Improvements; December 6 2023

Sometimes, you need life to throw you a lifeline. Just a short one, and you’ll do the rest.

Life handed me that lifeline in the form of a vintage video game, that I recently sold for enough money to cover a cleaning service.

I am so freaking happy, y’all. And relieved! I think it’ll make a big difference to how I’m able to keep up my home. Or, rather, how we’re able to keep it up, because I am trying to get better at task delegation.

And, actually, just… ‘better’ in general.

I’ve hit another rough patch with my mental health, and I’m seeking help with a social worker. I’m impressed at how much mental healthcare has changed over the years – the worker introduced herself with her pronouns, acknowledged once in the intake interview that there are systemic issues that have made finding good care difficult for people like me (which is nothing to say how much rougher it is on POC), was overall wonderful.

When I was a kid – roughly twelve – I saw a psychiatrist who treated everything I said with such melodrama that I felt mocked, and I never took sessions seriously. I was also experiencing auditory hallucinations that told me not to tell her anything that might land me in an asylum – a very strong fear of mine, at that age – and if there were signs of my budding psychosis, she sure missed those.

But that’s not too bad, not compared to the psych who interrupted me as I explained what I was going through with helpful tidbits like, “Well, you’re pretty. You don’t have acne. You’re skinny.”

Because, you know, those are the only reasons someone might have mental health issues.

There was also my psychiatrist in my early twenties who liked to ‘reassure’ me by telling me that everything I was experiencing was normal, I was normal, it was all in my head. I broke down at one point and tried to explain how invalidating that was – if I was ‘normal’, then, why did I seem to have so much more trouble with day-to-day things?

He was so taken aback. I think he was more used to people with situational anxiety and depression, things they could get through with cognitive behavioural therapy and resources to fix the immediate situation. He sure didn’t know what to do with me and all my fun brain quirks.

Now, it feels more like the social workers, the psychologists, the community outreach programs… I feel significantly more cared for. Cared about. It’s like they stopped trying to bandage the wound and acknowledged that there’s an infection we need to dig out first. They want to get me to the right care.

It’s been over twenty years in and out of therapy, and the science has finally caught up. It’s a relief, and frankly, kind of inspiring.

I hope we all get better, in all the things we can improve on, together.