Do no harm. But he did. You cannot play with those kinds of emotions and feelings, those powerful of words, in that environment, with a person you know is broken AND manic and then entirely abandon a person and think that you are doing "no harm."
I am calling bullshit.
Policy/administrators people who justify abrupt termination despite a persons dramatically compromised mental state because "we don't really deal with that here" cannot claim that they are following ethical rules to "do no harm" when they are a business of licensed psychologists dealing with broken brains as a profession.
I am calling bullshit.
Lately I am feeling really annoyed with a whole lot of people in the whole industry who just seem to want to cash in on the auto-insurance than to actually help people heal.
I'm calling bullshit on all ya' all
... which may be what was the inspiration behind this answer I gave on Quora.com https://www.quora.com/How-can-I-overcome-a-crippling-phobia-of-being-predictable-obvious-expected-and-average/answer/
But at least, yesterday as I left my meeting with the facility administrator with nothing resolved I was able to walk out holding my head up proud knowing I was really there to try and help me and not to cause harm intentionally or unintentionally because I know their bullshit is just a cover up for their own crazy.
And I'd rather have my crazy :)
Thursday, January 31, 2019
Monday, January 28, 2019
Destructive Defaults
I am afraid of the silence.
I have tried to write about this and my writings are scrambled and nonsensical. So I will be straight and blunt.
I am afraid of the silence because that is when images of guns releasing the pressure in my head or bottles worth of pills sliding down my throat start to invade. They are not invited quests and I do not entertain them but somehow they are my default again. It has been so many years...
It is different with age and experience. I used to see my self falling and landing into freedom from everything as my body broke apart. Still there is something romantic about that image.
At one point in my life I would find myself fighting sudden urges to self destruct, like the desire to turn my wheel sharply sending my car crashing into the cement barrier while traveling high speeds on the freeway. I am not sure when or why that phase was but I am glad it was not too intense and did not last too terribly long... Oh, yeah I am pretty sure that was the phase when we had no insurance but this symptom was concerning enough I decided to be a lab rat in a depression medication related study. I liked the psychiatrist. He said he would have liked to have been a fly on the wall of my home. I think that would probably be pretty boring, really one would need to be a fly on the wall of my brain. That is where it would be interesting. I'd like to be the fly on the wall of other peoples brains. How fascinating would that be!
Sometimes my husband tries to convince me that most people aren't nearly as... interesting... but I am not convinced.
I digress. which is fine, because that is often how I steer away from that default of destruction.
I don't know why it is.
Why I had a suicidal default.
But I was able to recognize those thoughts as imposters and symptoms. It is a tell tell sing and a symptom of something being terribly off. Maybe it is a way that deep mental and emotional pains manifest themselves? I don't know. I am not sure that I care to know. I have gotten to the bottom of it before and I will again, but some off the pain one has to feel to get out of it is the same pain that gives it power. I am not quite sure I am ready to handle that pain in all of its glory so I am not sure that I want to get to the bottom of it just yet.
I can say that on the day that I thought I was doing well to have let things go and not think or try to solve was the day that those thoughts started gaining momentum fast. It was frustrating and annoying. I had to go to bed to get it to stop.
But I see that I cannot let go just yet. I am not in an entirely safe place yet.
I have tried to write about this and my writings are scrambled and nonsensical. So I will be straight and blunt.
I am afraid of the silence because that is when images of guns releasing the pressure in my head or bottles worth of pills sliding down my throat start to invade. They are not invited quests and I do not entertain them but somehow they are my default again. It has been so many years...
It is different with age and experience. I used to see my self falling and landing into freedom from everything as my body broke apart. Still there is something romantic about that image.
At one point in my life I would find myself fighting sudden urges to self destruct, like the desire to turn my wheel sharply sending my car crashing into the cement barrier while traveling high speeds on the freeway. I am not sure when or why that phase was but I am glad it was not too intense and did not last too terribly long... Oh, yeah I am pretty sure that was the phase when we had no insurance but this symptom was concerning enough I decided to be a lab rat in a depression medication related study. I liked the psychiatrist. He said he would have liked to have been a fly on the wall of my home. I think that would probably be pretty boring, really one would need to be a fly on the wall of my brain. That is where it would be interesting. I'd like to be the fly on the wall of other peoples brains. How fascinating would that be!
Sometimes my husband tries to convince me that most people aren't nearly as... interesting... but I am not convinced.
I digress. which is fine, because that is often how I steer away from that default of destruction.
I don't know why it is.
Why I had a suicidal default.
But I was able to recognize those thoughts as imposters and symptoms. It is a tell tell sing and a symptom of something being terribly off. Maybe it is a way that deep mental and emotional pains manifest themselves? I don't know. I am not sure that I care to know. I have gotten to the bottom of it before and I will again, but some off the pain one has to feel to get out of it is the same pain that gives it power. I am not quite sure I am ready to handle that pain in all of its glory so I am not sure that I want to get to the bottom of it just yet.
I can say that on the day that I thought I was doing well to have let things go and not think or try to solve was the day that those thoughts started gaining momentum fast. It was frustrating and annoying. I had to go to bed to get it to stop.
But I see that I cannot let go just yet. I am not in an entirely safe place yet.
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Church
I have a lot more drafts lately.
That is reflective of the insecurities that come with "sanity"
hah
I like the image of me walking across a no trespassing marked snow-covered field in my skirt and slightly heeled knee-high boots and then walking through the neighborhood with my jacket hanging half-down and my right-foot now calked sideways as I awkwardly limp home better than I like the image of me sitting in church with a constant stream of tears running down my cheeks.
It took a bit of courage to leave, as I knew this would draw some attention, but I could not get the tears to stop, no matter my thoughts of the good people I loved there.
I tried to go to church today to be a supportive member of my family. Maybe I also had some thoughts of returning to "normalcy."
But as I entered the chapel the tears came without my consent. Not even sure why. I did not want to grapple with the why so I tried to just let it be whatever it was, without paying it much mind, but they just came more.
I don't want to be a god.
I don't want to feel like my value only lies in my being a wife and mother.
But those weren't what seemed to be causing these tears.
These good people were reflective of the good people that put me in a sled and bounced me across the snow covered field back to a car parked in the middle of a nice neighborhood, with plenty of nice people, with phones. Then drove me home. They likely did more damage.
These good people are reflective of my parents that had so much going on with our large family and their own personal plights, that wanted to believe in miraculous recoveries so much that head injury was the overlooked element in my own struggles, though they were the units who held all of the power to get me medically guided help me and to help me understand how this may have been a contributing factor to my own struggles.
I see that they didn't understand. That they were both very broken in their own ways. And I have no malice.
But ...this place of worship causes me confusion and pain.
These were not my thoughts there. I was trying to focus on the good there, to live in the moment, to do the things that would stop the tears. but they just kept coming
I feel the need to listen to my body
to my intuition
and to forces outside of myself that are greater than I am
I am trying to find that balance
I am not finding it there (at church)
It is not a safe place for me right now
Maybe I needed that confirmed. I am okay to not go.
The tears stopped and I was able to even laugh about my plight as I walked home, limping on my ankle that was injured in the same car accident that caused the concussion which has brought so much of this past life to light again.
The ankle is getting progressively worse as I try to return more and more to my valued ways of living.
It was an injury that was overlooked due to the more pressing matters of my head. It is now the injury that is holding me back from some of the things I need most; Structure, routine exercise, a regular job, my snowboarding job and even sleep on occasions...
It is holding me back because to be rid of the pain it will require surgery or me settling for a different lifestyle and the irony or paradox of it is, had the injury been addressed initially it very well could have healed with minimal intervention -without surgery.
So many connections
and so many parallels
That is reflective of the insecurities that come with "sanity"
hah
I like the image of me walking across a no trespassing marked snow-covered field in my skirt and slightly heeled knee-high boots and then walking through the neighborhood with my jacket hanging half-down and my right-foot now calked sideways as I awkwardly limp home better than I like the image of me sitting in church with a constant stream of tears running down my cheeks.
It took a bit of courage to leave, as I knew this would draw some attention, but I could not get the tears to stop, no matter my thoughts of the good people I loved there.
I tried to go to church today to be a supportive member of my family. Maybe I also had some thoughts of returning to "normalcy."
But as I entered the chapel the tears came without my consent. Not even sure why. I did not want to grapple with the why so I tried to just let it be whatever it was, without paying it much mind, but they just came more.
I don't want to be a god.
I don't want to feel like my value only lies in my being a wife and mother.
But those weren't what seemed to be causing these tears.
These good people were reflective of the good people that put me in a sled and bounced me across the snow covered field back to a car parked in the middle of a nice neighborhood, with plenty of nice people, with phones. Then drove me home. They likely did more damage.
These good people are reflective of my parents that had so much going on with our large family and their own personal plights, that wanted to believe in miraculous recoveries so much that head injury was the overlooked element in my own struggles, though they were the units who held all of the power to get me medically guided help me and to help me understand how this may have been a contributing factor to my own struggles.
I see that they didn't understand. That they were both very broken in their own ways. And I have no malice.
But ...this place of worship causes me confusion and pain.
I feel the need to listen to my body
to my intuition
and to forces outside of myself that are greater than I am
I am trying to find that balance
I am not finding it there (at church)
It is not a safe place for me right now
Maybe I needed that confirmed. I am okay to not go.
The tears stopped and I was able to even laugh about my plight as I walked home, limping on my ankle that was injured in the same car accident that caused the concussion which has brought so much of this past life to light again.
The ankle is getting progressively worse as I try to return more and more to my valued ways of living.
It was an injury that was overlooked due to the more pressing matters of my head. It is now the injury that is holding me back from some of the things I need most; Structure, routine exercise, a regular job, my snowboarding job and even sleep on occasions...
It is holding me back because to be rid of the pain it will require surgery or me settling for a different lifestyle and the irony or paradox of it is, had the injury been addressed initially it very well could have healed with minimal intervention -without surgery.
So many connections
and so many parallels
Saturday, January 26, 2019
Projection and Reflection... And maybe some deflection
so hold on tight you might be in for a long ride as I try to explain
all that is in my brain
right now.
Just so you know. I did actually sleep pretty well last night. I only woke once around the 3 am mark and my head was full but I was able to go back to sleep and not wake again until after 6 am so I am really happy with the progress of sleep I am making. I am starting to feel more "normal."
Which is nice in many ways but also a bit sad because the euphoric states of being become harder to access and I settle too easily into repeat patterns that over so many years had buried me so deep.
Yet as I look back I am embarrassed at much of my "irrational" and "fantastic" behaviors. This time not as much because I understand it better but there are some things I said that I am like "What the hell, you know better, people don't speak that language and of course they are going to take it the wrong way."
In anger I can be real weird, though my anger was not so intense in feeling this time, just the weirdly worded and out of character thoughtless-ness of it.
Another way I speak different is
I get real generous with my love and use the word a bit to casually.
That is a confession.
I honestly wish that my use and understanding of it in my euphoric states of survival were the more universally accepted form, but it is not, and I am powerless to change those perceptions.
With that bit of understanding lets tackle the hard stuff.
Projection and Reflection
I have been thinking on this for awhile. How others have projected their insecurities onto me and I have reflected them back only to be avoided because it was likely that confused reflecting that was feeding their insecurity or frightening them in some other way.
I have thought about how I also project my insecurities on other people and then when they reflect them back I take it as confirmation of my short coming.
It is an easy thing to see looking back and I am very aware of how I have sabotaged myself many times through this process.
But it also can be a positive.
I am trying to figure out how to capitalize on that.
Okay not capitalize but how to change my directions so I am projecting and reflecting the positives.
Now we move to the really tricky nitty gritty of the reality of my situation with the therapist I fell in love with (remember that term has different meaning to me. I fall in love all the time, it's not a sexual thing or a romantic sort of a thing -okay maybe a bit romantic but, again, not in the sense that we are so used to; not to say that it couldn't be but that is not where my mind wanders by itself and it is only a possibility if I am open to it, which I rarely, RARELY am)
Sometimes I think the intensity of me coupled with some of these projections and reflections is a bit overwhelming for people. Add to that my intuitions and sage observations and... well... people often find I am not sitting well within their boundaries of conformity so they deflect.
It doesn't always happen.
But it happens enough that I have tried to bury that and conform and be more of what people want or expect.
What is it they say about to thine own self be true?
Oh I digress
It's avoidance you know
I am here to get out the truly painful stuff and I am myself deflecting and avoiding my own plight.
or fight... its flight
I can go on like this forever you know. and it makes me laugh at myself
but it does not get to the bottom of it
so though I have visited this before I am now processing from the more rational emotionally stable and safer place, hopefully safely out of defensive cycles. So I think I shall wander into and try to keep redirecting my random thoughts back to the task on hand of facing it, admitting it, and confronting it... with my lonely little self. And I'll take that path because that is what I am already doing ;)
... I warned you this would be long. And I am still doing it, avoiding, as I type out every single thought as it comes into my head.. shush-redirect my friend- oh that was nice self talk- good job me!
I think I am funny by-the-way
But I have had a hard time believing I am attractive enough to be a threat to anyone. Why? don't know don't care right now. -Not entirely true, a lot of it has to do with mainstream media messages and my determination to be "real" and "honest" with myself amidst rather critical family dynamics ...and some deeper more painful reasons that I care not to address or re-address at this point in my life or ever if I don't need to- but no matter, that firm held belief would keep me from believing that dear therapist could really develop any kind of therapy compromising feelings for me.
The strange thing is though, that somehow he is a wizard. For the last two months I have looked different to myself. I actually would look in the mirror and look and feel actually physically beautiful. It is starting to fade and it makes me a bit sad. I actually saw a movie that made so much sense to me in this regard; "I Feel Pretty" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVx9EFK3DWE. It doesn't have the best reviews but I found it pretty honest and funny. Maybe it was more funny to me flying home from Italy, a bit run down and, though out of the full blown manic survival phase, aware of how I was still somewhat under the spell of a very powerful wizard.
As I tell myself "I am beautiful when I believe I am" I hope at least that part and other parts of his magic might stick more permanently but it is hard to loose access to that kind of magic and the farther we get from the source the more easy it is to become lost, or distorted.
am I digressing or entirely on track? ...probably somewhere in the middle. which is probably where I need to be anyway.
I have explored recently the idea of masterminded manipulation, a diabolical dabbling in the dark arts of psychology . And really that picture is not hard to paint. He is extremely intelligent and I struggle to believe
that he could be so naive.
I don't like the idea of it (diabolical mastermind) and if it is true then I'd need to reprocess from a new place. a new kind of pain. But to be perfectly honest, that is the easier answer to me. It makes more sense and is strangely less painful. To me it makes more sense from a logical perspective especially since I struggle to believe that I am, myself, powerful enough to trip up such a wizard...
But alas. In reality, I am not, had he not been in a fragile state himself it'd have likely turned out very differently I am sure.
It is a matter of bad timing and coincidence maybe. and maybe my karma is off enough to have deserved the branding and abandoning. The confusion and the pain. Maybe that is my safe less painful place to process from. I don't know it is all very painful really. No matter what route my head chooses to take.
and I am derailed again as I try to let bygones be bygones and move on.
