I can finally truly emotionally understand why I became addicted to marijuana, and I have more understanding of, and sympathy for, with other addicts. I am very grateful that I did not move onto harsher drugs. And when I think about the burden of childhood trauma, I want to go back in time and scream FUCK YOU to all those who said to me, “get over it.”
The drug blew all the bad thoughts out of my head. I still have them, and they fill my brain the minute I lie down, slide into the spa, or get onto my recliner to nap in the sunshine. Whenever my brain could rest, it doesn’t. It tortures me with memories of times my past and my failures. Now, though, I don’t freak out, I write and what I write becomes the fodder of my sessions with Dr. S. But I still want to go back to one or two ex-friends and yell, FUCK YOU for saying, “get over it.”
I had no idea what I was in for when Dr. Morrison, the physician in charge of my treatment after my breakdown, said to me, “The problem is upstairs.” Quick to catch on, we were in a tall office building that was part of the Vancouver General Hospital (VGH) complex, I replied, “On what floor?” I shall never get over that.
And that’s how I met Dr. Shoja, whom I will see on Tuesday. She, Dr. Morrison, and world-renowned speech language therapist, Dr. Ramage, together worked as the Pacific Speech Clinic at VGH. That was in April 2016. This coming April will mark the tenth anniversary of beginning therapy with Dr. Shoja, and as I said, I had no idea what I was in for.
I had no idea that I’d be seeing her so long. And I had no idea how she would understand my past. Her diagnoses were shocking; the word ‘neglect’ fractured me. That word hurt more than being called a faggot back in the days.
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Her Highness and I walked late in the morning, and we ran into Lucy and Vinny and their owners. I am smitten with both dogs, so we all stopped to chat for a while, and I had lots of cuddle time with the two dogs. When we parted, I made a big fuss over Sheba because she gets jealous.
We said good-bye and headed on our way, and after a minute or two of slow walking, I was huffing and puffing. When I got home, I went to bed. That was at 10:00 o’clock. At noon, I had my first prednisone pill with lunch. Then, at 14:00, we walked again on the same trail, and at a faster pace and yet I was not breathing heavily at al! Now you know why I love prednisone.
I was not tired at all when we got home, so I puttered around the house, having a ball doing little things that brought me pleasure. I hung up the laundry—yes, I love doing laundry, hence the frequent photos of laundry on the line—and vacuumed before heading into the village to pick up a prescription. (And yes, I also like vacuuming. It yields a great emotional return for little effort.) And that brought an end to the day. It was couch time for my old bones.
Doug wrote. He wants to visit Oct. 6 and 7, but I have guests here for dinner on the 4th, Aidan, the stuttering activist, here on the 11th, and Dianne and Beverly here Oct. 12, 13. Adding the 6th and 7thwould be too much for me, so I wrote to suggest the 16th or later. I’m thrilled he wants to come, and I love the guy, but I must pace myself. If I’ve learned anything at all about neurodivergence, it’s all about managing stimulation.
I must think through my visit to every off-island store. I must anticipate every possible question that I might want to ask, and I must write all my questions in my iPhone. In advance of legal, taxation or medical appointments, I must write a short explanation of my purpose in visiting. I cannot write in cursive with strangers. I must host my friends; I love hosting my friends. But I now have protocols to share. And I must pace visits, and excursions to the big island. No going to any indoor gatherings; rare exceptions can be made if accompanied by a trusted friend. Refuse invitations for events with more than six people but remain open to appeals. Noisy environments: no admittance. Video chatting; no telephone conversations. Always carry earphones when going to unfamiliar environments. This is what mental health self-management is for me. And there’s more.
The miracle is that this all works, and I’m very comfortable living this way, largely because I have such compassionate and understanding friends. Where would I be without my them? What is life with out them? I’ve never met another person who was an orphan/neglected child. I’ve never met another person who lived in an orphanage, but I’ll bet you anything that they love animals and live for their friends.
And I’ve never met and talked with a person who stutters. I have met many online, but no one in person. But that’s going to happen on October 11, when Aidan comes. My life feels awfully exciting, and I feel better about my speaking as time is passing. I’ve not experienced a regression in my speaking for probably six years now. And Dr. Dorscheid, my God of Asthma, has told me to expect a state of being on Tezspire, very much like what I feel on prednisone. Prednisone, however, works by shutting down my immune system dramatically, and that makes me vulnerable to infection. Tezspire doesn’t interfere with my immune system, it affects the Eosinophilic cells of my lungs so that they do not trigger my immune system to fight them. This is enormously safer than past therapies, this new biologic drug that I am on. Here's hoping this autumn is the introduction period to a very good year in 2026.
I’m a pharmacological cyborg, a chemical smorgasbord, a king of drug addiction.
Ramblings. I see Dr. S. on Tuesday and as the date gets closer, it lights fires in my brain and my fingertips. This is where I organize my thoughts. This is my safe space. Hence, this long post.
PS: I once wanted to yet, FUCK YOU for the way you treated me, and double FUCK YOU for doing and not doing what you did and didn’t do you a baby. And FUCK YOU for thinking I wasn’t a baby, that I was a bastard, a thing not a person. I don’t want to do that anymore. Instead, I reject the faith of those who taught them think and act the way they did.
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Today, My Day, will be a full day. I’ll walk Her Highness, vacuum everywhere, and then I’ll make the curry dip to go with the roti I plan to make today as well. Once the sauce is made, I’ll start making the bread and during the resting periods for the dough, I’ll rest and have a spa. And if the roti is to my satisfaction, I’ve invited Dave and Ursula over to share it with me.
Then it’s couch, dinner and a movie of course. It’s going to be a dry day with both cloudy periods—probably lots of them—and some sunny breaks. It’ll do.
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