Category Archives: Rage

Why we don’t take our pills and why we’re still human

This post is in response to the fact that the world is terrible.

Well. This blog is in response to that. But this specific post regards a specific terribility. Namely, how the instant that a mentally ill person stops taking their medication, they become evil, irresponsible, terrible, sub-human non-people.  Even in secular, pro-social-justice spaces, Not Being Medicated is regarded as pretty much a crime. Because HOW COULD YOU, mental illness is clearly so heinous that you are but one missed dose away from eating a basket of kittens alive or something like that. As such, mentally ill people are obligated to take their pills. They don’t get choices. Nope.

Now, see here, that is fucked up something awful. Aside from the basic notion of bodily autonomy that is “you get to decide what goes into your body,” which of course doesn’t apply to mentally ill people because we’re not people with things like bodily autonomy, there are a lot of damn good reasons why we can say we don’t take our pills.

Some reasons can be summed up under the broad topic of “not fucking worth it.” Psychoactive drugs are not magic. Mental health care is not magic. Because these things are Not Magic, there are flaws. Some are minor, some are big and blinking with neon signage and their own zip code. For instance,  there’s money. My pills all together, after insurance, cost me $60 a month (on top of the co-pay at the doctor). If I was on a tighter budget, that’d be a choice between pills, or… cutting my eating for the month in half. Or not buying gas. And what good are pills to make you happy if you’re starving with a dead car? NOT MUCH GOOD. And that’s with insurance. Being mentally ill people, we sometimes have trouble with the whole “keeping down a steady job” thing. Which messes up the whole “having insurance” thing. Which leads to the fun little catch-22 of not being able to buy pills, because you don’t have a job with insurance,  because you can’t afford pills. Yay!

Then there’s the whole deal of side effects. psychoactive drugs have a lot. There’s nausea, dizziness, drowziness… I once took pills that made me drowsy and tired. Not like “Oh gee I sure could use a nap!” tired. Like, my-mom-found-me-passed-out-on-the-bathroom-floor tired. Same pills, for depression I will add, also made me suicidal. LOL. Now, yes, that’s a matter of them being the wrong pill, and you can always change pills. Unless… you go on to the pills I am now, which thankfully work because if they didn’t, I would be completely screwed. In short, miss a dose? You get a magical thing called brain shocks. They’re about as fun as they sound, I promise. And they can last a loooong time after you go off of that pill. (My doctor didn’t feel the need to warn me about this. If she had, I would have nope’d her to the moon.)

But wait, I could just fix my brain zap problem if I just stuck to my pills!

Except no. Because for me, sticking to my pills is not a choice. I try. I try really hard to. But with autism comes problems with executive function, and with depression comes lack of motivation, so all at once I have difficulty doing tasks like “take pills daily at same time every day” and on the other I have “Oh god, I need to take my pills… but I can’t even move. Lol guess that’s not happening.” This results in a bajillion missed doses, and even more doses when the same issues mean I don’t get my prescriptions refilled in time and just straight up don’t have pills. Of course, I could commit myself to an institution or live with my parents and have people who constantly remind me to take my pills, but that would honestly trigger so many issues in my brain that it would counteract any benefit the medication would give me.

Which leads to the third part of why it’s okay to hate pills, which is… the mental health system. I’ve written about the fun adventure I’ve had with it before. If you haven’t read those posts, the short story is “holy shit fuck the mental health system.” It’s an abusive, ableist structure filled with a whole lot of power-abusing authority and not enough people who are decent. I’ve seen abuse and neglect, I’ve seen terrified patients, I’ve seen threats and fearmongering, I’ve seen some shit go down in the name of helping people (helping them, my ass- it’s more an industry of fucking with them until they’re normal or killing them off) and it overall gives you a bad taste in your mouth for the idea of mental health in general. So when you’re surrounded by people  buying in to the hate perpetuated by abusive doctors, insisting that you’re not human until you take the magic pills, insisting that you relinquish all of your rights the moment you stop medicating yourself, insisting that if you don’t take your pills of your own free will you’ll end up being forced… the natural human reaction, the natural human rebellion, is to say no.

