I've been hoping someone would mention this. Thank you.
My husband died almost five years ago. No sympathy, please; he was not a good man. I was homeless a year later and chose to go to a
small town less than a hundred miles away because of a certain hospital. Yet it is in a different but adjacent state.
Talk about not fitting in. The attitude, morals and educational standards make it seem as if I traveled two centuries in the past. The women are
passive, the men mysoginistic and disrespectful and I have been physically threatened for turning down invitations. I have always had
friends, until moving here. Lived all over this country but this place is...
I can't even find a word. Scary.
And the hospital? They prescribed a class two narcotic for my DID that
nearly killed me. And my doctor? When she said I have to learn to
'control' my dissociative disorder, I felt my heart sink. It's so scary to know you must entrust your care to people who don't know what they
are doing.
Sorry if I am ranting. But I don't belong here. And I don't know where
the money will come from to move. Freedom is only seventy miles away. And a hospital with docs who specialize in my disorder. But my
destiny, though rocky at times, will offer a solution. I just have to be
patient and trust that the world is unfolding as it should.
The funny thing is, I am healing and doing it on my own through study,
meditation and keeping the stress down. And never going out without
my pepper spray.
Thanks for listening. I feel better just getting it out.