Since I finished my novel and I'm finishing a volume of short texts, some horrible things have happened to ME: My one-year internal exit report has lost its validity, because the family doctor threw me out. A psychiatrist would have been found, who works with the HA within the team, who might have subsequently delivered the psychiatric report requested by Exit for two years, if the HA had advocated for it. This psychiatrist, however, announced immediately, my symptoms (Muscle weakness, feeling feverish, Nausea etc.) were all symptoms of depression and that he wasn't in favor of Exit, but works for life.
About this life …. the mine … I reported a lot. Sometimes one-sided, sometimes differentiated. Living the situation with the incurable disease ME, 365 days symptoms, that you don't see, and but being retired with a psychiatric diagnosis; I have all of that in my novel: “The voice” described. Glad for the possibility of fiction, I have described the reality, using fiction. For my protection, understood. But now, since this book, the voice, slammed, creativity is down, I'm tired ….. grottenmüde…. to create literary gold from my absurd rocky experiences in terms of ME.
At the same time, I don't even know anymore, whether I would like to continue to describe my real experiences here. It would be best, to create fiction again as soon as possible with the unbearable shape of reality, the deepening trauma …. but just: how so?
Understandably, I spoke to the HA. I asked him: why doesn't he talk to the psy and get him on our boat: 27years of physical illness, Diagnosis by a neuroprof 2018; these symptoms are not symptoms of depression. What we need is a statement of the patient's capacity, those in God's name- whether right or wrong- Almost two decades ago, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and somatization disorder (incorrect) got. (at that time the patient was already acutely ill with ME!)
The HA did not want to take on this task. It's my beer to teach the psy the thing. But if a psy believes, the disabling symptoms are psychological, then that could end up being a good thing, that Exit rejects an assessment and but, worse, I was prescribed another Psy edition.
The family doctor has, maybe, because I was a bit too insistent, just pulled the plug. He leaves me in the middle of a lengthy exit process, without answering the required questions.
Is it a miracle, if someone, subjected to such experiences again and again, gets grumpy?
I expressed my disappointment in a letter to the doctor, formulated my inability to understand, but I couldn't hide it, that I consider his action cowardly.
This is also one of the people and doctors, which- with psychosomatic addition- boasted about it- for the people, to be for hope and for life (Which, in case of doubt, also includes death!). But that very humanity can sometimes turn into a sword, when a professional is tired or overwhelmed. Then, in case of doubt; he can too…. throw people away.
And still have the cheek, to thank the patient for what she has learned.
Of course I wonder: why fight, on another front, where there can be no victory for me?
Is it an act of self love??
Is it, because I can't help it?
I asked, in the letter: there is suffering, that the environment forces it, not looking properly? Can an environment, straight from professionals, be so weak? Or is it just vanity? Who does it hurt??
I remember: my first family doctor maintained until the end (that. 14 Years), that I got into a cult: the ME Sect.
Sometimes it takes a yes to a no. Is this courage no longer present in those responsible?? As a society, can we no longer live in truth with the fallen and find humility again?, to recognize, that there is pain, that we are not in control of? That there is no longer room for everyone? It's not just my situation, that makes me think and ask this. I've had the impression for a long time, that something is going wrong in society….. that processes are in progress, at the cost of life itself, that change people forever, without, that they may be aware of ….
When people everywhere treat their own kind in cold blood, says something about the compulsive character, where such acts often occur.
My fate is quite tricky, and endowed with a certain narcissism, I'm still bucking up. But somehow it's all just capers. I'm alive and I feel worthless- because poets are no longer needed. And because life, life as a sick person, who cannot purchase, punished by almost total structural exclusion— So why can't it be taken away from me then??
But that's what I say and I think, while not far nameless warriors “scrapped” become, half as old. And that just happens ….. it is accepted…..
I want to do literature again, but I had to free myself somehow. I should have the impression, that a life can have the purpose of beauty and uselessness, that it is important and beautiful, to be true to yourself to the end, to be selfish, in an honest way, worry about, to have the power, to take a friendly look outside every now and then …..
In one world, in which people are increasingly forced into a survival mode, self-care will have to be neglected. The result is coldness and indifference, who meet everyone.
Cioran asked: “Do people see things, how they really are? I think, No ….”