Say, “Fuck you, I am a human being no matter what I choose to ingest or what I choose not to, and I’m not going to do what you want.”

It might hurt to do it. It hurts to be off your pills, after all. Whether it’s withdrawal or the feeling of the pain of mental illness creeping back into your brain, it just hurts. But it doesn’t always hurt as bad as the memory of the “therapist” from the mental hospital you’d been abused in telling you that if you don’t admit yourself to their hospital you’ll just try to kill yourself. It doesn’t always hurt as bad as the scorn you feel cast upon you when you admit you’ve forgotten to take your pills. It doesn’t always hurt as bad as the inherent judgement embedded within the phrase “did you remember your pills?” And sometimes, saying no, saying that you will be a human being who can make their own choices no matter what pills you do or don’t take, feels sweeter than all of the pain in the world. Sometimes it’s just plain liberating.

So if someone confides in you that they didn’t take their medication for whatever reason, the answer is not to scold them. It’s not to call the cops on them. It’s not to threaten them, or declare them a threat.

Offer them support. They’re probably hurting in some form, from withdrawal or from hatred, and the one medication that mentally ill people can use more than anything- yet are so often denied- is unconditional care, support, and understanding. Give them that.


My uterus is subjugating me

I thought this warranted telling the internet.

Also I’m crazy again and shopping for diagnoses.

Thanks, Connecticut Shooting reporters talking endlessly on mental illness. Now I get to wonder about *what* disorder I have again. That way I know how likely I am to be a serial killer.

(seriously though fuck you)


Eventually I think that I’m going to put up some posts on the crazy I’ve gone through lately. This does require a general lack of crazy though.

Connecticut Shootings

Some asshole opens fire on a classroom of children.

Twenty children dead, six teachers too.

Holy shit, find someone to blame.

Something to blame.

It was autism.

He was crazy.

“Paranoid personality disorder.”

He was avoidant.

He was a sociopath.

Don’t talk to the psychologists.

Don’t talk to any psychologists.

Had to be a disorder.

A sane person wouldn’t do that.

But an autistic person would.

A paranoid person would.

“The disordered” would.

Blame them.

Blame the disorders.

No disorders, no murder.

That was the cause.

So lets make it harder.

Lets treat them even worse.

The paranoid,

The autistic,

Let’s treat them even worse.

Stigmatize them further.

Make it even harder to get help.

That’s the only thing there is.

That’s the only thing to change.

That’s the only reason that two dozen people died.


Nothing to do with flying metal.

Being shot out rapidly.

One after another.

Out of a machine.

Explicitly designed for murder.

Into a child’s body.

Don’t think of that.

Don’t mention that.

We want to keep our guns.

We want our second amendment.

Our right to assault weapons.

Because we definitely need them.

Don’t blame the guns.

The guns don’t kill people.

People kill people.

(So long as you believe the mentally ill are people)


But don’t take our guns.

Violence would still remain.

People will just attack with knives.

(ignore for now that they’re less deadly)

I need my assault rifle.

It’s such a fun toy.

I don’t care if having it

means someone else doesn’t have a child.

This is all just a conspiracy.

You want to take our guns away.

What we need is more guns clearly

Add another set of bullets

Put a kid in two crossfires

That’ll make everything better.

Just don’t take our guns away.

Take the crazies away instead.

That’s the best of both worlds really.

Lets have guns and eugenics too.

Is this supposed to be poem or am i just typing weird?! The world shall never know.


Who the hell shoots 20 fucking kids. And 7 adults on the side.

Don’t answer “people with personality disorders.” Just don’t. People with personality disorders don’t do that either. People with schizophrenia don’t do that.

We don’t know what makes people do that. Scapegoating people with mental illnesses doesn’t do anyone any good.

Unless your version of good is to relegate an entire group into a feared, second-class citizenship.

Or “Make it harder for people with mental illnesses to get help.”