The tricky thing is (the thing that people don't understand) is that I liked the progress I was making. I liked the me he was helping me find and guiding me into. Before he got spooked and dumped me I cried one night as I explained to my husband that it was hard because it felt like he authentically cared and he was helping me so much but I knew it was going to have to end. My husband knew before I had, that I was getting attached. It was then that I recognized that I was and I tried to rush the finish, but then somehow he did, which broke me to into bits and pieces and empowered me at the same time.
We hear of people having super human strength in the face of danger, lifting cars off of people, that sort of thing. That was me for two weeks. Super human strength to keep my confused mind and breaking heart together. Super human strength and heightened senses. I enjoyed snowboarding being almost orgasmic and other the worldly floating in a pool at night under a full moon. I liked the signs and symbols that were appearing regularly. The clarity of thought and temper. I could be somewhere else and entirely present in the moment at the same time. My energy was fantastic and running was a thrill again.
...But it was all just to hold my breaking heart and mind together.
For the first time I had found someone who understood well enough how my brain worked to help me manage myself. Though on occasion I sensed a very subtle frustration with me he always managed to redirect constructively and he seemed to genuinely care. We connected. And though I did not and could not admit it to myself I sensed some attraction but I always steered away from this and avoided myself talking on subjects that I sensed might draw him into me. But that very act of resistance is what may have been the nail in the coffin. It was for me. The fact that he could stay grounded in his values, in spite of the intensity of emotion both impressed me and killed me. If he had not, then I'd have been turned off to him immediately, yet his holding to what he felt was most important, what he needed to do for his family and his livelihood took him from casually attractive to irresistable to me. But it was forbidden.
... and he did not feel the same way. He confessed that he "could" potentially feel more deeply for me but he also let me know more that I was not worth the risk or his time. That is not exactly how he said it but that is what he meant and though I get it, I understand, it hurts so deeply.
so deeply that I had to fight for myself even if it wasn't productive. I had to fight to wake up my survival instincts or it would have destroyed me.
That compounded with his professional help that, remember, had and has helped me more than I anticipated when I sought out his particular expertise. And I know that I would still authentically, physically and mentally, benefit greatly from his guidance and experience. And based on his own researched philosophies of treatment I know that he stopped short with me. These things make it very difficult to simply move on.
Not to mention the very things that give me strength right now are the things he taught and the strengths helped me establish and re-establish... the transference that happened, and needed to happen, was me learning to love myself. I was able to love myself through him because of what I saw in him that was reflective of me. If you are not starting to see how complicated this really is to try and separate yourself from, on a dime mind you, than you are the crazy one and not I.
So
I am at a crossroads. I can go back (to old me), but I do not wish to. The thought of it makes me cry. And I cannot move forward because that path was barred, so after having been built up and then abandoned for all the reasons that brought me there in the first place, I am left looking for an entirely new path in the middle of some very wild, neglected and overgrown woods. I am not sure how to proceed. I have tools but they are not trued.
Maybe they are.
I suppose I blaze my own trail now and push through the briars that I have once again fallen into. (true story, I very literally once did, alone on an exploratory jaunt while on backpacking trip, blazing my own trail, fell right into thorny bushes, in my running shorts and a tank, came out with scratches and gashes criss-crossing over every inch of my exposed appendages)
In the briars. Not sure how to get out, knowing its going to be painful no matter what way I go and I am just not dressed for the occasion. Silly girl. When will you ever learn?
...Never.
I will never learn to stop exploring
Even if it means I might get hurt.
That is something I like about myself
SO though this blog entry still went light on the heavy and I trailed off into directions I did not anticipate I will let it be what it is and leave it with my story.
all that is in my brain
right now.
Just so you know. I did actually sleep pretty well last night. I only woke once around the 3 am mark and my head was full but I was able to go back to sleep and not wake again until after 6 am so I am really happy with the progress of sleep I am making. I am starting to feel more "normal."
Which is nice in many ways but also a bit sad because the euphoric states of being become harder to access and I settle too easily into repeat patterns that over so many years had buried me so deep.
Yet as I look back I am embarrassed at much of my "irrational" and "fantastic" behaviors. This time not as much because I understand it better but there are some things I said that I am like "What the hell, you know better, people don't speak that language and of course they are going to take it the wrong way."
In anger I can be real weird, though my anger was not so intense in feeling this time, just the weirdly worded and out of character thoughtless-ness of it.
Another way I speak different is
I get real generous with my love and use the word a bit to casually.
That is a confession.
I honestly wish that my use and understanding of it in my euphoric states of survival were the more universally accepted form, but it is not, and I am powerless to change those perceptions.
With that bit of understanding lets tackle the hard stuff.
Projection and Reflection
I have been thinking on this for awhile. How others have projected their insecurities onto me and I have reflected them back only to be avoided because it was likely that confused reflecting that was feeding their insecurity or frightening them in some other way.
I have thought about how I also project my insecurities on other people and then when they reflect them back I take it as confirmation of my short coming.
It is an easy thing to see looking back and I am very aware of how I have sabotaged myself many times through this process.
But it also can be a positive.
I am trying to figure out how to capitalize on that.
Okay not capitalize but how to change my directions so I am projecting and reflecting the positives.
Now we move to the really tricky nitty gritty of the reality of my situation with the therapist I fell in love with (remember that term has different meaning to me. I fall in love all the time, it's not a sexual thing or a romantic sort of a thing -okay maybe a bit romantic but, again, not in the sense that we are so used to; not to say that it couldn't be but that is not where my mind wanders by itself and it is only a possibility if I am open to it, which I rarely, RARELY am)
Sometimes I think the intensity of me coupled with some of these projections and reflections is a bit overwhelming for people. Add to that my intuitions and sage observations and... well... people often find I am not sitting well within their boundaries of conformity so they deflect.
It doesn't always happen.
But it happens enough that I have tried to bury that and conform and be more of what people want or expect.
What is it they say about to thine own self be true?
Oh I digress
It's avoidance you know
I am here to get out the truly painful stuff and I am myself deflecting and avoiding my own plight.
or fight... its flight
I can go on like this forever you know. and it makes me laugh at myself
but it does not get to the bottom of it
so though I have visited this before I am now processing from the more rational emotionally stable and safer place, hopefully safely out of defensive cycles. So I think I shall wander into and try to keep redirecting my random thoughts back to the task on hand of facing it, admitting it, and confronting it... with my lonely little self. And I'll take that path because that is what I am already doing ;)
... I warned you this would be long. And I am still doing it, avoiding, as I type out every single thought as it comes into my head.. shush-redirect my friend- oh that was nice self talk- good job me!
I think I am funny by-the-way
But I have had a hard time believing I am attractive enough to be a threat to anyone. Why? don't know don't care right now. -Not entirely true, a lot of it has to do with mainstream media messages and my determination to be "real" and "honest" with myself amidst rather critical family dynamics ...and some deeper more painful reasons that I care not to address or re-address at this point in my life or ever if I don't need to- but no matter, that firm held belief would keep me from believing that dear therapist could really develop any kind of therapy compromising feelings for me.
The strange thing is though, that somehow he is a wizard. For the last two months I have looked different to myself. I actually would look in the mirror and look and feel actually physically beautiful. It is starting to fade and it makes me a bit sad. I actually saw a movie that made so much sense to me in this regard; "I Feel Pretty" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVx9EFK3DWE. It doesn't have the best reviews but I found it pretty honest and funny. Maybe it was more funny to me flying home from Italy, a bit run down and, though out of the full blown manic survival phase, aware of how I was still somewhat under the spell of a very powerful wizard.
As I tell myself "I am beautiful when I believe I am" I hope at least that part and other parts of his magic might stick more permanently but it is hard to loose access to that kind of magic and the farther we get from the source the more easy it is to become lost, or distorted.
am I digressing or entirely on track? ...probably somewhere in the middle. which is probably where I need to be anyway.
I have explored recently the idea of masterminded manipulation, a diabolical dabbling in the dark arts of psychology . And really that picture is not hard to paint. He is extremely intelligent and I struggle to believe
that he could be so naive.
I don't like the idea of it (diabolical mastermind) and if it is true then I'd need to reprocess from a new place. a new kind of pain. But to be perfectly honest, that is the easier answer to me. It makes more sense and is strangely less painful. To me it makes more sense from a logical perspective especially since I struggle to believe that I am, myself, powerful enough to trip up such a wizard...
But alas. In reality, I am not, had he not been in a fragile state himself it'd have likely turned out very differently I am sure.
It is a matter of bad timing and coincidence maybe. and maybe my karma is off enough to have deserved the branding and abandoning. The confusion and the pain. Maybe that is my safe less painful place to process from. I don't know it is all very painful really. No matter what route my head chooses to take.
and I am derailed again as I try to let bygones be bygones and move on.
The tricky thing is (the thing that people don't understand) is that I liked the progress I was making. I liked the me he was helping me find and guiding me into. Before he got spooked and dumped me I cried one night as I explained to my husband that it was hard because it felt like he authentically cared and he was helping me so much but I knew it was going to have to end. My husband knew before I had, that I was getting attached. It was then that I recognized that I was and I tried to rush the finish, but then somehow he did, which broke me to into bits and pieces and empowered me at the same time.
We hear of people having super human strength in the face of danger, lifting cars off of people, that sort of thing. That was me for two weeks. Super human strength to keep my confused mind and breaking heart together. Super human strength and heightened senses. I enjoyed snowboarding being almost orgasmic and other the worldly floating in a pool at night under a full moon. I liked the signs and symbols that were appearing regularly. The clarity of thought and temper. I could be somewhere else and entirely present in the moment at the same time. My energy was fantastic and running was a thrill again.
...But it was all just to hold my breaking heart and mind together.
For the first time I had found someone who understood well enough how my brain worked to help me manage myself. Though on occasion I sensed a very subtle frustration with me he always managed to redirect constructively and he seemed to genuinely care. We connected. And though I did not and could not admit it to myself I sensed some attraction but I always steered away from this and avoided myself talking on subjects that I sensed might draw him into me. But that very act of resistance is what may have been the nail in the coffin. It was for me. The fact that he could stay grounded in his values, in spite of the intensity of emotion both impressed me and killed me. If he had not, then I'd have been turned off to him immediately, yet his holding to what he felt was most important, what he needed to do for his family and his livelihood took him from casually attractive to irresistable to me. But it was forbidden.
... and he did not feel the same way. He confessed that he "could" potentially feel more deeply for me but he also let me know more that I was not worth the risk or his time. That is not exactly how he said it but that is what he meant and though I get it, I understand, it hurts so deeply.
so deeply that I had to fight for myself even if it wasn't productive. I had to fight to wake up my survival instincts or it would have destroyed me.
That compounded with his professional help that, remember, had and has helped me more than I anticipated when I sought out his particular expertise. And I know that I would still authentically, physically and mentally, benefit greatly from his guidance and experience. And based on his own researched philosophies of treatment I know that he stopped short with me. These things make it very difficult to simply move on.
Not to mention the very things that give me strength right now are the things he taught and the strengths helped me establish and re-establish... the transference that happened, and needed to happen, was me learning to love myself. I was able to love myself through him because of what I saw in him that was reflective of me. If you are not starting to see how complicated this really is to try and separate yourself from, on a dime mind you, than you are the crazy one and not I.
So
I am at a crossroads. I can go back (to old me), but I do not wish to. The thought of it makes me cry. And I cannot move forward because that path was barred, so after having been built up and then abandoned for all the reasons that brought me there in the first place, I am left looking for an entirely new path in the middle of some very wild, neglected and overgrown woods. I am not sure how to proceed. I have tools but they are not trued.
Maybe they are.
I suppose I blaze my own trail now and push through the briars that I have once again fallen into. (true story, I very literally once did, alone on an exploratory jaunt while on backpacking trip, blazing my own trail, fell right into thorny bushes, in my running shorts and a tank, came out with scratches and gashes criss-crossing over every inch of my exposed appendages)
In the briars. Not sure how to get out, knowing its going to be painful no matter what way I go and I am just not dressed for the occasion. Silly girl. When will you ever learn?
...Never.
I will never learn to stop exploring
Even if it means I might get hurt.
That is something I like about myself
SO though this blog entry still went light on the heavy and I trailed off into directions I did not anticipate I will let it be what it is and leave it with my story.
Friday, January 25, 2019
my scarlet letter
Today I got a letter to inform me that I have been discharged as a patient from Dr. Cherri. (name changed).
Umm... Okay
why the games?
I don't understand this.
Do you remember the movie Zootopia?
It's about stereotyping and the damages of it. It's also about the futile battle that many of us have in attempting to live outside of what we are being pigeonholed as. Unfortunately when you are in that place, anything you do will count against you as confirmation that you are what they suspected.
It is sad and exhausting and most people just give up and live within the confines of what they are being told they are.
I thought I'd had found the help I needed to find my way out. I thought I was making progress.
But suddenly it was decided that I was too much of a liability.
I don't think I was or am.
But I see how in my tired and frustrated moments I proved them right.
I see how in my intensity of concern I sabotaged myself yet again.
It would be nice if life were like the movies and we all had a happy ending.
Or even like all the true success stories we are so keen to eat up.
But rarely is there a success story that comes from a person who really had all the odds stacked against them. Rarely do our big box heroes come from the odds of most of us and if they do we only know about them because someone of higher status or wealth is exploiting them.
It is a strange world we live in and sometimes I would like to leave it.
...Which is why I choose to laugh instead.
To laugh at the craziness of humans and their silly egos
To laugh at my own plight and stupidity
To laugh at the sad things that break my heart in such beautiful ways.
My scarlet letter is an L
and this is funny because I need not be a liability
but I likely will be if you treat me as such
because this fire is wild and free and will maintain the forest ecosystems if you allow it and work with it
but it will burn down the world if you think to control it by ignoring it or demanding it to conform to the rules that are ethical only for squirrels.
And I think that analogy is really stupid
so it makes me laugh
and I'll leave it
because why the hell not
Umm... Okay
why the games?
I don't understand this.
Do you remember the movie Zootopia?
It's about stereotyping and the damages of it. It's also about the futile battle that many of us have in attempting to live outside of what we are being pigeonholed as. Unfortunately when you are in that place, anything you do will count against you as confirmation that you are what they suspected.
It is sad and exhausting and most people just give up and live within the confines of what they are being told they are.
I thought I'd had found the help I needed to find my way out. I thought I was making progress.
But suddenly it was decided that I was too much of a liability.
I don't think I was or am.
But I see how in my tired and frustrated moments I proved them right.
I see how in my intensity of concern I sabotaged myself yet again.
It would be nice if life were like the movies and we all had a happy ending.
Or even like all the true success stories we are so keen to eat up.
But rarely is there a success story that comes from a person who really had all the odds stacked against them. Rarely do our big box heroes come from the odds of most of us and if they do we only know about them because someone of higher status or wealth is exploiting them.
It is a strange world we live in and sometimes I would like to leave it.
...Which is why I choose to laugh instead.
To laugh at the craziness of humans and their silly egos
To laugh at my own plight and stupidity
To laugh at the sad things that break my heart in such beautiful ways.
My scarlet letter is an L
and this is funny because I need not be a liability
but I likely will be if you treat me as such
because this fire is wild and free and will maintain the forest ecosystems if you allow it and work with it
but it will burn down the world if you think to control it by ignoring it or demanding it to conform to the rules that are ethical only for squirrels.
