Today I created my goodbye present for Dr. P

I made a story while I was taking a shower, and committed it to memory, but then wrote it down and made it a part of my seventh book, which I am now in the process of writing during this month of July.  So I guess I will bring it in and read it to Dr. P.  It is my goodbye present to her.


You’re really not going to believe the title of the story.  Oh yes.  The Story of the Talking Appliances.  Just what a psychiatrist needs to hear.  I’ll post it here in my blog after I present it to her on that day, which will be this coming Wednesday, the 10th of July, 2013.  I’ll be home late afternoon (New York time) and that’s when I’ll post it.


Oh, I’m so psychotic and crazy, aren’t I?  I must need a pill.  Oh dear.  They look so yummy and appetizing.  Gimme.

My laptop fell off the table and it cracked on the corner of the screen.

I thought this was covered on the warranty, but apparently I was mistaken.  I had to get some other protection, that I don’t have.  Oops.

Funny, just last night I was able to repair a program I thought I’d lost, and transfer it over to my desktop computer.  How nice.

I’m trying to find out if I can get my laptop backed up before I bring it into the shop.  Does anyone know if those seagate GoFlex things back up more than one computer, or if you are limited to just one?

I have nothing really valuable on there that I know of.  Just a bunch of stuff, some programs i downloaded for free, some stuff in cloud storage, etc.

It all happened when Puzzle started throwing up while I was in the middle of brushing my teeth.  I didn’t want her throwing up in some yucky place, so I went to call her and at least find out where the heck she was.  The laptop was plugged in and somehow, the cord was twisted on something that I pulled on by accident…Wham!  Down it went.  Everything’s all fucked up on it now, but I can bring up the desktop and I’m pretty sure I can get the data off of it.

Gotta get it fixed.  Damn, more bills.

Hey, how lovely: word count 1,218 and the day ain’t over yet

Just thought I’d let you dudes know I am indeed writing this book.  Didn’t start Day One until late.  I had to get organized.  I think I like what I have, and it’s gonna be a killer, bitches.

I haven’t yet joined the Nano site.  I may.  I may not.  I figure 1,667 words per day will get me a 50,000 word book in 30 days whether I join or not.

So someone (not a therapist or doctor, never mind who it was) said I should be in day treatment?  Oh, blather on.  What kind of nonsense is that?  I think the person forgot I’m a writer.  In fact, the person who made that statement doesn’t know me too well.

I’m having a blast over here.

Any techies out there? I have a complaint about my server people and don’t know where to go

My e-mail keeps going out. By “out,” I mean, I am unable to log in with any device here at home and not only that, I am unable, right at the same time, to log in with my cell phone.

I can easily access other sites such as weather dot com, nextbus, or whatever I need.  I can get Facebook. I can get into other e-mail accounts just fine.  But this IMAP account won’t log in.

I phoned my server people. I’m kind of straddling between two servers right now because is a site that not all servers do.

So once a week, my e-mail goes down. Not for five minutes, not for ten minutes, but for just about the entire day. Then, guess what. Poof!  It’s back.

At this very momnent, my cell phone starts e-mail working like magic.

They tried to tell me it was a compatability problem. Then they said it was my firewall settings.  I turned off my firewall entirely and STILL couldn’t log in. They claim nothing’s wrong on their end

And they claim I am crazy.

Today, my e-mail works.  By magic.

Is there some administration I can turn to, telling them I get a different answer each time I call, depending on which tech support person  reach?

I have received e-mails from them days later with an apology, saying the problem was on their end.  Gee, after they called me crazy. This blows.

Go on with it, and be brave, Julie

Yes, my blog has become central in my life.  I didn’t even realize it.  People are telling me to keep on writing and doing what I am doing.  Yes, it is the reason I have lost friends.  Yes, my big mouth (well, they call it “liability”) is the reason I am being refused care at the big hospital over there in Boston, never mind that I am telling the truth, I am not paranoid, I am doing nothing illegal, and folks all around me are doing nothing but cheering me on.

If I do pursue a legal case against the hospital, it will be lengthy…maybe over a year of digging into all kinds of paperwork and records and maybe a lot of people that were involved don’t even work there anymore.  What’s keeping this powerful hospital from fudging their records?  Who holds onto them?  After I concluded my inpatient stay in 2011, the nurses or one of the doctors could have “edited” a page or two about my “care.”

I mean, sending security guards up to “contain” an emaciated patient who has asked to bring an 8-oz bottle of water with her to sustain herself while she rides the bus home following discharge…the trip will be will be over 45 minutes…claiming this patient is not allowed to bring the water home, claiming carrying a bottle of water home is “stealing from the hospital.”

Of course, my fellow patients were laughing their asses off while I handed the very small bottle of water to the security guard.  Honestly, I didn’t know what to think.  I just shrugged, figuring I’d have to buy something very soon to drink after I left, because the water bottle I’d been carrying when I’d been admitted had probably gotten moldy sitting in my knapsack.

Well, life goes on.  I still don’t know what to think.

They told me while I was there, “We’re afraid of your writing.  We’re afraid you will expose the hospital.”  Oh yes, those exact words, no kidding.

I have 50 subscribers as of today.

Folks tell me to go on with it no matter what anyone says, and be brave.


Advantage to health care in larger cities…many “systems” to choose from

It depends on your “insurance” but this is what I’ve found….

