Thought for the day

I have many thoughts today.  Here’s one.

There was a conference at my college on March 10th, that is, last month, on the Occupy Movement.  I just found out that this happened.  I hadn’t known, cuz I was wicked out of it for a long time.

The conference was held at Goddard College’s Plainfield, Vermont campus.  I watched a slideshow recap of the event.  I looked at the people’s faces.  Many people were my age.

When I came home from the hospital at the end of February, there was a lot of snail mail waiting for me to open.  Maybe there is some snail mail  from Goddard about the event, around here somewhere, in a “to be opened” pile.

It is 2pm.  I haven’t gone to the mailbox yet.  I am scared to walk from my apartment, down the hall, through the lobby door, to the mailbox area, and back.  Someone will see me, and say, “She’s fat.”

For years, I’ve been collecting my mail when nobody has been around.  Much of the time, when I walk the hall for any reason, I LOOK BOTH WAYS.  And then I decide whether to proceed.

The other day, they were sitting there near the door, staring at me, with their little eyes.  Watching me like they were going to pounce.  I didn’t know where to put my own eyes.  Should I look straight ahead?  Should I look back at them?  Tsk, tsk.

One has her knitting.  She doesn’t actually knit, she just holds it.  The others sit there and stare stupidly.  Get a life.

Sometimes, to tell them Fuck Off, I wear short sleeves, open my mailbox, and slide my skinny, skinny arm all the way down into the way-back of my mailbox.

I love watching them shake their heads at each other and mumble in their language.  Yeah, fuck off you assholes.

I’m sure that at the Occupy conference at Goddard there was no height and weight requirement.  I didn’t see a scale in that slide show.  I didn’t see any banners advertising diet pills.


You know, I do.  That was one heck of a long time ago.  1986.  I was in the state hospital in 1986, just down the road from here.  The place is closed down now, just a bunch of grass and stones that I know of.  I’ve lived in this town since 1987.  January, that is.  Same phone number.  Still.

I had a TV in April of 2006 and I saw the news about Chernobyl.  I don’t know what I thought.  Probably not much.  I was wicked drugged up.  I got rid of the TV long ago and a lot of the drugs, little by little getting rid of the rest of the drugs.

I’m now at 250 Topamax, 150 Imipramine, 150 Trileptal, 200 Lamictal, and 100 Synthroid.

Topamax used to be 300, and was 350 for a short while.  Trileptal was 600.  Lamictal was a whopping 600.  It was a wonder I could even stand up straight.  A year ago I also took the antipsychotic medications Abilify and Risperdal.  I stopped these cold turkey with no bad effects.  A year previously I stopped Thorazine.  I had Tardive Dyskinesia, according to my psychiatrist, in my tongue and one hand.  I am fortunate that I have stopped all antipsychotics just in time and no longer have these problems.  I now no longer experience any hand or tongue movements.  Usually, TD is permanent.  I was one of the lucky ones for whom TD was not permanent.  I have seen some very, very sad cases.

After the Chernobyl disaster, many people and other living creatures developed cancers and all kinds of diseases from the radiation that spread all around the area.  People were born with Down’s Syndrome, Spina Bifida, and other genetic alterations due to this radiation.

I remember there was the Star Trek episode where this kid had some weird power.  He was an adolescent.  He was playing chess with Captain Kirk.  I guess he lost, and then got mad.  He turned his head and screwed his eyes funny and melted the chess pieces.

I picked up one melted chess piece.  It was still warm, but cooling quickly.  It would never be the same again.

You have to be careful what you say to kids about their weight, cuz you don’t know how they’re going to react.  If something you say, no matter how well-meant, hits them the wrong way at the wrong time, they may never be the same again.

That’s why I’m scared to walk down the hall right now, walk into the rental office, and pay my rent.

I have checked my bank account and I the check won’t bounce.  That’s not the problem.  It’s those ladies in the office.  The way they look at me.  Up and down.  I always plan ahead when I walk in there.  Always.  Plotting and scheming.  Engineering what I am going to say to them as I hand them the check.  And I wonder what they’ll say about me as soon as I turn, receipt in hand, walk out of there, and the door clicks shut.

I’m thinking, “Phew!  I did it!  Another month!”

Welcome to my life.




2 thoughts on “Thought for the day”

    1. It’s so weird, cuz on one hand, I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me, but on the other hand, I’m so terrified, cuz I’m scared to be seen by anyone ever, especially in this building. When it comes to my neighbors, this has always been very exaggerated to the point of paranoia, and I’m well aware of this. I went to pay my rent a bit ago, and faked like I was on my way out, just so I could wear my long down coat, my “coverup” that hides me entirely. It zips up over the lower half of my face, and I pulled my hat over the top half of my face, so you could only see my glasses. I love wearing thick glasses, cuz they hide my eyes, in case I’ve been crying or something. It bothers me that the coat puffs out where my breasts are, but maybe coats do that anyway. For years, I have worn the most flattening running bras I can find. If I could have a cosmetic mastectomy and it was medically safe to get one and cost no money, I’d have had it done when I was a teenager so that it was permanent and never developed anorexia in the first place most likely. Men yelled out of car windows and whistled and I learned to hate them. My mother’s snide remarks (even as an elderly woman) stung like a bee sting. I’m going to write a chapter on this in my next book cuz I have so much to say on this breast politics, not just but the sick way that breasts are glorified by men. Sick, just sick. You can’t hide them, you can’t unscrew them and put them in a closet and forget about them. They sit on your chest and stare at people, like a second set of eyes.

      Anyway, my neighbors completely suck. Gossip all day long, nothing better to do, just waste their lives away. I shouldn’t judge them. I spent a lot of my childhood pretending to be stupid just to be popular. Maybe they’re secretly planning to bomb some World Trade Center, and just pretending to sit there gossiping. You never know.

      Have a nice day,


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