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i made out with a guy who has a girlfriend business trip, too many drinks, chemistry that felt like a dare. we kissed. it was stupid and selfish and i’m not going to spin it. i cut contact. i’m not the hero here and i’m not going to be the reason someone else gets wrecked.
It was all roughly on the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I know my family didn't leave that photo, because we weren't on speaking terms. That's how I ended up in the halfway house. For some reason I was convinced my mom was trying to kill me. She's not exactly a saint, but she wouldn't put forth that kind of effort.
I practice everything my therapist tells me to practice. Things to say, reset techniques, and nothing is helping all that much either. Water is wet and people are garbage
In the halfway house I left with more buttons than I had. I also left with a picture of a wolf that was there when I got into the room. They said it was for me, but why? No one ever said. They just told me to take it.
I ended up not leaving my room, except to shit, let alone my house. I was nearly shitting in a bucket. I wrote on my walls. I locked down my online personas as much as possible. I isolated myself even more than I was beforehand. Why do people find this stuff funny?
Then the stuff I experienced while hospitalized. The woman who was obviously going through my stuff and caked her makeup when she saw the note about how she looked twice her age. Who knows what she was really doing? My roommates kept waking up throughout the night though. The magical buttons on my dresser and sewn to my pants in the same halfway house where two people on suicide watch were given scissors and privacy. Who knows what happened there? I don't.
I still remember that night they found me on the highway. "Time of your Life" by Greenday conveniently playing on the radio, and really attractive nursing assistants. One was real patient with me. Had a son with a similar story supposedly. Probably just trying to be understanding and nice. Who knows?
That choice in song is terrifying when you're completely lost, found on the highway, and forget it's just a breakup song. This shit really isn't what people think it is
Maybe it's Risperdal still fucking with my head a decade later? The trauma of how I was found next to the freeway and stuck in an ambulance and sent to the mental hospital? Not a threat to anyone but myself, and diagnosed with Brief Psychotic Disorder before they maxed out my Risperdal dosage. Truth is, there's no way on Gitchie Manito's green Earth that death is a worse alternative than this cloudy existence.
Real, objective truth like I'm not shit though? That'd help me a lot. Because I'm not shit. I know I'm not shit. Not even worth the dirt I stand on outside. Gitchie Manito wasted their time on me.
But people tell me what I want to hear and keep the psychosis going. ChatGPT isn't objective so it'll do a 180 real fast. Truth is, there isn't a good situation either way. I'm just sick of feeling delusional ever since I was put on Risperdal over a decade ago. It still fucks with me.
Neshnabek have our Seven Grandfather Teachings, and one of those Teachings is about the importance of Truth. Truth can overcome alot, and it can help break the wall of psychosis too. I mean, not for everyone. That shit can get real bad real fast. But grounding techniques for anxiety aren't the answer for psychosis. Finding five things in a room isn't gonna tell my brain that I'm just seeing patterns. Probably why my therapist hasn't given me that exercise.
