Brains are so weird. The faster they go the slower you are. At least that has been true for me.
Now that my brain is slowing and things are not going so fast all of the time, I am faster at what I am doing and even faster at processing. I can keep better track of where I am and what I am doing in the moment.
I'm more of who I am, even though I am experiencing so much less.
Things make sense and they don't, but I can handle it much better either way.
I don't think I am entirely out of the woods yet, but I am very happy to be feeling so... normal.
Not that I ever am. Not that anyone ever is. But I can say that this feeling of stability, even with the new tired and sometimes tight or dizzy head, is refreshing.
It is times like this that I really feel happy. Happy about being happy. Sometimes that scares me a bit but then I notice how this happy is different. It is just happy and not overly excited trying to contain the burst of my piñata self. It is not overly ecstatic for no reason at all and feeling as a child trying to sleep the night before Christmas. It is just pleasant, run of the mill happy. Which then makes me a bit more happy and I may feel a slight surge of that overly happy ...and that is why I do not think I am entirely out of the woods -yet.
These are also the times when I realize just how "crazy" I am or was, or however you would like to word it. It can be quite embarrassing but I have let that pass, because, just like their is no point to being embarrassed about the tears in the grocery store when I couldn't control them and they were hitting me so wildly and spontaneously that I would have gotten nothing done ever if I let them embarrass me, there is no point to being embarrassed about them now.
...Although I am still angry about them. And there may be a point to that. Anger is my least favorite emotion but right now, it is likely what I need to be, because my friends, I am now okay enough to feel that emotion too.
YAY for anger.
But BOO for the Neuroscience Institute who will feed you suicide and then nurture through Patient Experiences and with their whole team. Such a great patient experience Eh? Jack Asses. Maybe that is now his new name: Dr. Jack Ass and Dr. Jack Ass MD and Jack Ass Office Director and Jack Ass Patient Advocate and Jacked Dr.'s Assistant Ass. I loved them all and trusted them all, and it does make me sad that these are now their names, but at least they can be proud because THEY EARNED THEM!
...and I am sorry it turned to them again. I hope this anger will melt and fade like the suicidal tendencies/symptoms did so quickly with the proper acknowledgment and care.
...Then again, maybe now is really the time to stand up for myself and speak out against their very bad policies.
Maybe now, the journey really begins. And I can actually smile at that, I can embrace my creativity and my side streets thinking and you better believe, this new me, Stands A Fighting Chance!
*really I wanted to talk about how fun my freaked out brain is. It is fascinating, but I'll save that for later. Apparently I have my surprisingly goodnatured guest Anger to host first.
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Jack Ass in Neuropsychology
(Jack Ass). His name is (Jackass) Phd. **(name changed to protect me)
And I will not keep trying to protect him anymore. I will not protect him from me and the consequences of his actions.
He would rather let me die than admit any mistakes.
He manipulated me to protect himself. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And when it became very clear that I was not okay, that his mistakes caused and were contributing to significant problems, -to harm- he denied it all and then he slandered me -defamation to his colleagues and employees.
All the while I was trying to protect him. Trusting them and trying to work with them, not against them when, I was broken and vulnerable, trying to get the help I needed at the "right place" from the "right people."
This is not okay.
I am sorry Perri. I know it is possible you were simply broken too, but, you, my friend, were the one in the position of power and you used me and then abused me by discarding me so carelessly as if I were trash. I am not. You most certainly misjudged and misrepresented me.
And even it it is just me speaking out for me, I am worth standing up for and I am worth fighting for.
Just as I told Office Director "I don't know what it looks like but I know I need to stand up for myself" I am now starting to see how I need to, what I need to do, and sadly, it is not so pretty due to the way this has progressed.
Sigh...
stability
brings with it the ability
to fight back.
But you probably knew that way back when
"you broke me"
"I did not mean too"
My mind and heart are speaking to me in slight rhyme again and I wonder:
You used me to stroke your delicate ego, maybe heal your broken heart
subtly feeding me your fantasy
then when it all came crashing down
you ran out of town
claiming it was me that had played with you.
which is not even possible considering the "imbalance of power" and the rules that govern you.
And I will not keep trying to protect him anymore. I will not protect him from me and the consequences of his actions.
He would rather let me die than admit any mistakes.
He manipulated me to protect himself. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And when it became very clear that I was not okay, that his mistakes caused and were contributing to significant problems, -to harm- he denied it all and then he slandered me -defamation to his colleagues and employees.
All the while I was trying to protect him. Trusting them and trying to work with them, not against them when, I was broken and vulnerable, trying to get the help I needed at the "right place" from the "right people."
This is not okay.
I am sorry Perri. I know it is possible you were simply broken too, but, you, my friend, were the one in the position of power and you used me and then abused me by discarding me so carelessly as if I were trash. I am not. You most certainly misjudged and misrepresented me.
And even it it is just me speaking out for me, I am worth standing up for and I am worth fighting for.
Just as I told Office Director "I don't know what it looks like but I know I need to stand up for myself" I am now starting to see how I need to, what I need to do, and sadly, it is not so pretty due to the way this has progressed.
Sigh...
stability
brings with it the ability
to fight back.
But you probably knew that way back when
"you broke me"
"I did not mean too"
My mind and heart are speaking to me in slight rhyme again and I wonder:
You used me to stroke your delicate ego, maybe heal your broken heart
subtly feeding me your fantasy
then when it all came crashing down
you ran out of town
claiming it was me that had played with you.
which is not even possible considering the "imbalance of power" and the rules that govern you.
"I'd love to take you home with me..."
"...and tuck you into bed.
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head..."
"Do you think your better than me? Do you want to kill me or befriend me?"
It has been years since I have heard this song, but it has been coming into my head lately.
It is a bit disturbing and long but worth listening to in it's entirety.
Oingo Boingo "Insantiy"
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head..."
"Do you think your better than me? Do you want to kill me or befriend me?"
It has been years since I have heard this song, but it has been coming into my head lately.
It is a bit disturbing and long but worth listening to in it's entirety.
Oingo Boingo "Insantiy"
Monday, August 26, 2019
"I'm not scared of you" REALLY?
my rational anger is increasing rapidly.
Freaking JACK ASSES!!!
I WAS SUCH A *@$** MESS AND THEY JUST KEPT MESSING WITH ME!
THEY TURNED ME INTO SOMETHING I WAS NOT BECAUSE I WAS SO DAMN IRRATIONAL WHILE TRYING TO HOLD MY OWN!
I WAS **#@ PARANOID AND IT WAS SO OBVIOUS AND THEY TURNED IT INTO ME BEING OBSESSED WITH THE JACKASS THAT MANIPULATED ME TO PROTECT HIM MYSELF!
....breath
and though the all caps magnify the intensity of my emotion, it is not unsound at this moment. I am not at all manic. Which makes me that much more angry. This is rational. This is the reality of the shit you start to see more and more clearly as you stabilize.
It is very, very hard for me, in these moments, to believe that he didn't know what he was doing, that he didn't know or recognize the harm and damage he was causing.
Now it is getting harder and harder to believe that his "I told you not to try and solve this" was not strictly for his sake; was not reflective of his fear that I was onto what I intuitively was protecting against when I sent those crazy emails; sent because I needed them to not be missed. "Stop emailing me" was a command too late, yet not at all because he still pulled out just in time because I was manipulated well.
Vulnerable
broken
"you isolate yourself"
limited family and social support
slow processor
caring
rejected
hypnotic voice
"I've tested your brain in ways you don't know"
so many things...
BUT I KNEW
broken, vulnerable, fragile, desperate
I still knew
BECAUSE
I have been the expert on the other side of your damn profession since I was 12!
I am the other side of what you do
and
I KNOW WHAT YOU DO!
The energy to be angry
What a strange journey this has been. The mood stabilizer it a good change so far. I did have a moment of realization and again embarrassment as my mind stabilizes and wakes up still more (I thought I had entirely). And in that moment I felt as though they (the self-centered Ego's doctors and directors of IHC-Neuroscience Institute ) were right, I am of no value and no worth. My embarrassment and frustration ironically exacerbated by the so-easily-had new feelings of okay, that came so quickly with the new medication. I was sure, in that moment, I deserved to die...
Fortunately, I have been through enough of this and I have emerged victorious from deep and dark places before, so I was still able to hold onto, "go to sleep and reset" coupled with the "your going to be okay" energy of the new medication. So I slept and settled and the next day was good again. Much better than before. Still hard to get out of bed but this time it was the exhaustion-after-a-race kind of tired not the can't-even-explain-and-don't-want-to-because-it-sucks-so-much-and-sounds-pathetic tired. Better.
And that is when I started remembering more of those long lost memories and putting together pieces of all I have learned and forgotten/buried over so many years. I am remembering my theory or my disliking of a theory, or maybe it is an assumption and a label based on observations of the inexperienced minds; I am remembering the warning that "antidepressants and other such medications may increase the risk of suicide and/or suicidal thoughts." And I am remembering how this bothered me, because they really only increase the risk because the person now has the energy and ability to follow through. The medications don't cause the thoughts as some statements I had heard and read implied, and it is highly unlikely they cause the suicide. I am stating this as an implied fact with no other alternatives and I know that this may not always be the case, but if there were anyway to prove this opinion of mine, I'd put money on it being accurate the vast majority of the time.
As I have said before; When medication is working correctly it does not change who you are and it does not change the problems you have, really it might not even change your thinking, it just changes your chemistry enough so that you can then make the needed changes.
That is my theory and I could explain it in greater detail with a lot of support and evidence from personal experience and many observations and conversations I have had over the years with many people, however that is not what this moment on my blog is for, instead I go back to my remembering.
I had that moment of weakness from my weakened brain, confidence, self esteem, thinking and all that had been growing for so many months fed by the Institution that was supposed to be helping me. Nurtured along by a bullshit investigation as I was trying to figure out what was going on with my head. And instead of the simple acknowledgement of the problem and the treatment I needed I was faced with suspicion and walls by those whose job, and ethic responsibility it was to help me figure it out.
Fortunately I recognize this and so that moment did not and will not last. Now I am gaining the strength and the correcting chemistry to face my problems, which was what they actually were, and since I am still paying for it and will be as I seek treatment and sort out the screwed up psychology of the situation that so deeply effected me, they still are my problem.
And I am kind of really pissed.
Because
When I was fighting for my life he turned a blind eye,
He'd rather let me die.
Why?
and considering what I was turned into to by him, or by the whole institution;
what a freaking egocentric ignorant, or brilliant grooming, jack ass!
What a freaking debacle of me.
Maybe they are frauds and maybe they new exactly what they were doing, buying their time to statute of limitations, and gaslighting as a back up, and avoiding intentionally to treat or prescribe in a manner that would give me my strength to both recognize and fight back.
JACK ASSES!!! FREAKING CREEPS!!!
and it is so funny, because now more stable I can actually allow myself to feel and be angry. I can allow it now, because it won't destroy me. But still, I am magnificent even without my mania, and I just might destroy them... maybe.
Not manic, I think I can, because they have brought it so heavily upon themselves in there ruthless carelessness.
But just like I tried to tell them before, just because I can does not mean that I will.
I am undecided still. Some time they still have bought, ...and yet their bought time is still on my tab...
jack asses
hmmm....
to damn bad I still have the negative effects of head injury, I'd conquer this things so quickly, but alas I am slow, and these tasks take there toll.
And this they know
...Oh Captain, my Captain, you may want to return, because this fire doth burn!!! (and not in a sexual way -sarcastic sorry)
** I do hope as time goes on and the medication makes strong my sanity,
that I do not loose all my oh so clever creativity.
Fortunately, I have been through enough of this and I have emerged victorious from deep and dark places before, so I was still able to hold onto, "go to sleep and reset" coupled with the "your going to be okay" energy of the new medication. So I slept and settled and the next day was good again. Much better than before. Still hard to get out of bed but this time it was the exhaustion-after-a-race kind of tired not the can't-even-explain-and-don't-want-to-because-it-sucks-so-much-and-sounds-pathetic tired. Better.
And that is when I started remembering more of those long lost memories and putting together pieces of all I have learned and forgotten/buried over so many years. I am remembering my theory or my disliking of a theory, or maybe it is an assumption and a label based on observations of the inexperienced minds; I am remembering the warning that "antidepressants and other such medications may increase the risk of suicide and/or suicidal thoughts." And I am remembering how this bothered me, because they really only increase the risk because the person now has the energy and ability to follow through. The medications don't cause the thoughts as some statements I had heard and read implied, and it is highly unlikely they cause the suicide. I am stating this as an implied fact with no other alternatives and I know that this may not always be the case, but if there were anyway to prove this opinion of mine, I'd put money on it being accurate the vast majority of the time.
As I have said before; When medication is working correctly it does not change who you are and it does not change the problems you have, really it might not even change your thinking, it just changes your chemistry enough so that you can then make the needed changes.
That is my theory and I could explain it in greater detail with a lot of support and evidence from personal experience and many observations and conversations I have had over the years with many people, however that is not what this moment on my blog is for, instead I go back to my remembering.
I had that moment of weakness from my weakened brain, confidence, self esteem, thinking and all that had been growing for so many months fed by the Institution that was supposed to be helping me. Nurtured along by a bullshit investigation as I was trying to figure out what was going on with my head. And instead of the simple acknowledgement of the problem and the treatment I needed I was faced with suspicion and walls by those whose job, and ethic responsibility it was to help me figure it out.
Fortunately I recognize this and so that moment did not and will not last. Now I am gaining the strength and the correcting chemistry to face my problems, which was what they actually were, and since I am still paying for it and will be as I seek treatment and sort out the screwed up psychology of the situation that so deeply effected me, they still are my problem.
And I am kind of really pissed.
Because
When I was fighting for my life he turned a blind eye,
He'd rather let me die.
Why?
and considering what I was turned into to by him, or by the whole institution;
what a freaking egocentric ignorant, or brilliant grooming, jack ass!
What a freaking debacle of me.
Maybe they are frauds and maybe they new exactly what they were doing, buying their time to statute of limitations, and gaslighting as a back up, and avoiding intentionally to treat or prescribe in a manner that would give me my strength to both recognize and fight back.
JACK ASSES!!! FREAKING CREEPS!!!
and it is so funny, because now more stable I can actually allow myself to feel and be angry. I can allow it now, because it won't destroy me. But still, I am magnificent even without my mania, and I just might destroy them... maybe.
Not manic, I think I can, because they have brought it so heavily upon themselves in there ruthless carelessness.
But just like I tried to tell them before, just because I can does not mean that I will.
I am undecided still. Some time they still have bought, ...and yet their bought time is still on my tab...
jack asses
hmmm....
to damn bad I still have the negative effects of head injury, I'd conquer this things so quickly, but alas I am slow, and these tasks take there toll.
And this they know
...Oh Captain, my Captain, you may want to return, because this fire doth burn!!! (and not in a sexual way -sarcastic sorry)
** I do hope as time goes on and the medication makes strong my sanity,
that I do not loose all my oh so clever creativity.
