Diagnostic Statistic Manual Needs A New Presciption To Describe What Tunnel Vision Obsessed Them To See Human Behavior In A Profoundly Limited Piece Of Fabric

You gotta admit. Something is not right up there? They construct full mosaics of people and strip them of their authenticity as humans. This is utter nonsense.  
HM
Who are these fools who have been in Medical School for 8 years – 
And, this is it? 


This is the product of their knowledge?  


Playing with scissors and construction
 Paper?

I go all woosey-sweesie-swoozey for him. 

But I can never remember his name. 

What I can remember is this. 

What I do remember is this. 

I am entranced by him. First time he did Ian. Wow. I was floored by his intensity. First time I ever saw someone do the role of a real person and have you totally convinced the real person is not the one who is not on the screen. (Or something like that.)

Names.  

Fucking Degree in Moronics.  

Magna Cum Laude

That’s what that is. 
But. 

I fuckin love him.  

And his name is really simple, but it won’t stick in my head, for some reason. 
I look at it on the screen and think …

Someone I know, but not sure whom. 

So I keep scrolling 

And my iPhone is driving me crazy. My settings are totally chaotic. I hear sounds, but I have no idea what they mean. Totally fucking annoying crap. 

Looking to see if any other memories were in my head about this guy’s fuckin name!

Nothing. 

Nada. 

Blank. 

Erased. 

Suicidal? Sheppard Pratt may be your cup of tea. 

Go there and come out stark raving mad?

Hm. 

Tough choice. 

Sheppard Pratt Asylum Is designed as a Critical CARE Psychiatric Stabilization facility for those who struggle with medical conditions such as Bipolar Disorder (like myself) or any other psychiatric “diagnosis.” It has an impressive and illustrious history as an innovative facility when it was first conceived and built in the mid-19th century – a refuge, with its concentration on humane treatment. 

However, reputation, to be sustained, must demonstrate consistency of those values and principles, rather than regression from them. 

Undoubtedly, Sheppard and Pratt are totally turning in their graves. 

The isolation we feel exhaustively, all by ourselves, ripens there. 

So there are parallels to the real world. Severe Depression, which is just a hop, skip and jump away from Death, actually spikes exponentially there. 

The Human Spirit is crushed, until we finally, breath by breath, disappear. This, my friend, is where you go to watch yourself become one of The Invisibles. 

Now when you are on the outside, you have some wiggle room. You may choose to remove yourself from the Kingdom of Ignorance, if only for a breath of fresh air, and focus on the brightness of the Human Spirit. 
We have choices. 

Smell the fragrance of a lovely flower. 

Meditate. 

Listen to music. 

Dance. 

There we have no choices. We are at the mercy of Stupidity, Ignorance and Fools, and we have nowhere to go, locked between two nightmares. 

There is this clearly defined and unshakeable and raw feeling that they do not care. 

Then again, if you wanna but haven’t yet experienced depersonalization, it’s available there. Think of it as a lean, introductory course on the subject. And since I am naturally an optimist, I feel compelled to plug the positive spin here. 

First, your empathy and understanding have grown for those who do experience such devastating psychological symptoms. 

Second – 

Who knows? 
This accidental slip, for example, allows you to drift into unknown territory altogether, as you wonder if you really did, in fact, erase your memory of an entire day of your existence, because someone is insisting you did – when you didn’t. 

Luckily, there are other patients there who know that you didn’t – just as you had thought. And they are now your salvation. 

But this additional drop of uncertainty and confusion has now bloomed in your head. 

Shit happens, right?

Be forewarned, however, any heroic attempt to battle the trolls and the slugs just makes you crazier. Totally not worth it. 

They follow whatever code they’ve culled and pinned to you from the Diagnostic Statistic Manual, and we all know how that keeps expanding with each new edition. 

But that’s exactly when the epiphany occurs …

I had never truly understood what I Am Not My Diagnosis meant until I realized that that is all you are there – a code. 

Yep. 

Hey!  Look at me. I’m still here.  

Sadly, they do not hear or see you.  You have disappeared. 

So when the object of hospitalization is to support and help you shed the nasty symptoms of Depression, and instead you are fighting to be seen and heard – those are the exact type of challenges we do not need. 

The salt on the wound is the absolute isolation from the actual world. This is the abyss. Isolation is not good. They keep preaching that. And then that’s exactly what they do. 

So what do you do?

Well, trying to pry open their eyes is futile. They get really, really pissed at you. And that makes them more sinister and deadly, while they sharpen their ignorance from unbelievable heights, as you are fighting for your sanity …

The plus?

You are too fucking busy to be worrying about Suicide. So in that sense they have met their goal. You have shifted from suicidal ideation to absolute self-preservation. Plus, Existentialism is the only dish on the menu. 

Yum. 

Reminds me of a poem by Stevie Smith. An attempt to communicate with those on shore, while being swallowed by the sea …

“Not waving. But drowning.”  

Bunny Rabbits And The Church Across The Street From Me

It’s Easter on a busy street.
Cars come and go, blaring music, or not.
But one would ever know there is a church across the street from me.
Attached to the other buildings on the block, it’s radically different architecture, blends in with its neighbors.
The Artist and his dog live next to the church in a building just like it (except for colors, shape and height.)
It’s a busy spot on the street.
The lights go on at night
When gatherings occur
And feelings of love and God are shared.
A warm spot for the soul.
But today!
Today is Easter.
The industrial strength restaurant diner door lists hours of service and other stuff.
The door is swung open.
People, coming and going.
Matriarchs and angelic children
Pure of heart and soul – appear.
But they are slow.
And late.
They are always late.
Never on time.
The building could be a bloc from Mondrian …
But anyway.
The only reason I know today is Easter is because a sales person from Nordstrom’s accidentally mentioned it.
“Good thing you came today” she said. We’re closed tomorrow.”
“You are?
Why?”
“It’s Easter.”
“Oh.
Bunny rabbits.
Stuff like that.
Okay.
Thanks, again!”

Mother’s Day Music: 2015

Too lazy to deal with pecking today, so I used pen and paper instead.

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