And I think that analogy is really stupid
so it makes me laugh
and I'll leave it
because why the hell not
Dad
I went skiing with my dad today. Well, actually, he skied and I stuck with my trusty snowboard. My therapy board.
On the way up we were talking. He only has an inkling of an idea of what is going on in my world. Lately I have attempted to talk with my parents about the brain injury from my youth but they seemed to have blocked a lot out and I sense that they are not prepared to feel my pain in reprocessing since it was a traumatic event for them as well. They handled as best they could. They have their own variables that effect their responses to pain and healing.
It is not easy for me
I feel the neglect in a new way and sometimes the occasional joking comments about me having brain damage sting a little more deeply than I will let on.
Today I told my dad that I had a lot of reprocessing of my life I needed to do within the context of brain injury. I asked what he remembered about the extent of damage. "It was bad, really bad" he said.
I asked my dad if he remembered seeing the CT scan. He did not. He said that he wasn't sure if they had showed it to him at all. He said I should ask my mom because she remembers more.
That was really about the extent of it.
But with my dad, the tough guy that I cannot keep up with on anything even still, that worked from sun up to sun down even as he starts to stumble when helping me build my shed, that will call you a pansy or something similar if you complain or can't keep up, that downplays pain and injury so much that you know if he says it was really bad, then it was bad. Especially if he blocks it and has a hard time talking about it.
"You weren't the same, but you were doing good and getting better."
I end the conversation. I don't think he needs to feel my pain. I don't think he needs to know how hard it really has been for me. He suffered too. Maybe still more than I know. He was the one who slept in the hospital the night they moved me from the ICU to the regular unit. The 1st night I remember.
It was a comfort all the times I woke in the night confused about where I was to look over and see my dad. That is how I knew I was safe and that I knew I would be okay.
He was there and he is now. He may not know how to help me but he is there to remind me that I am okay.
On the way up we were talking. He only has an inkling of an idea of what is going on in my world. Lately I have attempted to talk with my parents about the brain injury from my youth but they seemed to have blocked a lot out and I sense that they are not prepared to feel my pain in reprocessing since it was a traumatic event for them as well. They handled as best they could. They have their own variables that effect their responses to pain and healing.
It is not easy for me
I feel the neglect in a new way and sometimes the occasional joking comments about me having brain damage sting a little more deeply than I will let on.
Today I told my dad that I had a lot of reprocessing of my life I needed to do within the context of brain injury. I asked what he remembered about the extent of damage. "It was bad, really bad" he said.
I asked my dad if he remembered seeing the CT scan. He did not. He said that he wasn't sure if they had showed it to him at all. He said I should ask my mom because she remembers more.
That was really about the extent of it.
But with my dad, the tough guy that I cannot keep up with on anything even still, that worked from sun up to sun down even as he starts to stumble when helping me build my shed, that will call you a pansy or something similar if you complain or can't keep up, that downplays pain and injury so much that you know if he says it was really bad, then it was bad. Especially if he blocks it and has a hard time talking about it.
"You weren't the same, but you were doing good and getting better."
I end the conversation. I don't think he needs to feel my pain. I don't think he needs to know how hard it really has been for me. He suffered too. Maybe still more than I know. He was the one who slept in the hospital the night they moved me from the ICU to the regular unit. The 1st night I remember.
It was a comfort all the times I woke in the night confused about where I was to look over and see my dad. That is how I knew I was safe and that I knew I would be okay.
He was there and he is now. He may not know how to help me but he is there to remind me that I am okay.
Thursday, January 24, 2019
the 80-20 split and snowboarding therapy
On the golden map that I was abandoned with he left instructions on how to continue to care for myself.
The 80-20 split really seems to be the critical component to my mood stability.
On the days that I can leave 20% reserves, meaning I only expend 80% of my physical and mental energy, and take breaks or call it a day before I have spent the last 20%, I do so much better.
I don't cry
I don't get confused
I can keep my focus where it needs to be
My patience is solid
...The problem I am having is that it is too easy to spend too much.
I just don't seem to have the same mental stamina.
I thought my past 2 nights good sleep would get me closer to back on track... but I was spent after a half day snowboard training clinic and lunch with the friends there. Then I had to come home and try to help my daughter figure out her school stuff and by the time I got home I was in tears and my mind wandered to it's confused and hurt place, trying once again to fix what I cannot fix. To solve what I don't understand. It just wants to sleep when this happens, so I let if I can. It is the best way I have been able to figure out to reset. It usually works on some level. But sometimes I still feel sad and confused as to why I am spent so easily. Especially when I am eating better, exercising regularly, and taking care of myself.
Mourn the loss of that?
...and really you want me to mourn the loss of that at the same time?
sometimes life is more than we can handle.
Even if we look fine
and act fine
Sometimes the seemingly little losses can nickel and dime us to death.
And sometimes little losses are not so little when you were already working with less.
...writing has also been a helpful reset and it somehow relaxes my brain.
I have been writing a lot lately. A LOT, much more than you see here.
I'll share a snippet that helped me relax as I wrote:
The other day I was working with a girl who just kept dropping the opposite edge after turn initiation. This is a very unsafe thing to do in snowboarding and I was trying everything I could think of to help her hold the correct edge through her turn. She was getting frustrated, not to mention those types of falls do not feel good. She was taking a break and thinking she was just not laid back enough for snowboarding, starting to believe that she could not do it.
I explained that for a lot of us snowboarding is what helps us to get to that laid back place. It helps us let go and feel relaxed and carefree. “It is my therapy,” I told her. She said she could see that in my riding and she wished for that. I told her about how the physics of snowboarding can transfer philosophically to many aspects of life; like how often in snowboarding “your intellect has to override your instinct.” This led me to consider the reverse as I tried to think of someway we could connect the snowboarding concept she was struggling with to what she does or has experience with in everyday life.
She talked about how she loved cheer. That is not one area I have any experience in and I will admit I have had my bias not in her favor. But I don’t like to hold onto bias so I asked questions and listened as she explained how she was a flyer, which meant she is the one that would be launched into the air. She said, as a flyer, it is always about being up, floating and light and when I was asking her to turn I kept telling her to pressure and be heavy into her feet to hold the edge which she just couldn’t seem to get. She felt like maybe her muscles memory was causing problems.
It was an epiphany for both of us.
I was totally excited when I exclaimed “that is exactly what you are doing.” Every time she turned she would push to turn then up-unweight almost immediately after. It was a launch, not a snowboarding turn. We talked about what happens before she up-unweights when she is being a flyer; how she would have to press down with that perfect balance between her and the person launching her just before she launched. I told her to hold that launch pressure to complete her turn on the snowboard. She wasn’t sure she could do it because of her muscle memory that was fully conditioned to be light and float. Fortunately she also likes yoga, so we turned it into a yoga pose to hold. It was awesome to see her go down and tackle those turns with that new self awareness. It was a night and day difference.
She was now cognizant of her muscle memory and by being aware of it she was able to adapt more easily to perform a new task. Therapy.
The 80-20 split really seems to be the critical component to my mood stability.
On the days that I can leave 20% reserves, meaning I only expend 80% of my physical and mental energy, and take breaks or call it a day before I have spent the last 20%, I do so much better.
I don't cry
I don't get confused
I can keep my focus where it needs to be
My patience is solid
...The problem I am having is that it is too easy to spend too much.
I just don't seem to have the same mental stamina.
I thought my past 2 nights good sleep would get me closer to back on track... but I was spent after a half day snowboard training clinic and lunch with the friends there. Then I had to come home and try to help my daughter figure out her school stuff and by the time I got home I was in tears and my mind wandered to it's confused and hurt place, trying once again to fix what I cannot fix. To solve what I don't understand. It just wants to sleep when this happens, so I let if I can. It is the best way I have been able to figure out to reset. It usually works on some level. But sometimes I still feel sad and confused as to why I am spent so easily. Especially when I am eating better, exercising regularly, and taking care of myself.
Mourn the loss of that?
...and really you want me to mourn the loss of that at the same time?
sometimes life is more than we can handle.
Even if we look fine
and act fine
Sometimes the seemingly little losses can nickel and dime us to death.
And sometimes little losses are not so little when you were already working with less.
...writing has also been a helpful reset and it somehow relaxes my brain.
I have been writing a lot lately. A LOT, much more than you see here.
I'll share a snippet that helped me relax as I wrote:
The other day I was working with a girl who just kept dropping the opposite edge after turn initiation. This is a very unsafe thing to do in snowboarding and I was trying everything I could think of to help her hold the correct edge through her turn. She was getting frustrated, not to mention those types of falls do not feel good. She was taking a break and thinking she was just not laid back enough for snowboarding, starting to believe that she could not do it.
I explained that for a lot of us snowboarding is what helps us to get to that laid back place. It helps us let go and feel relaxed and carefree. “It is my therapy,” I told her. She said she could see that in my riding and she wished for that. I told her about how the physics of snowboarding can transfer philosophically to many aspects of life; like how often in snowboarding “your intellect has to override your instinct.” This led me to consider the reverse as I tried to think of someway we could connect the snowboarding concept she was struggling with to what she does or has experience with in everyday life.
She talked about how she loved cheer. That is not one area I have any experience in and I will admit I have had my bias not in her favor. But I don’t like to hold onto bias so I asked questions and listened as she explained how she was a flyer, which meant she is the one that would be launched into the air. She said, as a flyer, it is always about being up, floating and light and when I was asking her to turn I kept telling her to pressure and be heavy into her feet to hold the edge which she just couldn’t seem to get. She felt like maybe her muscles memory was causing problems.
It was an epiphany for both of us.
I was totally excited when I exclaimed “that is exactly what you are doing.” Every time she turned she would push to turn then up-unweight almost immediately after. It was a launch, not a snowboarding turn. We talked about what happens before she up-unweights when she is being a flyer; how she would have to press down with that perfect balance between her and the person launching her just before she launched. I told her to hold that launch pressure to complete her turn on the snowboard. She wasn’t sure she could do it because of her muscle memory that was fully conditioned to be light and float. Fortunately she also likes yoga, so we turned it into a yoga pose to hold. It was awesome to see her go down and tackle those turns with that new self awareness. It was a night and day difference.
She was now cognizant of her muscle memory and by being aware of it she was able to adapt more easily to perform a new task. Therapy.
Master Manipulators or Flawed Policies
I am happy to say that I have finally started to get better sleep.
It is amazing what good sleep will do for a person.
With TBI sleep is especially important as "you are more susceptible to that"
But when you are being groomed that lack of sleep due to precisely timed isolation is the turning point.
The mastermind will know to either catch or release.
Catch, I don't know what that looks like. I was released. Why, because he got spooked. On paper I may look like the perfect target but statistics fail to take into account individuals and I am far too intuitive.
"Don't try to solve this" "I told you not to try and solve this"
"You don't understand, that is what I have been doing since I was 12, I can't just stop trying to solve things. It's a matter of how I try to solve, what direction I take."
It became clear that I was going to be extra trouble. It's my talent.
So shift blame, play on vulnerabilities, take advantage of the manic state and pleadings for help, plant ideas and feed her crazy and then write it off as, treatments done, she's a crazy delusional patient who is obsessed with or pursuing the practitioner. It was all in her head.
He's been covering his tracks.
The shaming from 3rd (2nd try at new) therapist confirmed that.
Sadly, despite my belief in humanity and this man, I know from previous experiences that the best liars hide their lies in the truth and though I am naive and trusting, I am not naive enough to believe that I am special and that I am the only one.
I sincerely hope this is not the case, but as I wake up to my reality and apply what I know, (ironically form caring for others and putting their needs first) to the situation I am finding a lot of evidence of this and I am not exactly sure what to do about it. I have no malice, I do not feel vindictive. Yet I know better than to think I am "special" so I do want him scared if this is the case. If this is a game he plays I want him to know that his cover is blown. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him hurting other people. In that regard, I am special so the dilemma is what to do now. What direction do I take?
Maybe all the directions, that is my strength.
I may just write a book about it (I already have a very good start) and let the reader decide.
...or do I have a responsibility to take it to the "authorities."
I don't like that idea... and I am still clinging to hope in humanity.
...and maybe some of the fantasy of a deeper connection that he implied but neither confirmed nor denied.
And if it were merely an emotionally compromised practitioner who was spooked by policies against the forbidden emotions that humans, including human psychologists, will feel on rare occasions, then there is an unethical problem within the institution that needs to be addressed.
It is amazing what good sleep will do for a person.
With TBI sleep is especially important as "you are more susceptible to that"
But when you are being groomed that lack of sleep due to precisely timed isolation is the turning point.
The mastermind will know to either catch or release.
Catch, I don't know what that looks like. I was released. Why, because he got spooked. On paper I may look like the perfect target but statistics fail to take into account individuals and I am far too intuitive.
"Don't try to solve this" "I told you not to try and solve this"
"You don't understand, that is what I have been doing since I was 12, I can't just stop trying to solve things. It's a matter of how I try to solve, what direction I take."
It became clear that I was going to be extra trouble. It's my talent.
So shift blame, play on vulnerabilities, take advantage of the manic state and pleadings for help, plant ideas and feed her crazy and then write it off as, treatments done, she's a crazy delusional patient who is obsessed with or pursuing the practitioner. It was all in her head.
He's been covering his tracks.
The shaming from 3rd (2nd try at new) therapist confirmed that.
Sadly, despite my belief in humanity and this man, I know from previous experiences that the best liars hide their lies in the truth and though I am naive and trusting, I am not naive enough to believe that I am special and that I am the only one.
I sincerely hope this is not the case, but as I wake up to my reality and apply what I know, (ironically form caring for others and putting their needs first) to the situation I am finding a lot of evidence of this and I am not exactly sure what to do about it. I have no malice, I do not feel vindictive. Yet I know better than to think I am "special" so I do want him scared if this is the case. If this is a game he plays I want him to know that his cover is blown. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him hurting other people. In that regard, I am special so the dilemma is what to do now. What direction do I take?
Maybe all the directions, that is my strength.
I may just write a book about it (I already have a very good start) and let the reader decide.
...or do I have a responsibility to take it to the "authorities."
I don't like that idea... and I am still clinging to hope in humanity.
...and maybe some of the fantasy of a deeper connection that he implied but neither confirmed nor denied.
And if it were merely an emotionally compromised practitioner who was spooked by policies against the forbidden emotions that humans, including human psychologists, will feel on rare occasions, then there is an unethical problem within the institution that needs to be addressed.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
Yes, I have brain damage
I don't like that so much of the information I find about brain injuries and personality problems after the brain injury come from the family members or "caretakers." Very little comes from the person themselves unless it is a dramatic success story usually from someone with immense emotional support and that obtained their injury after they had established themselves as a successful adult. There also seems to be a lack of information on less dramatic events that leave people with brain damage but not so severe that is immediately visible. My intelligence is both a blessing and curse in that regard. The fact that I was 12 and in school means that some cognitive rehabilitation was automatically happening but with out the appropriate guidance and understanding. No one seemed to question my mood instability since I was a teenager and "that just happens with teens, especially teen girls."
Though the injury happened in January and track was in spring I was not allowed to run that year. I had been looking forward to joining the track team since the previous year when I had run at the track with my older sister who was on her high school track team so I expressed anger and annoyance about it. But at the same time I was secretly relieved because I was still so tired and really didn't have the mental energy for it.
