I’m probably losing my eyesight and I’m not upset over it. The reason is that it is beyond hilarious. I shouldn’t be losing my eyesight at 59 and I am sure it was caused by psychiatric drugs. However, clearly I am not going to mention this to the eye doctor or he’ll say, “Hmm, well you need to go to a psychiatrist then. Why aren’t you on psychiatric drugs now?” And he’d insist that I make an appointment right then and there. Not only that, but the ole diagnosis would get right back on my records. Do I want that? No. So I don’t say a word. I shrug. And I haven’t been back to an ophthalmologist in ages and ages.
I laugh over any errors I make. I lose many things. If I drop it on the floor, it’s as good as “disappeared” until I find it again, weeks later. Gone. Or I use the “sweeping it up” method. I do not buy dark-colored things that easily get lost. Not that I like bright colors but these are the only colors I can locate anymore.
Please don’t be a sobbing jerk and say, “I’m sorry for your pain.” I’m not in pain, if you have been reading carefully, or reading at all. I’m having a blast, living my life. How about you? I don’t want “services” that remind me of my “mental patient” days. I don’t want a van. That would be so insulting. I don’t want nurses. I want to be left alone. I don’t want a dreaded “program.”
People develop skills like anyone else. People figure out workarounds or substitutes. People make do. I can, too. Leave me alone to figure it out. I can, and you can, too. Don’t shove your “help” at me anymore. If I really wanted “help” I’d have asked for it ages ago.
So today I looked and looked for my clear “Magic” tape and realized I’ve lost two rolls of it. One that was on my desk and the other (in a bright green case) in the kitchen seems to be gone. I pawed around for it. That’s what I do. I feel around with my hands when my eyes fail me. That, too, didn’t work. So I used masking tape instead, and told myself I will purchase five or six rolls of clear tape and place them around my apartment from now on so this won’t happen again.
I write stuff with Sharpie markers, since now, I can’t see what I write in regular pen. I have a collection of Sharpies since if I only owned one, I’d lose that one Sharpie. I have Sharpies all over the house. How are you “coping”?
They didn’t teach us this in group. They taught us the opposite. They trained us to be dependent and needy. They taught us to fall apart and then, call the therapist and go running to the hospital on the weekend. Please tell me to fall apart and dial an 800 number for “services” that will make me helpless. I do not want that. I have learned.