Transference in A Thousand Years

I want to make my own music video to this song. Christina Perri: A thousand years
About transference. The kind where you need to learn to love yourself.
I listen to this song and visualize the good of what was happening in therapy. The part that I needed [maybe] most.
Christina Perri: A thousand years

I see myself sitting in the waiting room.
My therapists comes out where he usually does, sometimes looking a little ragged and worn down sometimes looking just normal. I am happy to see him, always.  I smile at him standing there alone. He returns the smiles with the light in his eyes that I love to see.
As I walk toward him it becomes apparent that he is holding a mirror the mirror that then turns into a full length mirror and I am there alone staring at myself.
My smile disappears as I realize he has disappeared. I look behind the mirror and then back into the mirror.
He is there, in the mirror with his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me through the mirror. He turns me around to face myself again, this time I'm looking at myself from the other side of the mirror. I turn back to my therapist but he points me once again to face myself.
I then see myself the way my therapist has been trying to help me see me.
I see that I am worth loving and I am beautiful in my own way.  I see that it is okay to love my perfectly imperfect self and even that I have and can continue to.
I walk out the front side of the mirror rejoining myself and my therapist walks out the back.
I think this is how the story is supposed to end.

...But in my story I noticed the pain in my therapists eyes as I looked back. I trusted his strength but I also felt his hesitation to turn me around and his vulnerability as he leaned just slightly on me. I felt his fear and his pain as he then carefully pushed me away to regain his own footing.  I realized how hard his job is. Unfortunately he didn't notice that my concern for him had distracted me and I had not fully rejoined the me that was walking away strong. But as he left the mirror fell and shattered and the now split me is left facing the closed door he escaped through while strong me doesn't make it too far before the unaddressed brain damage and reality of the split takes me down and I am left split and alone wondering what I did wrong and how to fix it.
"you can listen to it while you cry yourself to sleep tonight" I say but it's not about him at all, I am speaking of myself; evidence of how enmeshed and entangled I am in this complex psychological web.

... I don't think about that part when I listen to this song. Rather I try to see the whole me and leave with that me fully intact loving myself for a thousand years and loving my therapist as my past therapist and simply that.
Maybe I need to listen to it more.
Or maybe less.
But mostly I need to accept and love the me that I am, broken or not.

Suicidal Explained

Too many hits too close together.
compounded by the big hit that left permanent damage
Yesterday I thought I'd not visit you (blog) for awhile
today, as the gun to the head persists in its nagging I decided to come back to you

I know the stigma all to well
almost impossible to escape
and it starts to feel hopeless so you start to look for a way out. you try hard but when you keep coming back to the same place of rejection, misunderstanding, and "not a chance" your brain may naturally start looking for a way out.
It can be a symptom.
A symptom of something physical
something mental or something emotional
or it could even be a symptom of a screwed up society
But you got to catch it and do something with it or it will do something with you.
You start to plan.
Very naturally. because it makes sense. One less pathetic, burdensome, non contributor to our world is not a bad thing. I can help with that at least... at very least I can do that.
Yep those are the natural thoughts. Haven't been haunted by to this degree for like 20 years.
But I am now.
The thing is; I don't really want to die. It is just what my body is starting to think it is supposed to do. Maybe because I haven't been able to walk for 5 weeks now. I'm in the final stretch. This is a norm I am not accustomed to and my body and mind love movement. They are wearing down. And there goes that left hand again. shaking. Do I need to see a neurologist? But why? so I can feel like even more of a burden and be told nothing anyway.
off on a tangent lets get back to my death. How my body is dying through my brain.
How do people do it when they have the diseases that count and you are allowed to die from; even given credit for dying from?
They often still fight to live, even when they are dying from nobly accepted ailments.
So the question I find myself asking -the chemo to my cancer- is "How do I not die today?"
Today I will not die by blogging.
Today I will not die by sleeping.
Today I will not die by smiling.
Today I will not die by petting my dog.
Today I will pet my dog
and smile
today I will breath
and get a coke with a friend
Today I will talk about it. the hard stuff with the patient advocate.
She was patient, even when I was hard. She kept asking if there was anything else
...and I needed that.
I needed her to keep asking. and I needed to open up and talk, like a human, not a liability who is frustrated with the hurt she cannot change.
Today I will appreciate that. and I will love her for it.
And the friend who gave me the benefit of the doubt and dared to talk openly with me.
Today I will live
and I will again tomorrow
and the next day
and just like it has before
it will get better and the uninvited images of fast ways out will disappear
because life is an adventure
no matter what it looks like
and my goal
is to keep living it
...and loving it.