That summer I don't remember feeling so much mental fatigue anymore but that is when I started to have fallouts with friends. or maybe it was the next year. I am not entirely sure and I don't remember much of 8th grade. It was rough. Ninth was better but still friendships were always a struggle. It wasn't that I fought or was angry, though at times I was, I just seemed to take things very personally. I don't really want to reanalyze all that as I don't feel that reliving the pain of those years is all that beneficial and it is so difficult to understand because teens years are just rough anyway. I watch my kids going through their teen years and I am sure I am making overcompensation mistakes so I suppose it is good to be aware of what was really happening
...and this what has lead me to reanalyze my life with a more full acceptance of the fact that I have brain damage.
I have never fully accepted that and it is something that is very hard to admit. It is shameful and the stigmas attached are... undefinable. I have not been able to accept diagnoses of mental illness either, because I am not that but I also do not like feeling like I am the burden of a TBI caregiver which seems to be the vast majority of the information out there.
I want to understand what is wrong with my brain, how to adapt and how to mover forward. Only this time I'd rather it not take a lifetime like it did before.
There is so much more to me and, yes, there are many other variables that have led to my current state of ...interesting, but I need to reframe my life with the understanding of how that traumatic brain altering occasion effected it.
It is not an easy task. I've already burned down one therapist and after 3 appointments know that this 3rd therapist in not quite equipped to handle me. I still have a 3rd appointment to attend to with the 2nd therapist and he may just work since he can relate to the brain injury component... But then there is the part of me that just wants to step away from all of their crazy and just breath for a moment. Just breath and allow myself to recenter in my own thoughts and see where I end up as I write this all out.
It is funny, I found a college level psychology text book on our living room floor this morning and as I picked it up I wondered which child of mine took it off the shelf and why. I wondered if this had been my text book from college, my husbands, or just a random book I had picked up somewhere years ago because I am kind of a nerd like that. It has no highlighter marks or notes on pages so it is not likely my book from college. It is a curious time to find it.
As I look through it I find information about"Neuroscience and encoding," the processes of encoding, and of memory storage. This snippet is interesting to me: "The processes of encoding are also affected by preconceived biases people have; humans tend to notice and encode information that confirms beliefs that they already hold-a tendency called confirmation bias. This tendency to 'see what you expect to see' is a powerful force in allowing people to retain inaccurate beliefs."
It is also interesting that the left frontal cortex is said to be used more in the encoding of new information. This was an area I exhibited problems on the neuropsychological test taken this last year. It also happens to be where my brain bleed was when I was 12. I can analyze my thinking and see how I have used different parts of my brain and different strategies to help me with this function. I do have a hard time paying attention to new information and I find that writing it down helps encode it even if I never look at the written down information again. I also repeat. Parrot. I try to connect new information with something I already know and often I will respond with comments that make it seem like I understand the new information better than I do. Sometimes the act of allowing an off the cuff or intuitive response is what starts the processing of information. It is an interesting phenomena to me as I am just now becoming aware of these tendencies that may be or have been the sources of some relationship troubles for me. It also explains the reprocessing that, to others, may seem counter-productive. At times it very much is and I do need to be careful of that but it is a way that I believe my brain learned to compensate for a missing piece. It can also lead me to pick up on deeper level understanding and connections that are often missed.
I am finding my brain to be a fascinating place and I am enjoying learning more about it.
People will not easily understand what they perceive as me being "stuck" on my old therapist, but I get that he is only one component of a very complicated puzzle and he was the one who woke me up to how I was "stuck" in my reality.
So in our out, it seems I am or have been "stuck."
Trying to figure out the way out is tricky
But I am and I will.
Though the injury happened in January and track was in spring I was not allowed to run that year. I had been looking forward to joining the track team since the previous year when I had run at the track with my older sister who was on her high school track team so I expressed anger and annoyance about it. But at the same time I was secretly relieved because I was still so tired and really didn't have the mental energy for it.
That summer I don't remember feeling so much mental fatigue anymore but that is when I started to have fallouts with friends. or maybe it was the next year. I am not entirely sure and I don't remember much of 8th grade. It was rough. Ninth was better but still friendships were always a struggle. It wasn't that I fought or was angry, though at times I was, I just seemed to take things very personally. I don't really want to reanalyze all that as I don't feel that reliving the pain of those years is all that beneficial and it is so difficult to understand because teens years are just rough anyway. I watch my kids going through their teen years and I am sure I am making overcompensation mistakes so I suppose it is good to be aware of what was really happening
...and this what has lead me to reanalyze my life with a more full acceptance of the fact that I have brain damage.
I have never fully accepted that and it is something that is very hard to admit. It is shameful and the stigmas attached are... undefinable. I have not been able to accept diagnoses of mental illness either, because I am not that but I also do not like feeling like I am the burden of a TBI caregiver which seems to be the vast majority of the information out there.
I want to understand what is wrong with my brain, how to adapt and how to mover forward. Only this time I'd rather it not take a lifetime like it did before.
There is so much more to me and, yes, there are many other variables that have led to my current state of ...interesting, but I need to reframe my life with the understanding of how that traumatic brain altering occasion effected it.
It is not an easy task. I've already burned down one therapist and after 3 appointments know that this 3rd therapist in not quite equipped to handle me. I still have a 3rd appointment to attend to with the 2nd therapist and he may just work since he can relate to the brain injury component... But then there is the part of me that just wants to step away from all of their crazy and just breath for a moment. Just breath and allow myself to recenter in my own thoughts and see where I end up as I write this all out.
It is funny, I found a college level psychology text book on our living room floor this morning and as I picked it up I wondered which child of mine took it off the shelf and why. I wondered if this had been my text book from college, my husbands, or just a random book I had picked up somewhere years ago because I am kind of a nerd like that. It has no highlighter marks or notes on pages so it is not likely my book from college. It is a curious time to find it.
As I look through it I find information about"Neuroscience and encoding," the processes of encoding, and of memory storage. This snippet is interesting to me: "The processes of encoding are also affected by preconceived biases people have; humans tend to notice and encode information that confirms beliefs that they already hold-a tendency called confirmation bias. This tendency to 'see what you expect to see' is a powerful force in allowing people to retain inaccurate beliefs."
It is also interesting that the left frontal cortex is said to be used more in the encoding of new information. This was an area I exhibited problems on the neuropsychological test taken this last year. It also happens to be where my brain bleed was when I was 12. I can analyze my thinking and see how I have used different parts of my brain and different strategies to help me with this function. I do have a hard time paying attention to new information and I find that writing it down helps encode it even if I never look at the written down information again. I also repeat. Parrot. I try to connect new information with something I already know and often I will respond with comments that make it seem like I understand the new information better than I do. Sometimes the act of allowing an off the cuff or intuitive response is what starts the processing of information. It is an interesting phenomena to me as I am just now becoming aware of these tendencies that may be or have been the sources of some relationship troubles for me. It also explains the reprocessing that, to others, may seem counter-productive. At times it very much is and I do need to be careful of that but it is a way that I believe my brain learned to compensate for a missing piece. It can also lead me to pick up on deeper level understanding and connections that are often missed.
I am finding my brain to be a fascinating place and I am enjoying learning more about it.
People will not easily understand what they perceive as me being "stuck" on my old therapist, but I get that he is only one component of a very complicated puzzle and he was the one who woke me up to how I was "stuck" in my reality.
So in our out, it seems I am or have been "stuck."
Trying to figure out the way out is tricky
But I am and I will.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
The Jesus Man
At 18 I spent the night in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida. I was living with my sister at the time. A friend, who also happened to be a boy, came out for a visit. I invited every friend to visit. He actually took me up on the offer, but then acted like an ass while he was there. I was hurt. Florida was a hard place for me to make friends. I didn't party and I was not interested in sugar daddies or being a trophy so it probably stung a little more than it would have anywhere else.
I had gotten a speeding ticket while he was there and then a day or two after he left I got pulled over again. As the police officer proceeded to give me a ticket, I made an off the cuff comment about wanting to borrow his gun so I could take care of the problem.
That was a really stupid thing to say.
It took me a bit and some "discussion" with the officer to realize he wasn't sure if I had just made a threat on his life or mine.
When he realized I had made a threat on my life he insisted that I give him a family members phone number as he felt the responsible thing to do was to release me to one of them.
I was late for work and I did not want to bother, worry, or embarrass my sister or anyone so I was not very cooperative.
I simply refused and tried to convince him to let me go because I really had no intention of doing any harm to myself. Yet I would not deny that I might like to... not be alive.
Damned honest core.
It took him putting me in hand cuffs before I realized he intended to make good on his threat and take me in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist if I would not cooperate. I finally decided to give him my sisters #.
But alas, it was too late.
So off I went; hand cuffed in the back of his police car to the 45th Street Mental Health something or other in Rivera Beach maybe, Florida. I was being "Baker acted." It was some law in Florida that said you could be detained against your will if somebody felt you were a threat to yourself. Too bad I didn't know about that law beforehand. High school and drivers ed had taught me nothing about that.
I only had to wait until the next morning for the psychiatrist that would evaluate me. It was a late Saturday afternoon, evaluating staff had gone for the day, and the next day was Easter. Thus those of us being "Baker acted" had to wait an extra hour or two in the morning so the psychiatrist could attend her Easter services.
Fortunately my sister brought me a change of clothes because I was appropriately dressed -for my job at Wet Seal in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall- in a very short shiny blue skirt and a Sheera print t-shirt with cute white go-go boots. I was not allowed to wear my belt or have shoe laces.
I don't remember how the blankets and pillows worked but I was given somethings to sleep with. Problem was there was only one room with two stretcher like beds and the benches in the waiting room. The two beds had already been claimed but I didn't really care because I would not have wanted to sleep in the closed room with some strange person when the night watch was at the desk on the other side of that door. Didn't matter to me that it was a flap door (I can't remember what those are really called).
There was also a padded room in the hall on the way to the bathroom. I wished that I could sleep in there but they would only have let me if I also needed to be restrained in a straight jacket... I kind of longed for it, but I would not admit that to them.
There were 3 men, one other woman (who was very strange), and the night guard there. Two of the men were approachable. One was there because his mom had called the cops on him for trying to break into his house to get his stuff, or because he had nowhere to stay, or something like that. He claimed she did it out of malice. The other had been in jail and they were trying to put him in a cell with a man that he knew would kill him so he threatened to kill himself. Both were actually surprisingly pleasant company and we had funny conversations. I was glad they were there too because the lady and the other man did not seem to be entirely all there and I will admit, at 18 and 125 lbs, I was kind of scared of them. I don't remember much about the night watchman/guard. So amidst my company I claimed a hard wooden bench and settled in for the night.
About 3 am I woke up to the talking of a police officer who was bringing in yet another of us psychos. He checked him in and left. The man made his bed on the bench across from me and began to tell his story, though I am not entirely sure who he was telling it to; me, the night guard, just anyone or no-one at all. But I was very awake and listened carefully to how he landed himself in my present company.
At some point that night Jesus had started talking to him. At first it may have been a more generic voice but somewhere along the line it turned into Jesus and Jesus was asking the man to do things.
I had gotten a speeding ticket while he was there and then a day or two after he left I got pulled over again. As the police officer proceeded to give me a ticket, I made an off the cuff comment about wanting to borrow his gun so I could take care of the problem.
That was a really stupid thing to say.
It took me a bit and some "discussion" with the officer to realize he wasn't sure if I had just made a threat on his life or mine.
When he realized I had made a threat on my life he insisted that I give him a family members phone number as he felt the responsible thing to do was to release me to one of them.
I was late for work and I did not want to bother, worry, or embarrass my sister or anyone so I was not very cooperative.
I simply refused and tried to convince him to let me go because I really had no intention of doing any harm to myself. Yet I would not deny that I might like to... not be alive.
Damned honest core.
It took him putting me in hand cuffs before I realized he intended to make good on his threat and take me in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist if I would not cooperate. I finally decided to give him my sisters #.
But alas, it was too late.
So off I went; hand cuffed in the back of his police car to the 45th Street Mental Health something or other in Rivera Beach maybe, Florida. I was being "Baker acted." It was some law in Florida that said you could be detained against your will if somebody felt you were a threat to yourself. Too bad I didn't know about that law beforehand. High school and drivers ed had taught me nothing about that.
I only had to wait until the next morning for the psychiatrist that would evaluate me. It was a late Saturday afternoon, evaluating staff had gone for the day, and the next day was Easter. Thus those of us being "Baker acted" had to wait an extra hour or two in the morning so the psychiatrist could attend her Easter services.
Fortunately my sister brought me a change of clothes because I was appropriately dressed -for my job at Wet Seal in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall- in a very short shiny blue skirt and a Sheera print t-shirt with cute white go-go boots. I was not allowed to wear my belt or have shoe laces.
I don't remember how the blankets and pillows worked but I was given somethings to sleep with. Problem was there was only one room with two stretcher like beds and the benches in the waiting room. The two beds had already been claimed but I didn't really care because I would not have wanted to sleep in the closed room with some strange person when the night watch was at the desk on the other side of that door. Didn't matter to me that it was a flap door (I can't remember what those are really called).
There was also a padded room in the hall on the way to the bathroom. I wished that I could sleep in there but they would only have let me if I also needed to be restrained in a straight jacket... I kind of longed for it, but I would not admit that to them.
There were 3 men, one other woman (who was very strange), and the night guard there. Two of the men were approachable. One was there because his mom had called the cops on him for trying to break into his house to get his stuff, or because he had nowhere to stay, or something like that. He claimed she did it out of malice. The other had been in jail and they were trying to put him in a cell with a man that he knew would kill him so he threatened to kill himself. Both were actually surprisingly pleasant company and we had funny conversations. I was glad they were there too because the lady and the other man did not seem to be entirely all there and I will admit, at 18 and 125 lbs, I was kind of scared of them. I don't remember much about the night watchman/guard. So amidst my company I claimed a hard wooden bench and settled in for the night.
About 3 am I woke up to the talking of a police officer who was bringing in yet another of us psychos. He checked him in and left. The man made his bed on the bench across from me and began to tell his story, though I am not entirely sure who he was telling it to; me, the night guard, just anyone or no-one at all. But I was very awake and listened carefully to how he landed himself in my present company.
At some point that night Jesus had started talking to him. At first it may have been a more generic voice but somewhere along the line it turned into Jesus and Jesus was asking the man to do things.
In the beginning of his hallucinations, the man seemed to have had been entertaining conversations with the Jesus voice. However, as the "Jesus" started to get more demanding the man started to wish for him to leave him alone. The "Jesus" voice started to tell him to do bad things and was getting increasingly persistent and angry with my companion as he argued that he would not. The man decided to tell his friends to take him to the hospital. At first they didn't listen but as Jesus got more insistent this man got more assertive with his friends as he explained that they needed to take him to the hospital before he hurt somebody. They obliged and then the hospital called the police and they brought him to our fine little facility.
It was an interesting situation I was in and I wondered if I should feel more scared then I did.
This man was fascinating to me and I would reflect on his story for years to come. It bewildered me how he could think this voice was Jesus, but to him it was, and I admired the man for being able to discern right from wrong even when he believed it was Jesus himself telling him to do the "bad" things. I was impressed that he had learned how to keep himself in check. Because of that self control he became a source of inspiration for me and valuable educator. I knew if this man, who walked and talked with a very bad Jesus, could keep himself in check, with one foot firmly planted in reality, and knowing when to get help, then I could too.