Sunday, August 25, 2019
TBI patients = Malpractice insurance
A comedy of errors turned into a tragic perpetuation of harm. And all along the way I was begging them to stop the perpetuation of the harm and pain. However they did not want to admit any guilt so it continues as an abuse of power.
"First do no harm" says the APA
and IHC will add "...But if you accidentally do then don't admit it and light those gas powered lamps to burn the evidence up with the patient."
Right now I feel angry.
When medication works, it does not change you, it does not change what has happened, it just changes your chemistry and makes it so you can then handle making the changes that need to be made.
It is so simple.
And it could have been so simple.
It should (spelled correctly) have been so simple!
I was in the right place, trying to doing the right things, going to the right people to try and get the help that I knew I needed. But they kept moving forward in their errors, by covering and denying and trying to pass me off without following through.
Did they know that me getting the help I needed would make me strong enough to stand up for myself and fight back against the mistakes they made?
How deeply disturbing is this debacle?
Are they insurance frauds?
My emotions, more balanced, are most certainly still strong and more powerful in ability with the "right" help.
Which they -now obvious to me- were not.
"First do no harm" says the APA
and IHC will add "...But if you accidentally do then don't admit it and light those gas powered lamps to burn the evidence up with the patient."
Right now I feel angry.
When medication works, it does not change you, it does not change what has happened, it just changes your chemistry and makes it so you can then handle making the changes that need to be made.
It is so simple.
And it could have been so simple.
It should (spelled correctly) have been so simple!
I was in the right place, trying to doing the right things, going to the right people to try and get the help that I knew I needed. But they kept moving forward in their errors, by covering and denying and trying to pass me off without following through.
Did they know that me getting the help I needed would make me strong enough to stand up for myself and fight back against the mistakes they made?
How deeply disturbing is this debacle?
Are they insurance frauds?
My emotions, more balanced, are most certainly still strong and more powerful in ability with the "right" help.
Which they -now obvious to me- were not.
Saturday, August 24, 2019
To be or not to be?
...now hopes and dreams fall through
knowing they were fiction just like you;
A dream I believed in that just isn't true
This Little Bluebird -thank you Christina
Reality in simplicity
I am finding my way around.
Feet planting on the ground
Still, do I embrace all parts of me
the imperfectly creative insanity
that beckons me carelessly
and wants so badly to be
a part of me?
and wants to be free...
Like a Bird -thank you Nelly
knowing they were fiction just like you;
A dream I believed in that just isn't true
This Little Bluebird -thank you Christina
Reality in simplicity
I am finding my way around.
Feet planting on the ground
Still, do I embrace all parts of me
the imperfectly creative insanity
that beckons me carelessly
and wants so badly to be
a part of me?
and wants to be free...
Like a Bird -thank you Nelly
The Road Less Traveled
...slow at processing new things.
He was giving me knew information. Important. I was psychologically processing through some PTSD so processing as a child and an adult.
This new information replays over and over-
that is a trick I have learned-
to help me process new information.
and I link it to things I know
connecting it to prior knowledge.
I am very good at this,
It is the strength of my creativity
I think it comes from my being forced to use the surface streets of my mental infrastructure.
then finding that I liked the scenic route.
I found it pleasant, enjoyable, enlightening
So I have used my surface streets far more than is common.
Ever discovering more along the way
Maybe this has hurt the building of the efficient super highways,
But I have found so many hidden treasures and
besides
my super highways are so deeply rutted with negative thinking
I will always fall into those deep ruts of negativity and be stuck on that track if I return to them
So I avoid those.
they don't get fixed
while I enjoy the side streets.
It is not super efficient
so I am slow at processing new information...
But I keep going and I have figured out how to drive in circles until I can learn them if I need to,
circles that, at times, confuse my guest instructors, because I am still driving and I am connecting even though I haven't really figured it out yet.
But I keep going
Paying attention to how they connect.
and they do-
connect to prior knowledge-
This is also a teaching strategy -scaffolding
So
New information is where I got stuck. New information he was giving me.
I looked for connections. there were some and there were none.
Prior knowledge suggests abuse, manipulation, rejection, self preservation
or (maybe and/or) fairytale and fantasy...
The words, the feelings, the drug that he was
These are new things to me. I have not experienced anything quite like this before...
...here is something deeply personal that (in my sanity) I am reluctant to disclose -because then people really think you crazy,- but this is my safe place, so I pray you be kind in your judgements.
Something that I felt there was close to what I felt so very long ago, in the dream that I had as a child, where I felt God's inexplicable and incomprehensible love, the love that changed how everything felt -not as much then when I was a child but -as I aged. A love that you would do anything to return to but simply cannot... because you are mortal and human and meant to be just that.
So those are connections to that new information I was receiving but too slow to process...
What is it?
And what do I do with it?
That intensity doesn't just simply burn out
Thus, he is, admittedly, like a god and devil to me and the taboo's, forbidden, his denials and refusal to discuss, even his protecting and covering his ass, they feed that misconception and it seems to grow overtime.
You see, when the very human element (that he perceived as the problem) is missing form the equation the only connections I (a human) can make are manipulation, abuse, self-preservation, rejection, fairytales, fantasy, and/or otherworldly thus perpetuating and growing that touch of human insanity.
But as I think and review... from my processing place anew, I know, though to his embarrassment and maybe in spite of himself, -maybe still as a groomer,- he had developed feelings and chemistry was a part of this equation.
So my god of this world, the one who can actually physiologically change me, had feelings for me... and what do I do with that? Again...
I thought he only had as much power over me as I allowed him to have
but maybe I am wrong
-Oh dear kiwi god,
Please release me from my fantasy.
Let me be rational again. Please be real and human again.-
...And maybe Dr. She is right, I have been dealing with this crazy my entire life... compounded, complicated by TBI... Or did that actually knock some sense into me and that is why I am not full blown, talking-to-God kind of crazy?
Oh the joys of the side streets and the adventures to be had when we go off the beaten path.
and further still into this analogy
another possibility
Maybe I am the god of his world
burdened under the weight he put on me.
Do I tell or let it be?
I have the responsibility to hold him up by letting go at my expense
or put down his world, passing it off to the false gods of DOPL and APA
...because I am not a god
and I don't want to be the judge
the weight of his world is crushing me.
Is his world out of balance and I need to speaking out for my sake, his sake and/or other clients
to help bring it back to ethically
Yin and Yang
what is my place?
...too deep, I could get him into trouble...
too deep, I could get me into trouble?
too deep, I was in trouble
He was giving me knew information. Important. I was psychologically processing through some PTSD so processing as a child and an adult.
This new information replays over and over-
that is a trick I have learned-
to help me process new information.
and I link it to things I know
connecting it to prior knowledge.
I am very good at this,
It is the strength of my creativity
I think it comes from my being forced to use the surface streets of my mental infrastructure.
then finding that I liked the scenic route.
I found it pleasant, enjoyable, enlightening
So I have used my surface streets far more than is common.
Ever discovering more along the way
Maybe this has hurt the building of the efficient super highways,
But I have found so many hidden treasures and
besides
my super highways are so deeply rutted with negative thinking
I will always fall into those deep ruts of negativity and be stuck on that track if I return to them
So I avoid those.
they don't get fixed
while I enjoy the side streets.
It is not super efficient
so I am slow at processing new information...
But I keep going and I have figured out how to drive in circles until I can learn them if I need to,
circles that, at times, confuse my guest instructors, because I am still driving and I am connecting even though I haven't really figured it out yet.
But I keep going
Paying attention to how they connect.
and they do-
connect to prior knowledge-
This is also a teaching strategy -scaffolding
So
New information is where I got stuck. New information he was giving me.
I looked for connections. there were some and there were none.
Prior knowledge suggests abuse, manipulation, rejection, self preservation
or (maybe and/or) fairytale and fantasy...
The words, the feelings, the drug that he was
These are new things to me. I have not experienced anything quite like this before...
...here is something deeply personal that (in my sanity) I am reluctant to disclose -because then people really think you crazy,- but this is my safe place, so I pray you be kind in your judgements.
Something that I felt there was close to what I felt so very long ago, in the dream that I had as a child, where I felt God's inexplicable and incomprehensible love, the love that changed how everything felt -not as much then when I was a child but -as I aged. A love that you would do anything to return to but simply cannot... because you are mortal and human and meant to be just that.
So those are connections to that new information I was receiving but too slow to process...
What is it?
And what do I do with it?
That intensity doesn't just simply burn out
Thus, he is, admittedly, like a god and devil to me and the taboo's, forbidden, his denials and refusal to discuss, even his protecting and covering his ass, they feed that misconception and it seems to grow overtime.
You see, when the very human element (that he perceived as the problem) is missing form the equation the only connections I (a human) can make are manipulation, abuse, self-preservation, rejection, fairytales, fantasy, and/or otherworldly thus perpetuating and growing that touch of human insanity.
But as I think and review... from my processing place anew, I know, though to his embarrassment and maybe in spite of himself, -maybe still as a groomer,- he had developed feelings and chemistry was a part of this equation.
So my god of this world, the one who can actually physiologically change me, had feelings for me... and what do I do with that? Again...
I thought he only had as much power over me as I allowed him to have
but maybe I am wrong
-Oh dear kiwi god,
Please release me from my fantasy.
Let me be rational again. Please be real and human again.-
...And maybe Dr. She is right, I have been dealing with this crazy my entire life... compounded, complicated by TBI... Or did that actually knock some sense into me and that is why I am not full blown, talking-to-God kind of crazy?
Oh the joys of the side streets and the adventures to be had when we go off the beaten path.
and further still into this analogy
another possibility
Maybe I am the god of his world
burdened under the weight he put on me.
Do I tell or let it be?
I have the responsibility to hold him up by letting go at my expense
or put down his world, passing it off to the false gods of DOPL and APA
...because I am not a god
and I don't want to be the judge
the weight of his world is crushing me.
Is his world out of balance and I need to speaking out for my sake, his sake and/or other clients
to help bring it back to ethically
Yin and Yang
what is my place?
...too deep, I could get him into trouble...
too deep, I could get me into trouble?
too deep, I was in trouble
the Kintsugi Artist
I need her to accept that I am broken. She and he wanted me to believe that I am not. ...maybe it is because he believed I was not that I feel she needs to believe that I am, maybe I just need things to play out this way for my own head, but while she believes I am not broken I need her to understand that I am.
and here is why
Kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a very strong glue that includes gold.
I need her to be the artist and repairman to put me back together in a more solid and beautiful way. When she says I am not broken she may be speaking truth because she, the skilled expert, sees me as the pieces of a whole and easily repaired, but I know I am in pieces and hearing that -me being the unskilled vessel- does not understand what she is saying. I do not know if I can trust that she will be able to find all the pieces and put me back together properly if she does not see and acknowledge that I am in shards of me.
Unlike the pottery of Kintsugi, I am a living, breathing, thinking being and I have to trust my artist, I have to, in essence, allow her to do her job. I cannot if she does not see me for what I am.
And I am broken
the evidence is in
my job history
my confidence
my relationships
my rejections
my inability to follow through
how I isolate myself
my identity crises
my tears that come so damn frequently that I am not even embarrassed by them anymore.
Those tears that happen everywhere and are triggered so easily. This is not the first time in my life, though it is the longest and the most.
Broken because I know, that if every person or even half, had tears spilling out as much as I do I would never be the only one at the grocery store failing in their fight to hold them back... and guess what, I have, for these last so many months, been the only one. I know because I secretly look for it, studying, researching, because I think I can't possibly be that different. But I have rarely -over so many years- noticed people fighting back tears and failing the way I do. For many many years I had it beat, but no more, and now it's so much worse. So bad that I am not even embarrassed by it.
Why bother being so? I'd never be able to get anything done if I held onto that embarrassment.
And the weird thing about now, the biggest difference, is that they just come so randomly, so easily triggered by the simplest things, while -really- I am hardly feeling, as they well and run. Hardly feeling compared to what it was when I was young. But maybe the intensity of the tears then was magnified by my fighting so hard to contain them. Maybe that is why they flowed less, but I felt more.
I don't really know but my dear sister agreed, it's not normal and there is definitely something "wrong" if that is happening so regularly.
Wrong hmmm... You see, I prefer broken. I would rather be broken then have something wrong with me.
Broken feels fixable,
wrong feels innately flawed and expendable.
and here is why
Kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a very strong glue that includes gold.
I need her to be the artist and repairman to put me back together in a more solid and beautiful way. When she says I am not broken she may be speaking truth because she, the skilled expert, sees me as the pieces of a whole and easily repaired, but I know I am in pieces and hearing that -me being the unskilled vessel- does not understand what she is saying. I do not know if I can trust that she will be able to find all the pieces and put me back together properly if she does not see and acknowledge that I am in shards of me.
Unlike the pottery of Kintsugi, I am a living, breathing, thinking being and I have to trust my artist, I have to, in essence, allow her to do her job. I cannot if she does not see me for what I am.
And I am broken
the evidence is in
my job history
my confidence
my relationships
my rejections
my inability to follow through
how I isolate myself
my identity crises
my tears that come so damn frequently that I am not even embarrassed by them anymore.
Those tears that happen everywhere and are triggered so easily. This is not the first time in my life, though it is the longest and the most.
Broken because I know, that if every person or even half, had tears spilling out as much as I do I would never be the only one at the grocery store failing in their fight to hold them back... and guess what, I have, for these last so many months, been the only one. I know because I secretly look for it, studying, researching, because I think I can't possibly be that different. But I have rarely -over so many years- noticed people fighting back tears and failing the way I do. For many many years I had it beat, but no more, and now it's so much worse. So bad that I am not even embarrassed by it.
Why bother being so? I'd never be able to get anything done if I held onto that embarrassment.
And the weird thing about now, the biggest difference, is that they just come so randomly, so easily triggered by the simplest things, while -really- I am hardly feeling, as they well and run. Hardly feeling compared to what it was when I was young. But maybe the intensity of the tears then was magnified by my fighting so hard to contain them. Maybe that is why they flowed less, but I felt more.
I don't really know but my dear sister agreed, it's not normal and there is definitely something "wrong" if that is happening so regularly.
Wrong hmmm... You see, I prefer broken. I would rather be broken then have something wrong with me.
Broken feels fixable,
wrong feels innately flawed and expendable.
Friday, August 23, 2019
Sorry, not sorry, but I am an artist now!
 |
| A purple cloud took on a life of it's own. |
And as I analyze my thoughts and actions in these moments, I wonder, "Is this really productive? Is this really helping me? or am I just feeding crazy?"
Truthfully; I don't think I care. I am enjoying this writing journey, and I am enjoying the painting portions too.
So maybe I will chase that dream for awhile. Pretend I am an artist of words and paint. An author and an illustrator. Writing for my life, Painting for my pain.
And I can chase the dream more fervently, without fear of rejection, because I already know that
I am not an artist.
Maybe here the rejection won't hurt so bad, because here, in this space, I know I don't belong and that is what I have to offer.
Diversity.
