Please Keep Fighting!

Someone requested an answer from me on Quora,com while on the website I visited a lady I follow's page.
 I am concerned about this beautiful lady. I became aquatinted with her because she was struggling with a similar transference counter-transference issue. I think that policies need to be changed. I am angry. https://qr.ae/TWsa9N
I am surprised by how significantly more read my answers and the questions and answers I have read about transience and countertransference related issues are compared to other psychological issues. There is a problem here. There is a problem in the industry. It is not okay.
I am angry that therapists drop clients because they have feelings for them and that is supposed to be "in the best interest"
It is not. It merely protects the therapist from what is unlikely to happen anyway.
We are not murders. We are not stalkers. We are not worthless. We are not disposable. We are not forbidden and we are not taboo! We are not unreasonable.
But we are also not so strong that we can carry the weight of your debatable transgression alone, misunderstood, and misrepresented.
We are worth listening to.
We are worth fighting for.
We are worth loving and following through with to reach the other side.
We can manage.
We can handle so much
but the cold turn and rejection
in the place that we feel the safest, we trust, we love
because we might actually be lovable?
that is bullshit
and APA you need to reconsider the policies and practices you are feeding, encouraging and the very one-sided protection you are offering.
Please C S, Keep Fighting!
and Dr. He, if you ever read this, please don't play these games. Please hear me. And please try a different approach.
It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Don't ask for permission to help us, ask for forgiveness. ... really, I can give that and help you receive that much more easily than the consequences that might befall you otherwise.
I cannot simply let this go.
I have to fight and I am sorry if that is against you because I really do care about you and think you are a beautiful person... you are human, you make mistakes, I can work with that, I can fight for you too, but I cannot sacrifice me for you and I have to stand up for myself and others.
I am scared for this beautiful lady. I am scared for others. I know how profoundly and deeply this shit cuts.
This is not an anticipated blog post but right now I feel a sense of urgency...
And I am so scared that this beautiful lady may have already lost the battle. It is a real battle and I know it...

Unique, just like everyone else

I like how "level" and "normal" this new medication helps me feel. I'll be driving along and be like, "wow, I'm like, not thinking about anything really and not really feeling anything other than human and normal." And I like it. I savor it. Which I am sure is not "normal" but really is there such a thing as "normal?"
Actually, I know there is because sometimes I feel it.
In those times I am fairly certain I am just like the rest of the people traveling through life mostly oblivious to just how abnormal they really are because they are mostly the same and they have places they fit and they don't really question their conformity all that much.
It's a nice experience -"normal"- though I am fairly certain I appreciate these feelings more than most.
When I feel this, which I am feeling more and more as I "stabilize" with the medication and therapy, I want to forget that I am actually not normal. I want to forget how far off the spectrum I can and have gone. I want to loose touch with the abnormals of myself... And I have. And I sometimes do.
But is that a good idea? Right now I am not sure that it is. Probably because I still have stuff to work through and I can't pretend completely because I now have to take 3 separate medications regularly to be here.
I also occasionally feel kind of dizzy and medicine head-ish, not often but it happens. I also still have a bit of push back with the medication and I am still kind of fragile. Plus I have the identity crises that comes along with it. I am not sure what to do and when I look at jobs and/or returning to previous projects and goals I feel incredibly gun-shy and small. My confidence has taken a pretty big hit when it was already shaky at best. It is why I am touting how proud of myself I can and should be, because I can and should but I am not totally there yet... I'm working on it.
I am often not sure what direction to take.
Today at new physical therapists office I met a lovely 19 year old who was home from college because she had a "mental health crises" over the summer. I was so impressed and proud of her for how casually she said it.
When I had my "mental health crises" at 19 I could not own it nor talk about it so easily and openly. Of course, as it so often is, my crises had been going on for quite some time completely overlooked, ignored, brushed under the rug, not talked about, and hidden (by me mostly). It was kind of the first time in my family's history that they were forced to face the reality of "mental health issues." A turning point for my family, but still we were all too stigmatized and self stigmatizing to more productively deal with and fully accept our individual fates; thus it turned out to be too little too late when it came to my brother who years later died at his own hand.
So I wonder if I can own so easily and comfortably my "stuff?"
But I still feel the way people withdraw and proceed with caution when I mention anything of the sort and I am not sure if it is reflective of how they feel or if it is more reflective of my own insecurities in accepting and embracing that part of me....
That's the hard stuff.
Which is why when I am normal
I start to believe that, and I back away and forget that I am not. Then get confused again by how people are responding to me, the not-so-normal deep thinker, big idea haver, and over analyzer that I am...
So
the balance.
Normal is nice
but really
mania can be fun
depression can be tragically beautiful in it's depth and complexity
embarrassing is hard but I'm over it (mostly) because
what's the point? I'd have to hide too much and too much of the time
and really my mind and body are pretty fascinating
my life stories are pretty fantastic
so
maybe I am too
and that is pretty cool
because I can live a thousand lives in a day
and I can stand up to giants
maybe I won't win and maybe I'll take a beating
but In the end I'll make a difference
to someone, somewhere
And I will survive
because I have super powers
and I can read minds
I can see the future and hear the gods when they speak through their many different dialects
I can ride the waves and the clouds
and feel every molecule of it.
I can withstands months of chemicals surging through my system to a palpable level.
I can solve all the worlds problems if only they would listen
And all of this I can do while keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground of reality. Can you?
Thus I am often more sane than the sane because I see and know my insanity.
So finding happy in my normal, I hope I really can embrace all parts of me
...because
I am unique, just like everyone else.
:)

