When I am in an uncomfortable interpersonal situation I take off my glasses. The people in front of me blur into a mosaic of colors and vibrations that have, on me, the effect of twisting a car radio volume knob. I squint and lean on the steering wheel and peer at street signs. Without the obligation of looking into one’s eyes I can welcome the auditory impact my treatment team have on us – or, me, as I would soon be corrected had I uttered this out loud.
I am not schizophrenic.
You are resisting treatment.
This is what happens, think about it – you quit lamotrigin and
I was unaware of this
Yes she said last time that one of the – had quit it
We’re playing with gummy bracelets
_____, we’re thinking you should get back on it
There is a monkey and a broken elephant
_____, are you listening?
Yes, I listen
We have been working on the book,
I make copies for all my patients–
How do you spell that again?
Unicorn one, unicorn two
But _____ hasn’t been to sessions, you
say it’s the sleep paralyses, right, _____?
She spoke to us of it but we don’t know what it is
Well it’s a state of sleep but it’s more like—
Your parts are resisting treatment, _____
They didn’t want to come here, they keep making
you miss our sessions—
I have told ____ that we are here to treat her, not her parts
But my parts are me!
Yes she needs a sense of self, she needs to stay awake
I awaken to find a row of sillybandz on my thigh. The elephant is broken. I am sitting along the same sofa with my psychotherapist for the first time, our alignment bipolar. The doctor and nurse exchange glances across the table and jot down in their leaflets.