I had the bright idea a few years ago

to try to apply for Disability.

I’d been having an especially hard time,

with… I don’t remember.

I have these events when everything hits me

– like a psychic slam.

I go through these periods when my heart acts up,

and I’ve had at least one heart attack.

Or my back is completely jacked up

and I can’t do anything.

Or I have totally mysterious periods of intense lethargy.

And then suddenly, even in the middle of the night,

it’s like someone just turns off a switch.

Last time, I woke up after only an hour of deep sleep

after two days of not sleeping,

and suddenly felt wonderful

– as though someone flipped a switch.

I’ve always thought the Controllers just thought

they’d given me enough and it was time for a reprieve.

But maybe it’s my Helpers interceding on my behalf,

and I should thank them.

(I never thank the Controllers for turning it off,

since I imagine them being the ones to turn it on.)

Anyway, I’d just been having some hard, hard times,

and they weren’t ending, regardless of my prayers.

I just didn’t know what I was going to do to pay the bills,

and it suddenly dawned on me that I should apply for Disability.

I’m as disabled as anyone.  Sometimes.

Then sometimes I’m great.

And I worry that if I got Disability,

it would mess with my mind, and I’d become more disabled.

So I usually don’t want it.  But this time, I was hurting.

The first step in the Disability process

is to see a psychiatrist and get a diagnosis.

Silly me, I went in there and told him my truth.

I didn’t just say, “These are my symptoms”

because then they’d tell me to take pharmaceuticals,

which I won’t.

Instead, I told them that I was a multiple personality

– but I was in the process of integration and that’s not my worry.

My worry is that I was made a multiple

with programmed parts so I can be, sometimes, mind controlled.

Or, at least, I’m often monitored, tested, and who knows what else,

so that I’d often wake up with bruises,

“scoop marks,” and even Taser Burns,

and in other ways

feeling psychically attacked,

which is exhausting, and unfortunately

– because I love being involved in community projects and have lots of ideas –

it’s disabling.

I could have stopped there, but I named the Controllers:

employed by the US government.  I shouldn’t have said that.

Regardless that I have very substantial documentation of this fact,

he tagged me with “Delusional Disorder.”

I had wanted “Dissociative Disorder,” which would have been easy to document,

but he called me Delusional.

I asked that his diagnosis be expunged from my record,

for two reasons:

The doctor met with me for less than one half-hour

and did no examination of the evidence;

and an editor of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders

warned readers that the diagnoses in it

were entirely without basis

with no way to test or prove.

Other insiders have complained that the diagnoses published there are arbitrary, overlapping,

and arrived at by a simple majority of a small dysfunctional group.

I discovered that every time I go to the dentist,

every technician sees at the top of the chart under my name: 

“Delusional Disorder.”

No one in the world has called me delusional, except for a very few people

– exactly those most interested in covering up this mind control.

Rather, the rest of the world has called me a genius, highly creative, thoughtful,

first management choice among 250 employees,

“the only person I’ve found who could do this [management] job,” etc.

I’ve never been called delusional except by those whose professional association

has a clear and active participation in government mind control projects

– that goes back to both their beginnings.

So I demand that that prejudiced opinion be expunged from my record.

I’ll let you know if I hear from them.

Meanwhile, if any of you want to weigh in on my delusional quotient,

please do.