…and then Miss Banshee went to the Cuckoo's Nest.
Today my therapist said to me that if she had it her way, I'd be in the psych ward, detoxing off ALL my meds, and starting fresh on new ones. The ones I'm taking clearly aren't helping, and I'm taking way, WAY too much, anyway. She can't believe that I'm able to function at ALL with this amount of drugs in my system, and that if she was calling the shots, I'd be at Columbia Presbyterian in NYC doing some time inpatient, to get off the meds and on new ones, but I don't have insurance and obviously could never pay for it, so I have to either wait for my Medicaid to kick in come March, or if things get too out of hand, see if I can get charity care for my local loony bin and do it there a lot sooner.
So that's what's weighing on my brain right now. I might have a lot to say about it in the next couple of days as the concept (because it IS still just a concept) sinks in, or I might not say another word about it. Things could improve before March, or this might become a necessity within the month. There's really nothing concrete I can say one way or another about it as of now. Money, as always, is paramount, so when I get back from Savannah on the 13th, we'll see where we stand.
Right now, I have a wedding to go to. I leave on Wednesday and get back on the 13th, so my internet use will be spotty at best, but I'll write again before I go, probably this weekend. I have a feeling that with everything that's going on, I'll be on the blog a lot, but I've said that and done the opposite in the past, so who the hell knows.
Oh, and a special note to the smattering of people who insist on contacting me CONSTANTLY to say that my bipolar is:
A. Fake/Attention ploy
C. Something I just need to pray about
D. All of the above
Please stop. You might think you're helping, but you're not. And to that special someone who thinks I'm making all this up for attention? Yeah, I'm calling you out on the blog. Cut that shit out, you're really upsetting me, which I'm sure was your intention in the first place, and you're probably whacking off because I'm even mentioning it here, but for the love of pants, THERE. I gave you your little 15 seconds of fame, you who I will not name, but know exactly who you are. Stop. You're really not helping at all, and I WILL send the Banshee readers after you if you continue this shit. And you don't want to deal with my readers. They'll cut you deep. Cause I've got the best readers on the entire internet, TRUFAX.