The thing I mentioned in the last post that's been eating at me...

(Sent to the therapist - and I swear to Melvin God of Leaves that I will never call his ass again if he does not respond in a way that makes me feel like that's a good idea:)

Now that I have been so starkly honest with you, I've been having terrible feelings that you cannot really like me and that you will not be able to stay with me in what I am experiencing. It's not necessarily because of you in particular. I feel like that a lot with people because it is the societal norm to pretend not to feel anger and hatred. So called 'negative' feelings are not 'nice'. It's not 'nice' to get one's rocks off on thoughts of a vicious revenge. No matter what people have done to me, I am supposed to just be okay with it and just 'get over it'. More insight for you into why I react so violently to anything that even smacks of Shut Up and Act Normal Therapy. Remember when we had that fight because your own baggage was stepped on when I said. "...so don't ask me why I hate people (after I already told you why)"? Well... I think you know why I hate people now, don't you? It's because I am excluded from them if I am honest about my own feelings. It's because I choose me over them. That choice will never, ever change - not in a million fucking years - but I hoped to be accepted by someone other than my husband (and probably violent criminals who have no problem with physically acting out their various beefs with society). Why is it okay in this society that I was tied down in a hospital and drugged against my will; that I was kicked out of my body while my tiny and helpless son was left all alone in my body with no mother? Why is that okay? Do you know what I was afraid of while I was on the ceiling the night he was born? I thought I was dead; that my body had died. I was desperate to find some way to make noise to call attention to that fact before my baby died too, but there was nothing I could do because I had no body. And then when some time had passed, I was sure he must be dead since he was trapped inside a dead body whose heart had ceased to beat and bring him oxygen. I imagined the smothering sensations he must have felt before he died and I knew he was just a baby with no reference at all. I knew he was used to being protected inside my body and I worried that he was out, like me, and that he would be terrified. I looked for him up there on the ceiling. I was desperate to find him, but he wasn't anywhere. That scared me. It scared me very, very much. Then when I fell back into my body and the pain returned, so did those cunt nurses. Again, I told them NO. I was very clear and intelligible, but they ignored me. They injected me with drugs again anyway. Back to the ceiling for me. Do you understand what my crime was? I could not pretend that I was not in pain and I screamed. I guess it was just too inconvenient and annoying for someone to scream instead of consent to having themselves and a tiny, helpless baby drugged within an inch of their lives. That's how it always was for me, you know. Pretend or pay a terrible price. I HATE people. And I hate those two worthless bitches. I want to bash both of their fucking faces in. I SAID NO!! OF COURSE I'm going to shove their hands away when they come at me with a needle anyway! How DARE they tie me down and drug me for their own convenience! I hope they both rot in hell. I gave birth to my precious little boy while I was tied down like an animal. Yeah. They tied me down again in the delivery room because I was pushing away the mask with the gas in it.
I HATE THEM AND I HOPE THEY FUCKING DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And ANYONE who doesn't like me because of that can kiss my fucking ass. And hopefully it'll be immediately after I take a massive and really horrendously smelly shit and before I wipe.