I have personality disorders. Or I think I do, anyways- I fit the diagnoses- but I can’t get an actual one.


“Hey mom, I need to see a psychologist.”


“I think I have a personality disorder.”

“Like the dude who shot up an elementary school?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

We just can’t handle the truth

So, A+

It’s a pretty great thing, I think. I like it so far.

In short, it’s a place where like minded pro-social-justice atheists can talk about social justice. This, of course, is the most heinous thing conceived since Klara and Alois Hitler decided to get it on in 1888.

But there are those brave freedom fighters, boldly entering into enemy territory to let everyone know how many issues they have with our criminal usage of words and letters and mathematical operators and SOMETIMES, all of those things together at once. Needless to say, they forgo the parts of the forum meant for such discussions and launch themselves ass-first into the place dedicated to serious discussion by those who are beyond “but what about the name”. Then they, the poor, brave souls, face a vicious onslaught of being told that they’re posting in the wrong forum, sometimes even with the harsh censorship of having a thread locked and redirected to the proper area. At the worst. It is at this point that they cry out the same thing, albeit with minor variations from person to person:

“Ha, I KNEW it! You don’t truly value skepticism, and you freely censor anyone who dares to disagree with you! You just can’t handle the PURE and RAW TRUTH that I, in my greatness, have bestowed upon you, as it differs with your own views!”

I have a young niece. About 6 months old. Every now and then she and her family visits.

The last time she was here she began crying. This was no ordinary cry. With no warning nor any provocation, she began to cry a cry that I only ever expected to hear from a human child if it was in the process of being fed through a meat grinder. It was so terrible that I zoned out a little, and despite my staunch Atheism I began to see potential logic behind the idea that suffering can lead to enlightenment, because for a moment I ascended into a Zen-like state of mind, if only to detach myself from the body currently being savaged by the hellish noise. Just, you know, to give you a good image of how horribly fucking annoying the crying was. Now, was this because within the raucous banshee shriek being emitted by my niece there was encoded a set of truths so pure, so unknowable, and yet so horribly at odds with my own beliefs that it drove me into madness?

Well, ah, I’ll put my money on no.

If instead of reading their posts on a forum I was listening to these self-absorbed idiots in person as they shouted out their bile, I’ve got this really funny feeling that they might sound like babies being fed through a meatgrinder.


TRIGGER WARNING: The word ‘stupid’, the word ‘misogynist’, naughty bad words, words, punctuation, images, colors, lines, fluffy hampster creatures, people, shirts, monitors, keyboards, tables, chairs, viking paraphernalia, trigger warnings.

Right. So. I made a thing to address a, um, pressing issue.
Read more of this post

Conversations rarely go as you would want them to

I was watching food network earlier.

For the uninitiated, food network is filled to the goddamned brim with gay people. Show hosts, major stars, competitors on shows… quite frankly, it’s fantastic. It’s like a glimpse into this magical post-gay world where you can be as gay as you want and hey, who cares because you are in fucking gay mecca. Learning to cook for your partner? More power to you. Competing on a show to get an up in life after being kicked out of your house because you’re gay? Good for you.

This along with the lack of typical TV sexism makes Food Network my favorite goddamned channel. No matter what shit is on the other channels, I always know that if I’m on Food Network, the most viscerally disturbing thing I might see is some dude sauteing a brain. Which, honestly, you get used to. Not so with bigotry.

Sadly, this magical land where everyone frolics through gay paradise munching on duck testicles and salmon flavored ice cream is thoroughly shattered should I make the mistake of watching said magical land with… basically anyone.


Because straight assholes find the gay people on food network REALLY GODDAMN FUNNY.

And of course, they like to be vocal about it. Really vocal. They also like to give their takes on the lives of gay people while unknowingly sitting across from a gay person. So ironic! In that aneurysm kind of way.

To highlight what I mean, here’s a conversation I just had, after Anne Burrell mentioned that a competitor on her show impressed her because he was an openly gay chef in the South.

