Maybe you noticed…or didn't

You may have noticed that I ended the It Notebook a while back.  Or maybe you didn’t.  I still get experience It sometimes.  But the notebook is done with.  Some of the notebook I haven’t copied over and published here yet.  This I will do, probably in two entries–one for the remainder of the McLean papers, which are shorter and won’t take much effort to copy over onto a Word file and paste onto an entry–and the other for the entries I did at the community hospital I was in (I choose not to name the hospital) most of which were originally hand written to begin with because my Internet access was limited to maybe ten minutes to a half hour (a full hour if I was lucky) per day, or not at all.  I did quite a bit of writing at the community hospital as this was the way that I healed myself.  In fact, it was through writing that I was able to figure it all out, and to realize that I needed to move on, from working on suicidality to working on other issues: depression and sadness, It, and my eating disorder. And a few entries ago, I realized that it was a good time to end the It Notebook.  As you can tell, I’ve still been writing here, quite a bit, but I’ve focused mainly on my eating disorder and not on It or on sadness.  I’m not saying that this won’t change.  After all, I’m seeing the neurologist next week, and I’ll be speaking with him quite a bit about It, and I’ll have a lot to say about It in here following that appointment!  I haven’t a clue what he’ll say about It.  No clue whatsoever.  Is It a seizure?  Is It a weird depression?  Is It psychosis?  Am I just making up It for attention?  Am I just making up It so that I’ll have something interesting to write about in the It Notebook?

There was a another secret catalyst, though, that triggered me to end the It Notebook.  I will share this with you in the coming weeks….

At some point, I will explain to you that the It Notebook is about something else besides what you think it’s about….Stay tuned….Actually, I only came to realize this recently….

I plan to write an Introduction to the It Notebook, as well as an Epilogue, or Afterward (I don’t know what I’ll choose to call it) which I will not share here.  Although I started the It Notebook January 28th, four days after I left McLean Hospital, I choose to include the McLean Papers, because they are part of my history.  I plan to include in the It Notebook my account of the Winter Classic 5k race I ran on December 19th, which precedes my relapse by two days, which will be the Prologue.  I also will include some very brief journal entries that fill in the blank spaces.  While I was writing the It Notebook, I had to transfer it from a 1″ notebook to a 1-1/2 inch notebook.  That’s how many papers are in it!

My last entry was dated 3/28: What I Know Is True.  Of course, I have written plenty since the end of the Notebook in this blog!  So I actually kept the Notebook for two months.  I printed out every entry.  I shared parts of some of the entries with my T.  She has never held the Notebook in her hands, though.

You, readers, have held the Notebook, in a way, in your hands.  And meanwhile, I have continued to write here, and will continue, your hand in mine.

Well, not really.  That just sounded good.  My hands are both busy typing.

 

I am not the only one

I am not the only one who is invisible.  Yesterday I was coming out of Central Square on the 2:20pm #70 outbound bus.  The bus was numbered 0293, or so it said up front.  The operator number was not displayed.  You got it, I’m about to tell you something specific that had to do with the driver’s performance.  Right-o.

I think it was near where the #86 intersects with the #70 route.  At any rate, a wheelchair passenger was waiting for the bus.  I watched all of this from my seat.  I was seated on the right side of the bus, at the window seat, so I could see all this transpire.  She came to the front of the bus.  This is normally where wheelchair passengers would enter the bus nowadays, along with on foot passengers, since the newer designed buses replaced the older buses.  The newer buses have this neat ramp up front that anyone can use who needs it.  It unfolds onto the sidewalk.  There is room for two wheelchairs in the front of the new buses.  Passengers with baby strollers are supposed to enter the front of any bus so they can pay their fare, but occasionally are allowed to enter the rear door when there is no room up front for a larger stroller.

But anyway, the bus I was on was not one of the newer buses.  This was the older kind, the pretty much inaccessible kind if you ask me.  There are three steep steps that on foot passengers have to climb to get onto the bus.  This includes people using canes, crutches, and walkers.  This includes people trying to get their baby strollers onto the bus.  On these buses, wheelchair passengers have to wheel backwards onto a special lift, and then sit in the back of the bus.  There is room for only one wheelchair on each of these less accessible buses.

Why hasn’t the MBTA taken these inaccessible buses off the road?

So there I was, sitting in my seat, watching this passenger waiting to get on who most unfortunately wasn’t aware that this was one of the older buses, where she had to enter in the rear.  As soon as she realized, though, I saw her nod her head, and turn back toward the rear door.

But wait.  The bus took off.  I am not kidding you.  The bus driver hadn’t even seen her.

Let it be known that I am not the only one who is invisible.  On foot passengers stand while waiting for the bus.  The wheelchair user was seated.  She was, therefore, a couple of feet shorter than a person standing.  THIS IS NO EXCUSE THIS IS BULLSHIT HE SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER!

