Rx, Please

Bright lights, noises, new voices, new faces, new hallucinations.

A few days ago, I saw my dog’s body coming out of the bathroom wall, jaw snapped in half, ribs protruding out.

A saw a new psych today and she wants to discuss medication- an anti psychotic and perhaps a mood stabilizer. I was a wreck. She mentioned the term “paranoid schizophrenia.” To be honest, I wasn’t really listening to her after that. All I could think was, wow I feel fucked up.

The office space was nice- something an old lesbian doctor with a schnauzer named Emmerson would envision.  There were plants everyone, orange pillows, and a Glade plugged in to the wall. She wasn’t all bad. I just didn’t feel the warm and fuzzies about her.

God, was it difficult to tell her everything. I didn’t want to. I’m sure I left a lot of important details out, anyways. I had to tell her about hearing my name over the radio at 7/11, listening to the news anchor in the morning telling me that the rain is acid… I had to tell her that I’m afraid of going outside sometimes because I really feel that I may get shot.

When the appointment was over, I sat in my car and cried. I just cried until my lap was drenched in my tears and snot. Why is it getting so difficult? I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin.

I just feel like I’m having a hard time with all of this. I hate feeling evaluated. I hated having “symptoms” that she could just check off. I felt like a stereotypical patient. I feel so gross right now.

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