Chronic fatigue warrior

in my english class we read One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and my fellow students kept bringing up that there hasn’t been much change but didn’t ask why. why hasn’t their been change? because the view of the mad hasn’t changed at all.

we shouldn’t be forced to facilities, medication, or therapy unless we want it. and even then why can’t we leave facilities whenever we want? if one voluntarily admits themself why can’t they voluntarily leave at any point? it’s sick. why do we have to conform to the societal norms set up by people with rich wine and paychecks loaded with money more than i’ll ever make in my life?

i feel that if someone wants to go to a facility, take medication, or go to therapy they should have that choice. but they shouldn’t be afraid to do that with the worry of an abuser lying behind the doors that are allegedly supposed to “help” us. and if someone doesn’t want help then they shouldn’t be forced to.

Every time I point out that disabled people are chill and that presuming we are violent monster maniacs is a bit ridiculous, at least one fuckwit has to be like, "oh yeah? What about [condition]?"

"Oh yeah? Well my sister works at a special school and she gets bitten by autistic kids all the time!" Okay. I was an autistic kid who went to special school. Didn't bite anybody, didn't see anybody bitten. I also worked in SPED for a while as an adult. Never saw an incident. Hm.

Oh look, studies show that violence is common in pretty much all schools because exploring and experimenting with violence is actually really common for kids aged three to nine. But oh, we notice it more when the retards do it. Why is that. Could it be ableism. We discuss it as an especially common and problemaitc thing when the retards do it. Why is that. Could it be ableism.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm a psychiatric nurse and my schizophrenic patient punched me!" I am a diagnosed schizophrenic. The whole reason I'm not working any more is that I lost years of my life in psychosis. Now, follow me here, I never assaulted anybody, but I have been assaulted a number of times since I became ill, always with the excuse of "well he could've become violent." Hm.

Every single major study on violence and schizophrenia finds schizophrenics are not more violent than the general population but experience violence at massively, massively disproportionate rates. In fact, they usually find the majority of violence in these contexts is perpetrated by support workers, family members, and police. Hm.

About a week later, I got a questionnaire, on paper, through the post. As though I were living in 19ThePast. It had a letter asking me to fill it out and post it back. It took me three weeks to buy an envelope. It took another to actually fill it out. When I did, I inserted the questionnaire, carefully wrote out the address on the envelope, stamped it, sealed it, and looked down to see the questionnaire still on the sofa. I had tried to post them back their own letter requesting I fill out the questionnaire. I, for one, consider this part of the diagnostic criteria.

Anyway, I finally sent it a week later, so it took five weeks in all. That was, as I say, three years ago.

Today, I had to go to the doctor for unrelated reasons, and I was like, "By the way. Do we know what's happening with the ADHD assessment? I know it's a long waiting list, but it's been three years and I literally never heard anything back. Thoughts?"

And today's doctor (a different one) pulled up my history to have a little look, and discovered that a week after I'd initially gone in - during the time I was supposed to fill out the questionnaire but was still vaguely trying to remember to buy an envelope - the referral people had responded to my GP and said "She hasn't done a questionnaire so we can't assess her." At which point, my GP was supposed to call and share this with me so we could discuss

He did not.

And then, of course, they did get my questionnaire, and he should have forwarded THAT to the assessment people at that point to advance the process.

He did not.

Which means I have just wasted three years and a week waiting for an assessment that was never coming. The whole thing came to an end. That was that. At no point did that first doctor ever reconsider any part of my case. He was told they couldn't proceed, and didn't even think to tell me; he just thought "Well, sucks to be her" and then moved the fuck on with his life, I presume.

They were poorly copied, to the point that some pages were diagonal and text was running off the page. Some of the print was blurry. And the questions were like... Open ended... With like three narrow lines of space to write a response. Just looking at it made me want to throw up.

I finally had a meeting with a nonprofit caseworker in which I showed them the questionnaire and my feeble attempt to fill in the first page and I just burst into tears. I was like... This thing is horrible and I can't make my handwriting fit on the lines and every time I sit down to work on it, my kiddo climbs all over me and I don't understand how behavioral health thinks I could ever complete this.

Later that day they sent me a digital version (which was much shorter and the questions made more sense) and like... Was that first questionnaire a test of some sort? It kind of feels like whenever a parent presents a child for evaluation the first thing they do is try to break the parent down.

And like... Knowing that many of these things (adhd / autism / PDA / SPD) have a strong genetic component... Why do they do they make getting help for your kid so reliant on the parent being able to get thru this obstacle course of things designed to be hard for people who... aren't... typical...

Anyway I think I got a very bad grade in Autism Mom, which I really don't regret at all.

I later found out that the clinic (which never responded anyway) was neck deep in abusive types of "therapy" and known to be horrible to neurodivergent parents. So 🖕😁🖕 to them.

Kiddo (now 13yo) has been seeing an occupational therapist "coach" for five years. Who is absolutely brilliant and lets me communicate via text and has pretty much saved our lives.

You can also use a regular sheet.

It doesn't have to be a fitted one, just get a regular sheet at maybe once size up from your mattress if you want some excess fabric to work with and just.

It also seems like it will go off, sound and vibration, whenever someone posts. Trump is awake at 2 AM. You will not be able to shut off your phone or stop the noise until you handle this. It will also drain your battery by being a surprise 2 AM noisemaker.

Don't put it on your phone. It's actually stealing less data than I expected (I mean, yes, OBVIOUSLY it's tracking your location and sending that to any cop who's bored, but it isn't taking any credit card info, so hey, that's nice), but it still can access and fuck up anything saved on your phone, record any unlocking method you use including fingerprint and face, and seems to want to do so to force you to suddenly have an explosion of noise.

Again: this may extend to dropping a call for an ambulance.

Based on this article and other discussions with tech people, the app:

Provides your location, every 4.5 and 9.5 minutes, to Trump and company;

Can copy, modify, or delete information on your phone;

Can alter webpages you visit through them;

Has multiple security flaws;

Is creating a personal profile on users;

Can, in fact, interrupt phone calls, no definite answer on 911 but very likely;

Is showing signs of being spyware in unstated ways.

https://www.tumblr.com/lifeafterpsychiatry/812602169567166464/let-them-risk-regretting-the-hair-cut-the-tattoo

but especially for including self harm into the list. I am someone who had started the habit partially because it gave at least some semblance of control over what was going in in my life and with my body, yet I very rarely see the sentiment of body autonomy being directed towards such acts, despite the fact that it very much is a question of body autonomy!! I don't think I'm ever going to regret the scars, but even if I will, I think the regret would feel liberating in a sense. being able to regret something that only I, myself, no one else, chose to do with my own body. imagine that.