Psychological Affairs

Chapter Forty-Two: Hate

Tuesday, March 25th, 2008

I’ve been reading a lot of poetry. One of my favorite poems is, “Ringing The Bells.” My favorite quote? 

“We are the circle of the crazy ladies, 

Who sit in the lounge of the mental house, 

and smile at the smiling woman,

Who passes us each a bell.”- Anne Sexton, “Ringing The Bells”

Beautiful, isn’t it? 

Peering out of the window, the Spring Sun caressed my cheek with her rays. I sighed.

Two Springs.

Two Winters.

Two Summers.  

I don’t/I can’t feel any emotion.  Did I tell you? I’m on the ‘wash out’/’run-in period. It’s when they take me off my meds and decide what to do with me next. 

My Medication(s) (so far):

Lithium, Carbamazepine. Valium. Haldol, Zyprexa, Clozaril.

It’s a good thing I can’t feel anything because looking at Chris’ haircut would’ve made me gone mad; it looks great. The way his curls grew out, plus he shaved. it looked good. I overheard him talking with the guys about a girl he went out on a date with. I would say something to butt in, but I’m still not talking to him, no matter how many times he tries to fix it and become ‘friends.’ You were mine and mine only. I don’t share and I certainly don’t do being ‘friends.’ You’re either mine or not; and clearly, he’s not.

No more picking at my lips.

No more cigarette butts burning into my wrist.

No more biting my skin.

Yep, no one cared to notice. 

Sharon says I’ve been doing a lot better and so has Dr. Shepard and Dr. Hudson.

Sunday, September 16th, 2012

I sat back in Dr. Fletcher’s office, watching her write down her thoughts on me. Everytime I’m near a doctor, I feel less of a human and more of an alien. Nice to gawk at, touch, examine, and treat; but, spoken to as a child. Chris has been more lenient on me. I think he’s really trying to make this relationship work. Me? It’s been law school, law school, and law school. Outside of that, my activity is therapy. Angela has a new boyfriend, so she’s busy—can’t say I blame her. I haven’t had an outburst in over a month.

“Chris tells me that you’ve been busy with school. Is it causing you any stress? If so, how do you cope with it?” She asked. I sighed.

Chris. Chris. Chris. Chris. Chris. That’s all I ever hear from her mouth. I rolled my eyes.

“I’m fine.” I said blandly.

I lied. I was stressing—well, more like, seriously in contemplation of decking her in the face. I hate her. I don’t know why, but I do. She’s so close to Chris—I don’t even live with him so I don’t see him as much as she did. 

“Good. I’m going to change your dosage of Zoloft to 60 mg.” My eyebrow went up.

“Why?” 

“Because Chris says there’s been a couple of incidents-“

“Wait, how do you know all of this? Is he seeing  you or something?”

She smiled at me, shaking her head. 

“We talk sometimes—only when I want to know how you’re doing.” BS.