I heard a bunch of flowers gossiping at work yesterday. They are so stuck up and uppity. They were talking about some girl they know who has fallen in love with a man she never met who they feel would never go for her.
The tiniest arrangement was listening carefully nearby and it made her sad for the girl and the boy….so with it’s heart full of green and orange and pink and blue…when they weren’t looking, it changed all their delivery labels to this very girl’s name and address and signed each lovely card………
Deuphoria,
I have never, loved anyone, in my life, so completely as I love you right now.
Please be my wife.
Signed,
Your Knight In Shining Pinstripes,
Gaius Baltar
*That will show them the tiny Gerber Daisy arrangement smiled.
Thirty years ago on September 11th, 1992 I went into labor with my first and only child. My pregnancy was perfect and I had the last three months to stay home from work and nest in my husband and I’s new home. I remember loving being pregnant. This little person was my buddy. Every move and kick, every week I’d look up in the book “What To Expect When You Are Expecting” what size the baby was. Waking up everyday knowing this little being was mine. We choose not to find out the gender of the baby because we wanted a surprise. I did want a boy very badly and had picked the name Maximilian years before.
So that morning on the 11th of September 1992, they induced my labor. I had a cassette called “Music To Be Born By” by Mickey Hart from The Grateful Dead. He had recorded the heartbeat of his son in utero years before and created a droning drum infused melody for mother’s to use to breath by. My Mother in Law was Swedish so she had this sweet accent. My Gram was in the room with me when Swedish Omi came in and said “oh my, what interesting music.” The labor lasted for many hours. It started off easy but as induction goes it them came on hard. Not many hours to get use to labor. The hard labor lasted nearly 12 hours. The time to push seemed like it lasted hours. I got an epidural so there wasn’t much room for walking around and I had an iv for fluids. Unlike the way babies use to be delivered like in Call The Midwife, women were given well sugared tea to keep them going. I was not allowed anything to drink. Only a wet towel you could suck on. There was no pain, but the dehydration I felt was really bad. I kept crying and crying for orange juice for hours and was refused. I understood why, but this caused me to started to become confused. Pushing was a problem because I was so thirsty. You would have thought the iv would have taken care of that. If that is the worst thing I can complain about giving birth, then I’m very lucky. Woman have suffered so during childbirth since the beginning of time. It was almost midnight and I just wasn’t pushing much. No woman thinks they are going to get through their first delivery but you always do.
That last push came and then…………
It’s a boy!! They laid him on my chest. He is so heavy I said. (8lbs 12ozs) I couldn’t continue to hold him as I had a fever, so they handed him over to Daddy. He looked a bit pale from the whole thing. In came everyone else and they all held him. I finally got that orange juice.
While they were preparing my room, I was put in a temporary room. The room was dark, only the dim lights coming from the hallway. I lay there, chemicals pumping through my system like I’d never felt. The sheer euphoria I felt. Like the best natural drug in the cosmos. I thought “I just had a baby. There is a new person on Earth and I pushed him out. He came through me. How did I do that?” I looked up at the clock and it was about 2:10am by then. Time froze. It is one of those memories that will pass before my eyes at my death I’m sure. That clock on that wall in that dimly dark room is one of my happy places. I will hope I never ever forget that feeling.
Little Max was born at 12:12am on September 12, 1992.
Years later after 9/11, it occurred to me that if I had been more of a fierce pusher that day, my Son would be doomed to have a September 11th birthday. Sorry to take the story to a downturn but every year on Sept 11th, that horrible day in history when the towers came down, there is nothing but talk of great sadness.
I remember on this day and tomorrow that my little boy is going to be 30 years old with his own babies and I’m so glad I had him. He is truly the best thing that has ever happened to me, and on September 11th I’m going to choose every year that on this day, I went into labor and had a sweet child. The best gift I ever got to quote Barbara Streisand, except when I got two more gifts, my Grandchildren.
You should know I don’t feel safe or cared for by IU Health. In fact I’ve never felt safe and cared for by psychiatry. The last time I talked with your office has caused the last few weeks horrible anxiety and fear of dealing with anyone from your office. I feel you need to hear my story to understand how to help me.
I never had any mental health problems in my life until I was six weeks post partum from having my son. I went to OBGYN and told him I could not stop crying. This was 1992. He gave me prozac and said I would have to take it all my life?? It changed my personality. It made me feel bad and I shouldn’t need to take a anti depressent all my life because of a bout of post partum depression. Two years later I was not feeling good due to the med and I wasn’t aware that these meds can have side effects. A doctor put me on Zoloft. I became manic. I started smoking cigarettes. I did things I would never do. I left my husband.
