Do I care if I die..? Really..
I find myself asking myself this ALL the more often.
Most days.. I don’t think I do.
Most days.. I’m so beyond tired. I feel ready. Like hurry up won’t you already!
Heavy heart. Emotions tearing my insides apart. How much more I continue to wonder while I wander can this body take?
I watch myself deteriorate. Broken. I can never be fully repaired. These are more than war wounds. These are raw wounds of despair.
I look around for someone to grab hold to.. I quickly realize it’s only I on this ride. I circle and circle, up, down loop around. It’s quite a vicious cycle.
To the point of no return forces me to want to quickly recycle my carbon body and articles of doom. I look everyone in their eyes. I look deeply. Fascinated by ALL they hide.
I read them. I write them.
I relate. I look to life, late.
Is it fate?
Would you care? Do you? What would you do to get through?
Have you? I ask..
A lifeline perhaps?
Therapy is crazy expensive! With no insurance (like most of us) and even with it’s an anxiety attack all on its own. Continuously checking your watch.. 20 minutes left… have not even told a fraction of your story. Irritated by this shrinks instant comfort in believing they have me so quickly figured out. Jotting notes, referencing their own families and life experiences with particular medications.. Looks of judgments conflict with confusion. Twenty more minutes deducted. Who’s really helping who? When I’m the one paying you..? Bills upon bills continue to weigh me —–down↓ I continue to listen.. Only eleven minutes left.. As I tear out a rubber check. You grab your all you know to do prescription pad… A blank stare. A scribble a scratch. I’ve been down this road before. My hours up. I’m shown the door. So… with all that. My life locked in a strangers concrete office… is not enough. All they got for me, Another bottle of pills that are the true killer of this disease. There the Dr. with the paper certificate on the wall for proof. Sixty minutes later and *POOF* my story shelved for reasons of financial strain. My heart must continue to find away to go on with this magnitude of wretched pain. So keep your refills for all these pills. I got my own pharmacy. I can diagnose you for free. By just truly listening and my own personal life experiences. A worm hole into your pain intensely fills my veins with your infested DNA. Empathy brings us back. I’ll help you up. Won’t let you crack. God and compassion got your back. Your therapy’s within you. Trust me, Only you can complete you. I agree, “Ron Artest” makes the psychology thing look real good. Championships and happiness. Along way from the hood. Yes, I agree he’s done real good. However, his psychologist’s not going to break his bank. It’s more of a chit chat session. A meditation for what was at stake. A breather of sorts. An extra curricular activity.. something fit in on Thursdays at three… So, you see… know your position. I continue to preach. If your steady counting the minutes, clammy hands and anxiety that it’s almost time to go.. same night, pockets lighter and still having to do your usual pick yourself up off the floor, popping pills on an empty stomach do to no food do to paying your therapist… with no help from your state insurance that ran out aka never exist-ed in the first place. So you wonder why your filled with rage..? On your way home from your session counting change to see if you can afford a gallon maybe two for your always empty tank. Your past due bills soon await you right behind your front door. Your once sanctuary now imprisonment from bill collectors, census workers, probation officers and nosy neighbors. Checking sofa cushions for any extra change, pockets from winter coats and book pages for that special rainy day. For today’s that day. In order to schedule that next Dr. visit need another hundred and fifty bucks. But then again if I can come up with half. They may be able to squeeze in a phone consultation!!! Oh oops that’s just as soon as they return from there much-needed vacation.
CONCLUSION: See about yourself. (UNLESS) Your Ron Artest and you can have a prearranged paid up weekly chat visit scheduled a year in advance. Still it does not really change… Sign here sign there, In and out and on with your day.