And I have.
He really is a personal hero of mine and I wish I could thank him for it, but he was the first one to be taken from the waiting room the next morning and I never saw him again. I am not certain if I ever saw his face at all as I can only vaguely remember watching the back of him as he followed his escort, while trying to keep his baggy belt-less pants up, from the waiting room and into the unknown quarters beyond.
This man was fascinating to me and I would reflect on his story for years to come. It bewildered me how he could think this voice was Jesus, but to him it was, and I admired the man for being able to discern right from wrong even when he believed it was Jesus himself telling him to do the "bad" things. I was impressed that he had learned how to keep himself in check. Because of that self control he became a source of inspiration for me and valuable educator. I knew if this man, who walked and talked with a very bad Jesus, could keep himself in check, with one foot firmly planted in reality, and knowing when to get help, then I could too.
And I have.
He really is a personal hero of mine and I wish I could thank him for it, but he was the first one to be taken from the waiting room the next morning and I never saw him again. I am not certain if I ever saw his face at all as I can only vaguely remember watching the back of him as he followed his escort, while trying to keep his baggy belt-less pants up, from the waiting room and into the unknown quarters beyond.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Lovely Little Lab Rat
When I struggled with friends in high school my mom used to tell me that I was a very intense person that I had a very intense personality and that not everyone could handle that kind of intensity.
She said this to help me understand and to comfort me.
A couple of years later this came up in conversation with a boyfriend. He thought it was a terrible thing to say. I thought about this from his perspective.
Maybe.
Maybe it was not as helpful as I thought. Maybe it justified intensities that didn't need to be. Or maybe it planted the idea and fed that. Maybe it was a genuine put down.
I don't know.
But I do not think of it as good or bad but rather just a thing. I used it for what I needed it to be when I needed it.
Is that good or bad?
Labels are interesting. "Good" and "bad" are labels and both judgements.
It is funny how we often consider someone judgmental if we disapprove of or disagree with their judgment, or if we feel it is a negative judgement. Yet we do not call the "good" judging. But it is/can be. If you say "that is a good person," you have just judged them. And, well, who are you to judge?
So I ramble into my next thoughts of my conspiracy theory.
"he may have been playing with fire" says the new therapist of the old therapist. I was still in my protect him frame of mind.
That broke and I awoke when it was implied that I have been stalking.
Why had I been so concerned about protecting him from getting into trouble on my account when I had done nothing wrong?
The power of suggestion?
What is it that this is and what does it need to be?
Was it simply that emotions caught him off guard and he panicked? Was it that he genuinely had developed feelings for me and he panicked due to inappropriate protocols and or stigmas attached? Was it misunderstandings and misconceptions of me or something I said because he was emotionally vulnerable, and I crazy? Was it counter-transference in some form he did not want to talk about? Was it a power struggle to him? Was it an "oh shit, she's one of those" moments but then failed to tell what he thought I was?
Or was it something more diabolical?
Experimenting
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
And I was his test subject
his unsuspecting victim?
On paper, I am the perfect target.
...and sadly there is evidence that points to that.
But is that what it is or am I still just trying to understand the what-it-is-that-it-was or how to let it be what it needs to be.
I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is that his expectations of me to just walk away from everything and forget were so completely unrealistic and really unfair, even if he did not want to treat me, someone there should have been looking out for me. It is actually their obligation.
So why the manipulation? Why the games of neither confirming nor denying? And why did no one stop and say "this girl is not in a safe mental place and this is harming or will harm her?" That is, after all, their profession.
So withdrawal then looks like a red-zone defense mechanism.
She said this to help me understand and to comfort me.
A couple of years later this came up in conversation with a boyfriend. He thought it was a terrible thing to say. I thought about this from his perspective.
Maybe.
Maybe it was not as helpful as I thought. Maybe it justified intensities that didn't need to be. Or maybe it planted the idea and fed that. Maybe it was a genuine put down.
I don't know.
But I do not think of it as good or bad but rather just a thing. I used it for what I needed it to be when I needed it.
Is that good or bad?
Labels are interesting. "Good" and "bad" are labels and both judgements.
It is funny how we often consider someone judgmental if we disapprove of or disagree with their judgment, or if we feel it is a negative judgement. Yet we do not call the "good" judging. But it is/can be. If you say "that is a good person," you have just judged them. And, well, who are you to judge?
So I ramble into my next thoughts of my conspiracy theory.
"he may have been playing with fire" says the new therapist of the old therapist. I was still in my protect him frame of mind.
That broke and I awoke when it was implied that I have been stalking.
Why had I been so concerned about protecting him from getting into trouble on my account when I had done nothing wrong?
The power of suggestion?
What is it that this is and what does it need to be?
Was it simply that emotions caught him off guard and he panicked? Was it that he genuinely had developed feelings for me and he panicked due to inappropriate protocols and or stigmas attached? Was it misunderstandings and misconceptions of me or something I said because he was emotionally vulnerable, and I crazy? Was it counter-transference in some form he did not want to talk about? Was it a power struggle to him? Was it an "oh shit, she's one of those" moments but then failed to tell what he thought I was?
Or was it something more diabolical?
Experimenting
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
And I was his test subject
his unsuspecting victim?
On paper, I am the perfect target.
...and sadly there is evidence that points to that.
But is that what it is or am I still just trying to understand the what-it-is-that-it-was or how to let it be what it needs to be.
I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is that his expectations of me to just walk away from everything and forget were so completely unrealistic and really unfair, even if he did not want to treat me, someone there should have been looking out for me. It is actually their obligation.
So why the manipulation? Why the games of neither confirming nor denying? And why did no one stop and say "this girl is not in a safe mental place and this is harming or will harm her?" That is, after all, their profession.
So withdrawal then looks like a red-zone defense mechanism.
the straight jacket
I don't know how I am going to explain all of this. I don't know how I am going to "file a complaint" yet. I am not sure what direction to take, who to take this up with, and yet I know I need to in order to resolve this for me. My life has in some ways come to a halt because of it and I want to move past this.
I was foolishly hoping that I could talk to my captor outside of his professional restraints. I believed if I could he would not be as tempted to use his Jedi mind tricks and that they would not work so well outside of his palace of power. Snowboarding could have freed his mind as it is a place of friendship and fun where safety is always the first priority, so I hoped he might come take a lesson from me or at least be willing to meet up in an environment like that. I hoped that I could help him see better what I was trying to explain about still needing him. I hoped it could be a place where he could safely explore the "human" element that was effecting him so profoundly. I was not afraid of this because I know my boundaries and I know that I am not a threat. I also really did understand the transference and counter-transference and some of the parallels that were taking place. I also wanted him out of his office and professional place because something or someone there had him convinced that I was a liability, which I was not. He believed (and still does) that I was a liability to himself, I was not and am not a liability, danger or threat. He was so afraid of loosing his license because of me, which I knew was irrational. It was frustrating.
...or diabolical. I can't be certain there because I don't truly know his intentions and what he was so fearful of (although he did say it was not me "I am not scared of you," he said when I was talking about how people are afraid of me).
It is a deeply unsettling situation and event that transpired at a time when I was already unsettled.
Flashback to the year 1991:
"I remember the feeling of that," I exclaimed to my mom when we were talking about the events that transpired between the time I took the blow to my head while sledding and I awoke in the hospital the next day; the events that I had no memory of. It had been a year or more since the accident but the whole story had still not been fully told to me. I did not know the details of my story.
They had put me in a straight jacket at one point because I was thrashing, crazy, fighting and out of control and, though I had not and would not regain any other memories from that day and a half, I remembered the feeling of the heavy canvas swaddling me tightly into myself. It was soothing. It helped me feel safe and comforted as something else was able to take control of my out-of-control body and my broken brain. It was the straight jacket that calmed me. I remembered the feeling and I still remember it in a very endearing way. Sometimes I long for it. Irony or paradox?
Present:
That is how my therapist felt to me. He was soothing and comforting as he took control and at times held me tight with his methods, teaching me how to take care of myself while restraining something that felt out of control. He was my straight jacket when my emotions were out of control and my mind was so broken.
I knew I was going to loose him eventually but I did not see it coming when and how it did. I was not as physically broken as I was when I was a child and he was not a straight jacket but when I lost that comfort, at that moment it broke me in a new way. It broke me in ways that were familiar but also in a way I have never experienced before.
It was and still is confusing.
And I have, at times, longed for a straight jacket
I was foolishly hoping that I could talk to my captor outside of his professional restraints. I believed if I could he would not be as tempted to use his Jedi mind tricks and that they would not work so well outside of his palace of power. Snowboarding could have freed his mind as it is a place of friendship and fun where safety is always the first priority, so I hoped he might come take a lesson from me or at least be willing to meet up in an environment like that. I hoped that I could help him see better what I was trying to explain about still needing him. I hoped it could be a place where he could safely explore the "human" element that was effecting him so profoundly. I was not afraid of this because I know my boundaries and I know that I am not a threat. I also really did understand the transference and counter-transference and some of the parallels that were taking place. I also wanted him out of his office and professional place because something or someone there had him convinced that I was a liability, which I was not. He believed (and still does) that I was a liability to himself, I was not and am not a liability, danger or threat. He was so afraid of loosing his license because of me, which I knew was irrational. It was frustrating.
...or diabolical. I can't be certain there because I don't truly know his intentions and what he was so fearful of (although he did say it was not me "I am not scared of you," he said when I was talking about how people are afraid of me).
It is a deeply unsettling situation and event that transpired at a time when I was already unsettled.
Flashback to the year 1991:
"I remember the feeling of that," I exclaimed to my mom when we were talking about the events that transpired between the time I took the blow to my head while sledding and I awoke in the hospital the next day; the events that I had no memory of. It had been a year or more since the accident but the whole story had still not been fully told to me. I did not know the details of my story.
They had put me in a straight jacket at one point because I was thrashing, crazy, fighting and out of control and, though I had not and would not regain any other memories from that day and a half, I remembered the feeling of the heavy canvas swaddling me tightly into myself. It was soothing. It helped me feel safe and comforted as something else was able to take control of my out-of-control body and my broken brain. It was the straight jacket that calmed me. I remembered the feeling and I still remember it in a very endearing way. Sometimes I long for it. Irony or paradox?
Present:
That is how my therapist felt to me. He was soothing and comforting as he took control and at times held me tight with his methods, teaching me how to take care of myself while restraining something that felt out of control. He was my straight jacket when my emotions were out of control and my mind was so broken.
I knew I was going to loose him eventually but I did not see it coming when and how it did. I was not as physically broken as I was when I was a child and he was not a straight jacket but when I lost that comfort, at that moment it broke me in a new way. It broke me in ways that were familiar but also in a way I have never experienced before.
It was and still is confusing.
And I have, at times, longed for a straight jacket
Saturday, January 19, 2019
writing because I'm bored
Nobodies home.
I'm to tired to write and send the emails that I really need to get done. If I try I am likely to make some silly mistakes which are fine here but not there.
So I am lazily watching television
andonly feeling a tiny bit not at all guilty about it.
But I must admit I feel a little bored.
Funny thing is awakenings
those happen for me from time to time. And it not really a funny thing at all. Often it is very embarrassing. It confuses me how I got so turned around. And yet it is not confusing at the same time. The boring now is my mind resting. It is resting because it has been so busy trying to get straight again.
Boring can also happen after highs. Highs can be fun but when they are over the world is not so exciting and you kind of wonder what you are supposed to do with yourself now.
I wonder, sometimes how "normal" this is.
So many things are so much more common than we realize... But somehow I am not common. I really do confuse people.
I can tell you why. At least some possible reasons. And I can tell you why I scare people. I scare people because I figure things out. Sometimes before I even know that I have figured anything out at all. That or I have not attached the same meaning and/or judgement and they don't realize that. I also will call it out, but likely again, not with the same meaning and judgement they are expecting so that is confusing and confusing can be scary to people. Also it can be scary if a person knows they are doing something wrong.
Their interpretations and actions associated take me time to figure out and I may not always be right or correct but I am open to explanations and discussion. Problem is often others are not, but if you are doing something wrong I will eventually figure it out.
So this may seem like directionless disjointed ramblings, but it is not.
It is how my brain works at times. It is how I figure things out.
It all started with an injury that left my brain damaged. It left a void in my processing and the bumping, bruising and rattling that triggered firings and misfirings of epic proportions needed to settle and then work themselves out. I have been thinking about brains a lot this last 15 or 16 months because mine was shaken again and it woke up familiar feelings and experiences. I remember being able to actually feel my brain rerouting as a sports medicine concussion doctor asked me questions to test my level of concussion or something like that. I could tell my brain was not taking the same paths or that those paths had been disrupted and yet I knew how to compensate; though it was slower I instinctively knew how to relax and let it work through the process. I felt that with the chiropractor who first realized I had a concussion that needed to be addressed. He had me remember some words that I would not have otherwise remembered except I automatically recognized a pattern that helped them stick. The pattern had to do with the shapes of the letters and how they matched if turned certain ways. The funny thing is prior to the concussion I would not have immediately recognized that pattern. There were other things that I picked up on with heightened senses as well. Almost like super powers. And yet I couldn't remember peoples named or faces and many other annoying things.
I saw an fMRI picture of a brain after concussion and it has stuck in my head. The brains efficiency is less effective as the whole brain is lit up. Normally our brain fires in very specific areas according to the task that is being preformed but the concussion or injured brain (if I am remembering correctly) right after injury is firing all over the place which is part of why it is so tired. But I have this theory that as the brain fires all over and begins to reroute it becomes aware of those parts that have been forgotten or unused. It learns that there are more places to go and more ways to do things. It realizes it has other resources to access. It has made connections and knows how to make connections that the undamaged brain doesn't even know exists; which is hard for the undamaged brain to understand.
Its boundaries truly are different.
Bipolar- they say
depression
anxiety
these are places the brain can go or can get stuck. Had I not a damaged brain I may have never experienced these places at all, whose to say? (I was 12) but in my damaged brain they are more manageable because I can reroute. I know how, even when I am not cognizant of it.
That is what happened when I hurt so bad from the feelings of rejection and like I had done something wrong -at the moment my buried self started to reveal itself in what was supposed to be a safe place with a person who I trusted, admired, and cared deeply for. It was an unbearable pain. It was far more than I could handle.
My brain accessed mania. Intense happy and too much dopamine. It was a fun place, but, as this article https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/dark-side-of-happiness-why-too-much-good-thing-is-not-a-good-thing/ points out too much happiness can be... dangerous. And mania can most certainly be dangerous. If for no other reason than your body is going to eventually get sick if you keep running on so little sleep (which it did).
It accessed this place to fight the pain. To hold onto the good. And to get me over a hurdle that would have otherwise destroyed me. My brain has that ability. and not because I am any mental illness label but because it knows how to use those parts and come back from it when it is safe again.
Not without solving. Not without fixing. I am constantly collecting and analyzing, categorizing and sorting information, trying to make sense of where it belongs, if it belongs, and how it belongs. I need to know how and where this information fits so I can figure out how and where I fit.
Fixing has become such an innate part of me that I automatically do it without even trying. I need to fix to survive. I need to fix to find value and meaning to myself. I need to fix to fight depression that comes from many sources.