And the therapy of it all.
Embracing your perfectly imperfect even when others do not.
So chase away
A dream to play
In the field where I don't belong
 |
| An intentionalish painting of an open mind. |
Therapist= The-rapist: penetrating and impregnating the mind
The psychiatric PA-C asked who is overseeing the head injury stuff.
This is a painful question to try and answer.
"Nobody." Because those who were helping me manage that, who were hired to oversee that, felt I was too big a Liability to them and thus dropped me. Dr. Concussion felt I needed a new team and said she would help me find one. Alas, she most certainly did not. And so my answer is "nobody."
Psychiatric PA-C does not think that is a good idea. She thinks I need a neurologist, she would like me to have one to manage and over see this care. ...And she doesn't even know about the shaky left hand that I have avoided facing. ...that Concussion Dr. suggested I see a neurologist about but did not want to refer for.
Today I had another appointment with new neuropsychologist.
I am curious about the new drug and how it is effecting me. I feel rather tired but it is also settling my brain, and that is nice. I was happy that the day before I didn't cry at all ...well at least outside of therapy anyway, and believe it or not, that is big progress at this point.
In my appointment with new neuropsychologist, Dr. She: Even though the brain feels it is settling it is still moving rapidly in multiple directions causing my words to spill out sloppily as I try to explain, get to the point, and head in a productive direction. I am not so sure I am in the right place or utilizing my therapy time wisely.
She listens patiently and then when I seem to loose track of what I am saying and where I am going with it she steps in. Asks a few questions, helps me get somewhere, and then lays out a plane.
I am feeling calm as she speaks and her plan makes perfect sense. I think the medication is already helping to settle things...but it all seems too easy. I tell her this; that it all seems too easy, and then I add, "I don't know if I trust it."
She seems to understand that, but is not terribly worried, so neither am I, though I am really and truly uncertain about trusting this. It is time to say goodbye, so I'll see her next week.
After: I get to meet my sister for lunch. I have not seen my sister for months. In fact, I think the last I saw her was when she came with me to an appointment with Concussion Dr. I wanted someone there because I was obviously making mistakes in my interpretations of things and I wanted another set of ears and hopefully a more rational brain present on my behalf. -I really should have had someone with me much more frequently, but that is not a luxury I have.- Back-on-track-
I have been feeling some hurt and anger toward Big Sister because of how she and her husband had responded to some texts and my asking for help in understanding and resolving my situation. She seemed to think I was caught up in how I had been wronged when I was really trying to justify my battle for my self worth... the battle I was loosing as IHC and Dr. He kept writing me off, unwilling to talk to me, unwilling to hear, unwilling to discuss what was going on with my head and why, but perfectly willing to continue to charge me for the treatment and care they refused to discuss.
I was loosing my battle of self worth with every hit from the industry that was set up to help protect me. So I am sure that didn't help my interpretation of texts from my sweet sister and I new that getting together would likely help set those hurt feelings straight.
It did.
We had great conversation about many things.
However the part of the conversation I wish to share pertains to my previous points. As I was telling her about the medication and the new therapist I explained the feelings of calm and hopeful and how I wasn't sure if I could trust it. Big Sister thought I was not sure if I trusted the medicine, but as I was speaking with her I realized what I was feeling distrustful of; it was new therapist. It was probably a small form of transference. The calm, the safe the hopeful, I felt that so very much with Dr. P. and I trusted him so completely... So very completely. He was so comfortable to me. I needed his calm demeanor and I loved him for it... But he could not handle that, he could not handle me needing him, so he dropped me, to protect himself, because I am too difficult, too much... That is what I feel now, in this moment.
So, that is what I do not trust. I do not trust her and I do not trust me, because of the relationship with he.
Hopefully I can get over that quickly with the help of new god-doctor, Dr. She.
Or should I retreat, and protect? Isolate myself?
It seems so easy, as I am lulled off into another fantasy dream of fixed and well. "I am not broken, I am standing, walking and talking," she tells me. And I am, she is right. But am I really not broken?
This sounds something like "accept your perfectly imperfect"
And here I am...
My thoughts penetrated
and then impregnated
by the man who would not stick around
to see it through.
Pulled out to late and yet too soon
The love child of the fertile
left to grow alone in fiction fed by forbiddens, taboos, cliches, and mania
Long overdue this stubborn bastard being
Will you be born or reborn and what will you become?
Will you stay in?
A parasite? sucking the host until there is nothing more to suck, tethered into every major organ and event?
Or can the midwife help birth the spawn of satan from her profession so we can return him to his father.
Oh my lovely imagination. You get carried away sometimes. Today I will embrace. I am properly medicated by the way, and crazy, maybe not broken, but certainly crazy, delusional about how delusional I am not, Thank you IHC for that justification.
Time to stop. I am not sure I am even making sense to myself anymore, but at least I am smiling.
so good evening.
... But can't you just see, me and Dr. He, the day that he broke me? As I am bleeding out the buried me and embracing my insanity; Heeding Dr. He's advice to uncover the buried me and embrace my perfectly imperfect, -the me that is breaking free he is starting to see. Can you see him saying to himself while hoping to flee, "Oh shit, she is one of those. Never mind, I take it all back. Your perfectly imperfect really is unacceptable."
"Bury her, let her burn out, whatever you need, but keep that crazy siren away from me."
Replay... the loop... begins again.
No conversation for clarification when I could actually handle it. No negotiation. It's their way and the highway if you have a mind like mine that got lost on the sides streets long ago.
and oh the embarrassment for poor Dr. He in the event that he actually had developed feelings for me. Countertransference with that crazy ass chick? Yeah, I'd hide it and deny it also.
And now a song comes to mind that my 2nd sister shared with me the other day, it is by Lilly Allen... I won't quote it.
This is a painful question to try and answer.
"Nobody." Because those who were helping me manage that, who were hired to oversee that, felt I was too big a Liability to them and thus dropped me. Dr. Concussion felt I needed a new team and said she would help me find one. Alas, she most certainly did not. And so my answer is "nobody."
Psychiatric PA-C does not think that is a good idea. She thinks I need a neurologist, she would like me to have one to manage and over see this care. ...And she doesn't even know about the shaky left hand that I have avoided facing. ...that Concussion Dr. suggested I see a neurologist about but did not want to refer for.
Today I had another appointment with new neuropsychologist.
I am curious about the new drug and how it is effecting me. I feel rather tired but it is also settling my brain, and that is nice. I was happy that the day before I didn't cry at all ...well at least outside of therapy anyway, and believe it or not, that is big progress at this point.
In my appointment with new neuropsychologist, Dr. She: Even though the brain feels it is settling it is still moving rapidly in multiple directions causing my words to spill out sloppily as I try to explain, get to the point, and head in a productive direction. I am not so sure I am in the right place or utilizing my therapy time wisely.
She listens patiently and then when I seem to loose track of what I am saying and where I am going with it she steps in. Asks a few questions, helps me get somewhere, and then lays out a plane.
I am feeling calm as she speaks and her plan makes perfect sense. I think the medication is already helping to settle things...but it all seems too easy. I tell her this; that it all seems too easy, and then I add, "I don't know if I trust it."
She seems to understand that, but is not terribly worried, so neither am I, though I am really and truly uncertain about trusting this. It is time to say goodbye, so I'll see her next week.
After: I get to meet my sister for lunch. I have not seen my sister for months. In fact, I think the last I saw her was when she came with me to an appointment with Concussion Dr. I wanted someone there because I was obviously making mistakes in my interpretations of things and I wanted another set of ears and hopefully a more rational brain present on my behalf. -I really should have had someone with me much more frequently, but that is not a luxury I have.- Back-on-track-
I have been feeling some hurt and anger toward Big Sister because of how she and her husband had responded to some texts and my asking for help in understanding and resolving my situation. She seemed to think I was caught up in how I had been wronged when I was really trying to justify my battle for my self worth... the battle I was loosing as IHC and Dr. He kept writing me off, unwilling to talk to me, unwilling to hear, unwilling to discuss what was going on with my head and why, but perfectly willing to continue to charge me for the treatment and care they refused to discuss.
I was loosing my battle of self worth with every hit from the industry that was set up to help protect me. So I am sure that didn't help my interpretation of texts from my sweet sister and I new that getting together would likely help set those hurt feelings straight.
It did.
We had great conversation about many things.
However the part of the conversation I wish to share pertains to my previous points. As I was telling her about the medication and the new therapist I explained the feelings of calm and hopeful and how I wasn't sure if I could trust it. Big Sister thought I was not sure if I trusted the medicine, but as I was speaking with her I realized what I was feeling distrustful of; it was new therapist. It was probably a small form of transference. The calm, the safe the hopeful, I felt that so very much with Dr. P. and I trusted him so completely... So very completely. He was so comfortable to me. I needed his calm demeanor and I loved him for it... But he could not handle that, he could not handle me needing him, so he dropped me, to protect himself, because I am too difficult, too much... That is what I feel now, in this moment.
So, that is what I do not trust. I do not trust her and I do not trust me, because of the relationship with he.
Hopefully I can get over that quickly with the help of new god-doctor, Dr. She.
Or should I retreat, and protect? Isolate myself?
It seems so easy, as I am lulled off into another fantasy dream of fixed and well. "I am not broken, I am standing, walking and talking," she tells me. And I am, she is right. But am I really not broken?
This sounds something like "accept your perfectly imperfect"
And here I am...
My thoughts penetrated
and then impregnated
by the man who would not stick around
to see it through.
Pulled out to late and yet too soon
The love child of the fertile
left to grow alone in fiction fed by forbiddens, taboos, cliches, and mania
Long overdue this stubborn bastard being
Will you be born or reborn and what will you become?
Will you stay in?
A parasite? sucking the host until there is nothing more to suck, tethered into every major organ and event?
Or can the midwife help birth the spawn of satan from her profession so we can return him to his father.
Oh my lovely imagination. You get carried away sometimes. Today I will embrace. I am properly medicated by the way, and crazy, maybe not broken, but certainly crazy, delusional about how delusional I am not, Thank you IHC for that justification.
Time to stop. I am not sure I am even making sense to myself anymore, but at least I am smiling.
so good evening.
... But can't you just see, me and Dr. He, the day that he broke me? As I am bleeding out the buried me and embracing my insanity; Heeding Dr. He's advice to uncover the buried me and embrace my perfectly imperfect, -the me that is breaking free he is starting to see. Can you see him saying to himself while hoping to flee, "Oh shit, she is one of those. Never mind, I take it all back. Your perfectly imperfect really is unacceptable."
"Bury her, let her burn out, whatever you need, but keep that crazy siren away from me."
Replay... the loop... begins again.
No conversation for clarification when I could actually handle it. No negotiation. It's their way and the highway if you have a mind like mine that got lost on the sides streets long ago.
and oh the embarrassment for poor Dr. He in the event that he actually had developed feelings for me. Countertransference with that crazy ass chick? Yeah, I'd hide it and deny it also.
And now a song comes to mind that my 2nd sister shared with me the other day, it is by Lilly Allen... I won't quote it.
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
solved, solving, and unsolved mysteries. And stupid ones to.
I met with the psychiatric PA-C. I have been nervous to meet with her and she looked very young. But she was pretty great.
I will tell you it is mentally exhausting trying to explain myself. And truthfully I don't think I have ever sought as thorough help as I am now. I am tired. My brain is tired.
And I am tired of the flood of tears that comes so frequently and often unexpectedly. Today as I tried to rehash I remembered even more than I had when I was remembering and trying so hard, while also trying to protect, to help the Neuroscience Institute to see that I needed their help much more than I had realized or even wanted to admit to myself.
She is seeing me, and listening, and she is not trying to send me away because she thinks I am too much or she thinks that I will be fine because I have been able to manage... or because she is afraid of me.
She wants me to return in two weeks. She wants me to see a neurologist. She wants to help me find one because she does not think I should be left alone to handle this. She wants my records. She wants to know and understand and she wants to help me.
I hope that this time the medical helpers I am finding are sincere. That they won't break me more then abandon me.
PA-Looks-too-Young understands what I am talking about when I mention mania. She seems to understand that, while I was not hospitalized, it was hard on my brain. She seems to understand how I could seem so okay, and how it could be fun, exhilarating, and even how Dr. Cheri's not addressing it but rather addressing the transference countertransference topic could lead me to a different place but not solve the problem. She understands that I believed him and thought I was really going to be okay, that it was not mania, it was something else.
...But even then, I knew. I knew the up was too high and I could not maintain. I knew I would have to come down and as high as I was the down would be harsh. I knew I could not "not solve this" because if I stopped trying to solve for even a moment I could loose my tight, but thin, grasp on my sanity that was pulling away with astronomical leverage. I knew he was missing something. He was wrong. I tried so hard to tell him, to tell others, but alas, the my not-actually-as-tight-as-I-had-thought grasp on sanity made this insanely difficult to communicate. ...which you think would be a clue. And I am certain it was... But him for me, that was the exchange, they felt was necessary. I would very much like to know who or what they thought were or exchanging with? Why the felt they could not protect both of us?
That, to me, is still a mystery.
...And stupid. It is also stupid to me.
And -just one more thing- reliving this story trying to get the help I need to stabilize and understand what is going on with my head, this far down the road and after so many failed attempts with the ones who should have known but didn't want to help me, is exhausting.
I am tired.
and they perpetuated harm.
again and again.
I will tell you it is mentally exhausting trying to explain myself. And truthfully I don't think I have ever sought as thorough help as I am now. I am tired. My brain is tired.
And I am tired of the flood of tears that comes so frequently and often unexpectedly. Today as I tried to rehash I remembered even more than I had when I was remembering and trying so hard, while also trying to protect, to help the Neuroscience Institute to see that I needed their help much more than I had realized or even wanted to admit to myself.
She is seeing me, and listening, and she is not trying to send me away because she thinks I am too much or she thinks that I will be fine because I have been able to manage... or because she is afraid of me.
She wants me to return in two weeks. She wants me to see a neurologist. She wants to help me find one because she does not think I should be left alone to handle this. She wants my records. She wants to know and understand and she wants to help me.
I hope that this time the medical helpers I am finding are sincere. That they won't break me more then abandon me.
PA-Looks-too-Young understands what I am talking about when I mention mania. She seems to understand that, while I was not hospitalized, it was hard on my brain. She seems to understand how I could seem so okay, and how it could be fun, exhilarating, and even how Dr. Cheri's not addressing it but rather addressing the transference countertransference topic could lead me to a different place but not solve the problem. She understands that I believed him and thought I was really going to be okay, that it was not mania, it was something else.
...But even then, I knew. I knew the up was too high and I could not maintain. I knew I would have to come down and as high as I was the down would be harsh. I knew I could not "not solve this" because if I stopped trying to solve for even a moment I could loose my tight, but thin, grasp on my sanity that was pulling away with astronomical leverage. I knew he was missing something. He was wrong. I tried so hard to tell him, to tell others, but alas, the my not-actually-as-tight-as-I-had-thought grasp on sanity made this insanely difficult to communicate. ...which you think would be a clue. And I am certain it was... But him for me, that was the exchange, they felt was necessary. I would very much like to know who or what they thought were or exchanging with? Why the felt they could not protect both of us?
