Dr. Fitzpatrick

Tall, lean. A tad bit pale. Red headed, naturally. Dr. Fitzpatrick, the sort of guy who you can't help but think he was the sort of kid who grew up as a nerd in high school. Or at least, the sort who would've been seen as one. Freckles, those thick rimmed glasses, pens in the breast pocket. The entire deal. He seemed to intimidate Steph when I took her to visit him, along with the physicist. I'm not entirely sure the reason, but psychiatrists seem to irk Steph. A lot, actually. She wouldn't even look at him. But he seemed kind enough. He didn't necessarily show any ill will, and didn't seem to mind my presence. He had even let me come in with her, and watch their session once I told him I was a friend. Although it could be because I had Steph's dream journal.

Steph's still cross with me about that. Although it wasn't like I could ignore it. I looked through some of the pictures, and some of them... they were different from the ones posted online. She was hiding them. I'll try to post them tomorrow, they're strange to say the least. When she said she wasn't dreaming...I think she was lying.

We talked to Dr. Fitzpatrick about the pill. As he described it those were normal side effects, and should wear down shortly. "All stress relievers cause drowsiness", as they are depressants, I suppose. I ask him about lack of dreams, he smiled, stating that a lack of dreams were a normal side effect as well. Then I show him the dream journal. The new images...he said they couldn't be dreams.

How is psychiatrist supposed to know these things anyways?

But he seemed to know what he was doing. His manner was professional, kind. He always looked thoughtful. I tend to like people like that. Somehow they seem trustworthy.

But if Steph wasn't dreaming, what could these images be?

The psychiatrist suggested that Steph was in a fit of inspiration...inspiration to make these?

I don't know.

But after the session, Steph randomly suggested that she went to the park this weekend. Should I let her? She's still kind of sick (even though she insisted she goes to school tomorrow).

We also got to visit her mother today...I was made to stand outside. Steph came out shaken, to the point of tears. She refused to talk about her mother's problems. Mr. Nord (who was off today) was the strongest of the two. But he was just as suspicious of Dr. Fitzpatrick as Steph was, perhaps more so. I asked him why, and he told me that he had no problem with psychology, but Dr. Fitzpatrick is doing it the wrong way. Something about pills, he dislikes them, with a passion it seems.

"Medicine does not cure a person from insanity" was his words.

Which got me thinking about the cure.

I can't help but wonder if it really works.

Well.

I fortified the Nord home. I won't say how because I can't risk Steph getting mad at me, it will only make things worse. In the meantime, I'm going to try to ask her why she wants to go to the park. It's too cold for that.

Perhaps the movies will suit her needs better. I have two tickets. ;]

Apparently I'm having anxiety issues...

I hate psychiatrists. With a passion. Their smug little faces, looking at you from some big chair. That fake smile. They want you to think they can help you, but secretly you know what a bunch of bullcrap that is. I'm alright with just helping myself, thanks.

One way you know there's trouble is when there's that smooth, monotone voice. My God, I hate that. It really makes me want to punch a baby.

It' so annoying.

Now, this probably wouldn't be that much of a problem if I wasn't being forced to go to the psychiatrists every Wednesday now. I'm so happy it's not even funny. I can't wait to tell my entire life story to a douchebag prick who'll only tell me what's wrong with me. Like I don't know that there's something wrong right now. I'm way behind in my lucid dreaming. I haven't dreamed for an entire week. I'm tired as shit. Apparently this guy tells me that it's become I have anxiety problems. No shit Sherlock.

Our conversation pretty much went like this:

Dr. Fitzpatrick (which is the dude's name) comes in and starts the usually session full of shitty personal questions such "How did you feel when this scenario first began?", "How have you felt ever since?", but then his questions become downright insulting. "Do you feel safe with your family?" "Would you trust your father?" What. The fuck? I wish I could give you guys the entire conversation, but sadly I couldn't record it. My memory's faulty enough as it is.

I do remember a series of very peculiar questions though.

First he asks me about my hobbies, and I give him my standard list (books, art, movies, etc.), and then I mentioned my lucid dreaming hobby. This seemed to spark his interest for some reason, and he asks if I keep a dream journal. I'm like, "yeah, I use a sketchbook to draw my dreams". And his face goes "woah!" or "wow!" or "hey! Jackpot!" I honestly don't know, these guys are like trained to make their emotions undetectable no matter what expression they're wearing. So we talk a bit about my dreams, and I mention the dream with my mom in it.

