I had a good day. My shrink left me a message stating he sent me a 90-day refill of Prozac. Yay! I talked to my former section leader from my first permanent duty station in the Army. She’s the first female leader I ever met. My part of the conversation entailed explaining my decision to quit the VA. The rest was her giving a brilliant lecture on common sense, followed by a few compliments to my intellect, chased further by utter disbelief in how one can be so smart and (ignorant) at the same time.
It made me sweat a little while Skyping. I could easily stand before 45 and elaborately flip him the bird with a goofy grin on my face. I couldn’t stand in front of my former SFC (Sergeant First Class) and do anything I knew was wrong, rude, or improper in any way. I understand it, but not fully. It’s based on respect, but it’s a particular type. It’s bestowed with confidence, a bit of awe, and incredible loyalty. Suffice to say, I’m not quitting the VA. Instead, I’m going to make it safer for me to get care. I purchased a handheld voice recorder. I’ll bring it with me and use it when necessary.
I’m fairly sure once it’s seen the grapevine will spread the word, and I won’t need it any longer. The vast majority of people who work there are not racists. I only know of one and suspect another. It pisses me off how just a few ignorant fucks can cause me so much grief. My SFC reminded me of the POC wearing the uniform right now. I don’t want any of them to have to put up with this shit when they return, especially if I can do something about it. So I will. I’m quite pleased about the refill. I’d love to have my creativity restored, but avoiding severe episodes of depression is better. No contest.