Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I had a bunk bed with shelves and new mattresses, all picked out. Then my mom goes and throws a bunch of shit in there. Not so bad but right in the way of where the bunk bed will be. I peeked in the boxes, and it appeared to be mostly Liam’s (my nephew) old toys. I remember her mentioning something about how valuable they all were. Maybe she intends to sell or donate them. Interesting idea… toys are too expensive now and his toys were valuable when bought and all in great condition. A donation of several boxes of like-new toys would be a godsend to any charity outfit right now.

New Year’s Eve is staring at me down the barrel of a gun. I want to have that guest room ready. I don’t think it’s going to happen. I keep clearing the space and then something appears in it again. Too much crap! And my mother likes to hoard. Sometimes I have to put my foot down and then she is all depressed and butthurt. I will get a bed in there, eventually. I found the perfect one.

My doctor wants to see me. They called and said it is time for my annual exam with labs and tests and everything to check that my meds are working and that my mental health is staying mostly stable. At the VA and in my case, it is a combined psych/physical exam designed to look at the whole person. They ask me questions like do I have food? Am I in stable housing? And things like that. The psych part of it asks about voices, delusions, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, and a bunch of other stuff like that. One time at an assessment I was manic and spoke at length, for 45 minutes, of my time on the TOR browser buying bitcoin for five bucks and meeting fellow horror fans. My speech veered off into several related topics, and I lost the main point. The doctor, for his part, listened patiently and made notes.

The VA is never judgy of me, but I still get nervous when under the doctor’s microscope. I don’t like being exposed. I am private and paranoid by nature. They will want my blood and I hate getting my blood drawn. It makes me sick to my stomach. But I can’t imagine being able to live as I do without the VA, so I pretty much do most of what they tell me because I actually trust them. Working for them is frustrating as fuck sometimes, which is normal politics during normal times. These are not normal times. The VA is successfully staying out of the limelight. Avoiding attention. Our construction projects are going ahead as planned. My own unit saw a major expansion, set to open any minute. We will need a lot more staff. The VA is still hiring, despite common misconception that there is no federal hiring at all. We need patient care staff, namely CNAs, nurses, and DOCTORS. A lot of the people I used to know who worked in this field with me have moved on, especially after covid devastated us. I wouldn’t exactly recommend being a CNA but if you do, work anywhere but nursing homes. Hospitals, adult family homes, rehab…. anything but a nursing home. Where hope goes to die and despair is rampant.