That, to me, is still a mystery.
...And stupid. It is also stupid to me.
And -just one more thing- reliving this story trying to get the help I need to stabilize and understand what is going on with my head, this far down the road and after so many failed attempts with the ones who should have known but didn't want to help me, is exhausting.
I am tired.
and they perpetuated harm.
again and again.
Oh blessed sleep, please return.
I'm tired but awake. Not sleeping yet again. I have an appointment with the psychiatric PA-C tomorrow. My new Neuropsychologist suggested I go with the PA-C for now just to get me on a mood stabilizer and then we can find a good psychiatrist to follow through with longterm.
I am a bit nervous about this appointment so maybe that is why, even though I am tired, I am a bit keyed up and not sleeping.
I also started taking a new supplement. Actually two, one for adrenal support (my thyroid seems to need that extra help these days) and one for mood. Considering the chemistry and silly excited-like feelings I was experiencing today I am thinking the mood supplement might be a bad idea.
I took a melatonin going to bed because I felt a little extra keyed up and thought that may help. I seemed to be falling asleep but then, all of the sudden, I was awake and agitated. Not irritable and not angry, just agitated and kind of restless. Probably what restless leg syndrome feels like only in your whole body. I used to experience this from time to time in my younger years, but it had been a long time, until the car accident that is... Or was this one not until after the breaking of me by ex-therapist? I can't be certain. Fortunately it has not happened many times since the recent onset because it is terribly annoying (the restless leg in the whole body feeling). And as I am writing it out I am remembering that the Clonazepam helps with this, and oh yes, I had to use it maybe twice within the couple of months immediately following the car accident for this particular problem and then not again until after the ex-neuropsych breaking.
Anyway, I haven't taken that tonight (maybe I will) but first I tried sex. Fortunately I have a willing husband. That helped and I slept for bit. But not long enough. I woke again, this time feeling more like a real restless leg problem (not the whole body) except that it is the surgery ankle leg -the one that is taking it's sweet time to heal. It feels a little pained but mostly irritated; still, maybe ibuprofen will settle that and do the trick... It's had more than enough time to start working. It's not.
So here I am writing it out.
I'm in the thick of it again in a way. I am feeling mighty angry, or is it sad? about how I was treated by that whole damned institution that is supposed to see and help with problems like this. Stigmatized and ostracized. Conversations are replaying again as I try to figure out what I could have done differently, where I made mistakes. I made plenty. But the contradiction, the tragic irony, is that those should have been the red flags to them that suggested I was in a much worse place then I was letting on.
I have been managing this madness of mine for a long time, and I had gotten quite good at it. I also had outgrown a lot, even loosing touch with some of it. Which was nice. And still, I can proudly say I am still in many ways so much better off than I was in my younger years. I hope to God it stays that way and I start improving instead of continuing to digress. Again this is where I then get really frustrated because I was! Before he dropped me unexpectedly I was finally getting to the point where I could actually start processing some of this stuff. My restless leg reminds me of that. As the pain and discomfort now run the entire length of my leg I am reminded of the pains after the car accident and how it bothered me in different ways but I could not emotionally handle that and I felt small and insecure, not wanting to bother anybody or take advantage of the insurance company, or look like I was. I figured it was minor so it would heal and I worked it along, thinking I was being careful enough and utilizing my previous knowledge from sports, first aid, and ankle sprains to nurse it along. Until, finally, when I was really doing better, starting to build confidence, and having break through moments with the help of dear Dr. Cheri, I was like, "It has been over a year, why the hell haven't I had this looked at?"
... I found out that I needed surgery the very week Dr. Cheri decided to write me off with a long term plan due to the unfortunate human element that still exists in him and his profession... (the gist of his words).
I am pretty sure the news of the ankle is what put me over the manic edge. Or at least it is what switched it from heartbroken slightly crazy to full blown empowered manic crazy.
An empowered, magnificent and divine is how I returned to Dr. Cheri, mistakenly hung up on he. His mistake or mine? probably both. But that was not really the problem, at least not the worst of mine, now was it?
So here I am still stuck in it, though not nearly so "crazy" but finally to the point where I am willing to see the psychiatry people, now knowing Dr. Cheri was wrong, that is what it was. Yet he was accurate in his assessment that I did not need to be checked into a facility. However, my friends,- and I'll toot my own horn here (something I do not often do)- that is simply because I have become quit exceptional at managing some very intense psychology.
Sadly you cannot tell them that, [those who are in charge and paid to help you manage that], because they just don't get it and then they turn you into something you are not, basically claiming you to be delusional about how delusional you are; gaslighting what is already lit up just to cover their bases, It is, well, crazy!
I am a bit nervous about this appointment so maybe that is why, even though I am tired, I am a bit keyed up and not sleeping.
I also started taking a new supplement. Actually two, one for adrenal support (my thyroid seems to need that extra help these days) and one for mood. Considering the chemistry and silly excited-like feelings I was experiencing today I am thinking the mood supplement might be a bad idea.
I took a melatonin going to bed because I felt a little extra keyed up and thought that may help. I seemed to be falling asleep but then, all of the sudden, I was awake and agitated. Not irritable and not angry, just agitated and kind of restless. Probably what restless leg syndrome feels like only in your whole body. I used to experience this from time to time in my younger years, but it had been a long time, until the car accident that is... Or was this one not until after the breaking of me by ex-therapist? I can't be certain. Fortunately it has not happened many times since the recent onset because it is terribly annoying (the restless leg in the whole body feeling). And as I am writing it out I am remembering that the Clonazepam helps with this, and oh yes, I had to use it maybe twice within the couple of months immediately following the car accident for this particular problem and then not again until after the ex-neuropsych breaking.
Anyway, I haven't taken that tonight (maybe I will) but first I tried sex. Fortunately I have a willing husband. That helped and I slept for bit. But not long enough. I woke again, this time feeling more like a real restless leg problem (not the whole body) except that it is the surgery ankle leg -the one that is taking it's sweet time to heal. It feels a little pained but mostly irritated; still, maybe ibuprofen will settle that and do the trick... It's had more than enough time to start working. It's not.
So here I am writing it out.
I'm in the thick of it again in a way. I am feeling mighty angry, or is it sad? about how I was treated by that whole damned institution that is supposed to see and help with problems like this. Stigmatized and ostracized. Conversations are replaying again as I try to figure out what I could have done differently, where I made mistakes. I made plenty. But the contradiction, the tragic irony, is that those should have been the red flags to them that suggested I was in a much worse place then I was letting on.
I have been managing this madness of mine for a long time, and I had gotten quite good at it. I also had outgrown a lot, even loosing touch with some of it. Which was nice. And still, I can proudly say I am still in many ways so much better off than I was in my younger years. I hope to God it stays that way and I start improving instead of continuing to digress. Again this is where I then get really frustrated because I was! Before he dropped me unexpectedly I was finally getting to the point where I could actually start processing some of this stuff. My restless leg reminds me of that. As the pain and discomfort now run the entire length of my leg I am reminded of the pains after the car accident and how it bothered me in different ways but I could not emotionally handle that and I felt small and insecure, not wanting to bother anybody or take advantage of the insurance company, or look like I was. I figured it was minor so it would heal and I worked it along, thinking I was being careful enough and utilizing my previous knowledge from sports, first aid, and ankle sprains to nurse it along. Until, finally, when I was really doing better, starting to build confidence, and having break through moments with the help of dear Dr. Cheri, I was like, "It has been over a year, why the hell haven't I had this looked at?"
... I found out that I needed surgery the very week Dr. Cheri decided to write me off with a long term plan due to the unfortunate human element that still exists in him and his profession... (the gist of his words).
I am pretty sure the news of the ankle is what put me over the manic edge. Or at least it is what switched it from heartbroken slightly crazy to full blown empowered manic crazy.
An empowered, magnificent and divine is how I returned to Dr. Cheri, mistakenly hung up on he. His mistake or mine? probably both. But that was not really the problem, at least not the worst of mine, now was it?
So here I am still stuck in it, though not nearly so "crazy" but finally to the point where I am willing to see the psychiatry people, now knowing Dr. Cheri was wrong, that is what it was. Yet he was accurate in his assessment that I did not need to be checked into a facility. However, my friends,- and I'll toot my own horn here (something I do not often do)- that is simply because I have become quit exceptional at managing some very intense psychology.
Sadly you cannot tell them that, [those who are in charge and paid to help you manage that], because they just don't get it and then they turn you into something you are not, basically claiming you to be delusional about how delusional you are; gaslighting what is already lit up just to cover their bases, It is, well, crazy!
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Run, Run as fast as you can, you can't catch me, nobody can!
Sometimes I get tired of thinking about me. This blog is all about me. So if you read it you likely think that is what I am all about. And, right now, you might be right.
But I am sometimes fascinated by myself also, it is interesting how my brain works and I wonder how others work. How are they similar? How are they different?
At physical therapy I had enjoyable conversations with my therapist and another patient who reminds me a bit of my friend Bob (I hope Bob doesn't mind that I use his real name, but it is such a good name, and for sure Bob will me know if he minds). I am a bit younger then both men and fake Bob thinks I am much younger than I am, which always makes it more fun.
The conversation today was mostly on interesting cultural attitudes, specifically on work, and education came up. I have a lot to offer to the conversation and fake Bob enjoys it so much he wants to schedule his appointments at the same time as mine. I am sure he will not, in real life, but the thought and appreciation is nice. I am reminded that I do have value. I do contribute to this world even it I am an outlier, a true and not-trying-to-be nonconformist, and my contributions are atypical and (unfortunate for me) not easy to make money on.
We are speaking on education and observations that the smartest is not always the best. That being top of the class can actually contribute to a an inability to think outside the box and creatively problem solve. I point out that fake Bob's inability to problem solve in some area's may be directly linked to the methodologies he was schooled with in his youth; how we are far too often taught in schools that there is only one right answer and that if you don't get it right the first time you have failed and there are no second chances (especially on tests). There are many things like this in our school systems that are not reflective of real life.
This theory makes sense to fake Bob. He tells me about his son. I want to tell him about a book that would be very helpful. I can't remember the name. I am causing a lag in the conversation trying to remember. I manage to remember the author; Carol Dweck. I have no idea how, I am even worse with names. But I cannot remember the title in the midst of this conversation. My mind is moving too fast. I know tricks to help me when this happens, if I relax for a minute and clear my mind it will usually come. I am struggling though, my mind is moving too fast to relax. "It'll come," I remind myself and I am certain, but how is this simple title so very lost?
It's a moment where I am both frustrated and fascinated with the inner workings of my brain. I remember this feeling, and in a way it is both good and bad, scary but also invigorating. It is scary because I don't like when I feel memory going and I have a hard time with recalling the simple. It may be a bit scary because of how fast my mind is working. Is it the start of racing thoughts? But, no, I am not scared of that because I know this kind of speed it is familiar in a good way because I am alive again. I am something else again. Excited and passionate. I am starting to break free of the new crazy that has had me so trapped. This old crazy is not crazy but just difficult. Difficult because I can't keep up with myself. I have been this way before. I have been this way for a long time. It is funny how this very difficult aspect of me is like a cherished visit from a long lost friend in my moment of frustration with it.
The conversation went on as I gave up on the task of finding the title, and then, just like magic, there is was, the title "Growth Mindset." (and funny in that moment just now, I lost it again, had to stop shut my eyes and relax to get it back).
Ahh the brain. It is such a fascinating thing.
How does yours work? Does yours work like mine?
But I am sometimes fascinated by myself also, it is interesting how my brain works and I wonder how others work. How are they similar? How are they different?
At physical therapy I had enjoyable conversations with my therapist and another patient who reminds me a bit of my friend Bob (I hope Bob doesn't mind that I use his real name, but it is such a good name, and for sure Bob will me know if he minds). I am a bit younger then both men and fake Bob thinks I am much younger than I am, which always makes it more fun.
The conversation today was mostly on interesting cultural attitudes, specifically on work, and education came up. I have a lot to offer to the conversation and fake Bob enjoys it so much he wants to schedule his appointments at the same time as mine. I am sure he will not, in real life, but the thought and appreciation is nice. I am reminded that I do have value. I do contribute to this world even it I am an outlier, a true and not-trying-to-be nonconformist, and my contributions are atypical and (unfortunate for me) not easy to make money on.
We are speaking on education and observations that the smartest is not always the best. That being top of the class can actually contribute to a an inability to think outside the box and creatively problem solve. I point out that fake Bob's inability to problem solve in some area's may be directly linked to the methodologies he was schooled with in his youth; how we are far too often taught in schools that there is only one right answer and that if you don't get it right the first time you have failed and there are no second chances (especially on tests). There are many things like this in our school systems that are not reflective of real life.
This theory makes sense to fake Bob. He tells me about his son. I want to tell him about a book that would be very helpful. I can't remember the name. I am causing a lag in the conversation trying to remember. I manage to remember the author; Carol Dweck. I have no idea how, I am even worse with names. But I cannot remember the title in the midst of this conversation. My mind is moving too fast. I know tricks to help me when this happens, if I relax for a minute and clear my mind it will usually come. I am struggling though, my mind is moving too fast to relax. "It'll come," I remind myself and I am certain, but how is this simple title so very lost?
It's a moment where I am both frustrated and fascinated with the inner workings of my brain. I remember this feeling, and in a way it is both good and bad, scary but also invigorating. It is scary because I don't like when I feel memory going and I have a hard time with recalling the simple. It may be a bit scary because of how fast my mind is working. Is it the start of racing thoughts? But, no, I am not scared of that because I know this kind of speed it is familiar in a good way because I am alive again. I am something else again. Excited and passionate. I am starting to break free of the new crazy that has had me so trapped. This old crazy is not crazy but just difficult. Difficult because I can't keep up with myself. I have been this way before. I have been this way for a long time. It is funny how this very difficult aspect of me is like a cherished visit from a long lost friend in my moment of frustration with it.
The conversation went on as I gave up on the task of finding the title, and then, just like magic, there is was, the title "Growth Mindset." (and funny in that moment just now, I lost it again, had to stop shut my eyes and relax to get it back).
Ahh the brain. It is such a fascinating thing.
How does yours work? Does yours work like mine?
Monday, August 19, 2019
Eddy Swirls with Silly Girls.
Sooo, I'll be honest -shocker, I know- I question therapy.
Right now I have to question my new therapist because I am likely to get too attached too quick and screw things up. "I am really good at that," I think. But then I run the risk of self sabotaging in the pendulum swing of the opposite direction.
And really I am only thinking this because I am trying to solve again.
Which he told me not to do.
He is like a god, as I worship, wish to return to, and still hang on his every word and I hate myself for it. ahh the mind traps I am letting flow freely out on this blog. stupid me
but again, that is a negative thinking rut I am getting pulled back into and it will not help me... or will it?
