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Labelling

 

Labelling

 

The psychiatrist labelling me

Really hurt my confidence

I know it’s a Johnny come lately discipline 

& humans functioned fine without it for millennia

I know also the ‘civilised’ West

Has a problem with mystics

What with the Inquisition, the witchhunts, heretics burned at the stake

To show how ‘civilised’ its normalcy is

Even in my case

The power imbalance between the man who points the finger & the pen, asked to reveal nothing of himself

Versus the patient’s disclosure & passive role

I don’t talk about him

In his Italian suit & performative ‘even tempered’ style

& his money grabbing receptionist

No the focus is always on me

I am the ‘scientific problem to be solved’

Like how many jelly beans are in the jar

I’ll just have to let it go

I’ve been stamped & labelled

“Like they do with pants & shirts”

As in Dylan’s Lenny Bruce

Anyway it hurts

But I can’t carry it for society, for the world

I’ve got enough baggage already

I’ll just go about breathing, walking, sourcing food, eating, drinking, sleeping, dreaming & waking

Like the first to walk on two legs

New born

Surrounded by beloveds

Tuned into the dreaming

Breathing in oxygen

Breathing out carbon dioxide

For the trees to convert it into oxygen again


Ps. I ain’t angry at my doctor, just asking questions about the model we inhabit. I’m sure of course, I am angry at my doctor, I’m upset & one is irrational when one is in shock. One projects.Of course by my very diagnosis I’m supposed not supposed to be rational about anything. I’m meant to suffer from delusions. Show me the person who doesn’t. Anyway my anxiety’s raging today. If this service is meant to be therapeutic it ain’t working.

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

 

 

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