I Am Dark Souls

I am the Dark Souls of clients.

I feel like this should be my opener with any professional I meet from now on.

(Dark Souls is synonymous with being a difficult video game. This quote of saying the Dark Souls of things, came from a video game journalists talking about the remake of Crash Bandicoot being the Dark Souls of platforming games.) 

The reason Dark Souls is notorious for being difficult is because it doesn’t really give you a tutorial, it doesn’t give you any directive, it doesn’t really give you any lore or story, and it is unforgiving with mistakes. There’s also no ability to change the difficulty. It’s unforgiving when you don’t think about what you’re doing. It’s unforgiving if you’re being impatient. 

There isn’t a map, there isn’t a clear goal, everything to do with the story or goal is just cryptically spread out in items or NPCs you talk to that you stumbled across. The world of Dark Souls itself is empty, dark and bleak feeling.

There are a lot of monsters and enemies around that are there to attack you. A lot of demons to be slain, if you will. You can clear them all out or just run to the goal, but if you end up back there the enemies will respawn. The only ones that don’t are the big bosses.

Combat is ruthless. Getting hit will cause a lot of damage. Stamina for running, hitting, rolling or blocking is limited which means you have to focus your energy, you have to be patient and figure out the pattern or you will die. And if you die, you lose all the souls you collected, but you have a chance to get them back. You have to make your way back to the place you died to collect them again, but if you die on your way to collect them, then you lose them all permanently and have to start again.

Souls are essential to your character growth, you use them to upgrade your stats, get better weapons and armour and progress in general. You get souls from killing enemies and bosses. Each enemy has a different combat pattern that you have to learn, some of them will be in groups and may take less to kill but the number of them can overwhelm, so you need strategies to slowly pick them off one by one. Some enemies will only be one but if they hit you it can end you in 2 hits. Every enemy is different, and everything is set to kill you. 

But there is some silver lining in amongst the challenge and despair of this game. There are some save points, not many, but some points that if you die you can get sent back there. They are also quick travel points so if you need to go back to areas you have been to, maybe to collect more souls in less tough areas you can do that. All the enemies are ruthless, but their patterns are consistent. Once you learn them they won’t ever change, and you’ll know how to manage and get past them. When you start to level up your stats you will go back to previous areas and those enemies won’t be much of a challenge. If you die a lot, you start to learn the direction of the world and know exactly where you are heading. If you pay attention to the minimal dialogue, the descriptions of items you can start to piece together what is happening.

A Boss

You will die a lot in this game, it is notoriously difficult and especially hard to get into as a new gamer, or just as a new player without any experience of a souls game. (There’s a new genre of game called a Souls game if it uses the same relentless combat system with limited stamina, no tutorial and non-changeable difficulty level).

It will leave you frustrated, angry and broken if you go into it thinking you are the best at games, or thinking that you can just rely on reaction in the moment alone without planning. 

But if you go into it knowing you have to be patient, knowing it’s dangerous and unforgiving, you start becoming a better player. You start to learn patterns and can spot them in other enemies. You start to realise that once you know the system it’s not as hard or intimidating as what people make it out to be, it’s actually a very fair, and very consistent game. You start to learn that you don’t actually have to take out every enemy you see, because they will always respawn, you only go for the big bosses that don’t come back once they are beaten.

That’s the biggest problem with Dark Souls. The people who don’t get it, who weren’t patient, who couldn’t see the pattern will completely misunderstand it as an unbeatable game. They will spread this misinformation and bias far and wide of how difficult and unplayable these types of games are, because it made them angry. It intimidated them, and it challenged their own arrogant bias on how good they are at games. Dark Souls has a huge reputation for being a very difficult game to the point where a lot think it is unfair, when it isn’t.

But if you stick with it, if you chose to put aside your bias on your own skills and were intrigued by the world and the story, and had the determination to see it through and learn more about it, it then becomes incredibly rewarding to play because you’ve figured out and gotten past the things that a lot of people claim are too difficult to get past. By the end it feels like you accomplished something over just beating a video game. You overcame something that others claimed was unbeatable, and you are a better gamer for it. 

The people that enjoy dark souls and souls type games, have a tendency to not enjoy other games as much. Because it’s a very different mind shift to play a game like Dark Souls.

