Where Crazy Starts, Respect Is Sure to End

Where Crazy Starts, Respect Is Sure to End

I haven’t always felt it over the last few years, but I am not a dumb person. I try really hard to make sure that I’m being thoughtful, reasonable, and wise when I make decisions. I’m a person who tends to think a lot about what she says before she says it.

Yet, more often than not, people look at my diagnoses before anything else.

Too many times, I’ve tried to express opinions or concerns about my treatment and been met with patronization and dismissal. I walk into appointments and before I even have a chance to say anything about myself, it’s assumed that I’m so broken that everything needs to be spoon-fed to me in the most child-friendly, bite-sized pieces. It goes beyond trying to be understanding or accommodating. It’s a lack of respect.

My Night in the Hospital and Why It Didn't Help

My Night in the Hospital (and Why It Didn’t Help)

I have no doubt that this post is going to be much harder write than the last one, but it’s also something that has helped me to talk about. I’ve only told a few people the details of my night in the hospital, and it’s a hard memory. The thought of putting it out there attached to my name is terrifying, but, here goes nothing…

Thirteen months ago, I had my worst night so far (and hopefully ever). I can’t even remember why I started crying, but I know that I once I did, I didn’t stop for hours.

I was home with my sister and she was upstairs. I have no idea what she was feeling or thinking, and I’ve been too afraid to ask her since. I just know that she couldn’t come downstairs and hug me no matter how hard I begged.