Tomorrow morning is my Mental Status Exam. In other words, all that’s ever meant to me, anyway, it’s a Psych Eval. Another Psych Eval. My own psychiatrist’s assessment isn’t enough – a fellow who sees me twice a week for therapy and medication management. A psychologist, a lesser expert on this particular matter in my opinion, has to put in his own two cents and put me through hell doing it!!! He doesn’t even know me!!! I very intensely resent that. I’ve been physically and mentally ill, a wreck, since I was notified of the Psych Eval on 25 July 2018. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus. The anxiety and apprehension just keeps building and it’s at a fever pitch right now! I have PTSD. STRESS DOESN’T HELP PTSD!!! Just for the record. I won’t sleep tonight, either, I’m sure. I’m nauseous, and I can’t tell if it’s from the anxiety, the medications, or not eating. It’s probably from all three! I have a headache because my blood pressure and pulse are up. I’m having a physical reaction to this, as well as a mental one!!! Psych Evals are one of those things that are in the eye of the beholder, and you hope the beholder writes down something in your favor instead of screwing you over. I can’t climb today because it’s too hot and the climbing gym’s closed. What to do?!
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.