This is how I see my current psychologist. He’s a Dark Souls gamer. He helps people that have been notoriously shunned by other professionals for their complexity. It’s why I have a lot of respect. Maybe not as much trust yet, because I am Dark Souls, and this is still the first area so he is still going to die a lot before figuring out the pattern. But he has a far better grasp of the mechanics of a Souls game compared to anyone else I’ve seen, probably a veteran of the Souls genre, metaphorically.

That gives me some hope.

Any professional that deals with me has to be a fan of Dark Souls and Souls games, metaphorically. But literally is also good.

The Noise of Suburbia

I can’t fucking deal with the noise in suburbia. Not currently anyway.

Or anywhere really.

Imagine every sense is heightened, to an overbearing degree.
Now Imagine that every sense is heightened, and you also haven’t gotten much sleep.
Keep Imagining that every sense is heightened, you haven’t gotten much sleep and you have ringing in your ears like you get after being at a loud concert, except it’s been there your whole life.
The ringing that never stops, its in your ears and in your brain constantly.

Imagine feeling all those things and then being told by everyone around you, I barely hear anything, nothing is as bad as what you think it is.
And because you’re having that conversation outside, where the light is too bright, the sound is constant, your emotions are of that of someone sleep deprived and you can’t stop the ringing in your ears.
And nobody can understand what you are feeling, because it isn’t able to be understood by anyone that’s not experiencing it.

Would this make you feel crazy?
Does this sound like it would make you anxious?

Hyperacusis is decreased tolerance for noise coupled with tinnitus. There isn’t a diagnosis, and there isn’t a cure, only management. But there can only be management if medical practioners weren’t so apathetic about sensory issues. And the ones that aren’t, you can’t actually afford to see because they are locked behind a pay wall.

Because all specialised mental health services are locked behind a pay wall, you get stuck in the infinite, you’re a useless lazy fuck who doesn’t deserve help, system. You need to see them because you’re not functioning. You need to be working to have money so you can see them, to help you with the not functioning. But if you are not functioning, you can’t work.
But I guess people who can’t get the job in the first place are just a useless drain on society that should just go die.
This is how I feel when I hit the walls, and I hit the walls so frequently. I don’t feel like I’m worth anything in this world. I ask for help to try and contribute, and I just get endless amounts of failed attempts and then told to suck it up.

We talk about mental health a lot, and the ways you can change your mindset, change your views, get better.
We don’t talk about the things that cannot be possibly understood without experiencing them directly.

Every sound is accentuated, every single one of them.

The goddamn shrill soundtrack of suburbia.

At every point of the day, someone is mowing the lawn. Someone is fixing the house. Someone is using any different type of powertool. Someone is testing out a car system. Someone is playing loud music.

There is a train in the distance, there is planes overheard, there are flying pigs in their choppers trying to catch out drug dealers. There are ambulances, there are sirens. There are cars going up and down the street, some blend into the distance but a lot of them don’t. There are cars sitting there idling in driveways. There are motorbikes of all varieties and frequencies.

There are dogs barking, there are birds chirping. There is some jerk screaming at their significant other. There are kids having fun but they have to do that in the
loudest way possible as children do.

Everyone loves summer, but I hate it. It’s such a lovely day to be assaulted by your senses. It’s 7.30 at night but we haven’t stopped mowing because it’s sunny. The children are playing and laughing, the sun is shining off every surface.
Yippee, they say, such a beautiful day.

But for me it is the definition of hell, because the light is too bright, the sound never ends, every sensation of heat and discomfort feels like torture, and I haven’t slept properly in weeks.

I miss winter so much.

You should always ask for help, they say. You should always work on finding ways to make changes, they exclaim.
So what happens when you’ve been trying to get help, and the people that are meant to help you, don’t know how to, or there isn’t enough time allowed to? And you don’t know how to help yourself either, because there is a constant ringing in your ears that never stops, and you can’t string any thoughts together because of the anxiety from the noise is compounded by sleep deprivation. And also, stringing thoughts together isn’t really your strength because you have adhd. And you’ve tried to problem solve in every conceivable way, but keep getting hit with wall after wall after wall. You don’t even hit the wall at that point, the wall hits you.