Here's where things REALLY get strange.

That dream where we moved away to the blue house?

MY MOM HAD THE SAME EXACT DREAM.

What does this even mean? Has this ever happened before? I have no freakin' clue.

Then he prescribed me these pills. I have no clue what they are but apparently they're supposed to help quell my anxiety issues. Okay...

My dad already got them for me, and they're this weird black color, capsules of course. There's something about the way they shine in the sun. I swear they freakin' sparkle. Or something. But damn, taking them can hurt. It feels like knifes are being shoved down your throat. Yet things seem to calm down when they enter your system...

...Yeah, very calm.

Dammit, I suddenly feel like sleeping like a bear cub.

Today Was A Surprisingly Good Day.

The snow is melting and I've received some conformation about the college I plan on attending. And then I see this animated film in the paper called "The Illusionist". Note to self: SEE THIS MOVIE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. In case none of you guys figured it out yet, I'm a big supporter of the animation business, and seeing movies like this fills my heart with hope, even if life isn't exactly the greatest. I've been thinking, why complain when the sun's still out and the sky's still blue? My dad even thought he'd surprise me with all six comic books in the Scott Pilgrim series. Although I'm actually starting to believe that he got it for himself. Believe it or not, my dad's actually quite the avid Scott Pilgrim fan. On the other hand, he seems to feel a bit guilty for the situation we're in. He pushes himself way too hard sometimes. I don't even think he slept last night.

I didn't either, actually. It's really becoming harder and harder to sleep now, and I keep on thinking something's going to grab me in the darkness. A psychiatrist will probably have a field day with me. Speaking of psychiatrists, my dad went to visit my mom's psychiatrist today. He won't tell me what the heck happened there so don't even try to ask. The psychiatrist's name is Dr. Fitzpatrick, and you can tell my dad's pretty agitated with him when the very mention of his name causes a vein to pulse.

I haven't met him yet, so I can't really judge. All I know is that this guy may be as useless and annoying as Ms. Bitch and Mr. Dick, or just useless. And I say yet, because, apparently, he wants to see me next Wednesday. Why? I have no freakin' idea. But I can tell you this, I never enjoyed speaking with psychiatrists.

I'm going to try to go to sleep early tonight. Or something.

No School Today (AKA Dream Jounrnal #6)

Well that storm from the mid-west finally caught up with us. And as a result; NO SCHOOL. Which is good, because I've been getting sick and tired of school lately. I can't wait 'til I graduate, so I can leave this hell. By the time June comes and goes, I have a feeling things will be easier. I won't lie, there are times where I wonder, what if things will be harder, so hard I won't be able to deal with it any longer, and lose myself like my mom did? You know how when you were a toddler and you couldn't wait until you went to preschool? Remember when you were so excited about trivial things like learning how to tie your shoes, or going to the potty? Remember when guys and girls played with one another without thinking about how cute the other looked? Remember the preteen years, when girls went goo-goo eyes over their male peers, and nobody knew why? Remember watching all of those high school dramas and wishing you were in high school? Remember the first day of high school when you felt like the world was yours and dreaded the "Almighty Seniors"? Remember all of the high school drama and realizing how stupid it all was?

It's amazing how much our perspective can change within the duration of twelve to fourteen years. It seems like it's just yesterday you were this running, jumping, little ball of innocence, before life just takes that innocence, beats the crap out of it, spits on it, and then takes a dump. So now you're this person who hates the world and just want to be left alone to your own misery.

That's how I feel right now.

This isn't the first time this happened, heck I don't think it'll be the last. Seeing the mom you knew since the very second you came into this world, it's not easy to deal with. You want to stay strong, but there's that voice at the back of your head lightly suggesting to "just give up". All chance's you had at a normal life, "It's over". But hey? Whoever said my life was over? I'm pretty sure this just sounds like angst, but my life's always been this way whether I knew it or not. It seems like fate just likes throwing curve balls to my name. Or maybe fate just secretly likes me. I haven't got a clue. And I always ask myself, "why?" Why me?