This was the beginning of how psych meds destroyed my life. Eventually I went off them and my life went back to normal. Jump to 2003
I have been tormented by psychiatry for two decades. From the moment I was “diagnosed” in an ER in Seattle up to the last conversation I had with you office staff, I am still traumatized by your profession. Each new Dr. I talk to including spending an hour with Dr. Thomas telling him of the waking nightmare I have endured by Psychiatry. These traumatic events have caused me to have PTSD. Not one Dr. in last 5 years has addressed this or diagnosed me with PTSD because I believe they either don’t believe me or are unwilling to admit that Psychiatry can do people harm.
Here I will list just a few examples of some traumatic events:
1. When it all started: I had a thyroid problem. I believe the new prescription was too high and I began to have strange symptoms. This was 2003 in Seattle. My boyfriend took me to the ER. We had to wait in a storage closet on a makeshift bed, there were so many people there. After three hours we decided to leave. A security guard came up to me and scream YOU ARE NOT LEAVING and threw me down on the floor. I was then put in a concrete room, a holding cell for mental patients. There I was locked in and observed. I pissed myself many times because they wouldn’t let me out to pee.
(I was diagnosed bi polar in 15 minutes with an ER doctor)
After this I lost my career. I was over drugged and slept all day. This type of ER event happened two more times when I went back to the ER because the drugs were making me hallucinate. My boyfriend was convinced that I had bi polar symptoms because my family doctor had changed my synthyroid to a much higher dose than normal and we didn’t catch it until much later, by then I was already diagnosed, over drugged and (what is the word for complying without fighting)
During the 2000’s in Seattle I never had the same doctor. I was in a system for poor people without insurance. Everytime I had a Dr’s appointment there would be a new doctor and he would change my medication completely. I was unrecognizable to my partner. I had paranoia. I was so heavy and sleepy I would need help to the bedroom. Once I was interviewed for an intake for new Doc when a young girl ask me questions about my life. She said “you believe you are talking to Kurt Cobain from the grave right?” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO. I had told someone I had lovely dreams for a long time of Eddie Vedder who was a musician with Pearl Jam who lived in my neighborhood. This kind of terrible care was normal by that time.
In 2008, I finally found a doctor I liked and he was a private doc. By this time I stopped telling people I was mis diagnosed because I was basically believing them. This doc treated me for ADHD and Bi Polar indicated if you have a co morbid condition both should be addressed.
I began volunteering for West Side Baby, a non profit who supply diapers, clothing and essential items for children. I also founded a Baby Pantry in West Seattle Food bank. My life was good. I started with 50 families and by the end I have over 1,500 families that looked to me for baby and child supplies. Then one day, that doctor that was treating me for a co morbid condition packed up and left town. He had no other colleague to send me to. Here I was suddenly going cold turkey off Abilify and lithium. It was hell. Every where I looked no one would help me. My family doc was sympathetic but could not help me. If I had weaned off the meds I know I would have been fine.
One night I went to an ER alone because by now my partner of 13 was really stressed out about my health. In an ER I told them that my Doc left and I don’t have a prescription for my meds. Again, I knew coming off psych meds cold turkey were making me lose my mind. They send me home with a piece of paper saying if you feel bad in morning come back. My partner and I decided it would be better if we no longer lived together a few weeks before. After the ER visit the night before, I was scheduled to move into my own place in two weeks. That morning I woke up early feeling quite well actually. In my PJ’s drinking coffee at my desk. My partner came up to me and coldly said I needed to me that day. I had lived in this house for a decade and paid rent and was on lease. I got upset and said I’m waiting for them to paint my apartment. I can’t move today. He went back into his bedroom and locked the door. Of course I got quite upset. Begging him to come out of bedroom to discuss this in an adult manner. I started ramping up. Being off meds and having withdrawal, I threw some of my plants on the floor. I was crying hysterically. He literally planned it I believe. There was no property damage. Only books on floor and plants. While calming myself at my desk, I looked out the window and two cop cars had pulled up. 4 policmen were coming to my door!! I answered calmly and respectfully and told them what was happening. I said I had not doctor and no hospital will help me as I’m coming off medication. In the kitchen my partner told a different story I guess. I was calm and respectful. One of the policement told me to put my hands behind my back. They took to out of my house in my pajamas no shoes no bra no coat. It was January. I was put in jail for three days. I had no family there. I was in solitude the first day and I blacked out. A doc came to the door and push a valium through the slot and said “You shouldn’t be in here.” It was the most horrible thing that ever happened to me. Trauma beyond imagination. I ended up having to go to mental health probabtion for 2 years. They never helped me get a doctor. Soon after that I found myself without shoes on a train to Boeing field. It was a sunny day and I guess I started walking. I woke up near a parking lot and police came and ask if I needed help. (This was a few months after I moved) I didn’t know how I got there so an ambulance came and took me to a hospital I’d never been to. At first I was fine, just anxious and telling them how I couldn’t find a doc and how I had to stop my meds cold turkey. After hours they gave me something to drink. I guess it was a sedative. I must have fallen asleep.
