Look, I’m all for sharing opinions. It goes like this: You tell me yours, and I tell you mine. It even works vice versa. Amazing. What I’m against is having other’s opinions pushed on me. I do not enjoy blank looks from people when I disagree with their opinion. This is especially true for things like, oh let’s say, aesthetics. Sure, art is for interpretation, but an individual’s unique tastes are based on a lifetime of different exposures. So – tell me what you like and why you like it. It helps expand my understanding and appreciation of art, or any other thing. I don’t want to see the world through my own eyes for the sum of my life. Just hold back the blank gaze and sagging jaw when I disagree. Like – WOW – the rest of the world doesn’t think the same way I do?
I say this as I wait for the mental health squad to knock at my door, or knock it down, equipped with a straight jacket and one of those masks that Hannibal Lector wore. Why, do you ask? Well, usually I am pretty quiet during appointments with my Nurse Practitioner whilst we discuss medications and progress since my self induced mental collapse. She asks questions. I reply. She pushes her head in the computer for five minutes to transcribe my response. I stare at the gruesome hanging art while I wait.
Yesterday, she must have been feeling particularly chatty, and decided to go on about how lovely this summer has been, and how she just loves the birds. I am half insomniac, and so I’m up at 2 or 3 AM. She replied “Oh, it must just be lovely to see the sunrise and hear all the beautiful birds chirping – much better than the winter when everything seems so lonely.” To which I replied “I like winter. I don’t like birds. When they start singing in the morning I want to slap them.” It’s true.
My husband bowed his head laughing; I could see his shoulders shaking out of my periphery. He knew this was out of character – and if I could see his face, it would read “you go girl!” I COULD see her face on the other hand. Thus enters the blank stare and slack jaw mentioned above. I met her gawp for gawk. I won. It felt good. She shook her head for clarity, and to draw up her limp jaw. Turning her attention back to the computer, she typed for a while – a long while.
Here is the jam of mental health. I voiced my opinion. Nothing I said post comment was going to help my situation. I was going to be evaluated as hostile, depressed, homicidal, anxious, schizophrenic, PDSD or bipolar. So, on our way out, my husband and I burst into laughter – realizing only after that our hullabaloo was held a foot from her office window. So – now I’m waiting for the mental health squad. I’m contemplating a bunch of fake birds hanging by their feet from a string garlanded on my porch. My husband and I have schemed to to muss my hair, smudge my make up, and adorn my coiffure with bird feathers for the next appointment. What do you think?