I don't even know anymore. I was thinking to say that I enjoy trying to solve and as I do things make some sense, and more sense, and I scrutinize myself.
Yet I can't quite handle it, as you can see, my mind so easily goes quite crazy. Even though just a literal moment ago I was sound and sane and it was making sense to me as I was figuring things out.
Why is that?
Is this what happens to everyone who tries to solve things of this nature? or is it my lowered cognitive stamina due to TBI and emotional trauma? Is that just a load of crap? Or is it that I am mentally weak or unskilled in structure, organization and self discipline?
I don't know and now that I have this little mess of mental knots all pulled out, though it may not be entirely straightened out yet, I think I'll set that aside and get to my point; Why I came her in the first place. Actually, I suppose that is still part of the point because today I came her to self scrutinize as I try to solve, -oh but have no fear I am certain I will still turn this into it being the God of Therapy's fault ... because he accepts non and I am still mad. You see, self sabotaging and what ever the hell is going on in my brain is so stupid I'm letting it spill out in hopes that I'll be rid of it. So there you go, I digress yet again in my personal scrutiny.
But before I go there I want to scrutinize and maybe even criticize this article: https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/therapy/how-to-identify-the-signs-of-countertransference-in-therapy/
I will say, going back to it I find my scrutiny pacified a bit. First here is what I got hung up on: "Your therapist's job is to remain impartial throughout your sessions. They are there to help you through your situation and to do that they need to keep their own experiences out of your sessions. They should not be passing judgment on you or anyone else in your life. If they do, it can be easy for them to lead you into thinking certain things that you might not have arrived at on your own."
Now the reason this bothers me is two fold: first and foremost why on earth would I want to pay for therapy that is NOT going to lead me in to certain thinking I might not have arrived at on my own? Isn't that exactly why people go, to help them change their thinking and arrive at a place we could not get to on our own? And I don't want a completely impartial therapist. I want him/her to have opinions and thoughts based on their education, training and even their own personal beliefs and I want them to share them when appropriate and when I ask. I'm even okay with them sharing them when it is not appropriate because then I can know if they are a good fit for me or not.
I mean, I get it, but I don't at the same time. And I think it is thoroughly stupid for us and them to try to completely dehumanize themselves like this. Which leads me to my second issue with this statement (which ironically may suggest a form of counter-transference I am experiencing in reading this article): I have read so much psychology crap that is like, "the therapist is to withhold all human emotions, and have no judgement and opinion and if they do they are harming the client..." blah blah as if they are supposed to be a completely empty vessel that we fill with all of our grievances and they simply take it, listen, wash away our sins, and then allow us to walk away completely blameless and healed of all hurt and pain because we have been validated by the uninterested and unemotional therapist, that has somehow magically connected with us without letting us know nothing about them. What a load of shit.
So, yeah, definitely some sort of countertransference happening there as I read that because this article is really not saying that but rather it seems just a hint or nod to that line of thinking.
And that is my scrutiny to be followed with mycountertransference style personal experience [and probably hypocritical on some level considering my previous grievance] complete agreement with this following statement from said article:
"If they are putting their emotion onto you, then you end up with another problem to have to overcome. You can't work through your feelings, emotions, and situations when you have to sort through the emotions your therapist is putting on you as well."
So much more true than you can know if you have not experienced this personally. And really I don't mind this, if they stick around until it is worked through [so maybe I am not so hypocritical after all]. But if they put that on you then abandon ship, you are hopelessly lost trying to sort through the emotions that may not even be your own; sucked into the swirling eddy caused by the emergent obstacles of transference and countertransference in the sea of psychology.
That is actually a really good analogy on many levels; like how the captain of the ship has abandoned and the ship is powerless without the captain. I'm pathetic, I tell you.... but if what they say about the therapist being in a position of power is true than this is an accurate analogy. "Oh captain, my captain"
but again, that is a negative thinking rut I am getting pulled back into and it will not help me... or will it?
I don't even know anymore. I was thinking to say that I enjoy trying to solve and as I do things make some sense, and more sense, and I scrutinize myself.
Yet I can't quite handle it, as you can see, my mind so easily goes quite crazy. Even though just a literal moment ago I was sound and sane and it was making sense to me as I was figuring things out.
Why is that?
Is this what happens to everyone who tries to solve things of this nature? or is it my lowered cognitive stamina due to TBI and emotional trauma? Is that just a load of crap? Or is it that I am mentally weak or unskilled in structure, organization and self discipline?
I don't know and now that I have this little mess of mental knots all pulled out, though it may not be entirely straightened out yet, I think I'll set that aside and get to my point; Why I came her in the first place. Actually, I suppose that is still part of the point because today I came her to self scrutinize as I try to solve, -oh but have no fear I am certain I will still turn this into it being the God of Therapy's fault ... because he accepts non and I am still mad. You see, self sabotaging and what ever the hell is going on in my brain is so stupid I'm letting it spill out in hopes that I'll be rid of it. So there you go, I digress yet again in my personal scrutiny.
But before I go there I want to scrutinize and maybe even criticize this article: https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/therapy/how-to-identify-the-signs-of-countertransference-in-therapy/
I will say, going back to it I find my scrutiny pacified a bit. First here is what I got hung up on: "Your therapist's job is to remain impartial throughout your sessions. They are there to help you through your situation and to do that they need to keep their own experiences out of your sessions. They should not be passing judgment on you or anyone else in your life. If they do, it can be easy for them to lead you into thinking certain things that you might not have arrived at on your own."
Now the reason this bothers me is two fold: first and foremost why on earth would I want to pay for therapy that is NOT going to lead me in to certain thinking I might not have arrived at on my own? Isn't that exactly why people go, to help them change their thinking and arrive at a place we could not get to on our own? And I don't want a completely impartial therapist. I want him/her to have opinions and thoughts based on their education, training and even their own personal beliefs and I want them to share them when appropriate and when I ask. I'm even okay with them sharing them when it is not appropriate because then I can know if they are a good fit for me or not.
I mean, I get it, but I don't at the same time. And I think it is thoroughly stupid for us and them to try to completely dehumanize themselves like this. Which leads me to my second issue with this statement (which ironically may suggest a form of counter-transference I am experiencing in reading this article): I have read so much psychology crap that is like, "the therapist is to withhold all human emotions, and have no judgement and opinion and if they do they are harming the client..." blah blah as if they are supposed to be a completely empty vessel that we fill with all of our grievances and they simply take it, listen, wash away our sins, and then allow us to walk away completely blameless and healed of all hurt and pain because we have been validated by the uninterested and unemotional therapist, that has somehow magically connected with us without letting us know nothing about them. What a load of shit.
So, yeah, definitely some sort of countertransference happening there as I read that because this article is really not saying that but rather it seems just a hint or nod to that line of thinking.
And that is my scrutiny to be followed with my
"If they are putting their emotion onto you, then you end up with another problem to have to overcome. You can't work through your feelings, emotions, and situations when you have to sort through the emotions your therapist is putting on you as well."
So much more true than you can know if you have not experienced this personally. And really I don't mind this, if they stick around until it is worked through [so maybe I am not so hypocritical after all]. But if they put that on you then abandon ship, you are hopelessly lost trying to sort through the emotions that may not even be your own; sucked into the swirling eddy caused by the emergent obstacles of transference and countertransference in the sea of psychology.
That is actually a really good analogy on many levels; like how the captain of the ship has abandoned and the ship is powerless without the captain. I'm pathetic, I tell you.... but if what they say about the therapist being in a position of power is true than this is an accurate analogy. "Oh captain, my captain"
and, oh yes, that is a nod to the movie Dead Poets Society; a movie about emotional intensities and even suicide! hah. so funny -not funny,- no, it's freaking hilarious- and by saying this I ensure my survival; this is how I utilize Murphy's law coupled with my own analysis philosophy of "I'd rather say it and be wrong then not say it and be right." So it's clever and funny; if you get me, anyway, which I'm thinking many people do not.
It seems again I digress but alas it is the perfect lead in to my personal scrutiny. I read this article also: http://drjasonjones.com/dark_psychology/ and then his next: http://drjasonjones.com/how-to-avoid-being-manipulated/ and I find that I do have a tendency to "Love Flood" but is it manipulation if you genuinely feel that way?
...Oh new captain, my captain?
It seems again I digress but alas it is the perfect lead in to my personal scrutiny. I read this article also: http://drjasonjones.com/dark_psychology/ and then his next: http://drjasonjones.com/how-to-avoid-being-manipulated/ and I find that I do have a tendency to "Love Flood" but is it manipulation if you genuinely feel that way?
And then their is this term "Semantic Manipulation – Using words that are assumed to have a common or mutual definition, yet the manipulator later tells you he or she has a different definition and understanding of the conversation. This is often used in a negotiation to create a sense of agreement by both parties, but the manipulator will later explain that his/her understanding of the words used was different than the other party, thus excusing the breach of the agreement. Words are powerful and important"
this one bothers me because I think it appears that I do this when I do not. I will admit I have been careful to word things occasionally that allows the listener to assume what they want. I have used that technique... but not intentionally in a long while. Mostly I try to be conscientious of what I say but I make mistakes so frequently in this area, especially if I get lax or am under stress. That is when my language skills deceive even myself. I think this would be easy to accuse me of. It may be why I tend to get overly wordy and try to over explain. That doesn't always help though, for a few reasons: 1. because sometimes people are going to hear what they want to hear and they will not change their opinion regardless. 2. they think you are back peddling 3. I suppose they think you are doing exactly this and then, to them you are simply proving their point, (so #3 is kind of an extension of #1) or 4. I just make too many mistakes in my communication, so the more words I speak the more I increase my odds of making mistakes like this, again and again.
It is the one area that most frustrates me in the final communications I had with Captain Therapist God because these are all things I said but I think may have had a very different meaning to him: "What should I do about my husband?" "I think we are off track," "People are afraid of me," "I don't have the same boundaries," "I fall in love with people all of the time, this is not an uncommon theme with me, but you are something special, you are something different," "I can't loose you right now," "You are like a Christmas present I have been looking forward to getting but now I have to give you away to more needy kids?" "If you can't be my friend that I'm not coming back to you as my therapist," "I have needed you since I was 12,"- really, that last one should not be so difficult to interpret if he remembered anything about me... but alas, I am not so sure he did and I am can't especially blame him, he's got plenty to remember.
It is the one area that most frustrates me in the final communications I had with Captain Therapist God because these are all things I said but I think may have had a very different meaning to him: "What should I do about my husband?" "I think we are off track," "People are afraid of me," "I don't have the same boundaries," "I fall in love with people all of the time, this is not an uncommon theme with me, but you are something special, you are something different," "I can't loose you right now," "You are like a Christmas present I have been looking forward to getting but now I have to give you away to more needy kids?" "If you can't be my friend that I'm not coming back to you as my therapist," "I have needed you since I was 12,"- really, that last one should not be so difficult to interpret if he remembered anything about me... but alas, I am not so sure he did and I am can't especially blame him, he's got plenty to remember.
But the evidence that I was not trying to semantically manipulate was in the moment I knew I was maybe influencing his mind, -when I felt I was either strengthening his resolve or weakening it- in that moment I decided it was time to go, because I did not want to manipulate that decision, his decision to be my friend. So I ended it. ...which may be a manipulation itself. However he did tell me he was going to let me burn out... and suggested I do the same ...let me burn out?.. so maybe it was him manipulating? I don't know.
...See I needed the stupid captain on board and in control, because I sure as hell was not.
the end.
abrupt and sad and angry again, right back in the eddy... How the hell do I get out of this eddy without a captain and how the hell can I do it even with a captain that is not willing to steer the ship away from itself?
so the end
I've got better things to do with my time... If my damn sinking head will let me
...Oh new captain, my captain?
Sunday, August 18, 2019
Angry with Intermountain Health Care
Right now I feel mad.
He is in my head. I am trying to get him out. I thought of yet another possible solution... and wanted to see his face, to see if that is really what I felt. It was a nice solution. A maybe-I-don't-need-to-file-that-complaint solution.
I found a blog. About head injury. He is doing this thing..., is active in that community. And it made me hurt and angry. And I don't even know why... I wanted to throw my phone at the door. I decided to let myself. I have not indulged in the anger I have felt. I have suppressed that a lot. I have kept that in check. I have not even felt it a lot, but I am angry. Maybe increasingly so as I am still stuck in this shitty hell hole of fucked up. And I didn't even get to indulge in the immoral pleasure of literally. I only got the brain fuck. -Now that's warped and angry me coming out unexpectedly-
But I'll let it be.
Back to angry, throw-my-phone kind of angry, which by-the-way I have never done before just now...
Why does this make me angry?
Of course he is actively involved in that community, it is his job, his specialty.
That is why! because I am not allowed. I am banished and exiled. It is now dually painful to be involved and if I did show up at an event he was attending, I would absolutely confront him. I want him to face me. And, do you know what would most likely happen, do you know the reality of what he would do? He'd try to turn it into me pursuing him. Slap me with a retraining order. I know how these things work and he has already shown he will protect himself and cover his ass, hide his mistakes no matter the cost to me. That is what I suspect. And is it worth it? to force him to face me?
Maybe I really wouldn't. Maybe I would just vomit and leave, in reality. That is not super likely though, because I hardly ever puke.
Mostly I am angry because his life goes on. He gets to enjoy his career and his stability while I am an unemployable mess. I am lost in what to do with myself and I am reminded of the hope that was so selfishly pulled out from under me.
the lost hope of; I had found my place in the world, my life was starting to make sense and I trusted them so completely. I was finding my strength... Only to be ostracized and then exiled without even the follow through on the promised help of finding another team to fall back on. Nothing.
Oh, no wait, not nothing. I still have the bills to pay.
and my broken heart and the map of gold to remind me that all the good things I learned now hurt like hell so even taking care of myself in the researched most productive of ways will wreck havoc on my psyche.
Yes. I am angry
Angry and fighting
-this IHC bullshit fertilized battle in my head
**and when I have to fill out paperwork for my new providers, -the psychiatry they felt I should seek (and I should) -but they did not want to help me find- I have to explain past traumas. HOW THE HELL DO I EXPLAIN THIS? "he lost objectivity, and I lost my support and my mind" I guess that about summarizes this...
He is in my head. I am trying to get him out. I thought of yet another possible solution... and wanted to see his face, to see if that is really what I felt. It was a nice solution. A maybe-I-don't-need-to-file-that-complaint solution.
I found a blog. About head injury. He is doing this thing..., is active in that community. And it made me hurt and angry. And I don't even know why... I wanted to throw my phone at the door. I decided to let myself. I have not indulged in the anger I have felt. I have suppressed that a lot. I have kept that in check. I have not even felt it a lot, but I am angry. Maybe increasingly so as I am still stuck in this shitty hell hole of fucked up. And I didn't even get to indulge in the immoral pleasure of literally. I only got the brain fuck. -Now that's warped and angry me coming out unexpectedly-
But I'll let it be.