I woke up in 4 point restraints! No one was in the room. I screamed help me! Someone help me. Why am I in restraints. Help me! Help me!!!!!!!!!!!!! I saw purgatory. It was like an out of body experience. I thought they wanted to kill me. I still can hear the screams in my mind. The jail and the restraits flashbacks happen to me often. Such horrible memories I can’t get out of my mind and no one has ever said you have PTSD from this. How can I not?
So I ended up in my own place and eventually the withdrawal stopped and I lived for the next two years with out psych meds and I was happy, able to walk and get groceries and be healthy and write some of my screenplay. In January of 2013 I left Seattle because the memories of the torture in all the psych wards (there are so many stories Dr. Delaney about things that happened to me in psych wards. I just can’t retell them here,)
I came back to Indianapolis where my son and family lives. Although I moved into a scary neighborhood, I was no longer on psych meds and doing just fine. I did manage panic attacks with clonazapam from my family doctor. The flashbacks of all the trauma not only happened during the day but in dreams.
In spring of 2013 I developed a bladder condition called Interstitial Cystitis. At the time I didn’t know what it was. I just knew I was in pain and for two days I peed over everything in my house because I couldn’t control my bladder and the pain became an emergency. I called an ambulance. I got to St. Vincent’s ER on 86th. (The place I gave birth to my son) In the ER they checked me for a bladder infection. They could tell I clearly was in terrible pain so they gave me a morphine drip. Then I lost track of time. Several hours later at 2am, I woke up on the floor of the Stress Center! I was crying on the floor what am I doing here? Two nurses at the desk just stared at me. I continued to cry and cry someone help me. A nurse came over and shot me up with Haldol. Never ask me never ask my permision. I was forced drugged for two weeks. The doc I saw there was cruel and cold and ask me questions like “do you talk to Jesus?” I was very lucid and fucking pissed off that he had no right and I came to the hospital for bladder pain. I told him ‘I talk to jesus, what of it?” He said you will have to stay two more days. Never was my bladder pain treated.
This happened two more times. Went to the ER for pain, (by this time I knew I had IC and told them) They would send a nurse from Stress Center to try to get me to admit myself. They would say “you seem stressed.” Of course I do! I’m in pain and no one will help me. On pain meds I agreeed. And was put on drugs again (which is the reason I am still on them because I have never been able to get a Dr. to wean me off) Evetually I met a urologist and he diagnosed my bladder considition and gave me hydro destintion procedure and that gave me relief for about a year. Then one night I went to St. Vincent’s and they forced me into Stress Center again while I was in pain. This time I just laid on the floor of the bathroom crying hysterically in pain. They only said you are upsetting the other patients. I told them I needed a urlolgist and another hydro destinion procedue. Hours went on and they put me in this large room with no bed and just a rubber mat on floor. They said a doc is coming. Some guy showed up, he wasn’t a urologist. I don’t know what he was. I told him what I need. He said………
“take down your pants and underwear and spread your legs.” Then he stood 8 feet from me laying on floor with pants down and looked at my vagina and said “You look fine to me.”
Of course I was back on drugs but didn’t ever find a psychiatrist. A family doc was writing my meds but keep saying you need to find a psychiatist. I could never find anyone near me. It was insane how I had medicae and could not find a doc. My insurance was with Community. I never went back to St. Vincents. One day a year later I couldn’t sleep. I had gone three days without sleep. I went to Community North ER. They put me in a room with no bed and I laid on the floor. They keep bullying me and saying you need to get up. There were no others in the mental health holding cells. One room was empty with bed and they wouldn’t let me lay down. Mind you all these times, even though I have family here there wasn’t one person helping me. No advocate. No one to keep me safe. My son had a newborn and wasn’t able to help. They admitted me to the first floor I was on. One night a mexican woman as in her room crying. I went in to comfort her. Then I went up to the front desk to let the nurses know she needed help. They didn’t help her. They said we need your blood. She literally kept stabbing me and couldn’t get blood. I yelled to stop! I said I can’t believe you won’t help that woman. Next morning, a security came and my dr. said they were moving me. They took me to the dark basement where they keep the really fucked up people. They took me down and guard had a gun. They locked me in a dark room and I blacked out as I always did in extreme fear. At one point a patient came into my room and threatened me. The next day they put me in yet another ward this one was nice. The meds they gave me I don’t know but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t function while I was in there. I felt like a lab rat. I’ve always felt like a lab rat with psychiatry.