What was said:

“Why do we care if he’s gay in the South?” “Why don’t they ever say ‘Openly gay chef in the North’ !?” “Did he just have nothing else special about him?”

What I said:

“Anne Burrell is gay, so she understands and respects the danger he puts himself into by being openly gay in a non-gay-friendly area.”

What I wanted to say:


The reply, after insisting I prove that Anne Burrell was gay:

“Why is it so hard for him to be gay in the south though? Are people just going ‘oh ew a gay guy made my food!?”

What I said:

“The South particularly tends to be a backwards, overly religious and dangerous place to be gay,  so he’s putting himself in danger by being out”

What I wanted to say:

A young lesbian couple was shot in the head execution-style in Corpus Christi a few weeks ago. Just saying.”

The reply:

“Well it’s just so weird how many gay people are on Food Network! There’s a ton of them!”

What I said:

“Probably because so many of the stars are openly gay, and they feel comfortable being out whereas they cover themselves up otherwise.”

What I wanted to say:

“Probably because of how many chefs start out working in kitchens because they’re homeless, and a lot of people are homeless because they’re gay. Also, it’s a welcoming environment.”

The conversation continued:

“What is with gay guys’ voices? Are their voices like that because they’re gay or are they gay because their voices are like that?”

What I said:

“There are gay guys without ‘gay’ lisps and straight guys with them. You just notice the former more and you insist the latter are really gay.”

What I wanted to say:

“Fuck you and your homophobic-ass question.”

The reply:

“There are not straight people with gay lisps!”

What I said:

“There are, you just don’t believe them.”

What I wanted to say:

“No really fuck you.”

A little later:

(mocking the gay competitor, who has a shaved head) “Also I’m going to die of cancer. Or AIDS. Get it? AIDS. AIDS. It’s a joke. Come on. Laugh. It’s funny. I’m making a joke about ass sex. It’s funny.” (Yes, the ‘conversation’ was really like that’)

What I said:

Nothing. I stared silently at the TV until the barrage of “come on it’s a funny joke laugh” ended. Then I just said “No.”

What I wanted to say:


What I wanted to say more eloquently:

“All gay men don’t have anal sex, and for those who do the risk of AIDS is the same as if they were in a straight relationship having unprotected anal sex at the same rate. Also, fuck you.”

And this was where the conversation ended, because everyone had gone off to do other things and I was pissed off and left to write this blog post.

Some day, I’m going to come out to them. I decided a long time ago that this will not be until I’m entirely financially independent of them. I’m going to let them know that. And I will wait for them to ask why I didn’t trust them earlier.

And while they feel hurt and confused that their lesbian daughter didn’t feel she could trust them with something like that, I’m going to be laughing on the inside. And then I’ll tell them “because you guys are homophobic pieces of shit.”

And I will love their anguish. Poor them.

(Also I will wonder why they did not see it coming, I mean really)


Is how long I’ve been on my period. Still going strong.

Seriously, four days ago and we’d be half done with a biblical flood.

some build a fucking ark, because if this goes on any longer I’ll start killing cute animals.

Maybe drowning them.

I can’t wait until I go to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow! I can’t remember if the sheet asks the length of an average period or the length of your last period, but it’ll be DAMNED FUN writing a double-fucking-digit number in that space.

I don’t even know what I’ll put down for what I came in for. “I’ve had my period for over three weeks” just doesn’t have much of a ring to it. Needs more capslocked “FUCKING”s.

Maybe I should bring a rake, so I have something to fuck my doctor with if he suggests that this is normal.

Then I could tell him that the bleeding is normal. I mean, that’s just your body’s natural reaction when someone FUCKS YOU WITH A RAKE.


TL;DR: My uterus tried to give birth to itself for a few hours today despite the fact that I gave up allergy medicine for midol, and women’s health care is a fucking joke.

EDIT- BONUS AWFULNESS: When I’m actually at the doctor I get to decide between answering the “what’s your sexual orientation” accurately and dealing with the stress that comes with outing myself to someone whom I don’t trust to keep such things confidential, and putting myself down as ‘straight’ like usual and hating myself as a result.