**Update, After finally being heard by the new team, that I had to find myself, and finally put me on a mood stabilizer that is working surprising well and surprisingly quickly: Unfortunately the patient advocate did not help me get the help I needed and eventually turned on me as well, calling the police to do the job they would not do, and the police, they can do nothing, because I was not in immediate danger, as I had told the other "patient advocate"  lady on the phone. I was just fading as I was trying to start over trying to find a new team with no help from the old one, whose jurisdiction I was under and who had the responsibility and obligation to help me but was simply doing what they could to appease but avoid treating, trying to subtly coax me to go elsewhere with all of their games, denying what had happened and what was going on with me, refusing to talk to me about it and refusing treatment.
Ultimately this conversation and others were used against me as justification for exile in there claim of "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues" and at this time, not cops were called, but they did maintain the no actual concern for me as evidenced in no follow through or actual concern about these very serious issues I was experiencing.

cryptic

was it he or was it me?
cryptic
I liked the game but
was it only my game?

maybe I don't know so much as I think
maybe I was farther gone then I knew
but if so, fooled I you
so that means something

My super powers
I don't yet know how to control
or the extent of them

In the meantime
I'm learning to be okay again
learning to be better than before
because, even if they all want to deny it,
I confused them

I at least know

my new reality is my old reality
that I didn't understand.
my new reality is new again
but this time I know it is head injury
and knowing my reality I can adjust
and learn how to live accordingly

It is confusing
but at least I know what I am and why
and that doesn't mean I deserve to die
or that I am the bad guy

cryptic is your game
and I played along

TBI is my reality
broken, I play wrong

How to begin again.

It is the biggest mystery of all

and I am not sure where to start

Rules are made to be...?

Here is a theory:
Rules are made to for the masses and ideally to protect the masses.
However there is always an exception to the rule.
Should we ignore the exception and force the rule? Or allow the exception only for the exception?
If we allow the exception we compromise the rule.
If we do not allow the exception we compromise the exception.
But if the exception is the ideal the rule is artificially attempting to replicate or protect from abuse then should the rule be reconsidered?
If we do not allow for the exception to the rule we risk destroying or defiling the exception.
We may even risk the destruction of the rule if it becomes known that enforcing the rule abused the exception.
This could result in the untimely changing of rules that are still needed for the majority.
But when the majority becomes the exception to the rule and the rule is hurting large numbers of people then the rule is no longer noble but now an easy abuse of power and the rule needs changing.

Psychiatrist vs Psychologist

The difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist is that
a psychiatrist prescribes drugs
while the psychologist is the drug.

Confession

okay...It's confession time
I am dragging my feet and procrastinating.
I did not want to go this route but realized I need to let go and move on.
But the problem is I really don't want to. I don't want to let go.

I feel cheated
I feel so cheated
not JUST from the professional and institutional side of this but
from the the freaking romantic side of this...

ugh... there I said it.

November 26, 2018: I'm fighting so hard to keep him, however I can. I feel such a powerful and profound connection that I know I don't fully understand, and have not been allowing myself to understand, but I want to. I want to be able to know this man for real, to see what this connection is; to know if this connection is real or just a side effect of treatment, healing, my broken brain and/or the psychology he has been practicing with me.
We can be friends... I don't remember how but I was pushing hard enough for it that he was loosing his composure. "I could never really open up to you" "I would always want to protect you"
"what is wrong with that?" I think but do not say. the feeling is mutual.
"and if I were to open up to you and allowed my self to be vulnerable with you I could not bare you leaving" his scrambling thoughts quickly fall from his mouth and I am not sure he meant to say that.
...but he did, and I heard it. and while I know it could mean something different than I think, it is very powerful
...it keeps me coming back.
he is expecting me to do what he himself cannot.
but even more- in that same moment, the tragic irony is; he saying that he just did opened up to me and became vulnerable... and now I cannot leave him. because he could not bare it.
and I don't want to.
I don't want to abandon him the way his wife or some other significant other had. I don't want to abandon him because I know what it feels like and I don't want to hurt him like that.
I don't want to abandon him the way he abandoned me.
...especially if those feelings are or could be real.
I am just now realizing this. and it is silly and messed up because he is so entirely gone and was so clear in that he would be.
So my confession. I guess I don't want to let go and I want to believe in the fantasy.
...To bad baby girl -it's time to get over it.
I guess.
...and I'm dragging my feet... not wanting to let go...

