in “that” sort of mood. but I did brush my teeth, at least.

What amounts to a short bus for adults is picking me up this morning, to cart me off to my disability “mental exam”. I would have driven myself, and maybe should have, but decided not to leave the appointment privy to any last minute seizures of social anxiety, nor subject to cancellation due to lack of sleep.

There is a woman in this shelter who plays the same awful song over and over and over for hours straight. This song is like glass in my skull. I rattle.

Circumstances turned here, this weekend. The young childless UU host decided to have her boyfriend stay the weekend, which we were given no opportunity to object or consent to. The– goddamnit, now she has started to sing along– the singing song-repetition lady spent a good deal of the weekend out drunk, and returned in such a state at odd hours of the night, various drunken drivers in tow.

I know that I have said this before, and I am quite likely to say it again, but in the meantime: I really fucking hate people. A woah woah WOAH woah! A woah woah WOAH woah!

That was singing, by the way.

In good news:

1) As of this Friday I have a service dog.

2) OHMYFUCKING GOD she turned the song on AGAIN


2) I am actually getting paid for something that I wrote. *gasp*!

3) I heard a new word. From this word stems an understanding of several new phrases that render me (a) coherent, and (b) capable of finishing my fucking novel.

Check them out:

1) Depersonalization Disorder (in particular check out depersonalization and derealization)

2) Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder

3) Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

4) this is only retroactively relevant, but: Maladaptive Daydreaming

I can see how this was originally described as schizoaffective. The funny thing is? (“Funny”) The medications that I was put on likely caused and certainly intensified many of these issues. So did the stress of treatment (“Treatment”), especially as their idea of treatment employed maneuvers regarded by the UN as, say, torture.

So I’ll muse on that as I take my service dog on the adult short bus to my disability appointment this morning.

A woah woah WOAH woah! A woah woah WOAH woah!

This entry was posted by TT Jax.

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