Back to angry, throw-my-phone kind of angry, which by-the-way I have never done before just now...
Why does this make me angry?
Of course he is actively involved in that community, it is his job, his specialty.
That is why! because I am not allowed. I am banished and exiled. It is now dually painful to be involved and if I did show up at an event he was attending, I would absolutely confront him. I want him to face me. And, do you know what would most likely happen, do you know the reality of what he would do? He'd try to turn it into me pursuing him. Slap me with a retraining order. I know how these things work and he has already shown he will protect himself and cover his ass, hide his mistakes no matter the cost to me. That is what I suspect. And is it worth it? to force him to face me?
Maybe I really wouldn't. Maybe I would just vomit and leave, in reality. That is not super likely though, because I hardly ever puke.
Mostly I am angry because his life goes on. He gets to enjoy his career and his stability while I am an unemployable mess. I am lost in what to do with myself and I am reminded of the hope that was so selfishly pulled out from under me.
the lost hope of; I had found my place in the world, my life was starting to make sense and I trusted them so completely. I was finding my strength... Only to be ostracized and then exiled without even the follow through on the promised help of finding another team to fall back on. Nothing.
Oh, no wait, not nothing. I still have the bills to pay.
and my broken heart and the map of gold to remind me that all the good things I learned now hurt like hell so even taking care of myself in the researched most productive of ways will wreck havoc on my psyche.
Yes. I am angry
Angry and fighting
-this IHC bullshit fertilized battle in my head
**and when I have to fill out paperwork for my new providers, -the psychiatry they felt I should seek (and I should) -but they did not want to help me find- I have to explain past traumas. HOW THE HELL DO I EXPLAIN THIS? "he lost objectivity, and I lost my support and my mind" I guess that about summarizes this...
the evolving catastrophe of the Big Bang
Painting you become the god of your own world.
Mine are messy and disorderly but interesting.
I imagine if the Big Bang theory is correct worlds started something like the painted worlds that I am god to.
I am certain I will loose interest before my paintings ever evolve into beautiful orderly forms that make sense to others and work in a systematic, esthetically pleasing, anthropomorphic ways.
...Which is why I am not a god
and might not wish to be
big bang messy me, organized chaos, primitive personality
I am okay being human today.
**and just like my title, somethings I write really aren't meant to be that deep, but rather are funny to me and that is all.
**and just like my title, somethings I write really aren't meant to be that deep, but rather are funny to me and that is all.
Saturday, August 17, 2019
Cat- ass-trophy. Why is that so funny to me?
My daughter wanted me to paint with cat on my mind. I tried.
then I cried because cat is not what is in my brain.
I try to paint cat but it's turning into just that
me trying to paint a cat
but this is not how it works for me
because I am not a painter, an artist, or skilled.
I am form free
painting just for me
letting myself play with paint
and sometimes something comes out that is beautiful or interesting
even if it is that only to my daughter and me.
But even though she has loved my "raw" (her words) art
I cannot paint it for her. I can only paint what I feel. or what I play.
And I feel...
He
Sad
because he is gone.
and mad
because he played
and used me.
and mad at me
because I screw everything up
even if it is not really my fault
I know that it is
labels
they will give me and then use against me.
I am sad and mad and angry
hurt and messy
I want so badly for this to be over; this to be gone
but it is not
and the reality
is tragedy
a magic eraser cased in metal would clear it
but that is stupidity
and not me
at all
I want to be alive again
and the free
I had so close to me.
I want to be the free to be me
the illusion
he was selling me
...so
sad bad mad
and even strangely glad
but mostly
repressed
and not allowed to let things be what they needed to be
to see what they were
to know what I was and what was happening.
Suppressed
repressed
digressed
and now
bullshit depressed
so this is a fun weird post...
...and my painting is "merely abandoned"
and I am tired but feeling more rational again.
I have this luxury
and it is a luxury
so why not indulge?
I keep chasing my tail, trying to be so many things. For others? or for me?
constantly failing. while not enjoying the luxuries I have.
Right now I have time. I have support. I have paint. I have love.
It is broken.
But I have it. so indulge, I will, and see what catastrophe awaits me.
and maybe, just maybe, it might be that None I may see
as I am putting together the pieces of me
...or maybe an eternity of
catastrophe?
but that is my luxury
so I'll let it be
silly little poetry
then I cried because cat is not what is in my brain.
I try to paint cat but it's turning into just that
me trying to paint a cat
but this is not how it works for me
because I am not a painter, an artist, or skilled.
I am form free
painting just for me
letting myself play with paint
and sometimes something comes out that is beautiful or interesting
even if it is that only to my daughter and me.
But even though she has loved my "raw" (her words) art
I cannot paint it for her. I can only paint what I feel. or what I play.
And I feel...
He
Sad
because he is gone.
and mad
because he played
and used me.
and mad at me
because I screw everything up
even if it is not really my fault
I know that it is
labels
they will give me and then use against me.
I am sad and mad and angry
hurt and messy
I want so badly for this to be over; this to be gone
but it is not
and the reality
is tragedy
a magic eraser cased in metal would clear it
but that is stupidity
and not me
at all
I want to be alive again
and the free
I had so close to me.
I want to be the free to be me
the illusion
he was selling me
...so
sad bad mad
and even strangely glad
but mostly
repressed
and not allowed to let things be what they needed to be
to see what they were
to know what I was and what was happening.
Suppressed
repressed
digressed
and now
bullshit depressed
so this is a fun weird post...
...and my painting is "merely abandoned"
and I am tired but feeling more rational again.
I have this luxury
and it is a luxury
so why not indulge?
I keep chasing my tail, trying to be so many things. For others? or for me?
constantly failing. while not enjoying the luxuries I have.
Right now I have time. I have support. I have paint. I have love.
It is broken.
But I have it. so indulge, I will, and see what catastrophe awaits me.
and maybe, just maybe, it might be that None I may see
as I am putting together the pieces of me
...or maybe an eternity of
catastrophe?
but that is my luxury
so I'll let it be
silly little poetry
 | |
|
Friday, August 16, 2019
Dear Dr. Perri Cheri
Who am I?
You don’t know
I am your life’s work
That you gave up
Because you might love me?
Too much
I know who I am
But you do not
Don’t pretend to
You will break yourself.
Because you planted yourself in me
And left
The fire to attend to itself.
Too much
I know who I am
But you do not
Don’t pretend to
You will break yourself.
Because you planted yourself in me
And left
The fire to attend to itself.
Breaking Walls
Only one wall left
held up by a thread
if it should break
I have nothing
my whole life's work
shattered.
My box broken
alone and exposed
where do I turn?
all my energy is facing the wall
trying to hold it
to balance it
to keep it standing
for my protection.
while all around
and especially behind me,
where I can't see at all
I am already exposed.
But my wall is all I can see
my safety
that is breaking me
pushing me into the ground
while all around
I don't know what is happening.
Is this me
or is this you?
drop it
let it fall
Let it crumble to the ground.
Look around
Your life's work abound
-all around on the ground.
And now it can be found
These new little pieces,
surrounding me and you,
can now be used to build something new
Something we can walk through.
held up by a thread
if it should break
I have nothing
my whole life's work
shattered.
My box broken
alone and exposed
where do I turn?
all my energy is facing the wall
trying to hold it
to balance it
to keep it standing
for my protection.
while all around
and especially behind me,
where I can't see at all
I am already exposed.
But my wall is all I can see
my safety
that is breaking me
pushing me into the ground
while all around
I don't know what is happening.
Is this me
or is this you?
drop it
let it fall
Let it crumble to the ground.
Look around
Your life's work abound
-all around on the ground.
And now it can be found
These new little pieces,
surrounding me and you,
can now be used to build something new
Something we can walk through.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
pretty little disaster or maybe rather Pretty Little helping the Disaster
I got permission to come in 3 hours late to work. so that I could sleep.
But at 11:30 I still wasn't sleepy, even though my brain was kind of strained and hurting. I considered just going to work and being on time. But I knew better.
My sweet daughter was concerned, so she told me to drink some chamomile tea and read something boring. "I know Shakespeare. That is usually pretty exhausting," she says. She is so funny.
I followed her instructions and started to read Shakespeare as I sipped tea at the table. She sent me to bed.
I am so glad I have her.
Prior to her care I also figured enough was enough and feeling as wired as I was I knew the clonazpam was probably not going to screw me up and make me too sleepy for the whole day, so I took 1/2 of one. With my sweet daughters help I did get another two hours of sleep out of the concoction.
I do think and hope this concoction and effort may stop another push into the extremes.
Currently I am still at work, with a not bad attitude but also not great. Loving people is not what I do right now. Right now. I don't care and even though I am not feeling overly tired I still just want to go home and go to bed.
Oh the joys of having a messy human head.
But at 11:30 I still wasn't sleepy, even though my brain was kind of strained and hurting. I considered just going to work and being on time. But I knew better.
My sweet daughter was concerned, so she told me to drink some chamomile tea and read something boring. "I know Shakespeare. That is usually pretty exhausting," she says. She is so funny.
I followed her instructions and started to read Shakespeare as I sipped tea at the table. She sent me to bed.
I am so glad I have her.
Prior to her care I also figured enough was enough and feeling as wired as I was I knew the clonazpam was probably not going to screw me up and make me too sleepy for the whole day, so I took 1/2 of one. With my sweet daughters help I did get another two hours of sleep out of the concoction.
I do think and hope this concoction and effort may stop another push into the extremes.
Currently I am still at work, with a not bad attitude but also not great. Loving people is not what I do right now. Right now. I don't care and even though I am not feeling overly tired I still just want to go home and go to bed.
Oh the joys of having a messy human head.
Fine lines
I fell asleep for like 30 minutes and then woke up again. And I am still awake, not feeling very sleepy which concerns me because I am supposed to work from noon to 10:30 pm tonight. Considering how I have been, I'll be an emotional disaster by this afternoon, especially if I don't get some sleep.
But then there is this other thing...
I have more energy.... I went running thinking that would do the trick. I took the dog because he is still not great on a leash and terrible on a leash if he crosses paths with other dogs so I took him to the park where I knew we would likely run into people with dogs and then that would also drain me, so I'd be tired when I got home. I thought these things (and more) very quickly by the way.
Damn it, still not tired
And even worse, I feel happy and hopeful. I am excited about my new therapist and I am finding this psychological thriller I have been living for the past year to be fun again.
And there is this:
It wasn't really about me. It was about him. He made it about him when I so desperately needed it to be about me. When I was paying for it to be about me. When I begged him to keep me.
It wasn't about me.
and how pathetic that is.
I was such a pathetic whisper of a human that even under those circumstances I was invisible or nothing more than a mirror. Which right now I think is pretty freaking funny. In fact I literally just lol'ed.
I don't know why I think it is so funny. Probably because it is, and probably because it is such a beautiful tragedy. A pretty little disaster. Maybe because I have figured all of this out and solved it so many damn times and yet I am still figuring it out and reaching new understandings. It might also be funny because I am so tired of feeling shitty and worthless when I am really not.
Every freaking house has multiple mirrors and if you break one it is bad luck so even if I am nothing more than a mirror, or the invisible piece of glass in front of the mirror, I have some value.
Now I am going to apply for a new job... and then maybe, hopefully, I will sleep
...and hopefully not be on the verge of another joyful manic fiasco.
But then there is this other thing...
I have more energy.... I went running thinking that would do the trick. I took the dog because he is still not great on a leash and terrible on a leash if he crosses paths with other dogs so I took him to the park where I knew we would likely run into people with dogs and then that would also drain me, so I'd be tired when I got home. I thought these things (and more) very quickly by the way.
Damn it, still not tired
And even worse, I feel happy and hopeful. I am excited about my new therapist and I am finding this psychological thriller I have been living for the past year to be fun again.
And there is this:
It wasn't really about me. It was about him. He made it about him when I so desperately needed it to be about me. When I was paying for it to be about me. When I begged him to keep me.
It wasn't about me.
and how pathetic that is.
I was such a pathetic whisper of a human that even under those circumstances I was invisible or nothing more than a mirror. Which right now I think is pretty freaking funny. In fact I literally just lol'ed.
I don't know why I think it is so funny. Probably because it is, and probably because it is such a beautiful tragedy. A pretty little disaster. Maybe because I have figured all of this out and solved it so many damn times and yet I am still figuring it out and reaching new understandings. It might also be funny because I am so tired of feeling shitty and worthless when I am really not.
Every freaking house has multiple mirrors and if you break one it is bad luck so even if I am nothing more than a mirror, or the invisible piece of glass in front of the mirror, I have some value.
Now I am going to apply for a new job... and then maybe, hopefully, I will sleep
...and hopefully not be on the verge of another joyful manic fiasco.
New Hope
I can't sleep
again.
I have been awake, laying in bed since probably 2 am. The clock said 3 last I'd checked and I had been awake for awhile before that.
I didn't actually get to the sleeping part of going to bed until about midnight.
...and I did not fall asleep right away.
Which, now looking at the time line, I may not have slept at all; "at all" being less than 2 hours.
sigh
this is not good.
What is good
(or might be)
Is my new neuropsychologist.
I like her (naturally)
and of course I do because that is what I do. I decided not to at first -just in case. But after the 3rd appointment I can't help it. I like her.
That's better than previous female therapist (from January). Therapist Rainbow Sticks is the name I shall bestow on her. I'll be honest, I only liked her because I like pretty much everybody, but really, I did not like her (Therapist Rainbow Sticks).
And I don't even mind if she reads this
because
she was interested in protecting her profession and what she most likely mistakenly thought was a referral to her. She was not so interested in my best interest. She made me feel like a chastised child. She read my email to dear Dr. Cheri and was appalled at my reaction to him, not controlling her own knee-jerk reaction, not seeing the red flags for what they were, and not asking why I said the things I said that she found offensive. The one she labeled as threatening was me referencing something he had said, she did not know this and I was too shaken by her reaction to point that out. I also felt bad, I did not feel the tone she had read it in so I felt really bad. Later that day I sent an apology to him. And in that the apology I am pretty sure I said I did not mean to be threatening, so this may have been what he used against me in the "investigation" to justify his avoidance of me. The patient advocate had told me that he felt threatened by me or that I had threatened him. I had not. The only "threat" I made was that I would file a complaint if that is what I had to do, even though I did not want to. And that comment was made in response to him telling me that is what I had to do if I wanted to discuss any issues about his treatment with me because he was no longer going to respond to me, which was also silly because I had not talked with him or emailed him since my last appointment with him. This was in January, the last appointment had been Dec. 3.
And I don't know why this is what is coming out here right now.
I have so much in my head right now, because I seem to have found a therapist that really gets the deep psychological impact of this, knows her stuff, and can keep up with me.
It might help that I am not in quite the crazy place that I was, so for that I will give the other therapists' that benefit of the doubt.
So there is that, but I am still not written-out, ready-to-sleep-tired.
but I may be done with the blog
maybe I'll write somewhere else, see what comes out.
goodnight
or rather good day
again.