I need to fix to convince myself I belong in this place that doesn't understand me and very often rejects me in very harsh ways.
So that is my bored explanation of the crazy that embarrasses me from time to time, (though it has been a long time and to date and I do not remember a mania so intense) and the depression and other places I sometimes find myself waking up from.
It sounds much more intense than it usually is but maybe it is much more intense, but it is my normal. That is why very little scares me.
And there are so many stories to tell
but now it is time for sleep
so I can teach life lessons through snowboarding tomorrow. "your intellect has to override your instinct" I tell my students to help them learn how to ride in control by leaning down hill into their turns.
I'm to tired to write and send the emails that I really need to get done. If I try I am likely to make some silly mistakes which are fine here but not there.
So I am lazily watching television
and
But I must admit I feel a little bored.
Funny thing is awakenings
those happen for me from time to time. And it not really a funny thing at all. Often it is very embarrassing. It confuses me how I got so turned around. And yet it is not confusing at the same time. The boring now is my mind resting. It is resting because it has been so busy trying to get straight again.
Boring can also happen after highs. Highs can be fun but when they are over the world is not so exciting and you kind of wonder what you are supposed to do with yourself now.
I wonder, sometimes how "normal" this is.
So many things are so much more common than we realize... But somehow I am not common. I really do confuse people.
I can tell you why. At least some possible reasons. And I can tell you why I scare people. I scare people because I figure things out. Sometimes before I even know that I have figured anything out at all. That or I have not attached the same meaning and/or judgement and they don't realize that. I also will call it out, but likely again, not with the same meaning and judgement they are expecting so that is confusing and confusing can be scary to people. Also it can be scary if a person knows they are doing something wrong.
Their interpretations and actions associated take me time to figure out and I may not always be right or correct but I am open to explanations and discussion. Problem is often others are not, but if you are doing something wrong I will eventually figure it out.
So this may seem like directionless disjointed ramblings, but it is not.
It is how my brain works at times. It is how I figure things out.
It all started with an injury that left my brain damaged. It left a void in my processing and the bumping, bruising and rattling that triggered firings and misfirings of epic proportions needed to settle and then work themselves out. I have been thinking about brains a lot this last 15 or 16 months because mine was shaken again and it woke up familiar feelings and experiences. I remember being able to actually feel my brain rerouting as a sports medicine concussion doctor asked me questions to test my level of concussion or something like that. I could tell my brain was not taking the same paths or that those paths had been disrupted and yet I knew how to compensate; though it was slower I instinctively knew how to relax and let it work through the process. I felt that with the chiropractor who first realized I had a concussion that needed to be addressed. He had me remember some words that I would not have otherwise remembered except I automatically recognized a pattern that helped them stick. The pattern had to do with the shapes of the letters and how they matched if turned certain ways. The funny thing is prior to the concussion I would not have immediately recognized that pattern. There were other things that I picked up on with heightened senses as well. Almost like super powers. And yet I couldn't remember peoples named or faces and many other annoying things.
I saw an fMRI picture of a brain after concussion and it has stuck in my head. The brains efficiency is less effective as the whole brain is lit up. Normally our brain fires in very specific areas according to the task that is being preformed but the concussion or injured brain (if I am remembering correctly) right after injury is firing all over the place which is part of why it is so tired. But I have this theory that as the brain fires all over and begins to reroute it becomes aware of those parts that have been forgotten or unused. It learns that there are more places to go and more ways to do things. It realizes it has other resources to access. It has made connections and knows how to make connections that the undamaged brain doesn't even know exists; which is hard for the undamaged brain to understand.
Its boundaries truly are different.
Bipolar- they say
depression
anxiety
these are places the brain can go or can get stuck. Had I not a damaged brain I may have never experienced these places at all, whose to say? (I was 12) but in my damaged brain they are more manageable because I can reroute. I know how, even when I am not cognizant of it.
That is what happened when I hurt so bad from the feelings of rejection and like I had done something wrong -at the moment my buried self started to reveal itself in what was supposed to be a safe place with a person who I trusted, admired, and cared deeply for. It was an unbearable pain. It was far more than I could handle.
My brain accessed mania. Intense happy and too much dopamine. It was a fun place, but, as this article https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/dark-side-of-happiness-why-too-much-good-thing-is-not-a-good-thing/ points out too much happiness can be... dangerous. And mania can most certainly be dangerous. If for no other reason than your body is going to eventually get sick if you keep running on so little sleep (which it did).
It accessed this place to fight the pain. To hold onto the good. And to get me over a hurdle that would have otherwise destroyed me. My brain has that ability. and not because I am any mental illness label but because it knows how to use those parts and come back from it when it is safe again.
Not without solving. Not without fixing. I am constantly collecting and analyzing, categorizing and sorting information, trying to make sense of where it belongs, if it belongs, and how it belongs. I need to know how and where this information fits so I can figure out how and where I fit.
Fixing has become such an innate part of me that I automatically do it without even trying. I need to fix to survive. I need to fix to find value and meaning to myself. I need to fix to fight depression that comes from many sources.
I need to fix to convince myself I belong in this place that doesn't understand me and very often rejects me in very harsh ways.
So that is my bored explanation of the crazy that embarrasses me from time to time, (though it has been a long time and to date and I do not remember a mania so intense) and the depression and other places I sometimes find myself waking up from.
It sounds much more intense than it usually is but maybe it is much more intense, but it is my normal. That is why very little scares me.
And there are so many stories to tell
but now it is time for sleep
so I can teach life lessons through snowboarding tomorrow. "your intellect has to override your instinct" I tell my students to help them learn how to ride in control by leaning down hill into their turns.
12 again
At age 12 when I returned home form the hospital after the sledding accident that damaged my brain, my parents thought it would be a good idea and good use of my time, since I could not return to school for sometime still (2 weeks or more, I don't remember), to write thank you cards to all the people who had given me gifts while I was in the hospital.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.
I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.
I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.
Giving up on marriage
It it is strange the places this recent situation has taken me. In my marriage especially. It is peculiar how the therapy that turned so very messy [with the therapist I fell madly in love with either through deep meaningful connection or manipulation] started with a book of Tao. It is especially peculiar because I was certain for a time that the reason for transference and timing definitely had a lot to do with my marriage. It may have.
But as I am very open and honest about how I am feeling and what I am thinking it has led to some incredibly bizarre, never thought possible conversations with my husband and I will tell you what, not many men (or women) would handle some of the things I say so well. But he knew I was hurting and he knew that my head was a mess and likely through no fault of my own. And even crazier the "new me" or rediscovered me was helping to facilitate these hard conversations in an effective way. The me that was uncovered and partially created by the therapist who then just about destroyed me, intentionally or not we may never know.
But ultimately we both gave up on our marriage and somehow that has helped us get along in a really pleasant and productive way. Somehow we have been able to talk about moving on while savoring what we have and realizing that we can just let it be what is for now and enjoy it for what is. And we have enjoyed it.*
It seems that letting go of the commitment to our marriage has helped us be more committed to a healthy relationship and each others needs. It has been so helpful and what I have needed through this healing process. I am so glad that I have a good friend in my life who can love me, forgive me, support me, and listen when it is what I really need, even when it is hard to listen to. I often need to talk to help me process and what I need to process in not always so simple, easy to talk about or easy to hear. He has been helpful in listening to what I need to process or need him to understand. We have not always had that but I am grateful for it now.
It is such a strange world I am living in right now.
*that is an sexual innuendo, I rarely, actually use those or mean those though it has come to my attention that I may make them very unintentionally or naively with out realizing it... until it is too late -sigh. But this one is intentional and about as far as I ever care to discuss this very personal topic on such platforms and most other places too but it does seem like it might be a bit important to this story.
But as I am very open and honest about how I am feeling and what I am thinking it has led to some incredibly bizarre, never thought possible conversations with my husband and I will tell you what, not many men (or women) would handle some of the things I say so well. But he knew I was hurting and he knew that my head was a mess and likely through no fault of my own. And even crazier the "new me" or rediscovered me was helping to facilitate these hard conversations in an effective way. The me that was uncovered and partially created by the therapist who then just about destroyed me, intentionally or not we may never know.
But ultimately we both gave up on our marriage and somehow that has helped us get along in a really pleasant and productive way. Somehow we have been able to talk about moving on while savoring what we have and realizing that we can just let it be what is for now and enjoy it for what is. And we have enjoyed it.*
It seems that letting go of the commitment to our marriage has helped us be more committed to a healthy relationship and each others needs. It has been so helpful and what I have needed through this healing process. I am so glad that I have a good friend in my life who can love me, forgive me, support me, and listen when it is what I really need, even when it is hard to listen to. I often need to talk to help me process and what I need to process in not always so simple, easy to talk about or easy to hear. He has been helpful in listening to what I need to process or need him to understand. We have not always had that but I am grateful for it now.
It is such a strange world I am living in right now.
*that is an sexual innuendo, I rarely, actually use those or mean those though it has come to my attention that I may make them very unintentionally or naively with out realizing it... until it is too late -sigh. But this one is intentional and about as far as I ever care to discuss this very personal topic on such platforms and most other places too but it does seem like it might be a bit important to this story.
Thursday, January 17, 2019
My Beautiful Broken Brain and other such sources of strength
Over the course of a few days I have watched the Netflix documentary "My Beautiful Broken Brain" about a lady named Lotja that had a stroke at age 34 that left her with brain damage. Her story and recovery seem to be much more severe and extreme than what I went through at age 12 but she also received a lot more help in her recovery so it is a very interesting show for me to watch. I am can relate to much of what she says and some of her experiences. It is fascinating to see her blank-not-blank stares and then her intense happy smile and the shine in her eyes that has behind it an interesting new world that is fascinating and easy to get lost in; the world that "brain injury" has opened up. Some people might call it neuroplasticity and others chemical electricity that causes the firing up of cells and/ neurotransmitters. What ever you call it I can see the world she is in and it makes me feel happy that she can see it and appreciate it for the fascinating place it is. It validates me.
She says a few things I'd like to repeat"
"The film is a really, really important part of this story. ...absolutely born off necessity. It's created a way for me to understand something that is extremely complex and it has created a structure. a narrative structure for me to understand my own story."
"reality is only what we believe and perceive to be true. That makes absolute sense to me. And very little does to me these days."
something to the effect of "It takes a very long time for you learn how to live in your new brain" -
At one point she asks David Lynch if he thinks the brain is the engine of the mind or vice versa.
These and other things really resonate with me.
The film being the narrative born of necessity to help her understand and give structure to something that is extremely complex is an excellent description and explanation for my current writing. Writing helps me process and understand. It helps me move forward. Talking also does. It is not all that I do it is just the part of me that is really working to get through somethings that have turned so much more complicated than they needed to. Whether that is entirely my own fault and of my own making or whether I have just landed myself in a series of unfortunate events that have left me at the mercy of others and led me to this very bizarre place I do not know but that is not what matters most right now. What matters most is what I do about it.
I wish for people understand what has made this last year and a few months so complicated. My brain was injured. But is was also scarred. Scarred physically from an injury that would leave permanent damage and scarred in many other ways as well. The whole picture, all variables, needed to be taken into account and I am sad to say that the researcher that claimed this and treated me lost sight of that with me.
It has been extremely difficult to relive events from your youth that were painful. It is hard to be processing as an adult and a child at the same time. It is difficult to know that so much of you had been lost for so many years because you had not received proper care from the first injury. Mood changes, school struggles, friend problems, balance, push crash cycles, language skills, understanding and being able to read social situations and cues, decision making skills, all of those effected my life and slowly transformed me into who I had become prior to the car accident concussion. The car accident itself led to a whole new set of problems that were then overlooked or over treated as my brain was a new mess of processing and reprocessing that was effected by the way it had learned to cope before.
I knew I did not want to take another 20 plus years to "stabilize" and figure out my world. I knew I wasn't terribly happy with the world I had figured out and I wanted help this time. Help that was not exclusively directed by and figures out by me, the untrained professional.
It was not easy to find that help, but I did find it. It was the absolute best help I could find and I was thrilled. I had to drive farther and I knew I may have to pay more, but it was worth it.
But then tragedy struck at the moment I started to break through and really start to recognize and work on the changes and acceptance that needed to happen to help me heal from both injuries I was dropped. Told I no longer needed treatment and abandoned... All because I recognized my own transference and/or I suggested counter transference that was neither confirmed nor denied but sure earned me a scarlet letter real quick. It is so confusing and immensely more painful than imagined. That rejection, that theft of healing is a make or break you moment. There is not a rational and/or predictable reaction to your own grief and trauma and it usually effects us more profoundly in ways that we never could have ever predicted. Traumatic events are like that, they turn you into something you are not and then you have to figure out the new you with the new insights and experiences that will forever change your perceptions and that you cannot return from. This has been traumatic. I have lost my chance at healing all over again. I have lost my youth and my sense of self worth again. This time stolen with my heart and faith in the system that was actually built to help and protect me in my situation. Then to try and separate yourself mentally from the person that has taught you so much and planted in you how to overcome the very trauma he has caused... It is not a simple task. Why is it not more obvious how damaging this is?
It is unjust and unfair and I don't want to fight the industry. I'd rather utilize, appreciate, love and help. ...and ironically that may be the very thing that got me into trouble. It breaks my heart again and again.
But through it I am finding hope and beauty and though I have felt still more rejection I am choosing not to break. I have also learned who some true friends are and where my strengths really lie.
...And I still type and write in hopes that I may help myself and others because this was not deserved and if my story can help relieve the suffering to any degree or can help people see that there are other ways to do things, ways to work together and not against each other, than it is worth it. It is worth the pain and the reprocessing, the uncomfortable situations and even the embarrassment. I will not be shamed and I will not be blamed. I will fight again for me and my brain.
She says a few things I'd like to repeat"
"The film is a really, really important part of this story. ...absolutely born off necessity. It's created a way for me to understand something that is extremely complex and it has created a structure. a narrative structure for me to understand my own story."
"reality is only what we believe and perceive to be true. That makes absolute sense to me. And very little does to me these days."
something to the effect of "It takes a very long time for you learn how to live in your new brain" -
At one point she asks David Lynch if he thinks the brain is the engine of the mind or vice versa.
These and other things really resonate with me.
The film being the narrative born of necessity to help her understand and give structure to something that is extremely complex is an excellent description and explanation for my current writing. Writing helps me process and understand. It helps me move forward. Talking also does. It is not all that I do it is just the part of me that is really working to get through somethings that have turned so much more complicated than they needed to. Whether that is entirely my own fault and of my own making or whether I have just landed myself in a series of unfortunate events that have left me at the mercy of others and led me to this very bizarre place I do not know but that is not what matters most right now. What matters most is what I do about it.
I wish for people understand what has made this last year and a few months so complicated. My brain was injured. But is was also scarred. Scarred physically from an injury that would leave permanent damage and scarred in many other ways as well. The whole picture, all variables, needed to be taken into account and I am sad to say that the researcher that claimed this and treated me lost sight of that with me.
It has been extremely difficult to relive events from your youth that were painful. It is hard to be processing as an adult and a child at the same time. It is difficult to know that so much of you had been lost for so many years because you had not received proper care from the first injury. Mood changes, school struggles, friend problems, balance, push crash cycles, language skills, understanding and being able to read social situations and cues, decision making skills, all of those effected my life and slowly transformed me into who I had become prior to the car accident concussion. The car accident itself led to a whole new set of problems that were then overlooked or over treated as my brain was a new mess of processing and reprocessing that was effected by the way it had learned to cope before.