I called all the disability services in the area, but they need NDIS funding, so they told me to talk to my doctor. And my doctor says, I don’t know what to do with that, you should talk to your psychiatrist. But i can’t just talk to my psychiatrist because they’re too busy. And when i do finally talk to them they say try this pill and good luck, because no more appointment for another 3 months.
So i talk to my in home visit mental health worker, who suggests i get some noise cancelling headphones, and i say where exactly do i get money for headphones we are still working on that NDIS funding. And they go, oh yeah, that’s right my bad sorry, hang in there. Also was their last day so that’s another constant I have to now adapt to not seeing again.
So I talk to my mum who throws out the suggestion of an audiologist. So i get an appointment with the audiologist who asks if i struggle to hear things, and i say no, I hear things far too much to the point where it’s distressing. So they say well we help people who are deaf, not people with hyper sensitive hearing. So I ask who helps with that, and they go uh I dunno, occupational therapist probably. Which is something that the disability services offers, but they require funding.
So they then say, why don’t you get a hearing test.
And you say, what for?
And they say, I don’t know, just so you know you have hyper sensitive hearing. But what the fuck is the point of that when there isn’t anything they can do to help with that?
So i call the local psych team because at this point im breaking down from the noise and the exhaustion and i really need help. They are usually useless, and of course they tell me to talk to my counsellor and psych. This is nothing new and I always feel more hopeless, despaired and desperate after calling them than the hopelessness, despair and desperation I felt to call them in the first place.
And the icing on the cake is that they suggest i go see my doctor.

And we’ve just come full circle.

This is the merry-go-round I constantly live on. So where exactly is the part where I’m somehow in control of my experience?

Nothing stops the ringing in my head, the agitation and discomfort never stops.

And neither does any of the noise of suburbia.

I feel like I’ve been screaming for help. I’ve had to resort to using my partners ndis funding for noise cancelling headphones for myself. But I still have to wait for them, and I feel nothing but guilt for it. All because it’s not one of those things they just offer people to help with. It either doesn’t exist as a problem, or it’s a privilege you have to earn to not be completely suffering.

What a lie that they tell you, to ask for help. No one actually wants to help you, it’s just one of those useless nothing pleasantries that people throw out there, very much the same as ‘how are you’. No one cares how you are when they say it, it’s just a thing you say, apparently. Except I do care when I say it, because it took me this long to realise that people don’t ask this question genuinely, it’s just a social conversation flavour. Just like always ask for help is a thing they say to make themselves feel better, but they don’t expect anyone to actually use it.

I’ve exhausted all the options that I have the capacity to think of, all I can so is wait in the uncertainty of whether I’ll get onto the services I’m applying for. And get the support that I’ve needed for so long.

In the meantime though, I just keep trying desperately to stay afloat while I get progressively more tired and exhausted of trying.

Hide all the screwdrivers before I ram one straight into both my eardrums.

Horror Movies Aren’t Scary

I don’t get scared when watching horror movies, not ones with suspense or gore anyway.

I’ve said this to many a psych, and to people who are very much tense and fearful watching horror that is full of suspense and/or gore. Some have said that it’s because I lack empathy as someone with autism. I resent that statement. (Keep in mind my current diagnosis are ASD/ADHD)

I resent that statement because I have always had a connection to the media I consume. You could even say that I strongly empathise with characters in stories moreso than I do with people in real life. I have played video games that have moved me so much that I can’t play anything else for ages afterwards. I have such strong connections to certain characters, especially in cartoons, that I equate myself to them when I describe myself. I have shows that are so deeply personal to me that they feel like old friends, and I am constantly rewatching them. I learn and understand things easier when they are put in the context of TV shows or movies. I take lessons or quotes that I have heard from media literally, and will start to use them in everyday life. There are scenes in some shows that will instantly make me cry because I understand and have felt what that character is feeling. There have been shows that acted as a counsellor to me when I didn’t have anyone and struggled with connection.

So how is it because I don’t feel fear in a ‘suspenseful’ horror, all of a sudden I lack empathy? What about all the people who watch action movies, where it’s gun fights, explosions, and fight scenes? Because that is the entertainment of the majority, that’s interesting violence, and not scary for some reason. Usually the body count for action films far succeeds the body counts in horror yet that is perfectly normal to consume and find engaging. I’m sure you all definitely feel empathy for all those people getting shot in shoot outs, or exploded in a building, or all the people in cars that got in the way of a major car chase, or just any person in any standard action having the shit kicked out of them…

But apparently I’m the sociopath for enjoying watching someone having their intenstines being ripped out of their abdomens and being worn as a hat, and then the intestines reached across the room to strangle someone because the intestines were possessed or something.