Validated

Yesterday I had my post op appointment for my ankle. My beautiful surgeon got called into an emergency surgery so I saw his assistant. She has been assisting in these surgeries for a very long time; part of that time in the military. She was happy to inform me that my doc was one of the best. I always like to hear that.
When she saw me she remembered my surgery right away -didn't even have to consulate the report to remember.
"Oh, I remember you," she says,
"you were the worst ever!"
No, she did not say that, it was "yours was the worst I have ever seen."
"And the surgeons," she tells me (or least she was pretty sure he had also said it was the worst he had seen, definitely one of, if not the confirmed worst)
She explains how bad it was and how it must have been that way for some time.
"about a year and I half?" I ask.
"Yeah, that is a long time" she confirms.
She explains that there was even a second tear that the MRI didn't pick up because of how bad the tendonitis was.
Remember yesterdays post where I mentioned how all three doctors I saw about it were surprised by strength and my stability?
She stopped herself as tears started to well up in my eyes. "Oh no, what did I say wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing"  I try to explain.
It is validating
and I am glad my husband is there to hear it.
It's Validating for so many reasons and yet so painful also.
It is symbolic and parallel to what is going on with me...
It is painful because I know it could mean some bad things that I did not realize it was so bad. That I did not feel enough pain to get me in sooner.
...and I had just seen the wrist doctor in the same office who suggested I might want to consult with a neurologist about the weird shaking in my left hand.
Maybe I have been working a lot harder than I give myself credit for to not be a burden and a complainer. To be independent and strong.
The overlooking and neglect of it is very much tied to and paralleling TBI to me... and maybe physiologically more than I know. Which honestly scares me.
"Even if I were open to that I'd have to be willing to take that one" he said at one point when I was trying to convince him that I was worth investing his time in. I was and still am not entirely sure what he thought I was asking him to be open to. I am not entirely sure I knew or know what I was asking him to be open to... but what I heard was that he was not willing to take me on because he knew too well the type of burden I might be. It cut me deeply but I did not show it and I have tried to ignore it, especially because logically I know I don't really know what he meant by that..

But I know that I am damaged. I have brain damage. And maybe it is worse than I know. It is a fear I think I really hide and have hidden well. I am afraid of aging and my life feels so much shorter because I know I am more likely to have problems due to it as I age... sometimes I fear that I feel it already. It is part of why the car accident concussion was so traumatic. I don't feel like I can afford it.
But that is fear. and maybe, hopefully that is all it is.
It is my bigger fear manifesting in my ankle. And it is traumatic too because the ankle got overlooked because the mTBI was so much the bigger problem. I needed to do everything I could to take care of that one. And ironically, the exercise and dealing with one thing at a time that were prescribed by the head doctors was contributing to the ankle problem.
These invisible injuries can be so complex.
And I am learning so dang much about myself when I thought I had me figured out. I thought it was everyone else I needed to figure out, because I am introspective and I tend to analyze myself first and what I can do and what my part is or was. I try to fix me first.
...and I know I need to stop trying to fix the broken parts of me by myself, yet, her I am.
I thought I knew how to ask for help. I thought I knew how to say no to people.
...ahh life. The more we learn the less we know.

how to handle the perfect storm

I find myself wondering about perfect storms and how they have the ability to reshape the world. Through them humanity at its worst can come out OR humanity at its best can come out. It all depends on how the "victims" of the storm choose to handle it.
They can help each other to rebuild or they can fight for their own survival.
In rebuilding they can improve upon or completely reshape what had been destroyed.
Who will you be?

I also find myself wondering about how we perpetuate our own cycles of neglect and abuse. How do we break those cycles? We may think we have, only to find ourself there once again... was it them or is it me this time? and often the abused becomes the abuser or the neglected becomes the neglector.
and I don't want to be either.

The perfect storm

I think that I might be the perfect storm.
This will be a disjointed post of a whole lot of stuff rattling in my brain that I just want to get out quickly, so I can move on and be "more productive"
?what does that really mean anyway?
I get my stitches out today; post op on my ankle. "Will you have a scare?" my daughter asked.
" I better!" I reply. 

