I ran two miles yesterday. And they said I’d never make it.

So here I am at the end of September.  Had I taken their advice I’d be horribly institutionalized right now.  I shudder to think of it.  Where would I be if I were still seeing that abusive therapist I fired in March 2012?  Would she have managed to push me into the state hospital by now? She sure threatened to send me there often enough.  I knew if I continued to see her, that was exactly where she’d put me, and be sure the doors were locked so tightly I’d have to do some very good politics to get myself out.  Eeeks!

Or maybe going from appointment to appointment, forever caught in that manipulation merry-go-round, being shoved onto their scales over and over, praised for every hair of a pound I gained (ob, gee, guess I forgot to pee first), or perhaps told what a sinner I was if I happened to forget to drink my morning coffee before getting weighed (oops!) for losing a half pound.  What a game they force patients to play.

The thing is, it’s tough to walk away from it all, but that’s exactly what you have to do.  Walking away very well may be the toughest thing you’ll ever do.  It’s like divorce.  Not that anyone even gets that.

Oh, you’ll be hated for it plenty.  You’ll get all the accusations, even told you’re pro-ana.  You are anything but pro-ana.  You are doing this to save your life.  Yes, you are saving your sanity and your body from all this manipulation and control.

They say eating disorders are all about control.  I say, eating disorders treatment is all about controling and lying to the patient.  It’s all about trickery and fooling the patient.  It’s all about taking the patient’s money and lying to the patient’s family until they just can’t take it anymore.  That’s why a lot of families split up, sadly.

You may get accused of “not following your treatment plan.” Well, that’s cuz the “treatment plan” isn’t treatment.  It’s killing you.  It’s stealing your life away.  Get out. Save yourself from the control.  You need to take cotnrol of your own life and start living.  That’s how you save your life.

So the doctors said if I didn’t listen, I’d never make it.  That I should go to programs so that my time would be wasted and get brainwashed and take drugs that make me binge eat and I would feel useless inside.  Nothing could have sucked worse.  I figured I was doomed.

As I see it, they have the social services come to the homes of “mental patients” to keep us in line so that we don’t form an uprising.  So that we don’t form alliances and so that we don’t organize.  So that we don’t figure out the truth about the way they treat us.  To keep us quiet and cooperative and benign.  Let’s not have another Occupy,  I mean, another Movement means keeping all those folks that are imprisoned (who really did nothing wrong) alive, right?  Those folks even need to be fed.

No, I want no state-sponsored babysitting and as few “medical” appointments as possible. I am an adult.  They don’t send social sercices to folks who work as computer programmers, so why send them to me?

If you go to the doctor with a broken leg, the doctor isn’t going to ask you over and over if you have a gun in the house and if you feel like killing people.  Yet when I went to a shrink and complained of binge eating, I was told i was lying and asked all sorts of questions about guns in my home.  I don’t belong to the NRA and this is not hunting country.  What kind of “doctor” is this?  Sounds like hogwash to me, not science but superstition.  These “doctors” are quacks.  Don’t go to them.

So I ran two miles yesterday and my body works fine.  I went home and lay down with Puzzle for a long time.  Today Puzzle and I are again on the train home from the empowerment center.  Puzzle is plenty beat.

I haven’t forgotten to put up that You-Tube of the reading I did about a week ago. Wow, that was rather awesome giving that reading.  Puzzle and me, we are a twosome for sure.  Except she’s got off-white hair and mine’s braided.  That’s how you can tell which one is me and which one is Puzzle.  See ya later.

2 thoughts on “I ran two miles yesterday. And they said I’d never make it.”

  1. Hi Julie. You’re sounding great!

    You say “Let’s not have another Occupy…” You know about Occupy Psychiatry, don’t you? They’re on facebook. Jim Gottstein from psychrights.org is active in it.

    From what I’ve heard, they’re planning to require general practitioneers to ask that gun question pretty soon. Every time I go for my blood pressure meds (which I probably wouldn’t even need if I could just get off the salt…) they ask me “Is there anybody in your home who you feel threatened by?” and I want to tell them “My houseplant’s been giving me dirty looks recently,” but they just don’t “get” sarcasm.

    You’re providing a valuable service for those social service nannys. We need to keep them in a job and out of trouble, don’t we? 😉

    Yeah, exercise is the best medicine. Or maybe I shouldn’t even belittle it with the therapeutic paradigm. The older I get, the more frantic I get about my cardio program. I’m trying to do an hour on my treadmill and stationary bike every day. The rest of me is falling apart, but my heart is in good shape.

    I’m looking forward to seeing that reading!


    PS there’s an evil shrink in this science fiction graphic novel I’m working on:

    1. Oh, thanks, John. You are doing the world a great service by writing about evil shrinks. It’s not science. They are just giving their opinion, their “judgement” of us patients. Guess what? Shrinks are richer than most of us and they look down on us pittance of poor folk that show up in their offices. Sure, they think about us in terms of how much they can milk us for, how much they can get away with, how much they can deceive us, and they do indeed worry quite a bit about liability. I believe it’s always in the backs of their minds.


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