When I made the decision to change my insurance to IU Health, I thought I would have better luck and I had graduated from IU. It took a while. I think I saw a Dr. powell. I don’t remember. Then I got Dr. Stephane. I told him the best I could of my past with Psychiatry but since he only let me speak for less than 5 minutes, he always ignored the fact that I want to get away from psychiatry and I want to try to wean off responsibilty so I can go back to living without meds. He never helped but he was at the point the best Dr. I had ever had and it was consistant. No changing Dr.s all the time. Of course he eventually left and again I was stressed. So I had a temp dr. I don’t remember. Then I got Dr. Thomas and for the first time in my life here was a psychiatrist who didn’t scare me. Who let me talk a lot!! Who listened. Who showed compassion. It was too good to be true. And to be able to see him virtually and not have to be anxious and drive all the way downtown from Noblesville.
So I knew Dr. Thomas would leave, but I didn’t know there would be more trauma on me. I don’t lose my primary physican every year. I don’t lose my urologist every year. Why do I have to be juggled around with a new Dr again! And this time I’m told
‘YOU CAN ONLY SEE DR. MCANN ON MONDAY MORNINGS”
Let me tell you why I have been having flashbacks of the last converstaion with your office. This is how it went.
Dr Thomas: Let’s get you scheduled for Dr. McCann. He only see patients on Monday mornings.
Me: That does not work for me and I don’t want another intern/resident. I want a proper consistant doctor like Dr. Delaney.
Dr. Thomas: I’m sorry. (schedules appoint with Dr. McCann)
Next morning I get a voice mail from your office. Please call to schedule your next appointment with Dr. McCann
Me: (Calling office) I’ve already had it scheduled.
Erica: Doesn’t look like it’s here.
Me: I don’t want an intern. I want a proper doctor. I’ve been through hell and I won’t be juggled around at my age and based on the hell I’ve been through. I don’t feel safe.
Ericia: (Puts me on hold) ……………..Comes back, I think we can get you in with Dr. Delaney. Put’s me on hold again.
Me. Thank God.
Erica: Opps sorry, we can’t do Dr. Delaney and you only have a four hour window on mondays to see Dr. McCann. How about (states date)
Me: Crying now. What is going on? Why are you people making me lose my mind? (Shaking all the trauma coming back now)
Erica: Let’s just put this date down for Dr. McCann and see what we can do.
Me: Fine. Still crying. (My other line rings, it’s your office calling) Should I answer that? It’s your office calling.
Erica: Ok. Yea answer it. (big mistake)
Me: Hello?
Unknown Nurse: (A very cold and sterile voice on the phone says) I’m calling because that appointment you just made needs to be rescheduled.
Me: (FULL ON PANIC ATTACK NOW) I’ve just been on the phone with Erica and she and had just changed the appointment three times. What is going on?!!! Help. (Begin to really sob, tell her what’s ahppening and why are they making me lose my mind? She was silent.
Me: Hello? Are you there?
Nurse: Yes.
Me: You aren’t saying anything. I’m being blindfolded and turned around in circles and you say nothing. You work with mental patients. Don’t you have a kind word to say? Can’t you help me?
Nurse. What do you want me to say?
Me: You can at least acknowledge my suffering.
Nurse. I’m not going to apologize to someone who is lecturing me.
Me: Fuck off!
I felt like this was done on purpose and could not believe that medical profession that is suppose to care for me. Why am I having a sever panic attack trigger by my psychiatrists office. I SCREAMED ALONE IN MY APARTMENT I had heard this kind of suffering years ago when I woke up in restraints.
I’m shaking so bad writing this but I had to. I needed you to read this first before our appointment because I would not be able to keep calm. The last three weeks the memory of this last phone exchange everyday has caused me to take more anti pscyhoatics. For these weeks my Mother and advocate have checked on me everyday. It’s a shame when a Dr’s office is the one making you sick. I’m sure you are a nice man. You just needed to know what has happened to me. If this were a abusive relationship with a man or bad service from a business. I’d leave. I can’t leave, because I need help getting off these meds.