I knew I did not want to take another 20 plus years to "stabilize" and figure out my world. I knew I wasn't terribly happy with the world I had figured out and I wanted help this time. Help that was not exclusively directed by and figures out by me, the untrained professional.
It was not easy to find that help, but I did find it. It was the absolute best help I could find and I was thrilled. I had to drive farther and I knew I may have to pay more, but it was worth it.
But then tragedy struck at the moment I started to break through and really start to recognize and work on the changes and acceptance that needed to happen to help me heal from both injuries I was dropped. Told I no longer needed treatment and abandoned... All because I recognized my own transference and/or I suggested counter transference that was neither confirmed nor denied but sure earned me a scarlet letter real quick. It is so confusing and immensely more painful than imagined. That rejection, that theft of healing is a make or break you moment. There is not a rational and/or predictable reaction to your own grief and trauma and it usually effects us more profoundly in ways that we never could have ever predicted. Traumatic events are like that, they turn you into something you are not and then you have to figure out the new you with the new insights and experiences that will forever change your perceptions and that you cannot return from. This has been traumatic. I have lost my chance at healing all over again. I have lost my youth and my sense of self worth again. This time stolen with my heart and faith in the system that was actually built to help and protect me in my situation. Then to try and separate yourself mentally from the person that has taught you so much and planted in you how to overcome the very trauma he has caused... It is not a simple task. Why is it not more obvious how damaging this is?
It is unjust and unfair and I don't want to fight the industry. I'd rather utilize, appreciate, love and help. ...and ironically that may be the very thing that got me into trouble. It breaks my heart again and again.
But through it I am finding hope and beauty and though I have felt still more rejection I am choosing not to break. I have also learned who some true friends are and where my strengths really lie.
...And I still type and write in hopes that I may help myself and others because this was not deserved and if my story can help relieve the suffering to any degree or can help people see that there are other ways to do things, ways to work together and not against each other, than it is worth it. It is worth the pain and the reprocessing, the uncomfortable situations and even the embarrassment. I will not be shamed and I will not be blamed. I will fight again for me and my brain.
Upcycling
The whole picture. I wrote about how I am cycling and it can be perceived as rumination. I have written about how I get stuck in my head sometimes. I talk about some of the same things and to others that may feel redundant. However, that is not the whole picture. I am not stuck in my head nearly as much as it could be perceived that I am.
I was reading this article this morning and reflected on my recent experiences I realized that this may be the image I am projecting...https://blogs.psychcentral.com/childhood-neglect/2019/01/trapped-in-a-circle-of-your-own-self-doubt-3-steps-out/
...and I paused to find and insert this article but got sidetracked by email.
I sent one to that Dr. that, in his carelessness or dabbling of the dark arts, had sent me spiraling into and exiled outer-space. I wanted to give him the chance to fix things before I pursued complaints against what I am now feeling and logically perceiving as "unethical treatment."
He decided I was a threat and liability so he called my treatment done, and because I have been documenting my "crazy," my thoughts and feelings, it can make it easy for him to turn things into just that. Write me off as "our treatment of that issue is done, you are healed of that," thus relieving him and his clinic of their obligations in treating me and making sure he or they had not accidentally or intentionally done harm.
I am at a huge disadvantage because they will definitely be bias toward protecting him. I have already been blamed as I look back frustrated that he wouldn't hear me when I cried and tried and fought desperately for him to understand and continue to provide or help me find the appropriate help.
I have surgery that I am facing that is directly related to the car injury.
I am reliving my trauma from my youth that is directly related to the car accident and head injury from that.
It is strange to be an adult and a child at the same time.
I am cycling through the intensities of the emotions one experiences with that.
The whole picture of me had been lost. I had forgotten and buried so much and when did that happen? Did it happen with the crash? Some of it feels like yes and some of it feels like no.
"So this is all part of the job" I asked Not really given answer, I think he responded with a question. "We have been working to uncover my buried story and now you are just going to take it all back?" I asked when I could finally get into see him after two weeks of ... I won't label...
But when I was just breaking through is precisely when he decided to drop me.
When he decided I was "cured" of needing him and his expertise. I needed to figure out again what I was really capable of occupationally. My relationships were a mess and TBI was a major factor in this. All of this was just coming to light, it had not been addressed.
He did not want to work with me anymore but that does not mean that his skillset was no longer needed. On the contrary his skillset is exactly what was needed. What a curse for him, if it really is true that no-one else in his practice could have taken me and there are no others with similar skillsets he could have referred me to.
This is very frustrating. It is a crazy, terrible and yet beautiful story that I can appreciate for many reasons and for what it is but it is also very frustrating. Other peoples methods of self preservation and justification are very frustrating to me.
so as I stay true to letting things come out and be what they are as I write (on my blog and on my ever increasing report on studying myself) I will let this one stay also.
...I will have to edit later since I need to go now.. But this feels important to me to publish now
I was reading this article this morning and reflected on my recent experiences I realized that this may be the image I am projecting...https://blogs.psychcentral.com/childhood-neglect/2019/01/trapped-in-a-circle-of-your-own-self-doubt-3-steps-out/
...and I paused to find and insert this article but got sidetracked by email.
I sent one to that Dr. that, in his carelessness or dabbling of the dark arts, had sent me spiraling into and exiled outer-space. I wanted to give him the chance to fix things before I pursued complaints against what I am now feeling and logically perceiving as "unethical treatment."
He decided I was a threat and liability so he called my treatment done, and because I have been documenting my "crazy," my thoughts and feelings, it can make it easy for him to turn things into just that. Write me off as "our treatment of that issue is done, you are healed of that," thus relieving him and his clinic of their obligations in treating me and making sure he or they had not accidentally or intentionally done harm.
I am at a huge disadvantage because they will definitely be bias toward protecting him. I have already been blamed as I look back frustrated that he wouldn't hear me when I cried and tried and fought desperately for him to understand and continue to provide or help me find the appropriate help.
I have surgery that I am facing that is directly related to the car injury.
I am reliving my trauma from my youth that is directly related to the car accident and head injury from that.
It is strange to be an adult and a child at the same time.
I am cycling through the intensities of the emotions one experiences with that.
The whole picture of me had been lost. I had forgotten and buried so much and when did that happen? Did it happen with the crash? Some of it feels like yes and some of it feels like no.
"So this is all part of the job" I asked Not really given answer, I think he responded with a question. "We have been working to uncover my buried story and now you are just going to take it all back?" I asked when I could finally get into see him after two weeks of ... I won't label...
But when I was just breaking through is precisely when he decided to drop me.
When he decided I was "cured" of needing him and his expertise. I needed to figure out again what I was really capable of occupationally. My relationships were a mess and TBI was a major factor in this. All of this was just coming to light, it had not been addressed.
He did not want to work with me anymore but that does not mean that his skillset was no longer needed. On the contrary his skillset is exactly what was needed. What a curse for him, if it really is true that no-one else in his practice could have taken me and there are no others with similar skillsets he could have referred me to.
This is very frustrating. It is a crazy, terrible and yet beautiful story that I can appreciate for many reasons and for what it is but it is also very frustrating. Other peoples methods of self preservation and justification are very frustrating to me.
so as I stay true to letting things come out and be what they are as I write (on my blog and on my ever increasing report on studying myself) I will let this one stay also.
...I will have to edit later since I need to go now.. But this feels important to me to publish now
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
Blackbirds
I'd rather work with you than against you. In my quest to heal I need to understand. And you need to understand, I am neither a toy nor a liability.
But I am strong. Since my story has been written it is not so hard to figure out what has happened and to know that you know better. You are tricky and sly and I see that. But you may have gotten caught up a little too much in the label, stigmas, and preconceived notions that your profession claims to be helping. I am so much more than people want to give me credit for. And I believed the lie that I wasn't. I believed the lies that people told me about me because they felt I was a threat to their superiority. I am not a threat, I am friend. I do not believe in the king of the hill I believe in the camaraderie of the game and I believe that there is room on the hill for everyone in the end.
My intention is to help and heal and that is what I will do. If the problem is bigger and runs deeper than this incident and this is truly policy or a regular practice I will do my best to make sure these mistakes are not repeated with others. I know better than to think that I am that special, I am an isolated incident and that somehow my silence will protect others, whether the problem is with you or within the profession; I know better.
Your faith in me may have been a superficial guise but how much faith do you have in yourself and your ability to help people find their buried self and become empowered happier healthier versions of themselves? You are the best. And we both know that.
I'd rather work with you than against you. But, either way, I will work to protect the vulnerable and for the ethics in the profession that have been warped and used against me, the one they are meant to protect. You are not out of my league nor I out of yours.
You are not afraid of me and I expect a call.
But I am strong. Since my story has been written it is not so hard to figure out what has happened and to know that you know better. You are tricky and sly and I see that. But you may have gotten caught up a little too much in the label, stigmas, and preconceived notions that your profession claims to be helping. I am so much more than people want to give me credit for. And I believed the lie that I wasn't. I believed the lies that people told me about me because they felt I was a threat to their superiority. I am not a threat, I am friend. I do not believe in the king of the hill I believe in the camaraderie of the game and I believe that there is room on the hill for everyone in the end.
My intention is to help and heal and that is what I will do. If the problem is bigger and runs deeper than this incident and this is truly policy or a regular practice I will do my best to make sure these mistakes are not repeated with others. I know better than to think that I am that special, I am an isolated incident and that somehow my silence will protect others, whether the problem is with you or within the profession; I know better.
Your faith in me may have been a superficial guise but how much faith do you have in yourself and your ability to help people find their buried self and become empowered happier healthier versions of themselves? You are the best. And we both know that.
I'd rather work with you than against you. But, either way, I will work to protect the vulnerable and for the ethics in the profession that have been warped and used against me, the one they are meant to protect. You are not out of my league nor I out of yours.
You are not afraid of me and I expect a call.
Sleep cycles... No, sleep AND cycles
I almost got a good nights sleep last night. Almost. This time it was my shoulder that woke me. I sprained my clavical and some other bone connection in my shoulder the other day teaching snowboarding to the most adventures and daring 4 year old person I have ever met. He was furious with me because I would not take him on the steepest and most difficult runs of our resort. He can neither turn or stop. He was fun to work with, hilarious, and also exhausting, but in an effort to keep him from careening completely out of control and really hurting himself or someone else I took a few falls myself. I am not even sure which fall it was or how one can actually fall in a way that would result in the child's snowboard coming down on ones shoulder or vice verse but I managed it. And now the pain of that wakes me...
Why does sleep evade me in this time of need? What lesson or joke is the universe playing with me?
Oh well. It does make me laugh because the stacking of events that keep me from sleep seems so statistically impossible. But statistics do fail to take into account individuals so there is that.
And my brain just keeps working... Trying to process far too much all at once.
I thought to be done but I think I will defend myself since some people seem to think I should be judged harshly for my reprocessing and/or rumination.
If we look at how people often handle things we will see that many learn very slowly or not at all how to break free of learned and/or natural behaviors that can cause problems for them in the long run. Many people fall into depression and grieve for years, sometimes their lifetime. Obesity is evidence that unhealthy habits are repeated to the detriment of the person. People will excuse and justify their own bad behavior and perpetuate problems often for their entire life. Most of us take years to acquire knowledge and evolve. I know many people who decide that something is the way it is and will not budge on their belief no matter the evidence even when the belief is causing them harm. It is hard to watch when you care for that person but you eventually learn not to try and explain or help them because they will just fight you on it and your relationship will be damaged. These are very normal and common habits, behaviors and problems.
But those who wish to change, know well the process is slow. It takes time and the process can be very cyclical. In fact the scenario's I described are cyclical. People change and evolve or regress in very cyclical ways. They will cycle through and repeat many of the same things but with small changes each time that eventually turn into the bigger problem or the fix. Understanding and changing can be a slow process. Rarely is it an overnight dramatic change. It may appear that way with some people but even in their cases there was likely some cyclical conditioning prior to the epiphanic change.
So I am cycling. Rapid cycling maybe, but is it "unhealthy" or is that a judgement? Is it unhealthy to let the cycling happen quicker if it wants to? In order to move out of this faster? Often to pack it away is to let it fester. If I try to leave it alone my brain will very naturally slide into its well traveled ruts, thus digging them deeper, and I will be broken again and have to accept that previous beliefs about my worthlessness are in fact confirmed and true. I would rather not. I am already a slow processor and I am "intense" or I feel things intensely. But I am also intelligent, teachable, and tenacious. When I want to learn and I want to change I think it is okay for me to rapid cycle and fight my way out of the condemning situation. And I suppose if I need to, every now and again, I may have to stick up for and defend myself. I may have to fight with others for myself, but I will try to fight fair.
I am cycling, yes. I may or may not get stuck in rumination. But I am cycling up and out and with each rumination I discover something new or find joy in something of value to me so I will excuse myself from anyones cyclical judgements here. Instead I will be happy to share what I have learned through this process and I hope it may help them in the event they choose to drop their judgements and talk with me about it.
Why does sleep evade me in this time of need? What lesson or joke is the universe playing with me?
Oh well. It does make me laugh because the stacking of events that keep me from sleep seems so statistically impossible. But statistics do fail to take into account individuals so there is that.
And my brain just keeps working... Trying to process far too much all at once.
I thought to be done but I think I will defend myself since some people seem to think I should be judged harshly for my reprocessing and/or rumination.
If we look at how people often handle things we will see that many learn very slowly or not at all how to break free of learned and/or natural behaviors that can cause problems for them in the long run. Many people fall into depression and grieve for years, sometimes their lifetime. Obesity is evidence that unhealthy habits are repeated to the detriment of the person. People will excuse and justify their own bad behavior and perpetuate problems often for their entire life. Most of us take years to acquire knowledge and evolve. I know many people who decide that something is the way it is and will not budge on their belief no matter the evidence even when the belief is causing them harm. It is hard to watch when you care for that person but you eventually learn not to try and explain or help them because they will just fight you on it and your relationship will be damaged. These are very normal and common habits, behaviors and problems.
But those who wish to change, know well the process is slow. It takes time and the process can be very cyclical. In fact the scenario's I described are cyclical. People change and evolve or regress in very cyclical ways. They will cycle through and repeat many of the same things but with small changes each time that eventually turn into the bigger problem or the fix. Understanding and changing can be a slow process. Rarely is it an overnight dramatic change. It may appear that way with some people but even in their cases there was likely some cyclical conditioning prior to the epiphanic change.
So I am cycling. Rapid cycling maybe, but is it "unhealthy" or is that a judgement? Is it unhealthy to let the cycling happen quicker if it wants to? In order to move out of this faster? Often to pack it away is to let it fester. If I try to leave it alone my brain will very naturally slide into its well traveled ruts, thus digging them deeper, and I will be broken again and have to accept that previous beliefs about my worthlessness are in fact confirmed and true. I would rather not. I am already a slow processor and I am "intense" or I feel things intensely. But I am also intelligent, teachable, and tenacious. When I want to learn and I want to change I think it is okay for me to rapid cycle and fight my way out of the condemning situation. And I suppose if I need to, every now and again, I may have to stick up for and defend myself. I may have to fight with others for myself, but I will try to fight fair.