I bet the decision will involve checking boxes and then crossing them out and then rechecking them multiple times. Again.

The rage train has no breaks today.

Or sympathy.


If hell was a thing, I’d want the first guy who told a woman that being more or less disabled because of a shoddy reproductive system was a ‘blessing’ to be burning there.

Actually, everyone who says that.


Man, this is the most blindly hateful post I’ve ever made. I don’t think it even has a concise theme past “I hate everything  to do with being female.”

Except boobs.


EDIT #2- Okay my doctor got away with calling it normal.

Despite how stuff like this is listed under “contact your doctor immediately” on my pill’s side effects.

Of course, he did explain that there was a way to stop it.

Which would have been nice to hear, I dunno, when I started the pills.

But no.

“Oh right that happens and is apparently common, I just decided to not tell you what to do if it does so you could spend a month BLEEDING ENDLESSLY”

Get on birth control to be able to live without being out of commission for a week every month…

Get a ‘perfectly normal’ side effect that does the opposite of that.

Time to pine for a hysterectomy.

Don’t worry, it’s normal.

Maybe it’s even natural.

If you follow the loons that believe in alt-med and homeopathy, you’ve probably  heard something like the latter statement at the very least. Natural remedies, natural ingredients, natural natural natural. Of course, natural is meant to mean “good” here. Good, and normal.

Normal gets used a little differently. While ‘natural’ is a way to claim that entirely neutral (sometimes bad) things are good for you, ‘normal’ tends to be used to say ‘what is supposed to happen’, be the ‘normal’ thing good, bad, or fucking ugly.

You know. Racism? Normal. Cisnormativity? Normal. Heterosexuality? Normal. Religion? Normal. Carrying a rapebaby to term because abortion makes Jesus cry? Normal.

‘Normal’ is kind of just a fun way to say things like “shut up, this is how things are supposed to be” and “shut up, you shouldn’t be complaining”.

Now normally, I tend to regard arguments that involve something being ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ with general apathy. If a homeopath wants to sell his natural homeopathic arsenic antidotes, if a bigot wants to declare racism normal or homosexuality not, I’ll be more worried about the fact that they’re asshats than the words they use. I mean, they’re just words. Whether people think homosexuality is an abomination, or an abomination against nature isn’t too big a deal for me. I’ve just never felt that splitting hairs over word choice was an important thing to do.

Until now, anyways.

Some backstory: I take birth control to not have periods. Now, I’m not mentioning my need for it in the “I’m holier than all of you girls taking it for contraceptive purposes” way. I’m mentioning it because there’s a delicious bit of irony in it.

Because as a result of taking birth control to not have periods, I have had a period for two weeks now. I missed a pill, doubled up the next day (which is, for those of you who don’t take birth control, what you’re supposed to do), and continued on with life. Now, sometimes you get itty bitty babby periods because of this. Sometimes, maybe real periods.

But this time..

Two. Weeks.

And going strong.

I’ve started considering it a biblical flood, and I’m damned near tempted to start referring to tampons as “Falcor the luck dragon”. Maybe Artax, actually, because that shit is a veritable Swamp of Sadness.

Anyways, I wanted to make an appointment with my gynecologist because TWO FUCKING WEEKS. 

The receptionist’s response? “Oh, that’s normal.”


Now, my first response to this is that I do not fucking believe that this is normal. Nobody warned me of this side effect. I was told to take pills like this, not that doing so would unleash the fucking red sea upon me. 

But the more I think about it, the more that that response seems silly.

Because as far as I’m concerned, I do not give a flying fuck how normal this is.

Let me reiterate; I’ve spent the last two weeks gushing blood from my crotch. I take medication so as to not have blood gush out of my crotch when it only lasts three to four days. Why the fuck do I care if it’s normal when it’s two weeks?

Of course, maybe the receptionist just meant “nope, you’re not dying” by “it’s normal.” Which is fantastic and all, but that doesn’t mean I’m fine with it. I still want it to stop.

