At Starbucks thinking deeply. Today after reading another Schizoaffective person’s short article I considered writing a book on my view. I would not write the book as the good Schizoaffective, but one that questions. One who has studied psychic and many views on reality. One who wonders if they actually need medication.
Then I got to wondering if confessing my limited psychic ability so publically would lead to people calling my doctor demanding I be put on more medication.
I considered what sort of world I live in, is it the conspiracy-filled the world of David Wilcock. Is it the world of Bentinho or Bashar, where all you need is to follow joy.
If I played the role of a good schizoaffective, I very well might be seen as a hero. I could write a blog on stigma, breaking down its walls.
Instead, I wonder if many others use sites like mine to reinforce stereotypes. Talking about Ascension, Cabal, or whatever topic I am interested in, I might sound like a lunatic to many.
I walk the line of just barely ill. I am not on high doses of medication and have a job. If I played my roles right, I’d be working full time by now. I do not, however, want to pretend.
After working at the same place for years, I couldn’t hide anymore and did the forbidden. I admitted to being on Disability. I doubt anyone will hire me full time now at that location.
I find it highly against human rights to have been forced to lie just to make it all in the workforce.
My family keeps on pushing for me to find Full-Time employment. My Mother being a person who was a bit of a hero in a wheelchair, being Disabled is no excuse to not work in my family. Even when I was sleeping 16 hours a day, my family was pushing me to find employment.
I even volunteered to hand out cookies to Cancer Patients at a hospital at this time. I was rejected even as a volunteer who just hands out cookies. That was the state I was in. Yet, my family was telling to find any job.
When I was first out of the hospital recovering and in depression, my family pushed me to find any job then.
I did find one, I was horribly slow and had trouble thinking at the time. I couldn’t understand the simple ordering system of that library. I surely misshelved many a book at that dentistry library.
Now I can think more clearly, but my memory is bad. My job requires much memory. I also am very slow at my job. I have to never talk about being anything other than an ideal worker, but I am not ideal. That is a lie I was once forced to repeat in an attempt to work.
I am not lying anymore. I am Disabled and tired of pretending a Full-time job is the answer to my problems.
I am going to pursue my own kind of employment as an artist/writer. No more applying to jobs I don’t want.