June 9th, 2015

2013, cyd, new

Okay, i'm ready for the Shrink's office

Jesus, I just damn near blew up my house, with me and the animals in it. I made coffee and it boiled over, knocking out the flame underneath, so I never turned the gas off. It's been about 45 minutes, and the house has filled with the smell of gas, and it took me this long to figure it out. FUCK. i don't think I'll be telling Doc about this. He will flip.
2013, cyd, new

I may get some work done tonight, in tribute to Dr. Shrink and Robin.

So much stimuli to process from today. A few random thoughts from my trip:
- I think it's only a fair exchange that if I leave the house I should be allowed to set fire to anyone using Axe Body Products.
- You see the High Roller (World's highest "Ferris Wheel", Observation Wheel) on the news and in pictures, but until you drive by it and see it live, and the simplicity of the design and the simple hugeness of the components, you just don't get it. I think I was drooling.
- Extreme (falling down in the rest room of Carl's Jr. while washing my face) vertigo is the first symptom of Xanax withdrawal, after my twitchiness.
- The Tropicana bus during the day is scary as fuck. I felt much safer with the black people than I did with the white people. They were all nuts. The black folks, they were just friendly. That''s what I've found in this city. I will not ride that route at lunch time ever again.

We got to the Doctor's office with no appointment, just my crazy. As soon as I walked in, I saw the defeat on Robin's face when she saw me that made me worry. Turns out, she was let go three weeks ago. And a new biller, who is now gone, called me and that is when things got fucked up. The girl hired in Robin's place to answer phones, just couldn't even. And didn't for three weeks. Robin had been inundated with VERY unhappy and unhinged patients who were out of meds and other bad things and had been for weeks. We got everything worked out and it turns out that the Doctor is a participating provider in my behavioral health plan. So that is cool. We'll fill the out of pocket thing in three months when I go in. Robin got everything worked out. She even got me in to see the Doctor for a regular appointment.

We talked about everything. About the voices being improved by THC. About the one hallucination going away after I painted part of it. But I seem to have the depression under control. I'm doing much more with my art and writing than I have in a long time. I am keeping many balls in the air, I told him. But I made sure they bounce so if I drop one, it just goes back up into the air. He laughed at my analogy.

Today I said to Doc, talking about my tennis shoes, "My gray canvas shoes are shredded." To which he reacted strongly, and to me, quite melodramatically, saying he didn't know where I got my idioms from but he had no idea what I was talking about. I don't see a problem with this statement. It isn't culled from UK idioms, nor American Southern ones. It's pretty much how I have talked all of my life. The heel of the left shoe is shredding,having disconnected from the bottom of the shoe. I'm not going to yell that across the bus aisle. "My gray canvas shoes are shredded." is all you need to know. And he made me feel like some kind of wanna-be poseur. With people listening. I LOVE the public humiliation, it never gets old. Over 6 fucking words.

I have another example. I am wearing a sleeveless black flannel shirt, and I say, "I finally found my black flannel today, I'm so happy." This was followed by fifteen minutes of "What are you talking about?". "My black flannel." I say, shaking the lapel at him. "I don't understand what it is you're trying to say." "Oh, never mind." I'm on the phone with Kelli a few hours later and I tell her, "I found my black flannel today." She says, "Oh, cool, are you wearing it now?" Which leads me to believe that A)Kelli and I share a secret language; or B) Doc is losing his fucking mind/turning into his mother. And I fear it is the latter.