I am told that I have no Choice but to be Positive

My psychiatrist throws out little platitudes every time I see him. He knows I'm screwed and I know I'm screwed. He makes observations of fascination that my Artistic abilities still seemed to be intact. To me that tells me that, in his opinion, I was otherwise a mental cripple. In frustration he tells me that I should enjoy a cup of tea. In other words I should just be happy no matter how complex and difficult every day life is becoming. Another psychiatrist told me that I have a lot to live for - My son - who, of course, I love dearly, but who was taken away from me when I dared to leave my marriage. Inspite of this, up till now I have managed to be a reasonably good mother. But I do not think that if the Psychiatric System has so succinctly failed me that he should have to watch his mother suffer with lost faculties for as much as thirty odd years. It is just an insult to peoples intelligence to expect them to be "Happy" when they know that they are no longer coping. Sure I can get all the help I want NOW that I am screwed. But I say I don't want help because I no longer have the where-with-all or the confidence in myself to utilise the resources. So I say do the decent and Humane thing and allow me the choice of Euthanasia and accept people with Mental Health Issues by giving them the dignity of employment rather than let them rattle around in closets for their remaining lives until they completely loose their minds.

My psychiatrist wrote a letter to my flax weaving Tutor. In it he said "Due to the acute worsening of her chronic mental illness" she was not able to concentrate. This was supposed to be a letter to cover me so that I could return to Flax Weaving. I felt so degraded by the truth of this letter that I could not pass it on. Clearly though it displays the futility and frustration of existing with full blown Mental Illness. The Tax Payers spend all their time moaning about people like me with hostility. And I don't want to live so why waste money on my life?