I know this.

What, exactly, does ‘unstable’ mean?

What would you do?

How would you behave?

Triangulated by sad-eyed officers who, in their apologies, told me that – on that night…they couldn’t stand their jobs…it was okay though, I cheered them up. I didn’t sulk or act crazy. I tried to be as nice and cooperative as I could, given the ridiculous circumstances.

Even the list of ‘concerns’ was ridiculous…typed by a middle-aged parent, not even 1/2 official looking as it lay in the ‘Doc’s’ lap – the ‘weekend warrior’ with the autistic son…I knew all this just by his name. Not because I think I am ‘telepathic’ but because I remember near everything I see or hear, not all at once…but, I knew these simple things about this doctor and so it made noooooooo sense to me that I would be deemed ‘agitated’ for standing in the door of my glassine room, for wrapping and re-wrapping myself in a blanket, for asking if I could perhaps put something on over or under my disposable-y issued shirt…it was see-thru and indignifiying…to be on display like that.

If I were going to hang myself, which has never been an issue with me, would it not have been easier to use the sheet on the bed itself than my thin-strapped sports bra?

Hospital policy is idiotic.

I, however, am not.

Which is how I knew/know to whom I had been shit-talked:

I simply identified everyone who had been identified as a ‘friend at work’ and then riffled through my files to see what I could recall…I know for a fact that I was viciously slandered to a Copestone clinician a couple years back…because then I was telephoned – while I was at work – and told the details of the ways in which I had been diagnosed based on what someone who can’t stand me had said…

Perhaps this was the same clinician who deemed me ‘unstable’ after interviewing me briefly at 4am…after I had been woken from a toxic sleep after an intimidating ritualistic IM injection, following my ‘agitation’ – – – it was based on this supposed instability that I initially was denied children…

Well, that and the ‘instability’ reported by a SW who not only had been to my home when it was also occupied by the person who can’t stand me…but, whom I had given an actual David Byrne ticket to…because she was a ‘friend’ of a ‘friend at work’ and I couldn’t go because the boy was mysteriously feverish…in kindergarten still…he was asleep and my mom was here…she seemed proud of me for not going, but I had actually really been looking forward to that show…I have only ‘gone out’ – a handful of times in the past decade…so, I don’t have much to gain or lose in the way of friendship…

I wasn’t concerned with being friendly with the psychiatrist who signed away (for the month of September 20-something until present…) my maternal rights…that’s why I was honest with her when I told her that her way of communicating with me was re-traumatizing…that I felt that she was being inappropriately dismissive of my genuine effort to communicate clearly and that she was jumping to indicting conclusions about my actual degree of agitation…

I speak quickly when I am nervous, scared, having genuine fun or trying to make an important point…it does not mean I am manic…it means I rely on words (obviously) to carry me through unusual times…it also means that psychiatrists like to assert their authority sometimes in ways that are quite petty, small, and mean…I think I got another IM injection for my ‘agitation’ that day…for being a scared girl with a high verbal IQ…

Very professional.

(That was sarcasm…in case you didn’t realize.)

I have seen a lot of mental health practice in the past couple of decades, but the MH system is clearly becoming more and more hideous. Fortunately, the people in the Partial Hospitalization program seem somewhat receptive to reality…and they seem to understand how frustrating it is for me to be a somewhat sane person contending with somewhat insane circumstances…

Yes. It is split right down the middle.

I let out some fairly convulsive anger toward my family and systems of care that don’t give a a shit at all…over the past few days…fell into that space of not being able to process and so was just stunned/coiled…I would’ve been a good boxer on Tuesday…instead, I just walked up and down the block a couple of times and was another angry female pounding it into the pavement…I am not a fan of anger…it is, as we all know, quite destructive…however, sometimes we need to be angry in order to establish appropriate boundaries…sometimes when anger comes from genuine hurt, from being betrayed by people you trusted to protect you…well, it is good to experience that anger…because it is sometimes the only way that the depth of the truth of one’s hurt can be measured…

My family will have work something out. I have no interest in pursuing hurtful relationships that deny me dignity or rights on the basis of idiotic assumptions ‘instability’ – – –

I am not the problem here and I will not take responsibility nor will I honor the erroneous thinking of others. Even if they claim to love me…if you think I am sick, you don’t remotely care for me…you don’t even care enough to realize how hideous such a conclusion is…given the facts as we understand them.

* * *

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