How many times have possessed organs and intestine-hat wearing murderers come up in daily life, compared to the amount of real world violence from guns, explosions, car crashes and people getting beaten up? What I find entertaining is completely dumb and unrealistic, what everyone else finds entertaining is general violence that is genuinely horrifying and a lot closer to being rooted in reality then a ghost, monster or zombie film.

But because everyone is so desensitised to at this point, they just find action films to be exciting entertainment.

I’m sick of people equating any horror with gore in it to ‘torture porn’. That is not what that actually means. True torture porn is anything where characters (or real people if it’s a snuff film) get tortured or abused for the sake of sexual gratification for the viewer. Just because there is gore in a movie doesn’t mean it was put there to get people off. Most gore is there to hit hard, to make you feel uncomfortable, to drive home the point of how terrible a villain is, or to make you fearful of the situation that the main characters are in. The movie Saw is not torture porn, that movie has an extensive plot and lore (albeit a stupid one), the torture isn’t really torture because there are options of escape, and the villain is trying to make a statement (albeit a very pretentious, convoluted statement), but a statement nonetheless.

And I guarantee anyone that says about films like Saw will still gleefully watch the news or scrolls through all the terrible actual real snuff clip videos that float around on Facebook without even thinking about it. Just about every news source thrives off stories about the deaths and despair of others. This is why I can’t watch the news, because it scares me that people just consume all this and don’t feel anything, there’s so much more real world shit that is terrifying, over horror movies that aren’t real.

To feel empathy for characters, first requires you to care and understand the characters as people. How does anyone relate to the mostly nothing characters that come from movies like Paranormal Activity? Does anyone remember anything about all the teenagers that Jason kills in any Friday the 13th? Because all I can tell you is that they say stereotypical dumb teenager shit and fuck a lot in stupid places.
And I don’t know about anyone else, but there’s not really many instances of my own life that I can draw from where my ugly dolls that my grandmother passed down to me, or I for some reason picked up in a shady op shop, got possessed by a demon or spirit of a serial killer, and chased me around with a knife. Or purposely going to a summer camp where people get murdered yearly. Or buying a house without checking whether it was built on an ancient burial ground. I’m sorry I can’t empathise with any of that.

Also stop sitting so close to TV’s, that way you might not need glasses later on in life and/or potentially get pulled into a portal to hell through the screen by a ghost/demon.

I can’t empathise with people who walk around a house at a snails pace and take 10 minutes to open a stupidly over creaky door, like jesus fucking christ you’re in a huge mansion and you can’t afford to WD40 your creaky door frames and window panes, who the fuck can deal with their doors constantly making obnoxious noise, is that not something you notice and remember to fix when you buy the house, before you get trapped in with an axe wielding maniac? Usually the ghosts fuck with you for a week or so by moving your chairs slightly to the right or something before they decide to straight up mentally torture you, that’s plenty of time to fix the doors. (Also goddamn it horror movie audio engineers and/or audio engineers in general, use another noise effect that’s not from the stock sound library, or if you’re going to use the stock sound library can you just try any other creaky door noise, there’s at least 3 and the same fucking door noise is used in every fucking movie. Like seriously, I’ve heard them use that door creak noise in every Hollywood movie that a fucking door has ever appeared in.)

I can’t empathise with characters that do completely unrealistic things in a situation for the sake of tension. It actively makes me root for the serial killer or the ghost when you’re being a complete dumb cunt in situations where you should be trying to escape.

You can totally make the point I lack imagination, I admit that freely. But you can’t say I lack empathy. You can’t just set something in the real world yet no character acts like a normal person and somehow I’m the abnormal, unempathetic one because I’m not terrified of the completely unrealistic situation that the characters are in.

I don’t empathise with suspenseful horror, because most of the time it is boring, unrealistically slow and I’ve seen it so many times before. If you have seen one ghost movie from after 2000, you should know that the beats are all the same in every single one following. I’m numb to jump scares at this point, because there’s only so many times you can build music, drop it for about 5-20 seconds then boom, spooky cgi ghost with loud startlingly noise. I like practical effects, I like gore because it’s interesting, because I’m more likely to feel digust over fear.

I want to see unique ridiculous shit in horror because most horror themes have been done to death at this point. And horror as a genre has been sterilised for the masses, computerised to the point where everything just looks the same and any original idea any creator had has been lost in the stereotypical, corporate beats that is a mainstream horror movie.

