Friday, June 26, 2009

The Truth Is No One Cares

It's sad. No one cares until you make them care. No one cares--not even a public defender who is supposed to have a bleeding heart because they took a low paying attorney job. Not until you make them care.

That's what I had to do. I had to insist that they look at my medical records, talk to my counselor and listen to me. Why should they care? I told my Public Defender, "I don't think you even like me." He answered, "I don't know you." He doesn't. I had just met him.

The offer: 3 years probation.
The problem: How is that really going to help me or anyone else when I was taking medication that made me compulsive?

I couldn't stop myself. I only got caught twice. I wanted to stop and couldn't.

If you ever get stopped for anything, MAKE THEM CARE. I wish I had known that the first time around. I wouldn't have accepted the plea, but then I was not completely understanding everything that was going on. I wasn't aware that the medication was lifting my inhibitions in that way. But now I think about things I used to do easily. I imagined myself taking a pack of cookies with my coffee at the counter today, but I couldn't do it. I did that on numerous occaisions when I was medicated. I don't know what to think of myself now that I am on the other side.

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