I know, broken record.
Sorry - having a shitty day watching my boy -well, like a son to me but not genetically related, hover near death, and even if there is a reprieve right now, it is terminal as it is widely metastasized Cancer beyond any combination of treatments to help - just palliative care. That darkens my mood, but I know death is a part of life.
While I should feel sorry for him, my thoughts turn to my own situation.
I've fought the concept of "being crazy" for 2 years and 8 months - and no amount of attempting to not be, feel, do, or act crazy actually does any of that. Granted, I can project sane really well, someone not knowing would not know if I put on my game face.
I surrender. It wins. I'm crazy. Cra-cra. Looney tunes. Whatever you wanna call it.
Now what?
When I was told I was crazy in 2012, my instant reaction was "that's it, I'm a walking dead man, American society in all aspects does NOT tolerate the mentally ill."
I envisioned all kinds of nightmare scenarios that all ended with my disgrace and death - from being homeless to being locked up.
I also knew that various things protect people, from ADA to HIPPA, but I thought "not me, I am a special case".
I have functioned for all of that time, not always well, but I've functioned and fought off the Wolves at the door in my key areas of career, home, family, freedom/civil rights.
That appears to be the objective, empirically measurable reality for most people with PTSD - they struggle, but ultimately they look like the rest of society in those ways.
Please tell me they is true, that no one can "take it away from me" unless I let them.
And, tell me I will be ok if I reframe my viewpoint of mental healthcare from "a form of criminal justice that punishes people for being sick" to "healthcare for the mind just like cardiology is healthcare for the heart or orthopedics is healthcare for the bones."
Sorry - having a shitty day watching my boy -well, like a son to me but not genetically related, hover near death, and even if there is a reprieve right now, it is terminal as it is widely metastasized Cancer beyond any combination of treatments to help - just palliative care. That darkens my mood, but I know death is a part of life.
While I should feel sorry for him, my thoughts turn to my own situation.
I've fought the concept of "being crazy" for 2 years and 8 months - and no amount of attempting to not be, feel, do, or act crazy actually does any of that. Granted, I can project sane really well, someone not knowing would not know if I put on my game face.
I surrender. It wins. I'm crazy. Cra-cra. Looney tunes. Whatever you wanna call it.
Now what?
When I was told I was crazy in 2012, my instant reaction was "that's it, I'm a walking dead man, American society in all aspects does NOT tolerate the mentally ill."
I envisioned all kinds of nightmare scenarios that all ended with my disgrace and death - from being homeless to being locked up.
I also knew that various things protect people, from ADA to HIPPA, but I thought "not me, I am a special case".
I have functioned for all of that time, not always well, but I've functioned and fought off the Wolves at the door in my key areas of career, home, family, freedom/civil rights.
That appears to be the objective, empirically measurable reality for most people with PTSD - they struggle, but ultimately they look like the rest of society in those ways.
Please tell me they is true, that no one can "take it away from me" unless I let them.
And, tell me I will be ok if I reframe my viewpoint of mental healthcare from "a form of criminal justice that punishes people for being sick" to "healthcare for the mind just like cardiology is healthcare for the heart or orthopedics is healthcare for the bones."