expunging

thursday 21 march 2013

the delusional thing. a diagnosis made on what basis? I occasionally asked this question, back in 2008 and 2009, of various psyhcobabble boneheads. they didn’t answer me. they changed the subject. and no matter how many breaths I wasted telling them that that conclusion was an insult to both my integrity and my sanity, that a flesh-and-blood human being (the infamous matthew lacoy) had taken me to his apartment numerous times, had told me certain things, and had done some very undercover-cop-like things in my presence, no one was moved to write something other than delusional on their little pieces of paper. no matter how many of them told me that it was true that I didn’t have the affect that delusionals normally  have, or the multiple fairy-stories, still they wrote what they wrote. when I objected that I was not receiving sinister messages from my toaster, or my TV, or the inside of my head, the psychobabblers looked down at their shoes, or out the window. and regardless of how many times they asked me, in how many different places, had I ever heard voices? seen visions?, and my answers were always NO, they still wrote what wasn’t at all true on their papers. they asked me what year it was, who was president, how old I was, and other such things, ad nauseam, and I always had the right answers. but still they wrote their totally erroneous words on their little pieces of paper (which later got transferred to their computer files on said fruit-loop, anne nakis).

it’s bad enough when ordinary people dismiss you as a delusional (and by no means every ordinary person has. a good number have believed me), but it’s far worse when the psycho-corps writes it on papers whose words get typed into computer files and you, the incorrectly diagnosed, cannot erase one word of it. even after you are quite dead, anyone who might decide for whatever reason to go nosing around in your life can potentially find these untruths about you and take them as truth. after all, if a psychobabbler said it, it must be true. right?

though I strain this old brain, I can’t now remember who it was I had the expunging discussion with, which particular psychobabbler in which particular town. nonetheless the conversation was had, in which I asked what would I have to do to get these totally false diagnoses removed from my various records. the answer was that I would need to 1.) be evaluated by at least two separate psychiatrists who would both declare that I was not delusional… that perhaps matthew was, or that he was just a creep who was hoaxing me for some reason, but that I myself was simply repeating words that he’d said to me and relating things that he and others (including the mafia-chick herself) had said and done in my presence; 2.) hire a lawyer to go to court with me and present the testimony from these psychiatrists, and said lawyer would urge the judge to order that my records be expunged of words like delusional or schizophrenic.

as if I have the proverbial snowball’s chance in hades of hiring shrinks and some lawyer for the mentally ill, on my disability income of less than $1500 a month. as if I ever have any prayer of getting this job done. with no other options, I have written for five years in the sehnen, braon, and mishibone blogs about absolutely true words and events of 2008 and 2009. I have talked myself blue, with the result that some people believe me, and some don’t, and those who don’t are mostly the airheads who write the slander on their pieces of paper. after my death, all of this slander will still exist in various psychobabble computers, and there is nothing I can do to clear my name in their realm, to defend my sanity and my integrity.

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time2express is a new wordpress blog, written by a person I have been reading. it’s an absolute truth that there are people in great pain. people OTHER people don’t really want to see.

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I am in a situation where I get very little physical contact.  I get 2 hugs from Y 3 times a week, I get a hug from C from time to time, M a couple of time a year, and the odd friend when I see them.  I don’t feel safe with most of the people i know.  Because our experiences in life are so different, I can’t relate to things they say, and they can’t relate to things I say.  They also don’t have the same insight (for whatever reason), and a lot of their pain comes out in blaming others.  I have the insight, but because of my upbringing, I have little to no control of my emotions and my window of tolerance is only a slit.  This means I don’t have support of an insightful environment, and it means that I am constantly triggered by the people…

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