Why?
to me scars are the tattoos of adventure
and I think I want the scar to show because I have so many injuries that do not visibly show so people are not as careful with me as I sometimes may need them to be.
I think this is true for most people.

With my ankle I have learned:

1.  some seemingly small injuries can become big problems if they are ignored or overlooked. I did not actually ignore this injury. I had my chiropractor adjusting it, I had mentioned it to doctors, but merely mentioned it, and it was overlooked because the head was much more pressing. I also tried to build it back carefully thinking it was just a sprain, and being a runner I knew plenty of ankle strengthening exercises so I had (according to all three orthopedic surgeons who looked at it) really good stability for the injury. But it was overlooked, misdiagnosed by me at the very beginning when it maybe could have healed without surgery, had I been booted. 
2. When your head is a mess you overlook many things. And you behave strange
3. Many variables effect why things like this get missed 
4. It does not mean every little thing needs to be addressed immediately, but it suggests that balance is tricky (especially with a rattled/broken brain and injured ankle :)
5. I got way better at riding switch (using your non dominant food as your lead while snowboarding) because of it; good things can come from injuries
6. sometimes things need to get worse and you have to make decisions to actually allow or make it worse in order for real healing, improvement, and/or growth to happen.

so the ankle is recovering in my eternity of no weight bearing.

I do not know what to do with myself when I grow up again. 

that is tricky

 today I was struggling to get out of bed and face my fears and continue to cause those problems I need to cause in order to keep my other healing and growth going... In order to face reality and break the cycles of fantasy and my broken heart. 

My body wanted to just keep sleeping away my troubled thoughts. But I knew by doing so I would be feeding a very negative and extremely counterproductive sleeping pattern/ routine that becomes harder and harder to break the longer you let it go. It is hard to force yourself to get out of bed when you have such limited mobility, nothing that you have too do, and crap you don't want to face. So I turned on the TV.  I chose to do this and allowed myself to do this, to help tease my brain and body out of sleep and bed. It was a little thing, but it was doing something. 

Turned out to be a great motivator as I "stuck around" to hear the story of a the Maslin's on Good Morning America https://www.today.com/video/how-a-married-couple-rebuilt-their-lives-after-a-tragic-crime-1455671875774  

There are so many great lessons learned in this short clip. And I absolutely love how Abby explains that at the beginning she thought this was a journey about brain injury but she came to realize that this was really a "journey and a story of the human struggle."

Brain injuries and all troubles have a bright side. Mania can me fun, depression can give you depth and complexity, neuroplasticity helps you make connections that other people don't even know exist, anxiety can give you drive, and it can keep you safe, guilt can cause you to think before you act and to think of others... Obviously too much of these is no bueno, but they are not all bad. 

Maybe this is why I liked this article so much:

https://jimkwik.com/kwik-brain-095-how-to-get-out-of-your-own-way-with-todd-herman/

I love the idea of utilizing our own alter egos. I like how they embrace the idea that our identity is constantly changing. Identity is fluid and dynamic not static and unchangeable. 

I love this guy Jim Kwik's story. My sister shared a link to his story, I'll share the link on it's own blog entry because it deserves it's own attention. 

But the point I will end on here is that life is so very strange and timing and things may or may not actually be "for a reason," it may all just be coincidence but sometimes I doubt it.

And other times I think it is just plain helpful and exciting to find so many things aligning that seem to point us in certain directions. 

Other times I think it can be very healthy to give it all a reason and meaning. It can keep life, fun, interesting and meaningful. 

I don't always understand the reasons, and maybe my brain takes things a bit too far. Maybe at times I have a hard time distinguishing reality from fantasy but maybe I am not so far off and maybe imagination is an excellent tool for not only surviving but thriving. :)

Maybe fantasy is the reality that makes life worth living. 

"I love my beautiful crazy life." I tell the mountains as I remembered my blog I had forgotten for years amidst a flooding or memories that had been suppressed, when new me was trying to process the pain and strength of my heart where JP had taken root. 

...Yep, I really love JP, it's one of the best lifts at our resort 

How to survive TBI

The thing about TBI is there are so many degrees and variables. Some recent information I have found suggests that the degree of recovery and lasting effects may be directly related to the amount of social and psychological support the person has.

... At 12 I was pretty screwed. While I had a lot better support than many people in the world, and I love and appreciate my parents, they had pretty screwed up thinking patterns and psychology from their own traumatic life experiences so it was not exactly in line with what a person needs when recovering from TBI.