I only exclusively watch Indie horror now, or horror from any country that’s not the US, because those creators actually want to say something. Just because I don’t feel suspense, doesn’t mean that horror hasn’t got to me over the years. To this day the movie Eraserhead has scared me the most, because there’s so much in it that I couldn’t explain (because I’m not great at understanding subtext or analysing themes in movies in general). Everything down to the soundscape, the characters and scenes that were nonsensical to me at the time, completely terrified me. Because what truly terrifies me is not being able to explain why things make me feel so uncomfortable. Years later after watching countless summaries and dissections of that film I understand why it made and still makes me so uncomfortable.

I was very disengaged as a youth watching horror, now I’m 30 and I’ve been able to appreciate subtler movies without high gore or things happening every 5 seconds to hold my attention. But I’ve tried to go back to all the main big franchises of movies that have been hailed as the ‘scariest movies of all time’, but I’m still bored by them to this day.

This isn’t a problem with me lacking empathy though, I just don’t feel anything for movies that didn’t do enough to keep me interested. And I don’t know how to have empathy for characters in situations that don’t act like people that exist in reality.

Toilet Paper

Here’s me, needing to go to the toilet.

Get to the toilet, do what I need to do, only to realise I was a barstard to myself by not changing the toilet roll.

Here’s me, leaning down to poke a whole in the brand new 24 pack of toilet paper which is sitting in front of me in the small toilet room.

Yes, I am both too apathetic and poor to get a toilet roll holder, Karen.

So I leaned down to poke a whole in the plastic to get a new roll out, as you do.

I couldn’t break the plastic properly.

Here’s me, with my underwear around my ankles, crab-walking to the kitchen to get a pair of scissors.

I finally get the toilet paper.

A few weeks later and I can’t find the scissors.

It’s because they are in the toilet.

(Well not in the actual toilet, but in proximity to the toilet.)

Who the fuck leaves stuff in the toilet and then forgets about it?

Me.

Just kidding.

I only leave my phone in there…

Do Spiders Dream of Electric Webs

So for some reason I was thinking about bugs this morning.

I like bugs. I think they’re pretty cool. I’ve always loved observing them everytime I see one. But I have honestly been a bit wary of spiders for most of my life.

But that doesn’t mean I like killing them.

I mean, I really, really hate killing most things. I say most because there are some insects like mosqitoes that are just literally out to get you, and they spread disease so I do kill them when necessary.

But it’s different with spiders. It feels cruel to kill a spider, when all it’s doing is existing. Spiders are very small in comparison to humans, and they aren’t out to just get you. Why is it so hard for people to just move them out of the house? Just take a glass and piece of paper, no harm comes to you or the spider.

I obviously know that you shouldn’t fuck around with dangerous spiders. In fact, my partner had to help me get rid of a dangerous spider that was hanging out on my door. We had to spray it, since there was no way to safely remove it.

It was really fucking awful, I felt physically ill for hours afterwards, and so did my partner. Why the fuck did they invent a spray poison that just tortures the bug instead of just instantly kill it? I hate it.

I just don’t understand why people feel nothing when they kill a bug. I’m not a vegan, but I also don’t believe I am above any lifeform.

Now I’m going to go die on the don’t kill bugs hill.

She Lives

So where the fuck have I been exactly. I’ve kind of neglected the blog.

And to be honest, I don’t know whether I’ll be back on this or not.

But I guess for now this is an update.

I wish I could blame just the pandemic for my lack of writing, but I guess it started before that. I guess I just lost all will to write, like I had absolutely no inner monologue to go off. It wasn’t just this type of writing that was hard, it was emails and other stuff that required communication. I’ve just not been good at communicating for a long while, so I am really sorry to the people I was writing to.

I guess you could say I’ve been pretty depressed for a while, not even since the pandemic. I’ve been actually getting through that surprisingly well considering the extra pay from the government, and constantly being at least able to see a partner. I barely leave the house so the masks don’t bother me much. Not being able to see family sucks, but I’m honestly coping with it fine. I know I’m lucky because it’s been so hard on others.

But I’ve hit a wall with my mental health. I’m on one medication and it stops the anxiety, but not the depression. And adding on a medication would cause side effects of some kind that I don’t want to deal with, so I’m choosing not to do that. I have a counsellor that comes to the house, but he’s all about action planning then actual counselling, which would be fine if I actually had motivation to complete anything. It’s not like I’m sad.