I want to end this 2 decades of suffering with psychiatry. Lucky I never attempted suicide.
Back in January 2013, my sweet Grandmother passed. I decided to come home to see family. I packed my suitcase for a weeks stay. I was so happy to be around family and old friends. Especially my son who had just left college confused on where he wanted to be. I had spent 11 years in Seattle. During the time I lived there I had wonderful adventures, I loved the natural surroundings but while I was living there I was tortured by psychiatry, not given proper medical care, over drugged, mistreated. My 13 year relationship in Seattle had ended in 2011. I moved out and spent two years in Seattle on my own. One friend. No car. Living on disability. I walked everywhere. I took a bus. It was hard at first but I become very resilient. I would however call my Mother occasionally and scream “I’ve got to get out of here, I’m so alone.” I had to get way from that city that gave me PTSD and trauma. So I went back for visit. While home I spent a lot of time with my 20 year old son who seemed to be lost. A couple of days before I was meant to go back, I had huge panic attacks. I told my old friend, “I don’t think I can go back.” She said what about all your stuff and your apartment? My best buddy who was back in Seattle offered to pack up and sell myself. She was an angel. I knew if I had to go back and pack up I might never be able to offord to move. So I just didn’t use my ticket. Called my landlord and it was over. My time in Seattle was behind me but the natural setting and beauty of Seattle was in my blood. I was very fit. I would walk a mile for a goal and then go three more because I was having fun. I walked everywhere. To the grocery. To the bank. To pay my rent. Now I was back in Indianapolis. One giant strip mall. No forests. No real beauty at all. I found the only apartment I could afford that was near grocery stories. It was a horrible place. Crime. Broken down apartments that are often not fixed.
I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t get along well with my Mother. She was and had been verbally abusive to me all my life. She would drive over to take me to the store but she would scream terrible things to me (at 59 mind you) She would speak terrible things about my innocent son and when I would confront her she would say “then WALK HOME!” Which I would. My old friends and I had grown apart. The only goodness was my son. The only real miracle in my life. I was very depressed. I stopped walking because everything was ugly. I had no car the first year. I was very creative at this time and begin feeling like I have some psychic abilities. I had an old friend who was a well known medium in town. He and his peers got together one day to tell me they think I have special abilities and I’m afraid to look at them. (This was in 2000) Soon I would be under the controlling abusive industry that is psychiatry, who when I spoke about the experiences I had they indicated I was very mentally ill even though these experiences were always peaceful and wonderful and loving. I was over medicated for speaking about these things. These magical synchronicities had started at 20yrs old. They slowly over many years started to increase with prophetic dreams, visions, downloads and coincidences with Eddie Vedder which is another story on here. I also started a meditation practice which was helped by Deepak Chopra.
A year later I had a car. I really missed my spiritual home in Seattle. The Center For Spiritual Living was my refuge during hard times. I attended for a decade. Indiana is full of Christian churchs. Everywhere. Baptiste. Jehovah Witness’s that came to my door. No Buddhist temple for my medication practice. I didn’t want dogmatic Christmas bible churchs. Sin just didn’t work for me.
“Remember if you don’t sin, Jesus would have died for nothing.”
– Ricky Gervais
There was a Unity Church that I had attended back in the 90’s. I went a few times here and there but didn’t feel what I felt with CSL. One day, I don’t remember much, a woman came up to me and wanted to be friends on Facebook. Ok. I guess. She seemed nice. Don’t remember thinking of her after I met here.
I was hoping for some friends in town as some of my old friends and I had different lives when I lived here. I had one good friend from high school who was married and living out of town. One Saturday evening I think I was really weepy. I had the bad habit of sharing my state of mind with my family, who all ignored me because it made them uncomfortable that I was mentally uncomfortable. I must have put up a post that said something about being lonely and weepy. I missed nature. Something along those lines.
Early the next morning, it was Sunday, there was a knock on my door at 10am. No one knocked on my door and never that early. I opened it and there was this woman from Unity Church. I was confused and she said, “do you remember me from Unity?” I let her in. She said the following which is the first red flag I missed in this gaslighter and manipulator.
FIRST RED FLAG on Gaslighting.
“I saw your post yesterday on Facebook. I spent money trying to find where you live because I thought you might have killed yourself.”
Oh my fucking God! I thought. Are you kidding me? Then something sad in me said, well you don’t have any friends, maybe she will be one. Thinking to myself, you can’t be choosey because you aren’t worth much. I apologized to her. Can you believe that?
Let me describe this woman.