Maybe that is why I really liked this article I found:


https://www.brainline.org/article/lost-found-what-brain-injury-survivors-want-you-know#comment-44708


I especially wish my parents had understood this one about me when I was a teen:

"We need cheerleaders now, as we start over, just like children do when they are growing up. Please help me and encourage all efforts. Please don’t be negative or critical. I am doing the best I can."

[I was really screwed on that one because Negative and Critical are my parents' middle names]




That and the stuff about sleeping. I got raked over the coals a lot about sleeping too much and being lazy.

...which is really stupid now that I think about it because in high school I was on the cross country, track and swim teams. Regularly placing, #1 for girls in distance running -holding at least 3 school records. I was on the yearbook staff, I was active in my church activities, I participated in student counsels, I was in the honor society and usually held at least one job.

...sigh... reprocessing


maybe I am not so worthless. ...although I was battling serious depression, mood stability and suicidal thoughts then.

some reliving there.

...But I have made huge progress. I do have much more ground now than I did then.

.... and yet so much less at the same time as my life and prospects grow ever shorter and ever stranger.


40 is possibly my weirdest year yet.

and for some strange reason I find this encouraging.

Dilemmas

Filing a complaint/ opening an investigation
Why am I struggling with that so much?
I don't want to say the wrong things, yet I know I will make plenty of mistakes
I don't want to do undeserved damage to anyones career or reputation but who am I to judge goes both ways: speak up or shut up, either is making a judgement or appears to be.
But I think the biggest reality that I am really struggling with is my sense of self worth

Do I really want my worthlessness and/or ability to screw things up to be confirmed to the next level?

28 years crushed

I was able to talk to my sister the other day.
The one that is 13 months and 3 days older than I.
We shared a room and just about everything else growing up and she was there (age 13) when I (age 12) sustained the TBI from the tree that my tube collided with upon descending a snow covered path. She was the one who was furious when she saw them pulling my seemingly lifeless body in a sled across the field to the cars. My head rested on her shoulder or lap as she accompanied me home and then to the hospital.  She has never even complained about me throwing up in the car, and then riding to hospital in that car. She had to fill out incident reports and medical histories about me. She listened to me scream from the other room "don't take my clothes off" when they were trying to get me into appropriate hospital attire.
Though it was a closed head injury it caused some swelling that lasted awhile and she remembers my head being swollen and squishy. I remember that part too, but the memory of it doesn't bother me nearly as much.
It was a very traumatic experience for her.
This is my sister who knew me better than anyone. I was often her little shadow. She knew me before the accident and she knew me after. She has always seemed to know better than even myself how the accident had effected me.
She is the sister that saw, through our adolescence and beyond, how the head injury effected friendships and relationships. She watched me struggle and has confessed she wishes she had known how to explain to people what they didn't understand about me; that even though it was me it wasn't really me.
So when I told her of how things had taken a turn with my neuropsychologist,
she was very angry.
She was furious when I told her that at one point in trying to understand all of this, my concussion doctor -after discussing with the neuropsychologist- had suggested that the concussion problems may be secondary to mental illness.
"No, the only reason you have mental illness problems is because of head injury!" she fumed. "They need to understand that"
and she was furious that the office manager treated me the way she had. She was baffled that a place that treats people with neurological conditions would ever think that is a good idea.
She pointed out that they put my life in jeopardy. I explained to my sister that I was no longer in crises when that lady yelled at me, but she pointed out it did not matter and that I was still vulnerable. She is right.
Sometimes we need big sisters to speak up for us.
And it was especially wrong considering I had recently had a manic episode. I do not like to admit things like this and also I have made such huge progress I like to not focus on it as much as possible, but the truth is I have had to be hyper-diligent in fending off and being aware of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
and that is all I want to say about that, because I know enough to know I don't really want to die and if they plague me too much or start tainting other desires I've got loads of tools to fight it... including the antidepressant that my doctor recently doubled my dose of.
But even more than all of this the one thing that my dear sister was able to recognize, the most important thing I tried and have tried to explain to Dr. He, was that that moment of him deciding I was done with TBI related treatment and therapy was actually the beginning of me accepting how TBI was the part of my whole self and the perfectly imperfect part of my life that I need to come to understand and accept in order to really stay connected with my self and feel that I was of value.
In that moment, 28 years of hope were crushed
as he dropped me and then allowed me to be transformed into whatever monster of a liar or "crazy person" his facility has painted me to be, ignoring the fact that head injury is what drove me there and what has been driving me to be heard ever sense.
My sister got it as she put it into the word context of what I was trying to explain "28 years of hope were crushed." She understands the magnitude of this for me.
I cannot just let this go. To do so is to die. I cannot believe that I do not belong or am unwelcome at a neuroscience institution that specializes in treating people with TBI, especially when they were my hope and chance to rewrite the wrongs of abandonment and rejection that had perpetuated the negative effects of my first TBI related emotional regulation difficulties.
The rejection of a man I connected so easily and naturally with and could love in any form is one thing
but coupled with the rejection of my broken brain where it is supposed to be safe and cared for is too much to bare.
So I fight for me.