Just bored.

So fucking bored all the time with no motivation to change it.

There’s no direction at all when I write. There’s so much nothing and then some words that come out but they don’t sound as good as it did in my head.

Wubba Lubba Dub Dub Part 2

So I thought I was being really witty with this title, till I realised I’ve already used this title for another blog.

Everything just feels hopeless at the moment.

There are some days where I actually do some things other then nothing, and it feels pretty good at the time. And I actually have a day or two where I’m somewhat satisfied and I’m not feeling trapped in my body or brain.

But then I get days like this, where everything just feels like it never gets better. I know logically that it does. But that’s why I feel like the depression just makes it heartbreaking. Because I so desperately want to feel good in these low moments, it’s upsetting when I can’t. I just want to hold on to any emotion that feels better than this.

When it gets this low it feels pointless to do anything, because at the end of the day its safer knowing there’s no where further to fall.

I hate falling.

I don’t know what to do in regards to my treatment anymore.

My doctor is sending me to a female specialist psychiatrist for another opinion, since I stopped taking the antideppressant.

Sure, I was doing better on them. I was also avoiding taking them unless I’d eaten and even when I had eaten they still made me throw up.

Do I have to endure all these side effects from medication just for a small chance to be somewhat functioning.

My counsellor doesn’t think the medication route is good. He’s more for the no drugs approach. And honestly, I do understand the logic behind it, it makes sense.

But my doctor thinks I should be on medication, and so does my mum.

But I’m also terrified to go off medication.

I don’t know if I’m ready to face myself like that yet.

But I also don’t want to feel like this anymore.

Blogging is Good, Actually

So you might ask what I’m doing up at 5.30 in the morning, or probably not because everyone that reads this blog is in a completely different timezone. Or you read this at whatever time so who the fuck cares when I wrote it.

But I’m a morning person anyway.

I honestly don’t have much ideas what to write, but I found that blogging was indeed good for my soul when I wrote one the other day, so I’m trying to pull all the interesting shit from my brain hole.

I have ideas for more posts but not sure if I’ll make it all work. I’m not entirely happy with some of the opinion pieces I have up on here, so I’m thinking I want to maybe challenge some of them. I’m constantly growing and changing my mind and opinions on things. So if anyone ever felt like trudging through my old posts and challenging me on stuff then I would appreciate it.

I know Ima have to do it myself though and not be such a lazy bitch.

I haven’t bought up the election for a reason. Mostly because I have nothing more to add to it, other than Tromp bad.

Anyway this has been a clusterfuck of a post. Wish I had something more interesting I could think of to write about.

Pacify Me

‘Apply for the NDIS’ they said.

They’ll help you’ they said.

And a year and a half later I finally get word that I’ve been REJECTED.

Just like receiving the word from the final psych that he also won’t see me.

‘Maybe you should just get the counselling then’.

You know what that comment feels like? Getting kicked in the guts repeatedly while you’re down then having some snide fuck offer you a hand up only to yoink it away at the last minute.

Yes, of course it’s the systems only answer for helping me, so I’ll be fucking pacified.

Guess what? I’m not fucking doing it.

The only other option I see is to get myself admitted and seen to there, anyone got any suggestions on what will get me into a ward and not jail?

Maybe I could shave my head out the front of Centrelink, or piss myself in the middle of a shopping centre Exorcist style.

What, does this talk make you uncomfortable? Is my anger too volatile?

Better just start those 10 magical free sessions that will pacify me, I mean, fix me enough to function like a normal person in this society.

But Kim, at least our system isn’t as bad as the US, you’ve got it pretty good.

Yeah, I guess the difference is in the US I’d be dead, but over here I’m only contemplating complete public humiliation to get me noticed by a system that thinks everyone on the disability is a fucking dole bludger anyway. See, how much fucking better it is over here?!

I’m so sick of using comparing how bad it is in other countries to justify how fucking awful our mental health system is over here.

But Kim, maybe if you just think positively you’ll be rewarded with more positivity. Just work hard all you’ll get there.

STOP TRYING TO FUCKING PACIFY ME!

Life is shit at the moment, the system is shit, and it has FAILED me. I REFUSE to sit by and PRETEND that I’m happy when I’M NOT FUCKING HAPPY! Maybe if I was sitting in a more comfortable position I could see the positives in my situation. But at this point in time there is NO HOPE. And guess what? If there’s no hope it means there’s NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE. So no, I’m going to kick and fucking SCREAM till I fucking collapse and maybe then they’ll help me.

