5:00am
Friday morning.
Nurse takes blood pressure.
Breakfast
Alone. Bandage still on my wrist covering the 11 stitches used to close the wound I caused with my switchblade. All the other patients avoid me, probably because I am the only one in the Psychiatric Ward who tried to commit suicide.
Shower.
Get dressed.
Wait…
Psychiatrist arrives and we discuss the Ritalin trial run we did yesterday. He is happy with my feedback and adds it to my list of medication daily, but the slow-release version which lasts for between 10 and 12 hours. He informs me that although it is weekend that he will visit on Saturday and Sunday.
After the session with the Psychiatrist I have a cup of tea.
Psychologist arrives. In our session we talk about my teen years. We talk about High school years. We talk about my current relationships with family members. We talk about my experience so far, almost a week in hospital. We talk about personality. We talk about personality disorders. We talk about ego states. We talk about the concept of his understanding of Autism. We talk about high-functioning Autism. We talk about ADHD. We talk about OCPD. We talk about Depression. We talk about medication. We talk about therapy. We talk about healing.
He assures me that he will visit me on Saturday, but not on Sunday. He leaves.
Lunch
I go to my room, and I start thinking…
Why not Sunday? Was it because he is religious? I used to be…
I don’t understand religion.
How is it possible that I was born into the right religion? How is it possible that I was just raised into that way of living since birth without knowing an alternative? How strange that everyone we know were also part of the same religion. It is confusing to me that only our religion is the right one. It bothers me that I had to read a book I didn’t understand. Think of myself as a bad person by just being born. Think of myself as not worthy because of having to prove to an invisible figure in the sky that I love him? Be afraid because he saw everything. Be afraid if I ate something and forgot to say thank you to him. Be afraid to offend him by thinking anything which I wasn’t supposed to be thinking. I never understood what prayer is or the reason for it. Why do I have to ask him to change things in my life if he has a plan for my life? Why is he going to punish me if I do the sins that I was supposedly born with, when he is the one that created me? So that means he gave me those sins. He then instructs me not to be the way he created me, but to love him and accept him as my savior. Saving me from what? Oh, saving me from what he is going to do to me if I do not worship him. He built a place full of fire and pain: hell. This is where I will go for eternity if I am just my normal self. He also created the guy that runs that place. So let me get this straight:
- I am made in his image, born because he spoke me into existence without me having a choice of: gender, race, nationality, physical appearance, talents, parents, culture, family, siblings, IQ, sense of humor, the town I was born in, the language I had to speak.
- I have free will, but I don’t because if I do not accept him I will burn in hell. So I am forced to choose him if I want to prevent eternal suffering. That is not free will.
- I have to pray to ask him for forgiveness for doing things which he created me with the ability to do in the first place.
- I have to believe that he has a plan for my life, which means all the suffering and humiliation and pain I endured my entire life was part of his plan?
- Oh, and I have to give him money every Sunday when I go to a building with other humans to meet and be present in a place where he never shows up.
- I have to believe he exists, contrary to my own experience.
- Apparently he exists as a creator, his own son and a spirit. They are all supposedly one, which is confusing. That means that the father impregnated Mary to give birth to himself. So that means the son was intimate with his own mother? Incest…I just don’t get it.
- The son then gets crucified, and we have to think about this while drinking wine and eating bread. The wine is his blood (vampires?) and the bread is his body (cannibals?). Weird…
- So if the creator can create anything, why all the suffering on the planet? Why not just create a cure for all the bad things?
- Also, if you believe in him your prize when you die is not die but to live forever in a place up in the sky where you sing his praises every day for eternity. I do not want to do that, it sounds boring…
So, I am here in this hospital trying to come to terms with the fact that I have a condition or 2 or 3 which caused me to try and kill myself, and he never even tried to assist or intervene? he let me suffer for 4 decades? Why? That’s just mean, man… What is religion really?
Dinner
I take a shower.
I continue my reading on Autism, or more specifically as the Psychiatrist termed it: High-functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder.
I recognize myself in almost each and every article, medical journal or blog post I read. It is amazing and refreshing and sad and fantastic and tragic and overwhelming that I finally ‘meet’ myself after 40 odd years of darkness. 🙂
“Nice to finally meet me!” I think with a smile on my face, the first genuine smile in a looooong time…
I take my medication and I fall into a deep sleep
anonymous gods 
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