I am cycling, yes. I may or may not get stuck in rumination. But I am cycling up and out and with each rumination I discover something new or find joy in something of value to me so I will excuse myself from anyones cyclical judgements here. Instead I will be happy to share what I have learned through this process and I hope it may help them in the event they choose to drop their judgements and talk with me about it.
Monday, January 14, 2019
The very hungry caterpillar
So I needed to get some medical records to help me pursue the treatments I need with doctors and to get a full picture of this car accident mess. The hospital I had to go to is the new version of the hospital I was treated in and stayed at 28 years ago this month when I had my first TBI. While there I thought to ask about those medical records as well. They likely do not have anything since they only keep them for 7-10 years. However the lady was super nice and said that she would submit it and try to see if anything turned up.
Why do I want these?
I want to know how bad or how minor this the TBI I suffered so long ago really was.
If I have learned one thing this past year it is that acting like someone is okay and believing they are okay does not make them okay. It does not make them better.
It is not bad to believe that someone is okay and/or they will be okay but if it is due to denial or believing that believing will magically change things, then it is not likely to help.
In fact it can cause extended pain and perpetuating problems.
So often people flip, or pendulum swing to the other extreme and they become enablers.
I am not asking for or seeking that.
But balance is somewhere in the middle and too many people seeing my strengths and wanting to believe that I am okay have neglected to fulfill their obligations and that has caused and perpetuated some serious problems for me.
I have choices.
I can be bitter and angry.
I can keep trying to believe that it was not neglect.
I can recognize that neglect happens for reasons that are usually out of the neglected's control and this does not mean that they are not valuable but rather may be reflective of the pain and suffering of the neglector.
I can forgive.
I can forget about it and just keep on trying to pretend that I am just fine and just like everyone else.
I can try to file for disability
I can learn about it from my new place and face it for what it is.
I can seek and continue to seek help
I can try to do it all alone.
I can talk about it
Or I can stay quiet
I have many many choices and I have made many of these before and I make them everyday... Where I end up, I really don't know and I am not so sure I care because I have learned how to enjoy the journey more. So this time around is already much more fun and will be as I try to accept what and who I am.. again... and again.
I have choices and
Fortunately I have this incredible brain. An injured brain with only the medical records of family members and my memories to prove it. I know I had, at very least, a quarter sized bleed that showed up on CT scans. And it was rattled extra as it bounced along unconscious in a sled being pulled to a car to take me home. So there is permanent damage. (And if you think people have negative stigma's about mental health issue's try admitting that you have brain damage.)
But in spite of all of that -and directly because of that- I have this amazing brain that has been solving itself ever since. By creating it's own new pathways initially with little to no professional help it became a ridiculously resourceful analyzer and problem solver. It is capable of taking pathways and making connections that uninjured brains don't even know exist.
It is no wonder I feel so very comfortable outside of boxes and my boundaries are not as easy to define or identify for others. It is that way in my brain. And even when it isn't this brain has some knowledge on accessing that.
...So when someone says, "don't try to solve this" that power of suggestion automatically sets gears into motion and the can of worms is opened. That is not a good time to abandon and jump ship by the way.
I have choices.
Right now I need to fight for me. Right now I get to face it or hide. I am facing my fears and I am refusing to be the victim of my own learned neglect -neglect myself to care for others.
And it's funny how looking back I see that my neglecting of myself has not enhanced my care of others and does not help them but it likely causes more damage than harm.
Though I had often said that caring for others is part of how I care for myself (and this is true -it is still true) my balance has a tendency to lean too far from caring for myself. So while I still want to maintain that part of caring I will do it with a new perspective.
...It seems that my fighter, that I thought should stay buried forever, is emerging hopefully morphed and more evolved. I am ready to embrace it and/or (at very least) accept it for what it is and work with it.
Why do I want these?
I want to know how bad or how minor this the TBI I suffered so long ago really was.
If I have learned one thing this past year it is that acting like someone is okay and believing they are okay does not make them okay. It does not make them better.
It is not bad to believe that someone is okay and/or they will be okay but if it is due to denial or believing that believing will magically change things, then it is not likely to help.
In fact it can cause extended pain and perpetuating problems.
So often people flip, or pendulum swing to the other extreme and they become enablers.
I am not asking for or seeking that.
But balance is somewhere in the middle and too many people seeing my strengths and wanting to believe that I am okay have neglected to fulfill their obligations and that has caused and perpetuated some serious problems for me.
I have choices.
I can be bitter and angry.
I can keep trying to believe that it was not neglect.
I can recognize that neglect happens for reasons that are usually out of the neglected's control and this does not mean that they are not valuable but rather may be reflective of the pain and suffering of the neglector.
I can forgive.
I can forget about it and just keep on trying to pretend that I am just fine and just like everyone else.
I can try to file for disability
I can learn about it from my new place and face it for what it is.
I can seek and continue to seek help
I can try to do it all alone.
I can talk about it
Or I can stay quiet
I have many many choices and I have made many of these before and I make them everyday... Where I end up, I really don't know and I am not so sure I care because I have learned how to enjoy the journey more. So this time around is already much more fun and will be as I try to accept what and who I am.. again... and again.
I have choices and
Fortunately I have this incredible brain. An injured brain with only the medical records of family members and my memories to prove it. I know I had, at very least, a quarter sized bleed that showed up on CT scans. And it was rattled extra as it bounced along unconscious in a sled being pulled to a car to take me home. So there is permanent damage. (And if you think people have negative stigma's about mental health issue's try admitting that you have brain damage.)
But in spite of all of that -and directly because of that- I have this amazing brain that has been solving itself ever since. By creating it's own new pathways initially with little to no professional help it became a ridiculously resourceful analyzer and problem solver. It is capable of taking pathways and making connections that uninjured brains don't even know exist.
It is no wonder I feel so very comfortable outside of boxes and my boundaries are not as easy to define or identify for others. It is that way in my brain. And even when it isn't this brain has some knowledge on accessing that.
...So when someone says, "don't try to solve this" that power of suggestion automatically sets gears into motion and the can of worms is opened. That is not a good time to abandon and jump ship by the way.
I have choices.
Right now I need to fight for me. Right now I get to face it or hide. I am facing my fears and I am refusing to be the victim of my own learned neglect -neglect myself to care for others.
And it's funny how looking back I see that my neglecting of myself has not enhanced my care of others and does not help them but it likely causes more damage than harm.
Though I had often said that caring for others is part of how I care for myself (and this is true -it is still true) my balance has a tendency to lean too far from caring for myself. So while I still want to maintain that part of caring I will do it with a new perspective.
...It seems that my fighter, that I thought should stay buried forever, is emerging hopefully morphed and more evolved. I am ready to embrace it and/or (at very least) accept it for what it is and work with it.
in and out of the rabbit hole
On last year;
Reprocessing… Maybe it is best not to reprocess any of it. Sometimes as I start to reprocess so many times of feeling like I don’t belong and I identify some of the reasons for that I start to feel that I don’t belong in this world at all. I can feel this in both positive and negative ways.
I am tired again.
I will get surgery on my ankle sooner rather than later because 1. It is hurting too much when I teach and snowboard now which is increasing the risk of further damage and injury. I was able to get away with it last year because I couldn’t and didn’t ride much due to the concussion and the chiropractor was treating. Plus the head and other pains kept me from feeling it as much. But I did feel it because I got really good at riding switch (riding with the opposite foot as the lead foot) from that and the fact that I was already off balance made going switch not nearly as scary. (because it already was scary riding off balance) 2. I am already sleeping so terribly and my brain is a mess because of that so I’d rather not prolong that any longer than I have to because the surgery is likely going to screw that up too. 3. Since writing seems to be what I can and am driven to do right now, I could take advantage of that time for writing. 4. I would like to get all this crap addressed sooner rather than later so I can move on with my life.
Tenacity
In my adolescence I was given that label as a nickname.
Sometimes I figure things out before I actually figure things out.
or another way to look at that might be;
sometimes people think I have things figured out before I actually do.
This is an interesting thing to observe and think about.
I see it in teaching a lot.
One way we learn is by parroting and mimicking. But that does not mean the concept has been fully understood or grasped, it can merely be part of the learning process.
Sometimes my intuition and instinct will give answers from my mouth and it is after that point that I start to process what I am saying.
I do not think I am unusual in that.
Often where we think we are different we are the same
and where we think we are the same we are different
and sometimes I don't have things figured out and wouldn't (or don't even care to) figure it out if they didn't get nervous and start making mistakes due to their own suspicion of me... that is reflective of them or projected onto me
I likely do the same thing
Oh dear brain... you may need to stop while you are still ahead (haha, that's a funny play on words too and I did exactly what I talked about, processed what I said after saying it)
Sometimes I figure things out before I actually figure things out.
or another way to look at that might be;
sometimes people think I have things figured out before I actually do.
This is an interesting thing to observe and think about.
I see it in teaching a lot.
One way we learn is by parroting and mimicking. But that does not mean the concept has been fully understood or grasped, it can merely be part of the learning process.
Sometimes my intuition and instinct will give answers from my mouth and it is after that point that I start to process what I am saying.
I do not think I am unusual in that.
Often where we think we are different we are the same
and where we think we are the same we are different
and sometimes I don't have things figured out and wouldn't (or don't even care to) figure it out if they didn't get nervous and start making mistakes due to their own suspicion of me... that is reflective of them or projected onto me
I likely do the same thing
Oh dear brain... you may need to stop while you are still ahead (haha, that's a funny play on words too and I did exactly what I talked about, processed what I said after saying it)
Sunday, January 13, 2019
what the...?
And other times I'm like "what the hell just happened??" or "what the hell was wrong with me?!"
and I'm back to my same old self when I look in the mirror.
and I'm back to my same old self when I look in the mirror.
past blast on being angry
I journaled these thoughts back in August, long before (at least it feels a bit like forever too me) my recent "break through" and self studying journalling experience started. After my conversation with the lovely lady yesterday I think this could be helpful information to some.
8/29/18
A friend told me about a book she read. Part of it talked about the forbidden emotions in dysfunctional families. How there is one forbidden emotion.
I think my forbidden emotion-my own- is anger. I don’t handle it from others well and I don’t handle it well from myself.
So I avoid it.
And I’m not too sure how that affects me, my decision making, and my relationships.
It seems that anger is part of the emotional process of coping. It is part of the grieving processes. Maybe I need to stop looking at it as “bad”
Anger, In my opinion, is masking an underlying problem or emotion and is almost never fully justified, or if it is justified maybe I don’t view it as constructive.
But maybe it is or can be constructive?… maybe... when it is embraced as a valid and justifiable emotion that deserves a spot in the counsel of the ego?
Right now I feel angry
...because I don’t want to deal with all the bills and insurance and lawyer stuff from the car accident.
I feel angry that it was already hard to organize and structure my mental energy and time and now it seems immensely harder
… all because that lady didn’t stop, didn’t signal, and didn’t wait her turn or turn and check again and then didn’t maneuver her left turn correctly.
But then I feel angry with myself too because I was hurrying across the intersection. I went the way that made me more nervous in the first place and I don’t remember being aware of her before I started into the intersection (though that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t, I took a hard blow to the head, I may have been) but I wasn’t more aware of her… Just saying it I feel that my anger with myself for those things is somewhat unjustified, I feel that I would never be angry with someone else for those things, and if I were it would only because I feel scared and worried for them (like when I get mad at my kids for getting hurt. I’m not mad, I’m scared and worried) I think it is okay to forgive myself those offenses.
But what about the anger I feel for myself because it wasn’t even that bad of an accident and it’s been such a hassle and a hold up. Am I just using it as an excuse and I am angry at myself for using it as an excuse? Or am I angry because it really has tipped an already delicate scale and I AM angry about it (writing the latter makes me cry). And I am angry that the scale was already delicate and damaged.
Is the anger I am feeling keeping me from taking care of what I need to. Is the suppressed anger what is causing the avoidance, the embarrassment, and compounding the problem, etc?
I think I may be afraid to be angry because anger has hurt me and others in the past. My anger has hurt me and others.
Maybe I am afraid that if I embrace it even a little all the other anger I have will come out and I will be so angry. A raging angry maniac
Or I will just cry… but I do that anyway, shut in, cry, retract…
So I am not so angry at the moment.
Maybe anger comes in waves?
Maybe anger passes quickly when you decide to face it, embrace it, accept it, or even just allow yourself to feel it and analyze it?
I think I have written out what I need to today.
But can I face the medical bills? Can I bring myself to call my lawyer that used to be my friend in school years?
Or is that maybe it is embarrassment and shame?
But I’ll save that for another day.
...and now I am tired.
neuroplasticity
What is Neuroplasticity?
Here is a "medical definition" and a link with great information about it:
"Neuroplasticity: The brain's ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections throughout life. Neuroplasticity allows the neurons (nerve cells) in the brain to compensate for injury and disease and to adjust their activities in response to new situations or to changes in their environment."
https://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=40362 https://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=40362
And here is the definition from the other side of the tracks...oh wait; the other side of the tracks, also referred to as "the wrong side of the tracks," is where I grew up... so maybe I "should" call it the definition from the other side of the profession. Yeah that works.
And here is the definition from the other side of the profession:
Neuroplastcity: the ability of your brain to make new connections in an attempt to restore functionality and stability by learning to take and make new paths that may be uncomfortable and unnatural for you and others.
Your brain now works things out differently and you need to let it. It's okay. With mTBI [concussions] it is likely that your brain has just learned and realized, through the rattling and shaking (that works something like a waking), that there is more to it than it formerly realized and/or has forgotten about and it may be a bit excited and overly anxious to access and utilize some of those new area's. It may even forget how efficient it had become as it is having flashbacks of the excitement of being a new life once again. It's neural connections are firing all over as it tries to remember how it worked before. [I speculate and would love to see a study or do a study to see if the concussed/injured brain behaves similar to an infant or child's brain on an FMRI, this could potentially explain the emotional instability that is so common and also difficult to deal with in concussed and head injured patients].
Appropriate guidance through and during these processes can be immensely helpful.
But finding skilled professionals who understand this and know how to guide you through this is incredibly difficult.
Even more difficult than I thought as I had a conversation just yesterday with a lovely lady from San Francisco who has not been able to find appropriate help with this. I thought it would be much easier to find in a large area like that with great schools in the area... so that causes feelings of sadness in me.
So these are my thoughts that are waking and/or keeping awake at 3:40 am. And I know that screens will not help me go back to sleep but I also know that my brain will not sleep easily and wants to hold onto things it feels are important and get them done quickly or as soon as possible less it forgets. It is a coping mechanism and strategy that I use and that helps me feel more happy and productive when I do utilize it (that strategy being: get it done when you think about it so you don't forget and it comes back to haunt you when you either, a) can't do anything about it or b) it is too late to do it and you have lost that window of opportunity.)
*In this blog entry I am "modeling my thinking" as I write more than one would typically say. Modeling your thinking is an effective teaching method one learns when they become a teacher (at least I learned it in my program. I have worked with some teachers that did not seem to learn that strategy)
I use it here to illustrate this actually happening to some extent in a somewhat comical way and I now explain this to further illustrate and because I have learned that my re-routed thinking styles are often misunderstood. *
**The other side of the profession is referring to me and my experiences of learning and education from having suffered a TBI at 12 and a more recent mTBI.
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