Quelle est la date aujourd'hui? in Mental Masturbation in Montréal: Confessions from the Boulevard

So. I'm one week in to the brain-zapping. Five more to go. Is it working? It's hard to say because I am in near-constant agony and it makes me a little... cranky. And unreasonable. And a tad stabby.

FUCK.

Also, I really think it's too soon to tell because everything I've read suggests that it doesn't really "kick in" until after the second week or so. Plus, other variables come into play - like: how long you've been officially krazykakez and how many buckets of various meds you've swallowed over the years like a compliant little mental patient, etc. Not that my actual psychiatrist appears to know any of this and she's RUNNING THE GODDAMNED PROGRAM!!! I understand the daily required note-taking time-line assessment that precedes each treatment but she's starting to grate on my (ALREADY EXTREMELY-FINELY GRATED) nerves with her utter incredulous-ness when she asks me:

"So?!?!?! How are you?!?!! Feel better yet?!?! No?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!/???? Not YET????? HOW ABOUT NOW?!?!?!?!?!????????"

When I report that there's been no change and/or no noticeable improvement, she looks... baffled. It's like she wants me to tell her shit that's not true? After one week? I feel like she "leading the witness", ferchrissakes. I feel confused and irritated by her. I'm THIS CLOSE to saying to her:

"Uhhh, dood. You seriously need to settle down and might I suggest that you re-read YOUR OWN RESEARCH FINDINGS that indicate: the variables, the length of treatment time required before there is any response, the two different treatment models (different target areas of the brain using different frequencies) PLUS, the mixed results in terms of "improvement" and/or "remission"."

Instead, I remain polite and answer truthfully. So far? No improvement. And your barely-concealed shock/disbelief is doing NOTHING to inspire much confidence in me, as your patient, jus' sayin'. Ugh. Like, do all the other depressed malcontents prance on up to the machine and zzzzztt! after one treatment, they're all magically cured and start shitting rainbows and glitter? Uhhh... unlikely. SIGH. Oh, look! It's yet ANOTHER bumbling psychiatrist! Weird, right?!

ANYGAY. I'ma keep going. I decided to do three weeks (half the course) and if there's no improvement, I'm officially done. Also, I've got bigger fish to fry... such as whether or not I need a goddamned KNEE-REPLACEMENT at forty-fucking-three-years-old. Just call me Gimpy! Plus, I'm still on my first go-round of:

"Hey there, Doc... do I have a cancerous mass in my belly, or not? Just wondering! LULZ!"

Hoping to level up soon!

In other news, my lease reassignment went well. Not really but I have ZERO energy to type out the

fucking. giant. fucking. clusterfuck. fucking. headache.

it was so... yeah.

DONE!

Onward ho, motherfuckerz! Also, Peter was here last week and we looked at apartments and are waiting to hear back on two of them. And it's official! My-gurl-Drew got into the university of her choosing, here in the 514, yo. Yay, Drew!

Let's pause and reflect on how all three of my kids have gotten through high school with Honours and have been accepted into the university of their choice.

pauses, reflects

For real, though. You have NO IDEA what it took to do that. We conjured that shit out of thin air.

What else? I dunno. I spend so much of my life in a state of I-want-this-part-to-be-over-now. It stems from feeling like I'm always waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and... you get the idea. It's passive. I feel like I can't do anything that affects real concrete change. Or, it's like: any changes I have managed to make are inconsequential and don't add enough ooomph to be felt in the day-to-day. I also feel like mental illness, depression, mood-dysregulation, WHATEVER-THE-FUCK-IT-IS - has stolen my life. A life I haven't really enjoyed nor wanted on most days. I feel stuck. I can't accept it the way it is and I can't seem to transcend it, either. What a precious gift! Lather, rinse, repeat.

I would KILL to see a therapist. Waiting, waiting, waiting.