Epitaph

Here lies Ashes and Dust's Psychiatry Career...

He was born...

He played...

She talked...

She learned...

He argued...

He programmed...

He listened...

He carried...

She Taxed...

She wrote...

She cooked...

She cleaned...

He was a teammate and captain...

He traveled and endured...

He learned to live again...

He continued to walk, not run.

Rest in Pieces.

Now if y'all shrinks don't mind, I need to de-DSM, de-medicalize, de-perfectionize, and de-traumatize this state a bit. So as much as I know you hate me, I'll be spreading the word... I'll grab my incense and go around throwing it in the air like holy water...

Drugs are bad! Mmmmmkay!?!

DSMs are bad! Mmmmkay?!?

Oh brother where art thou? Oh yes, on the other side. Accountability is a bitch. Dead or alive, people will know the dangers of toxic masculinity, Bipolar bullshit, Medicalized Perfectionism, and the insanity that is Psychiatry... You've given me my life's purpose. You did think you were Gods. Well, sometimes what you create turns against you. If you spout enough bullshit, it can happen. You do it long enough, you create a life's purpose. And potentially some legal action. You want me to give it up? You drop your rocks, I'll drop mine. But please don't ask me to talk or run around. I'm tired. If you need something, put it in writing so I can have three different people verify and hold you to it. I'm tired of this shit.

You can't medicate this shit away. It simply doesn't happen. I think two comas proved that.

This is miseducation, moving standards and high standards. This is poor boundaries and greed. This is what it looks like. Take a good look. Here it is. I'm tired of hiding it. You fuck up this state. We'll have a problem. Go ahead, ship me out. Demonize me. Bipolarize me. Dehumanize me. Do all the Izings. Do the Isms. The Sexisms and the racisms and all that. Pass the guilt and the blame and the anger around. Go ahead. You wanna shut me up? I'm 43. I'm human I can die. People will still know. You can rebrand PRISMA. You can lie to me. People will find out. I may not be that smart. But people figure things out. You can play this hospital against that, this center against that, this state against that, this doctor against that. You wanna bury me? You're coming too. We all die someday. Plenty of shovels. We can dig graves or we can dig out foundations and build things. But my energy is limited. As far as I know the FBI has eyes on me. And yes I know the law and I know your damned DSM. Just leave it alone. Back off Angry, and let angry back off too.

If you want to hear my words, you can read. Text. Email. Website. Voicemail, but I may respond via text communication or a professional. I'm tired. Don't push me. You can't reprogram people nor drug them away. You put them in comas that way. Waste of resources if you ask me. I'm not perfect, I'm just pissed off. Don't play with fire. You get burnt that way.

People keep trying to influence me or shut me up. Now I have to file reports with this State/Federal Agency and screen all communications. It's exhausting me. GO READ SOMETHING ELSE. I'M NOT THAT IMPORTANT AND I'M NOT THAT DANGEROUS. I just have a job to do. I'm getting federal funds. Might as well help the federal government keep this state clean and healthy.