Therapeutic relationships are not your everyday story

Time to write it out, I think.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:

• because it posses a threat to "classroom management"
• because it is not exactly the way it was taught so it must be the wrong answer
• because the teacher does not understand the different way of saying, doing, or seeing something
• because it does not match the test exactly
• because teachers are worried that other kids might follow suit and get lost 
• because we like consistency and order, symmetry and matching and the creative approach or rendition may threaten that
• We like things to me homogenized and homogeneous- it feels safer
• If every kid were doing things their own way it would take the teacher ages to understand and grade
• The kid may be going off on a tangent that keeps them from acquiring the skill that we are required to teach them.

There are many reasons, some reasonable and legitimate, others not so much. It is a tricky balance and maybe an ideal that is impossible to achieve in our current education systems but very often kids are punished, discouraged and/or discredited for creative problem solving. They are taught to conform to the rules of the system and yet we somehow expect them to exceed and excel once they are out in "the real world" that is nothing like the system of worksheets and conformity they were nurtured in.
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.

The Prettiest Petite Piñata Lady Ever and her Managed Manic Magnificence

Yesterday I stopped in at the Brain Injury Alliance to say high and see if there is anything I can get involved with there. I am needing to find a place, figure out how to fit into society once again. While there I met the prettiest petit piñata lady ever. I can not even begin to express how much I loved her. She was absolutely bursting with so much energy and so much of what I know so well but keep contained. She says she doesn't open up like that to people, that people do with her but she doesn't like that with them. She claims she needs to. I agree with that but I also am not sure that I should because she and I both know what comes along with that.
It's why we don't embrace our crazy so openly.
She was like manic me if I were on steroids and Ritalin at the same time and yet, she was managing, working and functioning.
Managed Manic Magnificence.
She was like a the live version of so many intensities shared on this blog, the stuff that I only share here and mostly keep restrained in the "real world."
I loved how she related to the spirituality and the way she thought in rhymes at times. I loved that she researches and understands "coming out of isolation." I love that she knows what it is like to be tough and yet not seen and not heard. Actually I don't love that, I wish she did not have that pain and the problems that come along with it. I wish I could take it from her and so many other tragedies she has had to endure, and the thing is she relates to that as well.
She is not me but she understands things about me and I understand things about her that very few do.
She and I, we are valuable in our communities and we are especially valuable in the TBI and bipolar communities. We could help the people who have abused us in the systems that are supposed to help us. We deserve to be heard and listened to, we deserve to be treated with respect and we deserve fair treatment.
She knows there are more out there like us and I hope I can help find them and help them have a voice too. We have taken on burdens and helped people be strong when we were breaking or broken our selves and far too often we were overlooked and/or slandered, talked down to, sacrificed or undermined because we were nice and tough but also independent and even selfless.
I take care of myself by taking care of others and I will keep doing that, only now, I'm also going to take care of others by taking care of and standing up for myself.
I remember asking, in my breaking and in my exiling: "Why me? Why now?"
Because I am stronger than I knew and I am needed and I have done a damn good job of managing and adapting and being a good person despite my "mental illness" and TBI.
Maybe I won't get resolve where or how I would like, but I may just be developing resolve.
And somehow I am letting go by holding on and I can feel things letting go as I reach out and keep trying.
True colors will come out and all that needs to be brought to light will be.
I am going to be okay.

This is what came out today as I reflected on Managed Manic Magnificence and the pains that come along with living and loving. I felt the pains of my lovely new friend and older friends. I felt the weight of the world as I painted. I wondered how and why we can all keep living with so much pain and so much heartache. A few tears fell as I painted, but ultimately, I feel like something beautiful came out of it and I love it. It may be my favorite painting yet.

