At last, I have returned.
yesterday, I sent off the final manuscript for the latest treatise, and totaling 178 pages, it is looking succinct, which is not something I am used to. I have decided to post this entry to talk about some personal issues nevertheless, as today, it was suggested by a “duty psychiatrist” that I have a “personality disorder.” Of course, I saw his notion as a joke, especially as it weren’t even approximate to a diagnosis, but some rhetoric I was given after I forced his hand. At last, I am left wondering how the publication of Making Malone might change my life.
In the office, I fed him a remarkable tale of pain and anguish, which he didn’t seem particularly moved by (although I imagine that he is covering his tracks seen as his team lost my Oct 26 2009 assessment, and seen as his June 16 2011 assessment was inconclusive.) I imagine that he is deliberately obscuring the issue, as was indicated when he started asking me questions I had already divulged in previous meetings, but also, I think his organization (establishment) might support the con as they obviously have much to lose. This being so, he has to “maintain face.”
It is interesting to note that after I asked him for a diagnosis and an intervention, he was lost. He said he didn’t think I had psychosis, or any other glamorous illness, and yet, when I said that I thought the notion of a personality disorder was so insignificant, it was both invalidating and insulting, he played with words again, by saying that it can be serious. After he repeated this spiel, I asked him to be more concrete, and so with his arm twisted, he finally conceded that my personality disorder is [serious]. This is irrelevant, however, as before the appointment, I suggested I were seen by another doctor without a vested interest in maintaining the stat quo, and although the team said they would provide someone impartial to sit in on the assessment, as is typical, this did not materialize.
At least he was accurate on some grounds. He said, for instance, that he thought I had some clear difficulties in managing emotions and coping. I am aware that I have significant difficulties that affect (and hamper) my ability to properly, appropriately and/or effectively function in the world, which put me at a handicap. Of course, “therapy” has failed, and also, thinking that medication is a joke, I have concluded what I knew back in May 2007 – I am disadvantaged from being over-advantaged.
Even if the repressive, racist establishment cannot conceive and will never concede it, I am gifted, and being non-white, the chances are I will be misdiagnosed. I am gifted, but operating within the context of a white supremacist structure, I am incapacitated, I am disabled and I am impaired, as people who are motivated by the supreme ideal of justice must be impeded, disempowered or in some way, handicapped. I am no exception. The only way to correct this imbalance is to thus, treat me as a disabled person, and this simply means, subsidize my existence. Since they will not acknowledge my gifts and recognize the potential to be realized, they must categorize me as an urgent case; as a priority needing and deserving the treatment and services made available to the dangerously vulnerable and helplessly disabled.
I am a child because they have made me dependent, and left me like that. I am their toy; their doll; their play-thing; their object. I am their creation.