I’ve got an appointment with my gynecologist next Thursday. My gynecologist is a man.

If he tells me that it’s normal that I’ve turned into a bloodgeyser, I’m going to be compelled to ask him when the last time that happened to him was. You know, considering how normal it is.

Or I’ll ask the last time he had to spend each day for two weeks dealing with the fun that comes with periods.

Or constantly having to worry in the back of his mind that Artax might be dead.

Like I’ve had to.

For two weeks.

But I should really just not be complaining about it. It’s, you know, normal. Natural.

Just like the buckets of period blood I’d love to collect and present to them if they tell me that.

Time to Stop Ignoring Birth Control!

For the past few weeks I’ve been cutting down on reading blogs and paying any sort of attention to news,  because all of the rage-worthy material coming from politics and media seemed to have exploded and I couldn’t quite handle the cavalcade of stupid.

One of the biggest things causing me to avoid any media besides that containing colorful ponies was Rush Limbaugh’s recent inability to understand anything at all about birth control, health care, and basic human sympathy. As soon as I heard the gist of what happened, I pretty much decided that that was enough politics for now and cut myself off. Because of that, I never heard the exact details of the situation.

Until now! Luckily they were surrounding by commentary by Stephen Colbert or my brain would have exploded.

Of course Jon Stewart turned out to have a considerably better video, so I’ll be linking him instead.

I’m convinced he has therapeutic qualities. Not that Colbert doesn’t, he’s just not quite as wonderful. I’m still going to make a point to take my birth control with some Americone Dream someday though.

Anyways, there’s unfortunately more to Rush Limbaugh’s failing-to-act-like-a-human-being than which comedy news show host handled it better. That being, Rush Limbaugh’s failing-to-act-like-a-human-being.

As I mentioned before, I never quite got the entire picture of what exactly he did before now. There were details I missed. Namely, that he thinks that women receiving insured birth control need to post sex tapes on the internet. Of course there’s a lot more wrong with all of the awful things he said besides that, but the misunderstandings on how birth control and private insurance works along with how terrible a human being he is have been covered extensively already. This in particular actually wins the award for “Most Revolting Thing Said in 2012 So far” in my book. It’s a special kind of creepy to me.

Now of course any person with any human decency will probably be disturbed by this. Women, moreso. Women on birth control, even more than that!

But there’s a little nuance that I picked up on that I haven’t seen anyone mention yet, that makes it that much more cringe-worthy.

Does Rush realize that there are women under 18 taking birth control? I started on it when I was about, say, 13. Granted it was medical, but Rush doesn’t make that distinction, so  there’s not much a point of me making it either. Not to mention that where I needed ( and still need) it to make periods livable, there are girls who do take contraception for contraceptive purposes who are that age, and younger.

Does Rush realize that in feeling he has a right to watch every woman on insured contraception have sex, he included a good handful of preteens in there? Young teenagers? People under 18 in general?

Would he care if he realized that? Not entirely sure. Actually, I completely doubt it. He’d probably care less about the fact that he gave off the impression that he’d be up for child porn than he would about the idea that women under 18 actually use birth control. In fact, I can kind of hear his little tirade now. Something about feminazis and liberal agendas and… probably the gay agenda, and sexualizing children before he wanted to sexualize them. I also have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to call an eleven-year-old a slut. Hell, he’d probably jump at the chance. Prostitute, too.

Finally, on top of all of the different terrible things about Rush Limbaugh, there’s one thing that makes him that much more disgusting to me. That being that my dad actually listens to his talk show.

Limbaugh is frightening enough from a distance. Having someone who lives in the same house as you who follows his nonsense is a whole new level of disturbing and incredibly creepy, especially considering the subjects of this recent issue. Granted he’s claimed that he doesn’t necessarily agree with what Rush says, he just enjoys listening to him. But, you know, being able to listen to Rush without going into a rage, much less enjoying the experience, might as well be the Terrible and Frightening Person litmus test.

Why can’t we send all of the GOP to Siberia?