Obese
Bi Polar
Hasn’t worked in 3 decades.
Has never had a glass of wine.
Never been to a rock concert.
Reads a lot but the books are all really badly written love stories.
She is married to a wonderful man who has health conditions but is still teaching professor. Smart, very kind and fun to talk to. (She does not clean her home for him, entertain, go places with him because she doesn’t’ like to walk.
She is a hoarder.
What started to happen is that she would offer me money as she knew I lived on disabilty. She would say “I’ll pay you if you clean my house.”
“I’ll pay you if you take me to the grocery as I need you to push a wheelchair.”
“I’ll pay you to drive 16 miles to my house to water my flowers.” (Literally a 10 minute job)
“Would you like to go the Art Museum?” Once there she can’t walk anymore so she wants to leave after 30 minutes. This happened all the time. This festival that festival and she would ruin everytime.
Now this woman is not 500lbs, she is about 275. She sits in a recliner all day reading. She sleeps in the recliner at night. Her bedroom is undesirable. There is a stack of her clothes on the floor that have been there for a decade.
More gaslighting
“Will you come over and help me go through my clothes and we can give them away and clean up my bedroom” which her poor husband sleeps in alone and has to crawl over her piles.
Once at the house and 15 minutes into the cleanup she fights me. I’m not giving that away. I’m not giving this and that away and me confronting her on why she ask me there in the first place? I go home pissed that this the friend God sent me? Is it because she gives me money so she doesn’t’ have to be a fun friend to keep me. She would often ask me for advice and I’d give. Later, it was never taken and she would say “you are very bossy.”
cunt.
“Will you come over and help me clean my office?” The office has two feet of used paper, old old catalogs on the floor, old bills. IT’s frankly a fire hazard. She actually goes in there to use her computer.
I come over and
I’M VENTING it’s 8 yrs of her gravity that has been weighing me down….sorry if my writing is making no sense.
So here I am asking her to hold up trash bag to throw paper in and she stops me and says I need to go through it all. Oh my fucking god. This catalogue I say it’s from 2010, throw it out, no, she says I like to keep them just in case.
This is gaslighing.
This is what this woman did to me up until last Saturday.
So one day I’m pushing her ass in the Fred Mejer and she says, will you reach up on top shelf and get me 3 large chocolate bars? Oh my God. Who is this person? I can’t keep my mouth shut. I tell it like it is. I indicated I will never ever again take you to store for any amount of money so you don’t have to get up and face your addictions and laziness and general manipulation. I started looking around and noticing she had no friends. Only a couple of poor women she would give money to.
At one point she and I went our separate ways. I felt much better. It had been a year and then she sends me 1000$ the mail as she got some inheritance. Of course she was buying me back and I fell into it I guess because I am poor in general. She was on her best foot after that for awhile. Saying she wanted to exercise more.
One day she wanted to go to workout at place she paid for but never used. We met. She got on bike. I treadmill. Put my music and off I went. Loving it. I was watching her from far and it was pathetic. She got up after 5 minutes and came up to me faking being out of breath, which he used often. I couldn’t believe. Are you serious? You can do it. Keep going. She never liked me telling her what to do. That night she must have gone home and said in front of her son, “she’s really mean to me. She doesn’t like it when I’m not her.” So her 25yr old son hated after that.
2 Big Red Flag – Gaslighting w/ family
“You know, my son doesn’t really like you?” Hmmm? I said “Why is that?” I don’t know she says, but I’m working on him. wtf? He doesn’t like me because you have said something about me to him and acting like you don’t know why he doesn’t like me is really fucked up.
And I continue to be her friend. This is 2018 by now. To be fair she did help me many times when I was sick. For example I had bladder condition where I had to go to ER twice. She took me. She helped a lot one summer when I was ill with it for 3 months. See in some ways I see how she can be good to many but it’s a form of manipulation in away. I put up with it because I was scared of running of money one day or scared to have no one even someone boring to be with.
It’s very much my fault that I put up with it. I didn’t have another friend to say to me what some ahve now is “she loves being a victim.” She is always sick with something. Always calling her shrink if she has a moment of anxiety so she can take yet more pills to deal with life.
We started to just do the same thing. Do you want to eat lunch with me? I was starting to be fat myself. Granted psychiatric drugs do make people fat and lazy, I was not that kind of person. We would be for lunch and sit there and not talk. Oh look at those to fat ladies at that table not speaking. I was so afraid people would think she was my wife. She introduced me once to this one woman who was really weird. I mean like both were gaslighting together at same time.