gaslighting?

I learned a new term today "gaslighting"
I feel intimidated and small, and I question myself.
I am not sure who I can trust and every effort takes immense courage.
But my efforts are being used against me.

...and even in things unrelated to where I feel that gaslighting may have happened
it takes immense courage to put myself out there
... even for the sake of my kids (maybe even more for the sake of my kids, because I don't want to screw things up for them)

Power Struggle?

He rubbed his right eye with his right middle finger
while listening to the song I played to help me express the feelings my mind was blocking me from  expressing
my transference feelings
the stuff that all the online research had told me I "should" discuss with my therapist
(and there it is that word "should" the mistake of my cherished golden map...)
The stuff that skilled therapists looked forward to as it meant their patient was ready to really start making progress.
Safe, trusted, responsible, skilled therapists
he was that to me... I knew he could help me
he was in the position of power
...but I was not willing to give that to him

There is something more to this story. 

How deep or diabolical it is I don’t know 

but I know that amidst the omens of gods and spirit animals 

it is not the time to drop a patient of psychotherapy 

TBI: embracing my "disability" ?

The more I learn about head injuries (TBI- traumatic brain injury) the more I wonder if part of the counter-transference problem is that I am a physical manifestation of his profession and maybe even of his own work. (and a not so bad looking one either) Everything he has dedicated so much of his life to I embody in a real life form. I have developed my own ways to adapt and the more effective ones, I am sure, have mirrored his studies while other adaptations may make him question. But I am a manifestation of longterm outcomes of TBI.
I don't think he wanted to see that in me.
When he said something to the effect of "being willing to take that on" I wonder if that was a negative stigma and prejudice he, himself held, jaded by his education and career. He has to maintain superiority and elevated status?
I felt it was a major slight to me. Am I Michael Bluth's Mr. F?
Maybe.
But I am not less.
I am significant and I could be of value in the industry and to the facility that has so callously turned their back on me.
I know this field. I know TBI. I handled it alone and built a box to keep it contained that, though incredibly flawed, fooled even the best.

Dear Exiling Therapist,

Why did you choose to go this route with me.
To banish me from the hope of recovery
the hope of reconciling my split parts with an understanding of how TBI had effected those splits
To take away any hope of successful reconciliation with anyone
...successful communication
To devalue me so completely.
"you want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about"
Do you think I am a fraud in your industry?
Or are you all frauds in your industry?
Is the industry itself a fraud?
I suppose in a very sad way that can give me hope
but can it?...as I continue to fail in my attempts to prove
that I am worth investing in.
Will I ever be given the chance to prove myself or have I already proven myself to my fullest potential
and I need to resign myself to acceptance of this life the way it is and being what everyone else believes it should be.

The Best Way to Kill Fantasy is Through Reality

so it's time to write again... I really have a lot to work through this morning and I thought to put it in my 200 plus page self discovery report but I think I want this one "out there"
I was talking to my sister the other day, who lives a couple of states away. I told her about how the the facility manager treated me when I tried to speak with her when I went in to request a copy of their patient bill of rights. I think I have mentioned this; that she was aggressive and rude, she yelled at me in front of my kids and she refused to provide me with my medical records or a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She even left the area code off of the phone # she very begrudgingly provided, a passive aggressive move -I think. I told my sister the details and my sisters simple reply was;
"she's in love with him."
Hmmm... Interesting. Funny thing is, something similar had crossed my mind in my first encounter with her. But it had merely crossed it.
This is something to consider though.
And this is where I struggle to suggest things because I do not think so highly of myself so I may have to take a 3rd person perspective on this one because when I do that I see that this possibility could make sense. I'll write in 1st person but I'm thinking more in an objective 3rd person way.
Is it possible?
If so
This guy had it bad for me
and she is extremely jealous because she either has some sort of relationship with him or wants it. That would make sense why she would behave so incredibly unprofessionally and why she would even cross into the potentially illegal (denying a patient their records and refusing to address complaints or provide them with the information they need to resolve their issues). It would make sense why they would not want to keep me in house and label me with a scarlet letter. It makes sense in that realm with her.

