I feel like I’m in a riddle that I must solve myself if I’d like to live.
Neurologist: Do you hear voices?
Me: Yes.
Neurologist: I’m recommending you to this psychiatrist.
Psychiatrist: Do you see people that aren’t there?
Me: Yes.
Psychiatrist: I’m admitting you to the psych ward.
Psych Dr: Do you regularly see a therapist?
Me: No.
Psych Dr: I’m recommended you to a therapist.
Therapist: Tell me about the voices you hear and the people you see who aren’t really there.
Me: (stories of my imaginary friends and the voices in my head)
Therapist: I don’t think you have schizophrenia. Let’s discuss more next week.
I get in the car, 3 meds are ready for pick up at Publix. I’ll get them tomorrow. I take 9 pills before bed that my mother has lovingly set out for me. AM meds she gives me in a coffee mug, noon meds go in a shot glass and night meds in a wine glass. I have a 3pm pill but that one usually just gets the shot glass again. I don’t drink but she thinks it’s funny. I’m 42. I’m grateful I have no appointments tomorrow and wondering if I’m even going to tell the psychiatrist what the therapist said at Wednesdays appointment and just get my meds refilled and go on with my so called life.
I wanna get them all together in a room and scream at the top of my lungs: YOU ARE MAKING ME CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just leave my friends alone and let me have my seizures in peace.
But then what will they do with me? But then how much will my son cry? But then how much will I hurt my parents? I’ll just keep following the life instructions and try my hardest not to completely lose myself. I was a pretty cool girl once, a million years ago.