Thought I was going to therapy to finally open up and cry about some trauma stuff and hopefully be validated. T sent me to be checked for scabies instead. Interesting day (I do not have scabies).

You'd think they'd look at someone with a psychotic disorder who was only weeks ago heavily using alcohol, stimulants, and opiates, and is currently taking amantadine, and think there are much more likely possibilities.

And the doc told me "just don't pick at your skin," like, come on, have you never felt like ticks, spiders, bedbugs, all the creepy crawlies were having a fiesta beneath your flesh? Come on, do a little PCP, enjoy the imaginary insects that you swear to God are really there.