Bus driver to passenger: “You are so tiny that I didn’t see you!”

Bus driver to passenger: “You don’t matter, so I don’t see you!”

Bus driver to passenger: “It is such a pain in the butt to get that lift to operate, that I didn’t see you!”

So get this: About 30 feet later, the bus stops.  I guess someone shouted at the bus driver that he’d left a passenger behind.  So the woman came up to the back of the bus, and the driver did the procedure with the lift.

Or tried to.  He lowered the lift okay.  Then he told her how to get on it, explaining that she needed to back onto it.  So far so good.  Then he tried and tried to get the lift to lift.  It wouldn’t go up.  It went up partially, then struggled and struggled, and then he let it down again and said, “Sorry, your wheelchair is too heavy.  It’s too heavy for this lift.  You’re going to have to wait for one of the newer buses.  Wait for the next bus.”

Bullshit.  Bullshit bullshit bullshit.  This was a small electric wheelchair.  Nothing heavy about it.  I have seen these lifts lift far heavier people on far heavier wheelchairs.

Why the heck don’t they train these guys to use the lifts properly?  Or, shall I say, why was this guy on the road to begin with?

Bus driver to passenger: “I just don’t want to bother with you.  You are crippled so you probably don’t have feelings that matter.  Get off my bus and take the next one.”

Bus driver to his wife: “You are a woman so you probably don’t have feelings that matter. Get a lift.”

Everywhere, there are those that are invisible.  I am not the only one.

Dentist appointment

I have an appointment with the dentist in a week.  Apparently that’s the soonest the one that takes Medicaid will be in.  Wow.  There are at least three dentists at that office and not all of them take Medicaid?  Huh?  At least Medicaid pays for the exam and x-rays.

So, for at least a week, my already weird eating habits will probably get weirder and weirder.  This is going to be interesting.  And weird.  It’s not just what I eat that’s weird.  It’s a barrage of secret habits and obsessions and rituals I have.  I hate this.  I wish I didn’t find these sick things necessary.  They are taking up brain space and time in my life that I’d rather spend on something else.

My T asked me what my life would be like if I didn’t have the eating disorder.  I thought about it. I said, “It would be nothing.”

Guess that’s the problem. Or is it?  I am wondering if my T thought I’d say something about something scary, like that I’d have a career that I’d be afraid of, something that I was desperately avoiding and turning to my eating disorder instead.

But no.  Nothing.  That’s all.  Without my eating disorder, I am nada.  I am my eating disorder.  You have heard this before.  Have I not made any progress?

Probably not.  But at least I have no plans to starve myself to death.  I do want to get rid of this damn thing. It is driving me nuts. It is taking up too much brain space, driving me nuts.  It is wreaking havoc on my body.  Who knows what it did to my teeth.

Now, look what my teeth are doing to my eating disorder.  Reinforcing it.  Saying, “Yes, you don’t have to eat.  Use us as an excuse.  We hurt.  Take care of us.  Take better care of us than you do of yourself.  Just like you take care of Puzzle’s teeth.  Brush us.  Floss us.  Take us to the dentist.  X-ray us so you can see us.”

“See us. Hear us. Believe us.”

Maybe that’s what my eating disorder is saying to me.  And that could get very, very dangerous.  Because if I take care of my eating disorder–brush and floss it, coddle it, see it and hear it and believe it, I’m in serious trouble.  My teeth don’t want me to eat just like my eating disorder doesn’t want me to eat.  I can’t have my eating disorder extracted–it’s not that easy–and I can’t have many more teeth extracted–or, ironically, I won’t be able to eat.

So I see the dentist in a week.  Let’s see what he says.  Meanwhile, I have this toothache to deal with.  Just deal with it, mainly, take Ibuprofen maybe, and I’ve got painkillers from the extraction if need be, and that stuff you squirt into your tooth to numb the pain–that, too.  I’ll live with it until Friday then see what’s what.  Meanwhile, you’ll hear me bitch and moan about it for another week.  Promise.

I have another toothache

This is getting old.  I have had trouble with my teeth since the beginning of my relapse, coincidentally.  I think it’s an upper left tooth.  Maybe I should call the dentist and see if they can get me in on Monday.  I have an infected area in my gums, not far from this tooth, as well.  I have been limited in what I can eat and not eat.  Today I was looking for an energy bar, and actually squeezed them to see if I could find one soft enough for me to eat.  Coincidentally, the one I found was low-calorie.  Today I discovered that I can’t eat cucumber peel.  I can eat apples, though, if I cut them up–so far.  I wonder if I’m going to be able to eat anything at all over the weekend now that my tooth is hurting more and more–that is, besides yogurt.  (I flat out refuse to drink Ensure–bad memories of the ED hospital, and besides, it’s waaaay too fattening.)

Okay, I give up.  I’m calling the dentist before they close.  If I can find their number.