I have been awake, laying in bed since probably 2 am. The clock said 3 last I'd checked and I had been awake for awhile before that.
I didn't actually get to the sleeping part of going to bed until about midnight.
...and I did not fall asleep right away.
Which, now looking at the time line, I may not have slept at all; "at all" being less than 2 hours.
sigh
this is not good.
What is good
(or might be)
Is my new neuropsychologist.
I like her (naturally)
and of course I do because that is what I do. I decided not to at first -just in case. But after the 3rd appointment I can't help it. I like her.
That's better than previous female therapist (from January). Therapist Rainbow Sticks is the name I shall bestow on her. I'll be honest, I only liked her because I like pretty much everybody, but really, I did not like her (Therapist Rainbow Sticks).
And I don't even mind if she reads this
because
she was interested in protecting her profession and what she most likely mistakenly thought was a referral to her. She was not so interested in my best interest. She made me feel like a chastised child. She read my email to dear Dr. Cheri and was appalled at my reaction to him, not controlling her own knee-jerk reaction, not seeing the red flags for what they were, and not asking why I said the things I said that she found offensive. The one she labeled as threatening was me referencing something he had said, she did not know this and I was too shaken by her reaction to point that out. I also felt bad, I did not feel the tone she had read it in so I felt really bad. Later that day I sent an apology to him. And in that the apology I am pretty sure I said I did not mean to be threatening, so this may have been what he used against me in the "investigation" to justify his avoidance of me. The patient advocate had told me that he felt threatened by me or that I had threatened him. I had not. The only "threat" I made was that I would file a complaint if that is what I had to do, even though I did not want to. And that comment was made in response to him telling me that is what I had to do if I wanted to discuss any issues about his treatment with me because he was no longer going to respond to me, which was also silly because I had not talked with him or emailed him since my last appointment with him. This was in January, the last appointment had been Dec. 3.
And I don't know why this is what is coming out here right now.
I have so much in my head right now, because I seem to have found a therapist that really gets the deep psychological impact of this, knows her stuff, and can keep up with me.
It might help that I am not in quite the crazy place that I was, so for that I will give the other therapists' that benefit of the doubt.
So there is that, but I am still not written-out, ready-to-sleep-tired.
but I may be done with the blog
maybe I'll write somewhere else, see what comes out.
goodnight
or rather good day
Friday, August 9, 2019
Dual Nature vs Dual Nurture
Our bodies are so bizarre and amazing. They betray one part to preserve another. Like how my husband pointed out; if you are freezing your body will keep the heat to the organs to protect them, to keep you alive, allowing appendages to freeze and even die first. But if you have no arms and no legs to use, how on earth can your body feed those organs to keep them alive? Oh the hypocrisy and treachery of our own bodies.
When I was a teen my brain was very broken. It wanted to die. Or it could not figure out how to live so death seemed like a responsible option. I worked hard to be alive and be all that I was supposed to be, but my mind felt it was being crushed by an anvil with all the choices and possibilities. And the emotions, I was so burdened down with so much emotion and intensity of feeling I often longed for death. "What is one less pathetic sad lonely person in this world" my mind would say to me. It seemed noble and responsible. Even though I held multiple jobs, was mostly kind, and tried to be helpful, I felt I was a worthless leach.
A social lively creature who felt compelled to strive for complete independence and/or death. It didn't make much sense.
I didn't make much sense.
So I suppose it's not surprising that my planned mode of death would be jumping when I have such a self preserving fear and respect of heights.
I can't even get myself to get close to the edge of venues high enough to do the job. Physically I'd get too shaky or dizzy and couldn't physically get to that point. Had I ever gotten to that point and pushed through that self-preserving mechanism, I would have fallen off for sure by passing out or shaking off the edge.
It's a funny thing our bodies do.
But sometimes it's not so funny and it feeds the very thing we are trying to fight. Why are we so lemming like and incapable of standing up for humanity when it is what we claim to believe in?
The other day I sat by as a family member lashed out at her son. I tried to ignore at first but it became obvious this drunken lady was out of line. She is the one in the position of power. I am also an adult and an aunt to the 12 year old with whom my son was sitting right by and so therefore I am in a position of power also. And I just waited, not intervening, because I was self preserving. She was even directing some of her harshness at my son.
Yes I also knew their was the potential for making it worse for the kid, but there were so many simple ways I could have intervened and let him know he is being noticed and protected. I could have drawn her line of fire from him, but I didn't until much later. Too late. He and then his sister had already taken quite the verbal lashings, a drunken "tap" to the head with a hotdog stick, and some other physical aggression I did not see as I was trying to avoid and ignore.
When I finally did intervene I did take a little beating. And I am not in good shape for that. I did find myself getting a bit defensive when she was completely irrational and I knew it. But the beating I took was nothing compared to the impact the crap she was saying can have on a kid. Especially when others sit by and watch. That reinforces the negative messages he is receiving and I know this and I know better.
I was angry with myself that night. Angry and disappointed. Disappointed at how week and how big of a coward I was. I sat by and let a vulnerable and impressionable child take a berating style beating because I was afraid she'd turn on me and yet I am angry about something similar having recently happened to me and I am stupid suicidal 50% of the time. Why not sacrifice myself for this child cause? I have claimed I automatically do that for others. I so very often do. So why not then?
Was it simply because I knew it wouldn't kill me or him? Or is it the self-preserving nature of our physical selves?
Stupid dual nature, self preserving bodies.
At least I know with a certainty (although I already did 50% of the time) that I really don't want to die if I can't even take a little verbal lashing for a child.
And I'll leave it at that, mind you, you do not know the whole story or the story at all, rather the intensity of my feelings and emotions, that is all. I likely behaved better than you are thinking and the abuse of this child is quite debatable to some especially considering the mental and emotional state of his mother and the abuses she herself has been through over the years. It is all so complicated.
Mostly it is so sad to me how the abused so often become the abusers.
I do not want to repeat those patterns myself, but I know sometimes I fall short.
Now what do I do about that?
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
inkling of hope? nope
The police officer that I talked to on the phone -intercepted before he came to my work- wanted me to follow up the next day.
That was my understanding of the agreement to appease. He said there are resources.
I had some hope.
So, even though it was hard, I called back as directed, the next day.
He was busy with an event. They had 911 call me back. I had not called 911, I had called the non-emergency dispatch, as directed. 911 lady explained he was busy and she could send someone else. I explained that I was just following up as per our discussion the previous day, it was not an emergency and I did not need that.
That was fine.
But no follow up phone call from the sergeant, no discussion of the resources. No discussion about why the patient advocate called in the first place.
Left alone again, with no follow up on their end
and now somehow the other they, the they who called, have the cops on their side and playing their ass-covering-patient-sacrificing game.
That is how this feels.
Compiling their evidence against me?
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
That was my understanding of the agreement to appease. He said there are resources.
I had some hope.
So, even though it was hard, I called back as directed, the next day.
He was busy with an event. They had 911 call me back. I had not called 911, I had called the non-emergency dispatch, as directed. 911 lady explained he was busy and she could send someone else. I explained that I was just following up as per our discussion the previous day, it was not an emergency and I did not need that.
That was fine.
But no follow up phone call from the sergeant, no discussion of the resources. No discussion about why the patient advocate called in the first place.
Left alone again, with no follow up on their end
and now somehow the other they, the they who called, have the cops on their side and playing their ass-covering-patient-sacrificing game.
That is how this feels.
Compiling their evidence against me?
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Writing from rational
Sometimes I remember silly little things, like a spelling error I made that I forgot to fix on one of my blog entries, which was the real reason I came on here just now.
I don't need to process
I am in my healthy "normal" place. But feeling a bit tired so thought a break and doing something little like that may be a good way to keep me below the 80% spent...
[side note- Can you see how, even in my good healthy space, the past of my messed up therapist experience will haunt me? That 80% is a reference to his teaching]
I could not find the spelling error and I did not feel like reading thoroughly to find it. I am happy in my heathy mind but a bit tired so if I read too much I run the risk of cycling back.
But a thought occurred to me; I don't often write from this place, this mental space of stable sane and fine even though I am here most of the time. (follow up: 10/26 -medicated now I can say I was not there most of the time. I was trying to be and stay positive. I was fading but trying hard to hold on and appreciating the "normal" times that were also fading.)
So this is me,
normal,
and free to be me.
But if you are like me -in my normal rational place- you will see that recently it seems I may be loosing touch with reality.
And I have.
It's so tricky but I am really pretty good at knowing when I am a bit ridiculous. I suppose I also believe there must be something to that ridiculousness, because I don't entirely discredit it anymore and I don't beat myself up for it anymore. In fact as I have learned to pay attention to it, where it is coming from, and why, I have gotten better at managing.
Right now I think previous me who wrote some of those things is really weird and I don't know why I keep trying to be heard and trying to get things changed when I know it is of no use and especially when I am loosing touch, they will just use it against me and practical me knows this. Knows I am just causing more problems for myself.
Yet, it keeps happening, and at times, it is the what-I-can-do-to-make-it-through. And I do. Make it through.
I think I have gotten better over the years at managing those crazy emotions that sometimes just need to be heard.
But anyway, I don't really want to delve any deeper because I am fine and boring and happy to be here.
Probably I'll close my eyes for a bit, just to try and stay here, then energy returning, I'll get more done. Tackle the day, have fun and play.
**and as I wake from my nap, I remember how hard it is to speak up when you are broken or breaking, when you are loosing touch but not entirely gone, and yet that is exactly when a person needs to say something, needs to start treating. It is much more effective than waiting until they are entirely gone, entirely broken, or entirely dead.
Which is exactly why it is so very wrong that I was treated the way have been by a facility that is supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me. **
I don't need to process
I am in my healthy "normal" place. But feeling a bit tired so thought a break and doing something little like that may be a good way to keep me below the 80% spent...
[side note- Can you see how, even in my good healthy space, the past of my messed up therapist experience will haunt me? That 80% is a reference to his teaching]
I could not find the spelling error and I did not feel like reading thoroughly to find it. I am happy in my heathy mind but a bit tired so if I read too much I run the risk of cycling back.
But a thought occurred to me; I don't often write from this place, this mental space of stable sane and fine even though I am here most of the time. (follow up: 10/26 -medicated now I can say I was not there most of the time. I was trying to be and stay positive. I was fading but trying hard to hold on and appreciating the "normal" times that were also fading.)
So this is me,
normal,
and free to be me.
But if you are like me -in my normal rational place- you will see that recently it seems I may be loosing touch with reality.
And I have.
It's so tricky but I am really pretty good at knowing when I am a bit ridiculous. I suppose I also believe there must be something to that ridiculousness, because I don't entirely discredit it anymore and I don't beat myself up for it anymore. In fact as I have learned to pay attention to it, where it is coming from, and why, I have gotten better at managing.
Right now I think previous me who wrote some of those things is really weird and I don't know why I keep trying to be heard and trying to get things changed when I know it is of no use and especially when I am loosing touch, they will just use it against me and practical me knows this. Knows I am just causing more problems for myself.
Yet, it keeps happening, and at times, it is the what-I-can-do-to-make-it-through. And I do. Make it through.
I think I have gotten better over the years at managing those crazy emotions that sometimes just need to be heard.
But anyway, I don't really want to delve any deeper because I am fine and boring and happy to be here.
Probably I'll close my eyes for a bit, just to try and stay here, then energy returning, I'll get more done. Tackle the day, have fun and play.
**and as I wake from my nap, I remember how hard it is to speak up when you are broken or breaking, when you are loosing touch but not entirely gone, and yet that is exactly when a person needs to say something, needs to start treating. It is much more effective than waiting until they are entirely gone, entirely broken, or entirely dead.
Which is exactly why it is so very wrong that I was treated the way have been by a facility that is supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me. **
I deserve to live
I took another beating today from an adolescent at work, because I was calm and I did not get caught up in his drama.
I am not emotionally strong enough for this position. I can handle it, in the moment, but it takes too big a toll and if you are week, if they smell blood, they will eat you alive. I know, because it has happened a few times. I am sure it is confusing to them because they smell the blood but it's unclear where it is coming from. They think I am week and they think I am clueless. I am week but not how they think, and far from clueless I just don't have the energy to care.
... and this was probably a really bad choice for an occupation right now...
bad choices, off judgement, thinking I am stronger and more balanced than I am... the damn cycles continue
and I am hurting and fading. Questioning who I am and why I am here....
Then the nagging.
And tonight I find myself thinking: Do I deserve to be helped? Should I keep fighting to survive?
...
And I think...
I do.
I deserve to live.
I am not a bad person.
I deserve to be treated with respect
and I deserve to be heard.
I deserve to keep trying and fighting the crushing messages that tell me I am not worth saving, not worth helping and that I should be sacrificed.
I am kind. I am honest. I work hard to solve my own problems, I try to address them at the root. I care about others and I am thoughtful and considerate. I try to be a good person. I do make mistakes but I am also teachable and will accept responsibility for my mistakes. I am forgiving, sometimes too forgiving I am told.
I am not a bad person and I deserve to live. I deserve to be heard.
and I deserve to have investigations about me benefit me, not just future patients [at my expense].
I deserve to have the red flags noticed on my behalf. I do not deserve be treated as nothing more than a burden and liability. I do not deserve people talking about me and making up stories, claiming I am things that I am not. I do not deserve to be yelled at and exiled. I deserve to have a conversation with all those people making judgements and decisions about me that would effect me. I deserve to have follow through on treatments, on referrals. I deserved a termination phase. I deserved to have my manic symptoms acknowledged, not denied and humiliated for them at the same time.
I am tired and rambling
but my point,
I deserve to live.
And I will.
Not because they were right in their denials but because I deal with what they have denied and I am not what they have made me out to be. They are wrong. I am worth loving, I am worth listening to, and I worth fighting for.
That is why I will live.
My blood may be on their hands from crushing my heart and back stabbing by the light off gaslit patterns, but I will survive!
And I am going to be okay
because I choose to be
Every Damn Day
(sometimes multiple times a day)
*But I am still quitting my job
...And choosing to be okay
I am not emotionally strong enough for this position. I can handle it, in the moment, but it takes too big a toll and if you are week, if they smell blood, they will eat you alive. I know, because it has happened a few times. I am sure it is confusing to them because they smell the blood but it's unclear where it is coming from. They think I am week and they think I am clueless. I am week but not how they think, and far from clueless I just don't have the energy to care.
... and this was probably a really bad choice for an occupation right now...
bad choices, off judgement, thinking I am stronger and more balanced than I am... the damn cycles continue
and I am hurting and fading. Questioning who I am and why I am here....
Then the nagging.
And tonight I find myself thinking: Do I deserve to be helped? Should I keep fighting to survive?
...
And I think...
I do.
I deserve to live.
I am not a bad person.
I deserve to be treated with respect
and I deserve to be heard.
I deserve to keep trying and fighting the crushing messages that tell me I am not worth saving, not worth helping and that I should be sacrificed.
