?

Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

American Horror Story

It's October, sorry. I'm trying to get off my meds (again) so that I'm not a tranquilized cow out to pasteur for the rest of my life. First there is the dizzy, shivery, nauseous part that I managed to get through. Then there's the rage phase I'm winding down on. Next is nervous breakdown, which I've never managed to successfully get through. There's a first time for e'rything.

The rage is bad. I feel like I'm on steroids. Starbucks forgot to make my pumpkin spice latte the other day and when I questioned them about it's whereabouts half an hour later, she said the cashiere had never given it to her to make. So I waited about 10 more minutes and asked her again.

"We're busy," she said. I stormed the counter and threw my huge purse on it, knocking over their tip jar. I demanded my money back and then couldn't find the card I'd put it on in the first place . "Fuck it" I snarled and left, shoving some rando guy on my way out like i was Lauren Hutton in Once Bitten (if you haven't seen that, you have no business reading my journal anyway but fine, watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBwyjWbss1o).

Last night, I about dived over the table @ the Mexican restaurant and beat the shit out of my sister with a nearby Mariachi guy's trumpet for telling me I might as well "go back to drinking" since I exhibited other, equally devastating addictive behavior towards food and relationships.

Yes, because giving myself Cirrhosis and slaughtering people with my car is something I really need to be doing right now on top of whatever the fuck else is wrong with me. She's always talking about "triggers" and has the nerve to say that to me over her Dos Equis.

In other insensitive, annoying news, my therapist refered to me as "deadweight" the last time I saw her. I was complaining about my inability to actualize my dreams and she snorted. I put down the pen I was fiddling with and looked up at her.

"Forget your dreams," she said. I sat wondering if anyone had ever told me to forget my dreams before, least of all someone counseling me. "You're just deadweight right now."

I thought perhaps I had intrinsic value as a human being, Therapist.

“You don't need anybody to tell you who you are or what you are. You are what you are!” - John Lennon.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
thunderstrike78
Oct. 16th, 2016 04:24 am (UTC)
Well, your therapist is a fucking idiot. Who says that to a patient? Besides, I know you to be a brilliant, insightful, and witty person, so maybe the therapist should get off his or her fucking ass and make an effort to get to know you.

Our dreams are who we are on a really fundamental level. They tell us who we are (the first and most basic question of our existence) and what we want (the second). Never ignore them. Just try to figure out what they're trying to tell you. Seize it. Own it and whatever your dreams are telling you. You'll figure it out as long as you don't get discouraged by naysayers. It's a puzzle only you can solve.

Sorry I haven't been around to support and encourage you over the last few years, but I still believe in you and want you to believe in yourself. You'll find it, I guarantee. I could always see it.

Wishing you the best,
Jason
velouria
Oct. 31st, 2016 04:10 am (UTC)
Thank you, Jason.
(Anonymous)
Oct. 31st, 2016 01:39 am (UTC)
ruxpin is dead, colleen.
i know you hated me but don't stop taking your medication. you might end up like him.
velouria
Oct. 31st, 2016 04:10 am (UTC)
I am back on them...who is this?
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )