lostitSenior Contributor
My thoughts on The system that does it's best.
Programs and treatments. Doctors and counsellors. Quizzes about what I expect to achieve. Being asked if I have thoughts of self harming.
Jargon and gleening for indications that I need to be shoe-horned into some kind of program or teatment. Hasty diagnoses, guinea-pigging and pidgeon-holing.
"What do you hope to get out of this?"
I'm a six year old, a three year old, at best I'm a new born baby. "What do I want?"
Nothing.
Sit with me like there's no such thing as time. Like there's no destination. No race. No pressure.
Something's happened and I got messed up, that's all. It's not going to go away. It won't unhappen.
Treat me as a client and I'll always be one, standing at the end of the long corridor, looking at the clock and thinking "How long till lunch?". Talking to some other client about how that's all we ever do.
But there's three of you and thirty of us. Some of us are suffering more than others and have different needs. It's a weirdo's fishbowl.
Just let me have a winge for a while.
I've been hit and I think I might've been ashamed of that. The guilt of the wounded, the victims, "How could I let that happen to me?" "Don't show it to anyone." "Hide it." Shame.