She wants to be ill

Tonight I cannot concentrate on my accounting notes. I was forced to follow my mother through the town all day long, because she had a doctor appointment and wanted to go for a shopping spree afterwards. She decided that she wants to change doctor, just because this one, exactly like the former three she had within the last year, told her she has no illness endangering her life. She wants to be told that she is ill. She is convinced to have some lethal illness, something terrible. She does not accept that after a complete blood check and a thorough check up, she results totally sound.

My therapist, Doctor Livio, saved my life. I came from Basel to him with best wishes from hospital to be „kept quiet“ and yes,  dear Doctor Livio, see if you can do something with that girl. I could barely speak. Doctor Flower, my doctor at the hospital, labeled me as schizophrenic, and never bothered to give me some hope. She is a nice person, with good intentions, but she never believed that I could grow into someone else than a poor schizophrenic who locks herself into the bathroom to cut her arms and who screams and needs to be sent into the isolation cell. Doctor Livio started with making me attend a cooking course (!) once a week, just for fun, and managed to make me enrol for English courses, and thereafter he managed to make me apply for a Bachelor in Communication Sciences at University. And here I am. He did a great job. It was me achieving all these goals, but nothing would have been possible without him and his support. A support noone gave me before him. Today, I underlined that not all doctors are idiots, as my mother said, and that we can find a doctor who best suits her. After all, Doctor Livio is not an idiot. She replied that Doctor Livio did not do anything else than follow guidelines he received from the hospital in Basel. Well, there is nothing more insulting than this assertion. The hospital in Basel had given up on me, had deprived me of my hope, of my dignity, and of my self-esteem. I still dream about revenge, about going there now, look at all those doctors and nurses and showing them my Bachelor attest. I saw Doctor Flower again, I do not have anything against her, but the only positive thing she did for me was handling my case to Doctor Livio.

Everything I do, everything I am, everything I am good at, gets always belittled. I can draw. I know I can, many people tell me I am good at it and I was asked to become a member of the local artists‘ association. I regularly draw, when I have spare time. I gave some of my drawings to my parents. My mother finds them horrible. She laughs at my „strange hobby“, as if it were a useless way to spend time. She spends her spare time sleeping in front of talk shows on television. This is sad. I once gave one of my drawings to Doctor Livio, and he put it in his office in hospital. He is the one I would like to call „dad“, and I am not idealizing him. He has character flaws, but he definitely is the only person behaving like a parent should do to me.

With that being said, I think i will go to bed and wake up early tomorrow morning. No more accounting for today.