nccotus

that day in Texas when the psychiatrist rendered a diagnosis of partial complex seizures was such a desperate thrill. I went to pick up Alex at work. Unfortunately he was having some trouble that day and was delayed. In my desperation I called him an asshole. He said, “I am not an asshole.” He was angry. I didn’t mean it. It was just something to say. I was so screwed. It was something that was left over from an old relationship. So I was left to tell it to my mother who blocked me.

I hung on to that through thick and thin all these years. How depressing. Too much to say. EEG after EEG.

Alex said, “You’re not that special.” He just didn’t get it. About the diagnosis of schizophrenia and how it was blocking me from getting help from real issues that were desperately pressing.

the mole wart pressing on nerves in my face that made me go away in my mind and the broken pud that made me sexually weird. I didn’t know then what to say but I do now. Obviously being kneed in the crotch gave me seizures.

Alex did’t know anything about me at Kent School or Harvard. All he knew was that I was an indecent presence at the state hospital. Obviously. They fried my pud. I didn’t know who I was or where i was. I was all but dead there.

i don’t know what his motives were. I assumed he was legit. It seemed like a suitable marriage but everything felt all wrong.

All these years later is am looking for it to make sense. We had a kid. Whom I love so dearly. Who was getting hurt. I am saving be to save him. What else can I do?

it’s all about my parents continuing to block a real diagnosis after all these years.