new plan...
i'm getting a bad memory and am feeling worse today. many bad memories, having faulty reasoning. hopelessness is cropping up strongly. when i first went into therapy back in 1989, it was all the things, emotions, feelings, excuses, get dug up, stirred up. therapy is a shitty thing to put people through. what did people do to come to better understandings about their lives, their problems prior to Sigmund Freud and the science of psychoanalysis? They danced, they sang, they fucked, they fought... and today you find someone like me that lives in stifled frustration, that stays locked in his room and drowns in regrets and hurt and decides to give up on ever trying to love or have success again.
i wish i had the balls to commit a crime. that way i could be taken before a court of law and be given the opportunity to make a confession. i feel so guilty about how i've failed in life that i want say i'm sorry. i want to take the blame for crimes that others have done. i want to defend someone, take the rap for someone else. god, is this a christ complex? wanting to be punished in a grand way for the things i haven't done?
i could become a cutter. or i could start to drink again. i have been thinking about beer a lot recently. i've broken the routine of self-medication drinking, but right now it sounds like such a good idea. the only thing that makes sense is that i have no medications in my system anymore and i want to numb the pain, again.
now get this, when i saw this new therapist on Friday she told me that my first appointment with an actual psychiatrist will be on July 31st. does that tell you something about how this is going to go for me? i can't even get an appointment to start the process of determining whether medications will help me for 6 weeks. what will happen when i might start a new medication and have reactions to it that need the p-docs attention. will i ever get calls back from the doctor in a timely fashion? i'm not going to do it.
i think what i should do is from now on keep all the money i get from the government (i.e. stop paying my bills) to myself. run away to Mexico so i can live by camping out on a beach (and learn to surf), start to drink again. find a sleazy woman to have lots of sex with. get away from computers and do all my writing in paper notebooks and then send them to Susan H. so that she can publish my memoirs/stories/novel after i die. this sounds like a really good plan, doesn't it? what better hope do i have of getting some satisfaction out of life?
i wish i had the balls to commit a crime. that way i could be taken before a court of law and be given the opportunity to make a confession. i feel so guilty about how i've failed in life that i want say i'm sorry. i want to take the blame for crimes that others have done. i want to defend someone, take the rap for someone else. god, is this a christ complex? wanting to be punished in a grand way for the things i haven't done?
i could become a cutter. or i could start to drink again. i have been thinking about beer a lot recently. i've broken the routine of self-medication drinking, but right now it sounds like such a good idea. the only thing that makes sense is that i have no medications in my system anymore and i want to numb the pain, again.
now get this, when i saw this new therapist on Friday she told me that my first appointment with an actual psychiatrist will be on July 31st. does that tell you something about how this is going to go for me? i can't even get an appointment to start the process of determining whether medications will help me for 6 weeks. what will happen when i might start a new medication and have reactions to it that need the p-docs attention. will i ever get calls back from the doctor in a timely fashion? i'm not going to do it.
i think what i should do is from now on keep all the money i get from the government (i.e. stop paying my bills) to myself. run away to Mexico so i can live by camping out on a beach (and learn to surf), start to drink again. find a sleazy woman to have lots of sex with. get away from computers and do all my writing in paper notebooks and then send them to Susan H. so that she can publish my memoirs/stories/novel after i die. this sounds like a really good plan, doesn't it? what better hope do i have of getting some satisfaction out of life?
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