FUCK! What the hell is going on outside?! I can hear someone slamming doors and shit! It’s pissing me off! Yeah, I know, I cuss a lot. It’s my only vice. That and caffeine… and chocolate Lindor balls but for fuck’s sakes, fucking stop all that slamming shit! I have fucking PTSD! I hate that shit! When I was a kid, slamming doors, banging things would scare the shit out of me, but now that I’m older, the reaction is so quick from getting startled that it then moves quickly to anger because I just want to know who the inconsiderate idiot to stop slamming that door! FOCK, man! Seriously.. then I have this energy, and it becomes pent up, I can feel the warmth rise from my back and I just want to get up and yell at someone. *rolls eyes* Ridiculous. Sigh. If this was 2 years ago, I would have most probably had popped 1mg of Loraz. Loraz was my homie. Loraz was a friend when MaryJane and I had to part separate ways. I was so upset when I was staying at Oasis (Residential Treatment Center) because the NP (nurse practitioner) that was there was a Nazi bitch. Well, not really, but she wasn’t that compassionate. She was good at her job, but very non-negotiable. It took a lot of advocating on my part, and a lot of soft-tones to talk to her. A few months in, she told me that she was going to slowly wean me off my Benzos. I just sat there and I started crying because I NEEDED them because my boyfriend at that time broke up with me while I was there. It was an open window for him, I guess. I remember walking around that building over and over again and I was on the phone with him and I asked him if he broke up with me because I was this crazy (even though we were together for almost 4 years) and he said, “No! Of course not, because if it were so, I would have left a long time ago…” True… been hospitalized in and out those past four years. He always visited me when I was at the hospital. Anyway, so I kept crying and I told her I needed it to get through this grieving process. She then told me that it will help to deal with it through coping skills and the things they’re teaching me through classes because if I kept taking benzodiazepines it will affect your memory in the long run. At that time, I didn’t get what she meant in terms of using coping skills. I didn’t think those were useful until I realized they were derived from legit DBT/CBT/ACT and other combos. I didn’t believe in coping skills. I thought they were bull shit, but after being hospitalized, I finally realized that if you add enough of them TOGETHER IN COMBOS and bombard yourself with enough self-love, coping skills in one day, you’ll be able to prevent yourself from ending up in the hospital. Now THAT, I wouldn’t mind at all. I will work hard for that if it means that the benefits of it was never ending up in the hospital again. THAT was my failure, but at the same time, it was my refuge. But, it took me months to get over it, because Loraz and Clonaz were my crutches but, it’s true, I was starting to tolerate the mgs higher. But, at that time, I was so pissed at her and every time we had Medication Management classes, I would bitch about her in class and warn all the noobz about her. She was so mean to one of the kids there. He had really bad OCD. He would always say, “What. Wait…” We would have to repeat ourselves 3 times. At least. It got really frustrating. He annoyed the shit out of me but that’s beside the point. He once knocked at her office and wanted to get off the medication because it made him pee a lot, like so many times every hour. I felt bad for the kid and he would knock, and knock, and she just shut the door on his ass. Fucked up, right. So much for compassion. But, it’s just her. She’s not all that bad… you just have to be communicative and cooperative and at the end of the day, she’s doing this for your overall health because too much Benzos, no matter how good that shit is… it’s addictive and unhealthy for your memory. Plus, I like being sharp. Creative and sharp. Better to just breathe and think of something positive than pop a pink pill or just lash out at the idiot who slams doors, right? Am I right or am I right? Saves me a few mgs of my friend, Loraz. That’s PTSD for ya. STOP FUCKING SLAMMING DOORS!! SHIYET!!
AND REMEMBER!!… RIIIIISE… wooooosah
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