“Just Doing Research for a Story…”

Or maybe not…

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

If I suddenly disappear and someone decides to call missing persons and they investigate my online history, they will find lots of articles about suicide.

Now don’t all willied-up and have a friend call me to see how I am or if I still “am.” The real thing is there is no “friend” to call me — I don’t even think my sister would — see I haven’t emailed her in weeks — nothing to say. in my depression. And everytime I make a mistake, it’s her voice I hear reproaching me.

As a former RN I know all the BS procedures — suicide hot line, etc.

Here is one of those BS procedures: In order to have Medicare pay for my counseling after my stroke last year — really two years soon — I had to be intrviewed by a psychiatrist. Deciding I really was depressed and diagnosing me as someone with PTSD because of wonderful (snark!) childhood, the old man shrink asked me if there were any guns in our house. I laughed — and wanted to ask “Why do you want to buy one?’ —

That’s all my husband has space for and a big reason why I had no dresser to myself in our bedroom — too many gun safes.

The shrink had me being Heather in to tell her the guns had to be locked up.

Two years ago — they haven’t been locked up yet and if I’d wanted to find my way…