Truths

Neurology, The Side Chick

With the intention of speaking words of the otherworldly, I opened this page and now have lost sight of my original motivation.

So I’ll just let the words flow like water.

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Today I had conversations filled with self-acceptance, Dr. Dre, Greek Gods and Goddesses, George Washington, free-style rap, the energy in your pancreas, and meditation. Were I able to repeat the actual words of the conversation, I wouldn’t want to. They were personal and private.

What is this thing call self-acceptance after all? Is it some mysterious being that makes you happy with yourself? Or is it the act of being happy with yourself even when you’re not happy? Is it the act of feeling your emotions without stuffing them away? Seems to me you can’t accept who you are if you’re constantly stuffing away your thoughts, your feelings, and yourself deeper and deeper until they’re gone completely–that’s self-deprivation, a form of self mutilation, if you ask me. Your emotions, your moods, they’re there for a reason, and the reason isn’t to be ignore. It isn’t to be stuffed down or waived away as a defect of your mind. They’re there to remind you of how human you really are.

If you stuff away your humanity, well, no wonder life becomes so miserable.

Granted, I’m not a human. But that’s another story for another time.

I’ve lost my sarcastic spark recently because, if you all remember, a lot of my sarcasm revolved around my own personal anger issues and my fiery hatred for the mental health industry. I mistook it for passion, I really did. I mistook it so easily for passion, it scares me.

That hatred had been sutured on my soul. I never took for granted a moment I could trash talk Big Pharma, psych hospitals, or psychiatrists who prescribe one year old’s Risperdal to parents who couldn’t even spell the word if their life depended on it. But that hatred has long dissipated. In fact, it’s fallen away, rotten and diseased, like a rejected skin graft.

I’ve lost my passion for psychiatry, because it was never about psychiatry. I just wanted to be around the people who dealt with the same kinds of things I did, and I knew being a psychiatrist you often dealt with people who had “odd” beliefs, who heard voices or struggled with trust issues in this reality and others, mood issues, e.t.c.

I do that now. What the hell do I need psychiatry for?

chained-up

Me In College

I didn’t expect for me to lose interest so quickly in something I’ve been studying, literally, since I was fifteen years old. That’s six years. I’ve got so much pharmacology and medication and industry and research knowledge that sometimes I don’t know what to do with it. Now I’m thinking, IF i choose to stay in college, I may go for Neurology.

But one thing is for certain, I can’t stop what I’m doing now.

I know I have many issues I still need to work on. My anxiety is fucking Cthulu, my trust issues are like Jack The Ripper and murders every possibility of having a connection with a hoe who gets near me, and my social skills are dark matter: can’t see it, can’t hear it, not even sure if it exists. Those are the things I’m struggling with. Fuck any voices I hear or things I see, fuck the occult shit, fuck all–all that is normal. I hate the word normal, but I’m using it here because I feel ten times more comfortable with myself when I’m indulged in those things than if I’m outside and fronting against anxiety or trying to blend in with the crowd. THAT shit feels weird. It makes my skin crawl.

I don’t see that as me being broken or sick or “abnormal”. I see it as everyone else being just a little off their rocker too. Who buys clothes just because a rapper has them? Fucking weird dude. You call me weird? You’re copying a multi-million dollar superstar with a cheap knock off, just to look cool in front of your friends. And I’m the one with the problems. Yeah. Right.

Dude. People bought Yeezys. People buy iphones just because they’re iphones. Come ON

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I’ve probably said this before, but I didn’t talk to other kids when I was a kid. I didn’t have friends. So the world in my head, all the talking cars and the personalities I spoke to that helped me become the fiction writer I am today, all that? THAT was my normal, and I never had any reason to feel wrong for it. Me being quiet and reserved and having trouble communicating–that I got scolded for. That I still struggle with feeling wrong and bad about. See the connection?

Imagine if I would have told my teachers the truth, about the feelings I got at night trying to go to bed, the other worldly forces watching me, the characters in my head that spoke to me, that consoled me when I had trouble, that wrote the brilliant things they called “advanced”. Imagine what would have happened to me. The thought makes me shudder.

At this point I”m just babbling. I would like to continue my involvement in peer support. I don’t really want psychiatry anymore. It’s like that one used up hoe you pounded when you were drunk and feeling powerful and then you woke up so close to her you could almost taste the night’s sweat still on her and realized she a rachet-ass, bat-lipped-ass, saggy-titty-ass, stank-breath-ass hoe. That’s psychiatry to me right now.

Peer Support is like the gorgeous girl working as a cashier during the day and attending school at night and taking care of her kid and struggling to survive but understanding that she can make it, so she smiles at you when you set your items on the belt.

Neurology can be the okay-ass side chick, I suppose.

I wonder how long it’s been since I used the term mental disorder and actually meant it? It’s been a long time. It feels good to have that removed from my tongue. It was starting to leave a stale taste in my mouth.

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About AlishiaDee (372 Articles)
Alishia D. is a blogger, a beginning novelist, and a counselor at 2nd Story Peer Respite house where diagnostic labels and the culture of mental health is long forgotten. She's a mental health peer who has bounced through as many labels as she has doctors, and enjoys being sarcastic when she can. She also hates writing in 3rd person.

13 Comments on Neurology, The Side Chick

  1. I agree relate on social skills lackin like a bitch. But eh I’ve never been too good at it anyways, always the awkward bitch in the back 💁🏻.

    I am not a human👽.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Great post!…Some deep observations and realizations. I so get you. I’ve never really felt like I was part of the world, never really fit in, or had the same inconsequential thoughts and feelings others seem to have…ie following celebrity trends and such. It can be tough being a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, at least that’s the way it often feels to me. So when the going get rough, just say excelsior! (that still cracks me up!) and forge ahead. No not really, but I got nothing else at the moment, ha.
    Always nice to see/read you… be well A. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • Excelsior! lmaooo it cracks me up too, every time I hear it. But thank you for the comment, I always love hearing what you have to say. I’m assuming this is my “twenty something year old phase” of “who the hell am I and what the hell am I doing here”. It sure feels like that phase lol. Hope you’re doing good.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Glad you’re learning more about what you want, Ali. I’m happy your mind is clearing up too. Btw I wanted to ask you a while now if you will be interested in enchanting emails with me? I’m totally good if you say no, I understand. Perfect description of psychiatry 10/10 lol

    Liked by 1 person

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