Whereas you might get excellent health care in a small town, you really don’t have much to choose from.  I’ve had health care in a small town, and when I’ve bombed out with what they had to offer, my only option was to drive out of town to get my care, or finally, to relocate elsewhere or give up entirely, which I decided wasn’t an option at that time.

My parents would not let me give up.  I thought of them as rather nagging and annoying, but finally, they took me in.  I moved to the Big City and I’ve been here ever since.

I’ve found that with health care in a Big City, you can bomb out real bad here, too.  You can feel like you have exhausted your options.  Just like that small town.

But no, the good thing is, this place is huge.  It’s a metropolis.  There’s not just the one small health care system operating here and no other system.  There are many systems.

So hopefully, if you bomb out of one, you can, if you are in a big city, get into another.

Now here’s the real good thing: You can start afresh. They don’t know you in the new system.  You are starting afresh and you don’t have the damn “reputation” hanging around your neck.

I keep reminding myself to lay low.  Keep the guns uncocked.  Oh, by the way, that was a metaphor, assholes.

Crap, it’s like, complete fog

I mean, honestly
Voicemail must be the hardest thing
That’s one thing I really stink at
I always crap out.

People think I’m pulling this shit on purpose.
Oh, you fuckers.

Trying my darndest for years now.
Can’t do it.

Try to talk in order of appearance
Try to slow down, stop swirling around and around

“Julie, you are not crazy”

Dang, I need to hear these words more often.

Folks, I will not shut up.  This lady with the dog is here to stay.

Naw, they cannot drug me to keep me quiet.

The truth is that I am not psychotic like people think.  My brain is starved, so I cannot tell a story properly and it comes out all jumbled and funny-sounding.  But still, I tell a damn good story.  Some look at me, shake their heads, and walk away and tell themselves I don’t make sense when I talk.  Some think I speak in metaphor and dismiss me and just say, “Well, she’s a writer, they all talk like that.”

Some see the mania that was caused by the drug and they don’t see the person inside. They laugh at my jokes and think I should stay on this drug.  But I have not slept in days.  I explain that I cannot keep living like this or my body will deteriorate.  But some like the me that tells jokes and puns and makes instant metaphor, and dislike the dark me, the me that speaks of death and cries sometimes.

I knew I had to come off the drug slowly, as slowly as I could, to avoid a crash.  But I did crash.  I awoke and decided I had to die that night.  I don’t know what happened.  Guess I fell asleep.  I don’t remember.  My body always wins over.  I think  should I truly succeed at this act someday, it will be the decision of my body not to interfere with my brain’s determination to cut my life short.  It was around noon I decided I would reach out.

Several times, the people I was attempting to contact forgot about my existence.  This of course should not happen and I am telling you, folks, life revolves around red tape.  Why do I say this?  Stuff like insurance can change the course of a life, and stuff like a number written wrong on a form can mean a payment not made, and a hassle that can change the course of a life.  The wrong number called in, one wrong digit, can mean the EMT’s show up at the wrong apartment or home and that means delay.  One wrong digit can mean the wrong medication is given.  I have seen this happen.  So that day, whatever day it was, red tape happened to me.  The people handling my case forgot about me and it was up to me to phone them several times and say, “Hey, it’s me, Julie Greene and I exist in the world, and guess what?  You might have a lot of patients who are cutting their hands off right now, and I might have this stupid vanity illness that seems very, very trivial to you, but I fucking matter and you know something?  I’d like to inform you that people drop dead of this thing anorexia nervosa all the time.”

But I guess they forgot about me and kinda passed the buck or whatever…I felt like I wasn’t very important to them throughout the ordeal, that I had to keep calling them and reminding them that I exist.  I never did get evaluated.  I called the whole thing off, getting tired of feeling ignored.


First, they tried to lock me up in the state hospital to shut me up.  For whatever reason, M had partnered up with Mass General to get me into this state hospital in July 2011.  The doctor at the next hospital I was at in September revealed this plan to me, but it didn’t go through.  I got out of the hospital later that month.  Then, in outpatient therapy, M threatened me, “Julie, you belong in the state hospital” every time I went to her office.  I made the decision to fire her in February.  Why?  I didn’t like the fear that I would end up incarcerated hanging over my head.  That was one of the main reasons.

One of the other reasons was that I didn’t like being emotionally jerked around all the time.  This therapist was a master of that for sure.  People who do that sort of thing should get out of the business.


Oh jesus, so tired, gotta sleep.

Love you all.  I know you’re out there.  See ya later, alligators.


Something I wrote that sums up the past couple of years….

Someone is coming to see me shortly but I have opened my journal and found this and I want to share it real quick.

This is written in pencil.  I always write in pencil these days cuz it is neater.  The statement is undated but I believe I wrote it at the end of February.  It is the last time I wrote in this journal and now it is June.  I made the mistake of seeing a therapist at that time who was sort of a scam.  I went downhill as a result.  I believe I abandoned the journal at that time.  I have been struggling for several months.  Actually, I’d say I’ve been struggling for much, much longer than that.  The whole past bunch of years have been fucked.

Here’s what I wrote:

I make sense on paper only

This is because I type the wrong letters
many crossouts sometimes even
the backspace key does the wrong thing
After hours, my document is done.
Nobody even cares enough to read
what has taken me a day to prepare.
I have anorexia nervosa and suffer
from malnutrition so I suppose
I’m not worth it.


I gotta run folks.