My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations — John Green

Archive for September, 2012

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The AIM Program

The AIM Program

This is a program my father enrolled our family in about 7 years ago. At that point, he basically told me the short version of what they “do”, said that he really wanted to join it, and asked if I was interested, since they could add me for free for the first year(I wasn’t old enough to pay for at that point).

The short story of what they do is you send in a picture(with your enrollment fee and form), they put it in a drawer in a large room full of other small drawers with people’s pictures, and shoot energy beams at thousands of different frequencies at them. Your body is supposed to subconsciously pick out which frequencies you need and use them. This is supposed to keep all kinds of bad things from happening. Disease, accidents, all manner of unwanted situations.

I said, yeah, it’s free, it can’t hurt me, why not. So dad enrolled me. What I didn’t know until recently was that he kept me enrolled for the next 5 years. He never told me he was going to stop, but I assumed he would ask again if I wanted to be kept on once it started costing money. I was wrong. He stopped paying for me when I would have aged into adulthood, which costs twice as much as children do, even though I hadn’t grown since I was 14. [I’ve always been annoyed by birthdays. Growth and maturity don’t just happen overnight. Especially turning 18 and getting all sorts of things you didn’t have the day before. I never feel any different.]

It turns out my father is still enrolled in the program. I signed up for their email list and it’s quite the gem. When I actually read it, instead of tossing it out with the usual junk, sometimes I laugh. Then I realize that quite a lot of people pay lots and lots of money (an adult membership is $1,000 per year) for it and I just get sad. I think about how my dad went into DROP last year, a program at his job that gives him a lump sum to tell the university he’s retiring in five years. I think about how my parents really want a new house. The floors in their kitchen are raised by the sink because of leaks. They redid the shingles for the third time this summer. I think about the fact that at one point this year, my savings account had more money in it than theirs did (this isn’t actually accurate because they have multiple accounts, but that’s the one they usually use). I think about how we didn’t really know where money for college was going to come from until I moved home(where I get half off tuition because my parents are employees). I think about how we want to take a trip to Europe and Dad wants to go to Disneyland. That money could go somewhere else. It could be used for a million different things. It sucks that he wants to spend it on something that really only makes him feel a little bit better.

 

I may do another post on his exploits in the unproven later. I’ve always had this idea that my parents were the best people in my life, that they had all the answers or at least as many as everyone else. That wasn’t fair to them, but it is quite disappointing when you realize that your actual hippie father doesn’t understand that legitimate rape isn’t a thing.* [He meant, “Well, what if everybody gets a little too drunk and she wakes up, regrets it, and cries rape?” Yes, he actually said that with his MIT/Indiana University/Berkeley educated mouth.]

 

* Please don’t get me wrong, my dad is a wonderful person. At the very least he only wants what’s best for me and those around him. He’s just not on the same wavelength I am about what the best is.

I’m not good at things.

It’s taken me two months to get to this last appointment.
I spent all last night trying to figure out what I would say to my doctor. Whether I would tell her that sometimes I am fine. Sometimes I’m not even just fine. Sometimes I’m great. Some days I get up and I do everything I need to do that day. And then there are days that feel like weeks.

At least, currently, I know why i’m still having such an unstable time. I have a confession. I haven’t been taking my medicine. Yes, I know. It’s a terrible idea and I am genuinely upset with myself. The only excuse I have is that I just keep forgetting. I’m good enough that I’m usually not thinking about the fact that I’m not quite up to par. So I don’t think about it and I don’t remember to take my meds and then I’ll have a day where I end up crying just because I’m so tired of thinking destructively.

I’m at the point now where I know logically that my kneejerk reactions are problematic and usually I can see that it’s silly and either shut it down or ignore it, but when I’m not doing a good job of taking my meds it just bogs me down so much because I can’t get past it. It’s always there. It won’t go away and sometimes I just break down because there is no logical reason for the way I think and I don’t want to fight myself every second of every day. I just want to sit down and not. think. about. it.

Even today, I drove to my apartment after my appointment with the express intention of getting my medicine, splitting it into some baggies and putting some in my car, my school bag, and taking some to my boyfriend’s house. But of course, I walked in and thought,”Oh, I’ll make a sandwich first!” and before I knew it it was noon and I had to leave for class and I didn’t even think about my medicine until I got in the car.

So, how do you remember to take your meds? Because obviously my tricks aren’t working.