In my Head

I am having such a hard time sleeping again. Tonight I cannot even get to sleep. There is so much going on in my head again.
Neuroscience Institute Facility Director, who I'd asked not be allowed to interact with patients, has sent me a letter terminating me from any of the doctors or providers there. Her reason: they cannot accommodate my behavioral health needs. What is that supposed to mean? what and why?
It feels like she is trying to turn me into a behavioral problem. It feels like gaslighting. I do not know who is behind it.
I think it may just be her but she, or someone, most certainly has been playing games with me and very likely my confidentiality rights were breached since the office staff started treating me very strange. I even had to check in at a different desk on my final appointment. They personally called me the day before to make sure I knew to check in at this other desk. Too bad their cover was blown [in that they were not doing this for everyone] when the new lady who: first; left me waiting by the "wait here" sign for like 10 minutes while she finished with whatever it was she was doing for the previous patient, which was not checking in, and second; she didn't recognize me personally and almost accidentally sent me to their actual check in desk but was quickly stopped by the girl I recognized from previous visits with a "wait! who are you here to see?" When I told here who, she said, "oh you check in over here," cutting new lady off when she started with the, "I thought check in..." response. When she asked my name I replied, "I bet you can guess" to which she nice-save-style stated, "uh, only because there isn't anyone else checking in right now." If she had been just a bit confused by my comment the facade would have been more believable.
Over the years, being the odd man out often, comfortable with the boys and not so much with the girls, and a misfit, I have developed that keen sense of knowing when people have been talking about someone behind their back, and of knowing when I am the hot topic for gossip.
And my checkin nurse, Dr. Concussion's assistant, who used to be friendly and fun to talk to, has zero to say to me, is cold and unfriendly.
I've been the topic of conversation no doubt, I'd put $ on it.
It's not right. And Dr. Concussion, not even providing a name or recommendation on a facility, when she assured me she would help me find a new team... heartbreaking dishonesty.
It is so hard to find, as she herself put it, "the right fit" and now I am going in blind. I'm in the same boat, worse in some ways, now as I was when I was looking for them in the first place. I feel like I'm throwing money at doctors that don't know what they are doing. They will "help you" and treat you as long as it is convenient for them, as long as you are easy to treat and diagnose but when you are a challenge, they say, "too bad, we are now taking back our diagnosis, prognosis and treatment plan, there's the door, here's a band aid to cover the gushing wound from opening you up, because we are not going to finish with the procedures we started."
If my ankle surgeon were following their example, once he saw the panic in my eyes just before going under, he would have thought about wheeling me out. When he cut in and realized it was worse than he was expecting he would have stopped there, wheeled me out, then had his staff send me on my way, claiming that not only had I not been asleep but that he hadn't really even cut me open, I must have been making that up and they support it when he says he is done with treating a patient. "Further more" they would say "when he actually got to look inside he found that you had not disclosed the extent of your injury so, too bad, the facility will not treat you and we cannot be held accountable for any of it. Goodbye and good luck finding a new surgeon; check with your insurance."
That is what the equivalent would look like if the surgeon did the same. If it doesn't make sense or sounds crazy, you are right. IT IS CRAZY. Not me, the institution. This makes no sense for so many reasons but they know they can get away with it.
That is on my mind. keeping me up.
And it is even strange to me how it is keeping me up. I don't feel the heavy burden feelings that used to be so familiar, I am not manic, (hopefully it stays that way, hopefully lack of sleep won't be a trigger) and I don't feel anxious, overly worried or even all that angry. I don't understand very well what I am feeling now. I feel rather calm and determined. Yet tears come so frequently and raw emotions are easily exposed. Determined yet calm about it and not entirely sure where and why that determination lies or what direction it needs to be directed in.
I like work and that is good. I have been so much better at compartmentalizing and I like the focus I can put there but when I am home I mostly put it away, and this is a good change for me and my family.
... and so many other things keeping me up. like the blog post I started about lovely Janice, the post that I need to finish because it turns out, she touched on some very sensitive area's and basically summarized all I need to still face.
which brings me to the last thing I wish to mention that is keeping me up, and that is dear Perri. I still am back and forth on whether I should use his name or not, so it has come out now and again. Here it just feels better to call him dear Perri.
She and wise trusted friend from winter work (the ski resort) both pointed out some of the good he has done for me. (Interesting this happened 2 days in a row and timed now.) They both are attempting to help me find peace, I think. I actually do have peace already though and I even recognize that dear Perri has played a part in that.
So in my head are thoughts again of how do I protect him while helping myself? Standing up for myself? Do I need to stand up for myself?
Can I finally let it go? let it die?
Problems with that are: He gifted himself to my heart "you can keep me in your heart" so the psychology of undoing that is tricky... I have reclaimed my heart but separating him out does not seem wise or practical.
So how do I psychologically let it die without killing my heart?  He has found a safe home there. In my head is probably not so safe for him, but I still like him there too. He is still my drug of choice in many ways. I enjoy the story. I love his face, his glasses that make his eyes seem just a little smaller than they really are. I love his creases and dimples when he smiles and I love how his eyes would light up when I saw him. I also loved that occasionally I could sense the most subtle or at least remarkably controlled frustrations with me. I love that he was cryptic at times. I love how he could find my words for me and with little effort he could land on what I was trying to express. Or at least seemed to. I loved how knowledgable he was. I loved his soft soothing voice. I love how he wore his shirts; always a long sleeve button up, with the sleeves folded to just below his elbows. I think it is funny that he rubbed his right eye with his right middle finger. I think it is funny that he said, with a hint of surprise, "you really have been listening to me." I think it is funny that I confused him so much. I loved "Unfortunately there is still a human element to all of this." He was breaking my heart and yet I savor it. I loved how he'd talk about his kids. And, even if at times I wish he were, I love that he is not reading this, he has let me burn out. I love that he collects rocks and taught me about tokens (or was it totems). I love how he taught me so much in such a short amount of time. I love that he screwed up so bad with me, and didn't know how to fix it. Maybe I don't love that one, but I kind of do because I had him so high on a pedestal that it speaks loudly of just how complex I really am. It lets me know what I previously had not; I have been doing well all these years attempting to navigate some very difficult stuff with not much support. If I could screw a neuropsychologist up that bad without even trying; if he could miss that I was manic and straddling both worlds, I must be something special. It also teaches me that I really do need help if I'd like to be part of a team.
Sadly, though,
and this is where my love starts to fade
the problem of how this all has been handled reaffirms those "you aren't good enough for a team" messages. They are affirmations I have accepted time and time again "you don't fit in and you don't belong" as I have been abandoned and I abandon.
Janice, who has worked with my kind (TBI) knew it all too well. She was telling me how I was before I told her. When I told her where my brain had bled when I was 12 she knew a lot about what my teens years would have looked like and she explained how I can see the picture of the words or what I am trying to say, but I'd have trouble verbally recalling the words I needed. She understood why I felt frustration with not being able to articulate to my level of intelligence. She did not find this comment offensive or arrogant. (I think some people might simply because the comment itself is over their head or outside of their understanding) Janice worded for me, before I even attempted to explain that in my transference situation, since I was unable to and not allowed to work through my transference, dear Perri rejecting me became me rejecting me.
complex. but someone, seasoned and experienced, understood.

,,,and now I am tired. I want to sleep. My head, I hope, has enough out, that I might be able to.
I'll look to edit later.