I am kind. I am honest. I work hard to solve my own problems, I try to address them at the root. I care about others and I am thoughtful and considerate. I try to be a good person. I do make mistakes but I am also teachable and will accept responsibility for my mistakes. I am forgiving, sometimes too forgiving I am told.
I am not a bad person and I deserve to live. I deserve to be heard.
and I deserve to have investigations about me benefit me, not just future patients [at my expense].
I deserve to have the red flags noticed on my behalf. I do not deserve be treated as nothing more than a burden and liability. I do not deserve people talking about me and making up stories, claiming I am things that I am not. I do not deserve to be yelled at and exiled. I deserve to have a conversation with all those people making judgements and decisions about me that would effect me. I deserve to have follow through on treatments, on referrals. I deserved a termination phase. I deserved to have my manic symptoms acknowledged, not denied and humiliated for them at the same time.
I am tired and rambling
but my point,
I deserve to live.
And I will.
Not because they were right in their denials but because I deal with what they have denied and I am not what they have made me out to be. They are wrong. I am worth loving, I am worth listening to, and I worth fighting for.
That is why I will live.
My blood may be on their hands from crushing my heart and back stabbing by the light off gaslit patterns, but I will survive!
And I am going to be okay
because I choose to be
Every Damn Day
(sometimes multiple times a day)
*But I am still quitting my job
...And choosing to be okay
Sunday, August 4, 2019
When the therapists can't handle you...
The other day I posted but then took it down, because it was too whiney, too complainy. And I am not wanting to be that, but maybe I am that.
On here, I come to sort things out. This writing offers me quick relief and helps me process and move on when I am feeling stuck in my messed up head.
That is what the post I took down was about.
How I just can't seem to shake the feelings of worthlessness that the Neuroscience Institute instilled in me.
I'll be fine. I'll be doing well. Thinking I am turning around. Thinking "I've got this." Or not thinking anything at all about any of it. I feel normal. Happy. Fine.
"Oh so quite and so peaceful until...." (Bjork)
something goes wrong or I am reminded of one of the many failings of my past... and then, there it is "You can't even work things out with a neuropsychologist, and the professionals who handle head injuries" or "how can you expect to figure this one out, the people who are specialized in handling your kind can't even handle you. or don't want to." or "others needed him more, you must be a fake" or "you made such a mess of that, how can anyone trust you? how can you trust yourself?"
My head tells me these things and I have to debate that before I can even get to addressing whatever it is that is the real problem in the moment.
I shake them. Get those voices to go away. Leave me a lone. I argue that it was other things playing out, things that were not in my control. But then that is a bad place too, part of this because then "he loved you" and I feel that again. And it hurts again, even though I now understand that was not real or true ...and I don't know what the truth is at all and who I can trust but I know I cannot trust me, because I felt things too intensely and I made such a mess of things by being crazy.
And that is so embarrassing. Being "crazy."
That is why "I can't loose you right now"
I needed to work through my "crazy" in the safe place that knows how, or is at least supposed to know how, to handle that. The place that is supposed to help me turn it around, stop the cyclical patterns that have so long haunted me -that I was then realizing were very likely related to head injury, because the new mTBI was offering enough PTSD and flashback-ish memories to help me see this. I had hope. A hope that was new and so exhilarating. I maybe was worth something, more than I had previously realized.
But the rug, pulled so quickly and so strongly when I was experiencing such powerful emotions....
... and... broken and more crazy, but not allowed to talk about it, to process, with those who would know... so maybe it's not TBI... character flaw... and I'm back, to so much of what I was before, the me I didn't want to go back too. ...and the cycle continues sometimes worse than others.
...and I was triggered. I feel so much closer the edge these days. I am scarred. I don't want to be triggered again and I don't know what that may look like. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping, back into insanity, into mania, a mental mess where I thought I was more balanced than I was. In my euphoric phase I thought it could last if only I would start sleeping, but it doesn't. Other times I feel myself slipping into the deep recesses of depression. The kind that sucks your life, pleasure and joy... I stay clear. But I think I need help figuring this out and managing this, because sometimes it is exhausting and sometimes it is just plain embarrassing/humiliating.
No -or less- stigma, my ass.
Sometimes I feel I am winning
but sometimes I feel I am loosing
in this battle with myself.
On here, I come to sort things out. This writing offers me quick relief and helps me process and move on when I am feeling stuck in my messed up head.
That is what the post I took down was about.
How I just can't seem to shake the feelings of worthlessness that the Neuroscience Institute instilled in me.
I'll be fine. I'll be doing well. Thinking I am turning around. Thinking "I've got this." Or not thinking anything at all about any of it. I feel normal. Happy. Fine.
"Oh so quite and so peaceful until...." (Bjork)
something goes wrong or I am reminded of one of the many failings of my past... and then, there it is "You can't even work things out with a neuropsychologist, and the professionals who handle head injuries" or "how can you expect to figure this one out, the people who are specialized in handling your kind can't even handle you. or don't want to." or "others needed him more, you must be a fake" or "you made such a mess of that, how can anyone trust you? how can you trust yourself?"
My head tells me these things and I have to debate that before I can even get to addressing whatever it is that is the real problem in the moment.
I shake them. Get those voices to go away. Leave me a lone. I argue that it was other things playing out, things that were not in my control. But then that is a bad place too, part of this because then "he loved you" and I feel that again. And it hurts again, even though I now understand that was not real or true ...and I don't know what the truth is at all and who I can trust but I know I cannot trust me, because I felt things too intensely and I made such a mess of things by being crazy.
And that is so embarrassing. Being "crazy."
That is why "I can't loose you right now"
I needed to work through my "crazy" in the safe place that knows how, or is at least supposed to know how, to handle that. The place that is supposed to help me turn it around, stop the cyclical patterns that have so long haunted me -that I was then realizing were very likely related to head injury, because the new mTBI was offering enough PTSD and flashback-ish memories to help me see this. I had hope. A hope that was new and so exhilarating. I maybe was worth something, more than I had previously realized.
But the rug, pulled so quickly and so strongly when I was experiencing such powerful emotions....
... and... broken and more crazy, but not allowed to talk about it, to process, with those who would know... so maybe it's not TBI... character flaw... and I'm back, to so much of what I was before, the me I didn't want to go back too. ...and the cycle continues sometimes worse than others.
...and I was triggered. I feel so much closer the edge these days. I am scarred. I don't want to be triggered again and I don't know what that may look like. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping, back into insanity, into mania, a mental mess where I thought I was more balanced than I was. In my euphoric phase I thought it could last if only I would start sleeping, but it doesn't. Other times I feel myself slipping into the deep recesses of depression. The kind that sucks your life, pleasure and joy... I stay clear. But I think I need help figuring this out and managing this, because sometimes it is exhausting and sometimes it is just plain embarrassing/humiliating.
No -or less- stigma, my ass.
Sometimes I feel I am winning
but sometimes I feel I am loosing
in this battle with myself.
Saturday, August 3, 2019
the new Scientology
They called the cops on me. Sent a fleet to my house. Not because I was there threatening them, but because I let them know how their decisions and treatment is effecting me....
Their concerns were not heightened then. Instead they did all they could to avoid dealing with me and to reinforce the messages received that I was not worth helping, nor was there any other place that they knew of that could help me, and the messages received and confirmed that I am a liability and should be disposed of.
These messages received from a place you trusted so completely and that has the authority, training, and education are not easily countered. They do not simply go away or burn out. And every time you take another hit, or hit another roadblock, your are reminded of this. As you analyze and work to address the issues that might be contributing, like sleep, diet exercise, like the balancing act of keeping your particularly fragile brain level and functioning you are reminded of this; this idea that you need to be disposed of.
And you have to battle that reminder and those feelings of worthlessness before you can even address the problem you know the solutions to -the solutions that will remind you of the treatment you were receiving when it seemed to be going well, the reasons you trusted them so completely.
"It will get easier" I keep telling myself
as I am wearing down.
"you are going to have to let this go" I am told
and I know
and it kind of pisses me of, because I am trying ...and I am not trying... and it still keeps me up at night, even though my brain is functioning so differently, even when I feel I have let it go or had a great day.
I am tired and sad
and I have to grieve so many losses right now.
I am struggling still; growing tired of the image of a bullet clearing my head of this. I do not invite it but it is comes so quickly as I try to turn off any thoughts of this situation, I try to burn out the memories and the feelings.
Yesterday I was struggling a little, I wrote it out and felt better. But then I had an argument with my son. He complains we have nothing to eat. But what he is really complaining about is that we don't have exactly what he wants to eat. I feel concern because he has been sick and tired a lot and he does not eat well. He was fighting with me, refusing to eat the healthy option I made for him. This argument triggered me and I was so angry. I felt like a terrible mom because I have not done better about feeding my kids healthy and they are suffering for it. Mind went all over the place, the fight went all over the place and I felt like a dark cloud hanging over my family.
Maybe they would be better off without me too.
I was fighting to survive and angry.
Angry that I am not worth helping and maybe not healable.
I was angry that they (the facility of IHC) reinforced again and again my feelings of worthlessness and only listened with their ass covering ears.
I wanted them to know that my blood is on their hands if I eventually succumb to the bullet that wishes to shoot them out of their diagnosis for me: sacrificed, discredited, of no value, and liability. They made mistakes and did not want to address it. They made it my mistakes and denied what I was telling them all along only to turn around and use it against me as their rationale for blacklisting and banishing me from the entire facility.
and I was angry. I wanted them to understand how their actions effect people. How this has effected me. They claim they will use my experience to help them with other patients, my concern was that they would use it to reinforce bad policies because they were ignoring, avoiding all the red flags with me or trying to preemptively protect themselves from any liability without concern for me and my wellbeing. They needed to understand the reality of the their power and how it effects people.
Yesterday, in the thick of it, I needed to do something to turn myself around
The patient advocate had said if I ever needed/wanted to talk I could reach out to her. I sent an email and tried to communicate this, but in a much shorter, straightforward way. So I spoke up, I spoke out and I took quarter of a clonazepam.
This is what I said:
"I am so very angry with all of you. If my body eventually succumbs to the feedback you all so solidly confirmed, my blood is on all of your hands. Do I sacrifice myself for the better good? One less unacceptable- leach of a life. Not worth the time and effort to save even by those who are being paid to
I am angry enough to stay alive... for now.
...but I feel like the harder I try the more I am fading
One just can't simply undo the negative feedback confirmed at such a high level.
and I have to say something
because the down side is winning"
I am angry enough to stay alive... for now.
...but I feel like the harder I try the more I am fading
One just can't simply undo the negative feedback confirmed at such a high level.
and I have to say something
because the down side is winning"
A little while later I got a phone call from the city that only ever shows up on my caller id if it is from them. I didn't want to answer, but instinctively I knew to because I know what these people do if you tell them you are struggling with suicidal thoughts and they can't reach you. They send cops to your house.
The lady calling asked if I was okay
"no, I am not okay".. The rest I said included these parts "I am angry and struggling. I had an appointment with a psychiatrist I have been waiting months already for only to have it canceled. Other people have suggested I go to you, that you are the "right place" for me and my needs. Dr. Concussion said she would help me find a new team only to have her assistant tell me she couldn't find anyone, they had no referrals, no recommendations. You all should have been concerned about these things all along but it was ignored along with all of the red flags, and things I said were ignored only to used against me..."
I was getting angry. My heart was elevated and I needed to be at work in 30 minutes. I needed to get my head straight before then. I told her I was not in immediate danger, I told her that I needed to be to work in 30 minutes and I needed to get my head straight before that. I told her they need to be aware of how this is effecting me, how they perpetuated harm. But mostly I needed to get my self straightened out for work and talking to her was not helping me with that, I told her if they wanted to revisit things and admit their mistakes if they wanted to try and do something there then great, after all we are still paying for their mistakes, but talking to her right now wasn't helping so goodbye.
Remember, I told her I was not in immediate danger, but getting tired of fighting and it was wearing on me ...and I know well enough that people eventually wear down.
So lets think of what she could do...
She could have sent an email.
She could have referred to this blog that I referred the patient advocates to multiple times during the "investigation."
She could have called my husband.
She or they could have had one of their many trained and licensed professionals call me and asses the situation.
But that is not how they work.
It feels like they have ulterior motives
It feels like they have ulterior motives
They went straight for public humiliation and risking my job. They hit and they hit hard.
Remember, I told her I was not in immediate danger and I was not a threat to myself right now.
That is all a police officer needs to hear and they will leave you alone, that was the only reason I answered the phone, I knew there was a chance they'd send them if I didn't confirm that I was not in immediate danger.
When 3 or 4 cop trucks show up at your house, your son -that is home alone and just had fights with his mom- is going to be freaked out. The neighbors are going to talk. Then, when they find you are not home, they will have your son call your husband, not you, to find out where you work. Then your husband will call you to make sure you are okay.
Not knowing the police involvement at this point you, at first, will think the IHC facility called your husband; You will think for a moment that maybe they actually do care about you and your wellbeing. But then you will find out, that no, they did not contact him at all, the police did. Police that are at your house, with your son, and soon to be on their way to your place of employment. Certain to cost you your job and reputation.
They went straight for the jugular.
This does not feel like they were concerned about me, this feels like it was a lesson, and more attempts to cover their ass and tracks.
Fortunately my boss told me how to intercept the police, and, with a simple confirmation over the phone (to the police officer) that I was not a threat to myself, the trauma it would have caused to the kids I work with was averted. Fortunately I have already given my notice of quitting because I am not handling the emotional/psychological aspects of the therapeutic adolescent program environment. (gee, I can't possibly understand why?) But it just may cost me the arrangement we had made for me to stay on very part time as a fill in and the academic advisor to a few students.
This, to me, is a new low blow.
And I have realized the other part of why it has been so hard to file that complaint with the state and licensing board, aside from not wanting to hurt others, deep inside I know they will likely do more to damage and hurt me. They will avoid any responsibility at any cost to me and I am not sure I can handle another hit, another -and to the next level- confirmation that I am unimportant and of no value and that I am to blame for this imbalance and I am not worth listening to because of it.
I know we are not supposed to base our personal intrinsic value on how others perceive us, but lets be honest, that is partially bullshit and this world really is better off without some people in it.
Am I one of those?
They think so. Otherwise, they'd have cared when I was in their care, they would have listened then. They would have paid attention to the red flags and listened when I told the facility director that I knew I needed to stand up for myself, I didn't know what that looked like yet, but I knew I needed to. They would have realized it was about me and I needed it to be about me, not about him, or me going after him. They would not have turned it into or let him turn it into being about him.
I am angry.
And you know what else, I am also intelligent, and I am worth saving because I can see through the bullshit and I'll call it out, even when no one else will.
I suppose no one really wants that, but for this moment I am going to be proud of me and I am going to love me for it, because I don't call it out to cause harm and I try to be careful and conscientious about how I call it out.
And I care about people even when they don't deserve to be cared about.
So sacrifice me you shit heads! I'll keep fighting because I also care about me, even if you don't and even if you don't think I deserve to be.
And I see through the bullshit of your degrees and prestige, your Scientology.
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