She started going to this church where mediums go. I went a few times. Took a psychic development class and later the teacher told me what I was feeling was a lie? A medium tells another medium they are delusional? I never went back there. They weren’t people who I could relate to being clairvoyant myself. One day, the old minister who I really liked who she hangs out with were taking about me. Why they were talking about my psychic gifts I have no clue. Next I was at her house. She said, I was talking to Don about you thinking you have telepathy with (…….) Don said he’s just not that into you. omg. You are my friend and you just took the most vulnerable personal thing about my mind and dug you heals in. Laughing really. (Why I didn’t walk out that was my fault. All my fault)
One day last summer I drove my ass all the way to her house to weed her garden for cash. I was on my hands and knees and realized this is 10 minute job. She said do you want a chair to garden? A chair? To garden? I watched her stare at me while I did what she should be doing for big fat cunty ass. I felt so depressed. She never wanted to talk on phone for hours like one does with really great friends. (This is bad word I know but blame Ricky Gervais for getting me started.)
Another….time….promise i will stop soon. Another time
I have to breath for a bit because it’s upsetting me writing this but I must write it because
Last fall I stopped smoking, but didn’t start exercising. It’s been 7 months now but I have gained weight and I always thought if I hang out with a fat and lazy person, will I become that? Well yes if you never do anything active with said friend. Or your relationship is revolved around taking to you lunch. She did take me and my Grandson to see Nutcracker. She has been kind but when you say something like, “it’s really difficult for me to deal with you always being out of breath or not walking anywhere. (Again she is only about 275.) When confronted instead saying your are right, I probably shouldn’t do this or that, instead her so called nice self becomes very passive aggressive. She is what she would call a “flaming liberal” and I understand why Republicans would not like this one. She is blowing all her money she inherited.
I stopped needing money. I stopped smoking and I had more cash. She started to act weird when I turned down her money for this or that. That church she goes to with mediums. I believe in mediums. The minister is. Her friend started asking her to do the occasional sermon. i thought “what?” This woman is walking mess and they want her to do a sermon. She said “would you help me with my sermon?” I guess I thought maybe she thinks I might have to good ideas to talk about. No. She just wanted me to type. All her sermons consisted of is her copying pasting from the internet. The first one she did was nothing much to talk about. In fact me and another friend drove out asses down to watch her give it like she is some Chopra or something. Two more sermons followed. I typed the second. It was awful. This time I didn’t go see it. I did watch on zoom and it was uninspiring and pedantic. This last one was for April 3. She ask me in march if I wou8ld help. I this time said No. I think you’ve got it down. She was not happy. She did the and sent the link. I never watched because I didn’t have to. The next week she ask again. Did you watch my sermon. Oh no, I”m sorrry I forgot. I never watched it and I loved that I was listening to myself for once. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
Last fall something significant happened. We were at her house and we had an errand to do. She was tired but I encouraged her. Her husband heard this and also said “you should go.” We went to Lowes to look at paint swatches. She said I want to paint my guest room. She ask for my advice on how to do it. We were walking about 30 steps to the front door and another 20 to paint department. She stood there making the worst noise like she couldn’t get her breath. I ignored. I’ve seen that before. Often it’s an act because her husband agreed she needed to go. She doesn’t like it when I get my way. She stood there trying to breath and I wanted to explode. THIS PERSON IS AN EMOTIONAL VAMPIRE. We got back in car Went to Kohls and she whined while she was walking. After I got back in the car and gave her the worst dressing down ever. Never had I said these things. Like what are you doing to do abo8ut your life? Your weight. IF yo8u don’t now when? You are 60. I lectured her for 20 minutes. She made excuses at first then agreed you are right. I should go on Nutrasystem.
She got home. Her husband agree and she started the program. For nearly 3 months she lost weight! She would call me and say over and over it’s all because of you. No you did it said. She was happy for awhile. She laughed. She wasn’t ever out of breath. She was perfect. Until…………………………….one day she called and said some woman met said those meals are full of preservatives so I’m going to stop eating. I have left if yo8u want them. They are really good. Hmmm. If they are really good WHY AREN’T YOU EATING THEM. Making me feel bad for the weight I had gained by quitting smoking.