But I will FUCKING NOT stay silent.

I will not be pacified with counselling sessions from a system that still thinks mental health issues is a sign of weakness.

Please…

Please.

Please!

Don’t tell me to calm down.

Just let me be angry, because I’m the only sane one here getting angry at this broken system.

 

Cunt.

No I don’t care. I’m done caring about what my words mean.

Dear Doctor GM,

Fuck you and your referral letter.

Part of me wants to link you this but that’s probably not the greatest idea. Not because I care that it will be taken out of context or I won’t be taken seriously, because I already know that’s a fucking given, I’m just a stupid little junkie woman that’s constantly ‘truculent’ (thanks for the new word by the way, I’ll use it whenever someone airs their frustrations to me and I want to be a patronising fuck about it). I won’t do it because I don’t think the gp I see noticed that there’s a big bold disclaimer on the letter saying;

Without prejudice. Not for release to Patient or Third Party.

So even though I want to link this hate filled blog to you in an email, I won’t because the gp actually gives a shit about me. Or he does a good job at making me believe that, like you did.

I don’t think you realise how important it is to get the information correct on a referral like this. Or maybe you do, but you don’t care. After all, I’m not a tax payer so I have no real value as a person in this society, not nearly as much as you being a ‘small town psychiatrist’ as you called it. A private one of that. Did you give yourself a pat on the back for waving my appointment fee, since ya’ couldn’t help me so it wouldn’t be fair to charge me. I would’ve been happy to pay the fee if you did your fucking job and wrote down my history correctly;

Getting a history from Kimberley was quite difficult because at interview she was quite tearful at times and truculent at other times : a comprehensive storyline was difficult to establish.’

It wasn’t comprehensive because you didn’t ask me any fucking questions! You let me ramble on about myself then spent 40 minutes talking at me about the fact that there was no hope for me or my generation to get a job and that Australia has a corrupt and fucked up government. You knew you couldn’t help me from the start so the whole session was just you fucking fluffing for most of the time. But I noticed you wrote down key factors to do with the drugs both illegal and prescription that I’ve taken. Autopilot, autopilot, keywords, keywords. That’s why my storyline wasn’t fucking comprehensive.

Cunt.

‘Medical history includes polycystic ovarian syndrome diagnosed recently.’

This pisses me off so much you have no idea. PCOS was diagnosed at 14. I’ve LITERALLY been telling doctors about this since then, but until I got another recent ultrasound no one took my word for it. THEY NEVER FUCKING LISTEN TO ME.

I believe she is on the ‘disability stream’ for the next 3 months via Centrelink.’

You really were a deaf old cunt weren’t you. I said I was EXEMPT from my stream for the next 3 months, the disability stream has been a permanent thing for years. What I was asking for was a letter from you helping me get on to disability PAYMENTS, which you declined because in your words it was ‘a pointless endeavour’ which actually translates to ‘filling out paperwork is tedious’.

She also mentioned suffering lifelong anxiety for which she had tried Xanax and Valium and about which she was enquiring in terms of further treatment.’

THAT’S A LOAD OF FUCKING BULLSHIT!!! This pisses me off so badly on so many levels! I also mentioned? Are you fucking serious, IT WAS WHAT THE WHOLE SESSION WAS ABOUT! I got prescribed Xanax and Valium at the same time when I first got diagnosed at 15, it was a completely bullshit thing to prescribe someone that young. I made a throw away exasperated comment about no one wanting to prescribe anything to help with my crippling anxiety and it’s not like you could give me Valium continuously even though it would be nice to have some relief from it. I NEVER FUCKING ONCE ASKED FOR THOSE DRUGS IN THAT SESSION! Do you even realise how much of a junkie you’ve made me out to be in this one fucking line?! NO ONE TAKES A PERSON ASKING FOR BENZOS SERIOUSLY, IN THE HISTORY OF FUCKING EVER!

You’ve branded me with the junkie label. You ignored the fact I’ve quit fucking cigarettes and haven’t touched had drugs in over 8 years to give me this fucking benzo label when I’ve never fucking once abused those drugs. And the other psych, the only one in fucking Melbourne that can help me, is immediately going to judge me like this because YOU are meant to be the credible source.

FUCKYOYFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU.

And there goes any hope I had in the system and for myself.

Cunt.