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« on: April 07, 2004, 05:05:00 PM »
***I should be able to take responsibility for my own life.
No matter what help you were given you made a decision to stay miserable.
If bad things are still happening to me at an alarming rate then the repair is quite simple. I quit volunteering to be a victim.
I am in control of my life now, no one else is. What happens is by my choice.
No one at this point is preventing you from having a good life but the man in the mirror.
Whatever you hated, use that by avoid placing yourself in harms way to repeat a need to experience it again.
I have found my world improves by me helping to improve it, not by tearing it down.
Shame on me for not enjoying all of them to my fullest.***
Wow, that is so amazing. First of all, that you can string THAT many cliches together and still be (internally, at least) coherent.
[SIDE NOTE: Wouldn't this make a WONDERFUL drinking game? When it's your turn, you have to come up with a BS recovery cliche AND recite the other participants' cliches. Miss one, take a drink. You obviously weren't PAYING ATTENTION!!! You need to WORK HARDER!!!]
But, more importantly, that you are so frigging clueless about life. I just hope that you've let go of some of this crap before life REALLY starts buffetting you around. Losing your children, your siblings, your parents before their times isn't "volunteering to be a victim." Having a terminal illness isn't "volunteering to be a victim." Losing your home or your livelihood through an accident isn't "volunteering to be a victim." It's BAD LUCK, you moron, and the last thing anyone needs when it happens is to feel GUILTY. I'm sure all the families of people who died in Iraq really need you and your explanations of why they put themselves in harm's way.
I was put into a program because I had committed the cardinal sin of having depression. No matter how hard anyone tried, they couldn't make me happy. I was "determined to be miserable."
[ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: Who the fuck decides to be miserable? Are these the same mythical creatures who wake up from their heretofore perfect lives and decide to be manipulative?]
So anyway, back to me and my "no reason to be depressed." Let me tell you, months of physical and verbal abuse in "treatment" didn't help either. After treatment, I talked and related and fedback and confessed and cried for 10 years and it didn't do me one single bit of good.
It was never going to do me one bit of good, either. See, I come from a long line of women with depression. Both my grandmothers were treated for it, as was my mother. Before them, there's a whole line of women on both sides who were "nervous" and just went to bed for years on end. Of course no one bothered to mention this when they were telling the "therapists" how "Jenny is just determined to be unhappy." Once I told an actual doctor about my family history and my symptoms, he finally gave me something that helped. Medication. Yep, that little blue and yellow pill -- my DRUG -- made all the difference. It didn't solve all my problems, it just made my brain work right for the first time since I could remember. I had no more ability to control my depression by talking or being talked [YELLED] at than a diabetic can control their blood sugar by sitting one of those interminable groups.
But nobody in treatment could see that. They knew what was wrong with me -- they know what's wrong with everyone -- before they even knew I existed. They break you down and give you that social darwinist crap to make up for all the things you need and aren't getting. An adequately functioning brain, help learning, a stable environment, parents who truly care about you, self-esteem, you're not going to get any of that at PFC. You may not get some of it at all, but everyone deserves it.