Morning BP 112/82 – Shit, this place is giving me high blood pressure.

I go to the community meeting this morning hoping for something but it just ends up being an opportunity to whinge about air-con, the locked guest toilets and whatever. They complain about the noisy new inmate who  plays her music out loud instead of with headphones.

I never did like meetings.

Because I went to sleep listening to music last night, I want to sing out loud.

Today I feel high. HIGH. If I were t work, I would say things that might trigger people. I just want to do something exciting and the all tell me to do some fucking yoga, practice mindfulness. Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone did yoga and practiced mindfulness.

They want to control us and make us boring with all this mindfulness.

That’s what this whole thing is about. Like religion, they control with the meds but they can’t numb me enough. I won’t fall for their daytime Seroquel  tricks like I did yesterday.

Today, I decide, is a no Valium day. Today is a shake my legs in rage day. RAGE in my head, of course. Not RAGE like ripping the sink out of the bathroom McMurphy kinda rage.

My psych came to visit me. She says all the things, all the words but she has no idea. She’s never been sick. The map is not the territory. All I hear is TMS. New Meds.

Look up TMS, it could work for you.

In my head, I have this idea that life is like this song – the energy, the violence, the drinking, the fucking, all of it.

I have no appetite, so I think it’s Armageddon.

I go to group. I’m supposed to lower the expectations I have of myself. Seeing that my expectations are currently to:
1. Don’t drink to alcoholism
2. Don’t die
Seeing that my expectations are so low, where do I go from here?

I remind her that the map is not the territory, that her words are just words and not real life.

I agree to take Valium and ask for 3 but they say no.

The crying has reduced.

BP PM 110/80 – Sitting only

I’m arguing with the Maco. It’s to be expected. He doesn’t think we should take meds but the giant Indian didn’t sleep last night and I think he should ask for Serequil but the Maco said he shouldn’t and I told him off that we’re here to get better and he said that we don’t come here to die and I said this is a fucking mental hospital and we come to take meds and get better and not sleeping is not going to help.

I asked Jeff not to visit tonight. It made him sad, but I just can’t manage it tonight.

Some more music stuff happened tonight:

1. My friend Janice sent me a youtube video of J Mascis singing a cover of “Leaving on a Jet lane” and it blows my mind.

But while I’m listening to this I ask the Indian (who’s actually Greek) what his favourite song is. It’s hard to get him to talk, but I get it out of him and I out one earbud in his ear and another in mine and we (well I do most of itz) sing and dance!

And it’s the best thing that’s happened in 3 days (for me).