But what about his feelings for me? Could they have been that intense?
He had it bad for me?  Is it possible that while I was hearing that he wanted nothing to do with me -ever- to mean that he did not think I was capable (of helping him, of becoming a therapist myself, of being a friend or anything or even of being his client anymore) or worth his time... maybe he really was professing his profoundly deep but forbidden feelings for me? Maybe he genuinely believes that it was not mania at all but the feelings of those forbidden feelings reciprocated? Maybe it is.
I can not stand that thought. It grips my heart and presses it so hard I am certain I won't survive.
I doubt it because I am too practical and I can easily see so many reasons for a typical transference countertransference or even atypical, but still, not something nearly as soulmate-esque:  It could have simply been that we both love his profession but just from different sides of it and that fascination was misplaced or misinterpreted as a more romantic connection as it was not something either party fully realized or understood. I think this is a very real possibility and something I would love to discus/explore. It makes sense and could be so beneficial to so many people if we could work together to better understand that kind of transference-countertransference scenario.
But alas, I don't imagine that the intrigue of the way I had accommodated and intellectually handled head injury for so long, without formal training or complete understanding of what I was actually dealing with, would get me banned from his facility. Of course they currently have me painted as a Liability so the sad loss of that is yet another failure and lost potential I get to grieve.
...and, though I am just starting my day after a good nights sleep, I am ready to sleep again and my mind is already worn down by the thought of this ridiculous but deeply desired "romantic" connection that I am certain I need to accept as only a product of my manic delusions.
This is why I so desperately want clarification but making so many mistakes in asking for it. This is my most vulnerable confession ...

- January- I know I need to follow up with the concussion doctor if I want to understand this new mood instability but I also know it will be hard to because she is in the same facility as Dr. He.
I am waiting for my name to be called.
A tall middle aged man with longish hair and a beard walks out of the far door with a plain white paper in his hand.
I strain to see the handwriting
I recognize it instantly and it makes me happy. I love that handwriting. [If I were a handwriting analysts I would guess the owner of it were well educated, well disciplined and responsible but also had a playful side and secretly a touch of hopeless romantic at heart.]
I am happy to see he is doing well
and he is helping people.
I am happy for this man because I know he is in the best hands.
I am hopeful that I will catch a glimpse of Dr. He as he comes out to get his next patient. But instead I notice an Asian lady coming out to get a patient... and then she does again. This is unusual, I have never seen that happen before.  This time as she walks by she seems to be staring me down. She at least notices me. I do not know her so I am not sure why. It is awhile before I am called back and Dr. P never comes out.
Finally I am called in. I ask the nurse who is taking me back if I can talk with Dr. He while I am there.
As I try to explain to my concussion doctor my breakdown and current symptoms I struggle.
I am in protection mode, I do not know who I can trust and I do not want to get Dr. He into trouble. I do not want to cause him harm or further complicate his already complex life. I break down and am an emotional mess. I beg to see Cherri, (Cherri since he can no longer be Dr. He to me) because he knows what happened, he will know what to do and how to help me.
"I need him to be real again" I say.
And I do
the manic fed fantasy is destroying me, and I just need to understand it from a rational place, but I need him to be real for that to happen.

It is interpreted differently than that. Evidence that I am "crazy"
But deep down inside I know it is not just me that put me here and I know there is something more to it. I know this because it is new territory for me. I know it because of how it has effected me, my relationships and my thoughts. ...and like it or not we are all connected in this universe and what we do impacts others... Especially when you are intentionally working with the psychology of others.
... so my most vulnerable confession becomes evidence of either how seriously difficult mood instability, head injury, mania, mental illness or whatever it is really can make life for a person
OR
evidence of how counter-transference is being handled or used so carelessly and unscrupulously by facilities and practitioners, the APA, and within the field of psychology.