I suppose the one big takeaway from all this is: no matter how anxious I feel, even if another breakdown seems imminent—don’t let it happen at an airport.
In Bangkok, at the boarding gate, the airline stewardesses suggested I sit down and relax because I was sweating profusely and hyperventilating. When I refused and said I had to get home, I tried to keep walking toward the boarding ramp. That’s when they called security. I was restrained and prevented from boarding.
In Chiang Rai, after I was released from the hospital back in December 2023, I tried to sneak out of my dad’s home to fly back to my condo in Bangkok. But he had this piece of paper saying I was ‘unfit to fly’—to put it kindly—and called airport security, who this time deemed it necessary to tackle me.
At the time, I was still suffering from what doctors had called ‘long COVID.’ I was coughing with every single breath, even though I had recovered from the worst of COVID’s attack in late June. Them tackling me caused me to pass out from lack of oxygen.
See why I want to erase 2023 from my mind entirely?
Anyway, I don’t bring this up to open old wounds. I bring it to your attention because it was read to me from my case file by the hospital’s head doctor that I was once deemed a potential threat to people’s safety. Seriously.
Again, take all this #itsokaytonotbeokay bullsh*t and stick it up society’s ass.
I can tell you, matter-of-factly, that it is NOT okay to not be okay.
My response was to tell them all that whatever was written in that case file was just people’s opinions—that I had never done anything wrong. I also mentioned (again) that my lawyer is suggesting I sue the hospital if I’m forced to suffer another injection.
I don’t actually have a lawyer, but my references to having one seemed to make them feel quite uncomfortable.
What pi$$ed me off yesterday was seeing the doctor looking over this case file they have on me. I’m telling you, it’s an entire file of fabricated lies—but yet its existence holds power. That’s insane.
You might see me as this Mistress-on-a-pedestal—someone who could command men and enjoy life as a dominatrix back in Bangkok. But the truth is, I was separated from my daughters for twelve long years, working to support not only them but the whole family. The only thing that kept me going every single day were the text messages and phone calls with them.
When those daily calls ended—thanks to my sister whispering in their ears that Mom is coo-coo as they approached their late teens and started forming their own opinions—I was truly alone in this world.
To think that this might have been planned by them, step by step, knowing how fragile I am—like a baby deer—and knowing I would break down… I can’t wrap my head around the cruelty.
It’s a 25-minute drive from my home to the hospital, and yesterday morning, it was done in absolute silence—the most uncomfortable kind you can imagine.
I sat there, thinking that when all is said and done, I won’t have any family left. My greatest fear is the same as Tony Soprano’s: that everybody will abandon me in the end, and I’ll be left completely alone in this world.
For a moment last night, I considered going through my old phone conversations with my sister to extract the evidence needed to have her held against her will on the spot. Because, by the letter of the law, someone who repeatedly threatens mortal harm to themselves is a threat to society.
See that? I’ve become familiar with how this arena of mental bullsh*t works.
But I didn’t go down that path. Life is about mending fences, not breaking them down.
One thing I took away from yesterday is that I never want to set foot in a courtroom. It’s hard to explain what I was thinking as I sat in that huge, presidential-style doctor’s office. Shall I try? It’s like a path that meanders from the book Rising Sun to the movie Presumed Innocent.
Yes, my mind wandered—it’s how I cope. I’m a dreamer. Always have been. So it was in school, so it is now.
Take the doctor’s office, for example. It was so American. Everything about it—its size, the massive windows, the mahogany desk—just screamed, “I’ve arrived, I’m important, revel in my opulence.”
And I was sitting there thinking, “Dude… you’re Thai.” As I entertained myself with an internal movie reel, I pictured that scene in The Dark Knight where the Joker says to Batman: ‘Don’t talk like one of them. You’re not. Even if you’d like to be.’
Basically, I saw this guy trying to project the wealth of an American, but in reality, to them, he’d just be a leper.
My second thought, immediately after entering that doctor’s office, brought me back to a book I read long ago called Rising Sun—also a movie with Wesley Snipes and Sean Connery. In the Thai version of that book, Crichton painted a vivid picture of Japanese business practices, highlighting a minimalist elegance. That image couldn’t have been further from the over-the-top opulence I was now witnessing.
All of this crossed my mind in just the first minute of that meeting. Yoda’s words to Luke—“Never his mind on where he was, what he was doing”—could just as easily apply to me.
I say Presumed Innocent came to mind because I saw myself sitting there with the same expression Harrison Ford’s character wore throughout his fabricated trial: part disbelief, part resignation.
I even thought about one of the final lines of that movie: “I am a prosecutor. I have spent my life in the assignment of blame.” What an awful life that must be—to not care if the blame is warranted or not.
Anyways, the outcome of that short meeting? I’m now free to self-administer the ‘medicine,’ as the doctor called it. I walked out of the office with a month’s worth of tablets in my hand.
But instead of heading home, I went to the taxi stand and took myself to Central Shopping Plaza. I couldn’t handle another moment of uncomfortable silence that day.
And then, something wonderful happened. As soon as I got to Central, I bumped into a girl I used to know from the Dusit Thani Cooking College. Us two former chefs caught up on old times over a meal at Shibushi Restaurant.
Now, Shibushi is a funny place to eat because I have a rule when I go there: I always sit right in front of the area where the cooks place food dishes on the carousel.
And there’s one rule of eating with me at Shibushi: I eat shrimp before anyone else in the restaurant gets to eat shrimp.
I steal all the shrimp as soon as it’s placed on the merry-go-round of food. Every time, it takes about ten minutes before the other diners start flagging down the servers and manually ordering shrimp—while scowling in my direction.
Power… is power.
Now it’s the next day. It’s nearly 8 a.m., about 12 hours since I wrote everything above, and I’m still dealing with these scary zaps—what feel like tiny electric shocks. Short bursts originating from just above and slightly behind my right earlobe.
I’ve also got a persistent headache and this terrible feeling of restlessness that kept me tossing and turning all night.
About an hour ago, I got up, used a razor to slice one of those baby-sized mini-tablets in half, then half again, and swallowed a quarter-sized dose.
As much as I’d like to quit cold turkey, I think it might be safer to wean myself off this stuff slowly and gradually over the next few months.
But I’ll tell you a feeling I have that’s promising … I don’t feel famished like I always do. As you can see in the video, I’m a far cry from the 52kgs I weighed in at a year ago at this time. But that’s not entirely my fault. A combination of being endlessly sleepy, not having the energy to exercise daily like I used to and constantly craving food has bumped my weight back up closer to where I was when I began the dramatic weight loss in 2023.
Ow. That was a much deeper electric zap that pierced right into my brain. Hopefully this is a temporary side effect and not a permanent thing.
I’m going to go talk to all my friends on Fanvue and Loyalfans now as I need a few written hugs.
I have no plans to leave the house today, they have nothing good to say to me anyways so why bother. I promise I’ll get the tiers done on my Patreon and have it working in conjunction with my jaa4u blog by day’s end.
Then I’m going to write part three of On Punishment and publish that before midnight.
A lot of writing ahead of me today.
Mistress Wael
