F.U.B.A.R.

   One of the first things I did when I got out of the hospital was broadcast this website far and wide. I sent it to hospitals. I sent it to friends (including Health Dept). I sent it to all my providers. I sent it everywhere. There had been such a colossal and utter lack of listening that the only thing I knew for sure is that if I was going down, everyone was going to know why. Even if they chose to ignore the truth, they would at least hear it. 

    There's been forced medication, threats, manipulation, backstabbing, sabotage, medication carousels, diagnostic bullshit, and never ending chaos. When there is no listening, life is merely a long process of screaming into the wind, with the only result being that you hear your own echoes now and then. 

    Then they wonder why my counselor insisted on keeping going. It was because she had been in the storm with me, and knew the insanity that was my life first hand. She knew it all. She knew why I had to stop talking to certain people, she knew why my medication was fucked, she knew all about CCBH, she knew everything. "Lean on your counselor" Artstick said. My counselor was all that was keeping me in one piece day by day, as the world moved to obliterate me piece by piece. 

    And yet I still test the wind and put my ear to the ground, even as the weather has calmed. I keep vigilant for danger. They call it paranoia. I call it common sense. My life has become FUBAR... FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION. I still have weird headaches, feel on edge, constantly looking for danger. No believes me, no one actually listens. It's just one long bullshit train and I just can't get off. Will anyone ever acknowledge the truth? Will anyone ever see the failure of the system? Or will they continue to bury it and play games? Will my life be an endless series of playing along, going through motions, pretending? Will it ever be REAL again? I'm still testing the wind and keeping my ear to the ground. Trust is a risk.