Wednesday. I was headed toward the Kroc Center for a thrilling afternoon of working out and downloading music, and to drop off an application to be a Salvation Army bell ringer. I didn't make it even halfway there, however. My efforts were Innercepted by the Innercept prison vehicle. I saw them pull up in a parking lot, and Kurt motioned for me to come over. Not knowing what was going on, I went over. Kurt and Dave told me to that due to my recent slackings, I was going to stable, the Innercept prison, for a week.
This was horrible news, as I never in my life wanted to go back to the Innercept prison. At first, I was compliant, and I got in the vehicle and they drove me back to my apartment to pack my stuff. My head was swimming because I knew the next week was going to be horrible. I didn't know what to pack. I couldn't pack with my head swimming like that.
Once back in the car on my way to the Innercept prison, I knew that I couldn't just go along with this. I had to fight. So when we got up to the cabin out in the middle of nowhere, I told them that I wasn't getting out of the car. Kurt tried to intimidate me by using is intimidating "I'm not fucking around you better get out of the car voice" but I didn't let it get to me. They could do whatever. I wasn't getting out of the car.
Next, violence ensued. I was pushed out of the car and my face was slammed in the gravel, they pinned me down and removed my shoes and twisted my arms in odd painful positions and then carried me into the cabin. I tried to leave. They pinned me to the floor again. I tried to leave again. They pushed me to the floor again and pinned me down and told me they were going to drug me with a zyprexa shot. I started crying and I was lying there pinned to the floor crying for quite awhile.
See, it was written in my aftercare plan that if I miss twenty hours two weeks in a row I get a week's reboot at IT. The thing was, this was not IT, this was stable. Innercept tried to excuse it saying that IT was in the process of moving therefore I couldn't be sent there. But it doesn't work that way. The paper I signed said IT, not stable.
Eventually I calmed down, then one of the Innercept nurses who was there decided to piss me off by saying something and I got upset again and started crying again and after awhile I calmed down again.
What ensued after that was a week of feeling bored and restless and angry and pissed off at everyone and everything. I would wake up in the morning feeling angry and I would have to immediately take my meds and count on Adderall to give me a fake happy feeling that counteracted the anger, at least for a little while. Stable is such a therapeutic environment in that way. Sarcasm.
Anyway, they decided to keep me there for fucking ever and made me miss school and they wouldn't let me study for my physics test. I was absolutely shocked that I got a 72 on it. I mean, that I got a 72 instead of a 32 or something substantially lower. They had me raking pine needles and constantly complaining that I wasn't putting enough muscle in it when I was putting as much muscle as I could do that was sustainable.
Anyway, so I am out now, and my parents in their undying love for Innercept think that I am the problem so they moved me to a different place for the next couple months. They moved me to the Innercept girl's aftercare house, which is for people who just got out of transition and don't actually have an apartment to move into, not for people who need more "structure." There isn't any sort of structure. But my parents, especially my mother, love Innercept and think that their daughter owes her life to Innercept. That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard, Beev. I would still be alive if it weren't for Innercept. You would not have kicked me out of the house. I would not have run away. Any suicide attempts would have been unsuccessful. I would be living at home and you would be a million dollars richer.
So instead, my parents decide to spend extra money to have me living in a different house where I have one housemate who is gone all day. And I don't want to say that I hate my parents, because that makes me sound like an immature teenager. But I am not exactly loving them right now.
It was Halloween a couple weeks ago on a Wednesday. I was headed toward the Kroc Center for a thrilling afternoon of working out and downloading music, and to drop off an application to be a Salvation Army bell ringer. I didn't make it even halfway there, however. My efforts were Innercepted by the Innercept prison vehicle. I saw them pull up in a parking lot, and Kurt motioned for me to come over. Not knowing what was going on, I went over. Kurt and Dave told me to that due to my recent slackings, I was going to stable, the Innercept prison, for a week.
This was horrible news, as I never in my life wanted to go back to the Innercept prison. At first, I was compliant, and I got in the vehicle and they drove me back to my apartment to pack my stuff. My head was swimming because I knew the next week was going to be horrible. I didn't know what to pack. I couldn't pack with my head swimming like that.
Once back in the car on my way to the Innercept prison, I knew that I couldn't just go along with this. I had to fight. So when we got up to the cabin out in the middle of nowhere, I told them that I wasn't getting out of the car. Kurt tried to intimidate me by using is intimidating "I'm not fucking around you better get out of the car voice" but I didn't let it get to me. They could do whatever. I wasn't getting out of the car.
Next, violence ensued. I was pushed out of the car and my face was slammed in the gravel, they pinned me down and removed my shoes and twisted my arms in odd painful positions and then carried me into the cabin. I tried to leave. They pinned me to the floor again. I tried to leave again. They pushed me to the floor again and pinned me down and told me they were going to drug me with a zyprexa shot. I started crying and I was lying there pinned to the floor crying for quite awhile.
See, it was written in my aftercare plan that if I miss twenty hours two weeks in a row I get a week's reboot at IT. The thing was, this was not IT, this was stable. Innercept tried to excuse it saying that IT was in the process of moving therefore I couldn't be sent there. But it doesn't work that way. The paper I signed said IT, not stable.
Eventually I calmed down, then one of the Innercept nurses who was there decided to piss me off by saying something and I got upset again and started crying again and after awhile I calmed down again.
What ensued after that was a week of feeling bored and restless and angry and pissed off at everyone and everything. I would wake up in the morning feeling angry and I would have to immediately take my meds and count on Adderall to give me a fake happy feeling that counteracted the anger, at least for a little while. Stable is such a therapeutic environment in that way. Sarcasm.
Anyway, they decided to keep me there for fucking ever and made me miss school and they wouldn't let me study for my physics test. I was absolutely shocked that I got a 72 on it. I mean, that I got a 72 instead of a 32 or something substantially lower. They had me raking pine needles and constantly complaining that I wasn't putting enough muscle in it when I was putting as much muscle as I could do that was sustainable.
Anyway, so I am out now, and my parents in their undying love for Innercept think that I am the problem so they moved me to a different place for the next couple months. They moved me to the Innercept girl's aftercare house, which is for people who just got out of transition and don't actually have an apartment to move into, not for people who need more "structure." There isn't any sort of structure. But my parents, especially my mother, love Innercept and think that their daughter owes her life to Innercept. That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard, Beev. I would still be alive if it weren't for Innercept. You would not have kicked me out of the house. I would not have run away. Any suicide attempts would have been unsuccessful. I would be living at home and you would be a million dollars richer.
So instead, my parents decide to spend extra money to have me living in a different house where I have one housemate who is gone all day. And I don't want to say that I hate my parents, because that makes me sound like an immature teenager. But I am not exactly loving them right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)