I promise this is almost over. In January she wanted me to spend the night because her husband would be out of town. It makes me sick to my stomach to be at her house. Unkempt. I didn’t want to. I keep thinking I’m alone every dam night. I went anyway. When I entertain I make me house nice. I light candles and make sure I’m a good hostess. I got there and she was sleeping in her chair as she always does. The minute I walked into the room I felt panic. I said do you want me to leave because your looking like you8 want to entertain. I went back to her son’s room, who lives out of town but uses the bed occasional. I walked in and it was awful. The bed was completely unmaid! Old sheet crumpled up in corner. I was suppose to sleep in an unmade med of a person who hates me. I went back into the living and said. You didn’t’ even make your son make the bed last time he was here. She always says I’m sorry. She says it all the time. But what I didn’t say is “you don’t give a fuck about me by even putting clean sheets on the bed. She looked at like she was going to pop me in the mouth.
That same week she sent me an email asking me to tend her tiny garden. Nope I said. I think it’s good for you to take care of your own house. She said “well I bought those rose bushes so you would have a garden.” No I said in email It will be good for you to get out and take care of it.
She didn’t really talk to much in March. She knew I was starting to get her manipulation with money. She hadn’t given me money since the fall so now I’m not asking for any and suddenly she isn’t very kind.
Even my abusive Mother said, “she’s been manipulating you since day one.”
You have to understand, I’m not perfect but I’m tired of being treated as if I’m a charity case. I’m tired of a so called friend making me write this essay about her. I wanted to write about how she made me for last 8 years but she was so at paying me off, that I though I was ungrateful.
So last Friday, my birthday, she sent me a check and tore it up. She sent me an email that had a picture of a donut shop. Passive aggressive. She knows I hate being fat and she is sending me messages that say we should go to this donut shop.
She also sent me another email about a psychic fair at that stupid church knowing I think I’m better than that. I sent an email back and finally said you are a very passive aggressive person and you don’t give fuck about me at all. She shot an email right back ! Of course she did, saying “I think we should go our separate ways.”
The only way I can describe Christine is like this. Remember the old horror film called “Christine.” about a demon car. She is that but the premise is a bit different….
I was pushing an obese lazy woman my age in a wheelchair through a grocery store because she’s too lazy to walk. She asks me “will you get those extra large chocolate bars off the top shelf?” and I did. Enabling horror. Just horrible.
I’m free.
I trust my life will be better because I can’t afford to be have a friend who doesn’t believe in me. I’m love myself exactly as I am and if she did too none of this might never have happened. I do forgive her and appreciate the times she really helped me that had nothing to do with money, but I don’t want to spend time with someone who hurts me emotionally. I’m sure if she read this she wouldn’t be able to see any of it. I do recognize I have some part to play.
This was hard to write but I’m glad that’s off my chest.
Something is going on in the inside that comes from the outside.
Like the seasons, you always seem to come back.
For the times I suffered and I thought I was alone, you were there waiting to come back.
Like a wheel going round, but not moving forward they came for you. Trying to cut out with their invisible scalpels what was given to me.
If I can let you go again and again, of course I can let you back in, because this is not mine this, this, is something beyond me. Something beyond you. In fact it’s not about us at all. It’s about speaking without conversing. It’s about talking with the heart rather the head.
Releasing and renewing my commitment to keep those that would put me down far away from me.
This is a letter to my therapist and continues to prove that the business of treating mental illness is flawed.Still looking for professional who understands me.
Dear 28 year old therapist just out of school.
After we got off our last session I was depressed and deflated. It was something you said.
I know you don’t know much about me but one thing you should know is I have always been a writer. It’s what I do well. When you were talking about grounding myself I should have said writing was one of the most important ways to do just that.
I don’t write much anymore and it’s been my goal to get back to doing that. When I told you I use to write for hours, your first response was “that could be a sign of mania.” ????? How incredibly wrong you were. Do you think successful screenwriters and novelists, like Stephen King, are manic? They write. They write all the time. Sadly I feel you see me as a diagnoses. That’s what you were trained to do. By saying writing a lot could be a sign of illness cut me to the core.
I realize you are young and just out in the working world, but I don’t think we mesh. I’m 58 years old. I have had experiences that you have not. That’s not wrong. I believe I need an alternative therapist who deals with spiritual world.
We also spent time analyzing something that brings joy to my life. Why would I pay someone to take the good things in my life you may not understand and turn them into a problem? You also talked about adjusting my meds based on this. I was horrified. I wanted to talk about my night terrors, my regrets and my ptsd.
My spiritual life is off limits. My beliefs are my own.
I want a therapist that does not talk about my medication or one who tries to change my medication. I’ve got a psychiatrist for this. I am looking for someone that does dream work, spiritual support and therapy.
You are a very nice person and I was happy to meet you, however I don’t think we mesh. You took something that is precious to me and turned it into illness. That was a deal breaker.
Science Goes On - A Blind Date With God 
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