God, I sound so much like an angsty teenager right now. Thank God for "The Middle" by Jimmy Eat World. If there's any song out that just cheers me up, it's that one. I'm listening to it right now.

Thankfully, I have great friends, such as Rebecca, Frank, Leon, Maya... Rebecca came over yesterday as she promised, and we've pretty much been busy fixing up the house, in case they come. Our house was a bit of a mess anyways. Rebecca absolutely loved this place though, probably because it's been here since the early 1900s. It's a pretty old house, with a fireplace and everything. There's even this cool back room in the basement, and a nice little shed. The stairs are so weird, there are two stairs leading to the attic. I guess one isn't enough? We also have a pickax in the basement, you know, in case we get attacked by any robbers. After giving her the unofficial tour of the houses' creepier areas, Rebecca and dad banded together to create this entire work schedule for the rest of us. My hands and knees are still sore. On the bright side, my dad and I made slumgullion, our family's own secret family. My German step-grandfather (he's not my dad's real father) created it when he was in a hurry, and it stuck. That stuff is delicious, and not that hard to make. I would give the entire world the recipe, but it's a family secret, so no. Sorry. But really, it's just a bunch of breakfast items mushed together in one plate of taste-bud goodness. Rebecca's supposed to come again today to help with the kids while my dad goes to work, she's even going to be bringing her own ingredients so she can make clones of her mother's pasta. She's a good friend, even though she's a bit pressing at times. Like with this whole Slender Man thing. I have nothing against anybody who claims to be followed by this guy, but I really don't want to believe that my mother is being chased by some faceless guy in a suit. Just saying.

My mom's still in the psyche ward, haven't got a chance to see her, but really, I don't want to. I do not want to see my mother on some hospital bed, secured so that she doesn't twitch violently, spouting nonsense while the nurses spoon feed her medicine. I'm sorry, but I'm not all for that. Yesterday my Health teacher gave us an interesting lesson on the dangers of LSD, and actually suggested that we take kids to the psyche ward to show them how crazy synthesized drugs made people who grew up in the 60s. UM. NO. Just no. I don't want a bunch of kids to know how terrifying seeing a delusional, crazy person can be. That shit is traumatizing. It's bad enough my sister is crying all the time now, and my littlest brother doesn't even respond to us. Kids won't be able to take that stuff. Even if he was talking about teens, TEENS WON'T BE ABLE TO TAKE THAT. What, do adults actually think we want to be mindfucked by crap like that? We have enough suicidal teens as it is.

I don't know, adults can be pretty stupid sometimes. My father is scheduled to meet the psychiatrist on Friday. I really want to go with him so I can call his ass out. But my dad won't let me. Understandable, I'll probably only make things worse. The CPS is also supposed to visit sometime this week, I hope it's not today. It bloody well not be today. I don't want to deal with that. I just can't. And when they do come, if they even think about suggesting foster care, I'm locking up the door on them. I don't even care.


In all of the chaos, I managed to have another dream last night. Well ain't that just peachy!

This one was a continuation of the dream with the dog. Remarkably I was lucid dreaming in this one. At first, I was just standing outside the weird "Two of Diamonds"door (as I will call it since Rebecca seems to think it's some sort of playing card). The ash tree sapling grew a bit and it was snowing, the golden retriever that lead me there was a frozen statue. I was like, "whatever", and tried the door again. It opened with the loudest creak I've ever heard and I almost woke up for a second. It was like that one closet door you were always afraid to open. Inside was this big huge chess board that seemed to go on forever. Now I like chess, but I haven't played it since I was in fifth grade. I used to be good too. One kid was nice enough to teach me all of his tricks. I'm kind of sad now that I forgot them all. It just so happened that for no apparent reason, there was this tall black mirror in the center. It was weird, so I went to investigate. I thought this was going to be a whole Harry Potter thing, with showing you what you wished for the most. I thought that would be sort of cool. Sure enough I couldn't see a thing inside the mirror, everything was a blur. I could see the outline of a person, but I'm pretty sure that was me. I think. The moment I touched it, however, I immediately woke up.

Well at least it's better than a basketball.

I wonder why the mirror was blurred though.

Bleh, I better work on my English homework while I have the time.