Tiny victories
and
Keep Fighting
Update: My pretty piñata friend has read this and I love that she needed time to process it and me also, it tells me she is holding onto rational and I know that I can trust her. She told me she wants her name on here and I am flattered that she not only will allow it but requested it. The only problem I have is I don't know how to write her name in now without changing the integrity of my in the moment writing. So I decided to attach it here and in the future I will call her by name... maybe, -well, only if I don't think what I am saying could come back to bite her.- Her name is Renee Casati and she is truly a beautiful person. It is so nice to be seen and nice to be heard and nice to know I am not alone.

It's easy to die ...and industry that feeds it?

One thing I would like to address are the suicidal tendencies and thoughts. I am honestly pretty disgusted about how the Neuroscience Institute and Patient Experiences "Advocates" (those are the obnoxious sarcastic air quotations spoken with derision) overlooked, dismissed and treated with disrespect this very symptom in me. I knew not to say I was immediately feeling these things. I had been locked up once before for making a stupid honest comment. But I was fending those off and I told them so on several occasions. Then when I was really fading and struggling to find appropriate replacement care because they would not allow me to be seen there I pointed out how their actions affect people, to which they responded by calling the police. However, the police could do nothing because they don't treat fading they only can stop an emergency. The police felt they should not have been called, "passing the buck" is what they felt was happening. Other providers felt they should not have called. They never followed up or did anything to make sure I was getting proper care, so I feel it was basically a threat or meant to send a message to me.
I feel like and I suspect they think I was only making comments about this subject to manipulate. I think they are really stupid. If I was honestly trying to manipulate I would have made a bigger deal and I would not have been like, "yeah, I have had those thoughts but I am not right now and I know what to do with them and how to handle it when they come." That is what I said.
If I had been trying to manipulate to pursue I would have said something more like, "I am  feeling suicidal and I don't think I can live with out getting this resolved" or probably something stupid like that. I don't know, I cannot even think of a good intelligent manipulation for this scenario. Probably because I don't (do not) do shit like that.
That is stupid.
No, instead I try to address it but I also kind of try to hide it. It's kind of stupid and probably hard to treat but I try to make sure I am saying enough so they know it is there but won't have me admitted or committed anywhere. I know I can hold on for a long time.
BUT
I also know how damn easy it is to die.
And how it could take just one brainwave malfunction and you could be gone before you even realized what you were doing.
Here are some examples:

• hiking, oops, too close. 
• Medicine, "I just need a little extra"- or "wait, that wasn't a drink"
• the silver eraser that clears the unwanted, painful, memories quickly and completely with one pull of a trigger
• here is one I remember from when I was much younger- I must have been somewhere in the spectrum of manic as I was driving on the freeway thinking through the possibilities for my life. My mind grabbed hold of one path and then, faster than I was driving, as my vivid thoughts raced I lived through the entirety of the plan in my mind and then I was suddenly at the end of my life when my hands fortunately fought back the instinctive reflex to promptly jerk the steering wheel to the left thus ramming me into the cement barrier because my life was supposed to be over in that moment. 
• Oh, darn the river is faster than I thought. 
• It's a nice train. It just wanted a hug.  (or semi, or car)
• Here is one that reminded me I am not totally out of the woods yet: my daughter is telling me about what she learned in biology; that a person can die from water poisoning, by drinking too much water and my brain says "huh, that would be an interesting sensation" as I envision the ease of guzzling a galloon or few of water. 
• I just ran into a friend who shared concern about a family member of hers that is diabetic, because it would be so easy for this family member, all they would have to do is push a button on there pump...

I am sure I could share more but I think this list is sufficient to illustrate how easy it would be in a moment, just a moment, of intense and screwed up chemistry, one could easily do irreversible damage regardless of how well they think they can handle it. 

Fortunately I know that suicidal thoughts are a symptom, not the problem and certainly not the solution, so when I have them I mention them as just that, a symptom. But it is a symptom to take seriously because their is something terribly wrong and this symptom can get worse and/or catch you off guard at just the wrong time. So when someone says they are having this symptom, if they tell you they are feeling these things and if they try to explain any part of it please listen. 

**Ohh... epiphany- as I am writing I am thinking and I bet they really did think I was trying to manipulate because I told them these thoughts were being fed by the situation and the way the transference was  addressed, or maybe rather not addressed. Because I told them they were the root of and possibly the cause of the symptom I was experiencing. And I kept trying to tell them their neglect and desire to be rid of me, their treating me as worthless, was feeding it. 

Man, I am stupid sometimes. 

So it seems likely that my analyzing to maintain control of me and speaking openly about it, was once again, misinterpreted through projection, reflection, deflection. It is possible that my analyzing to maintain control of myself, may have been projected and interpreted as an attempt to maintain or gain some control of them... sigh

But the reality of the way they treated me does feed those feelings, especially when you are in a transference where you were learning to love yourself by loving the bits of you you saw in your therapist -that now needs to be rid of you. This is honesty from my fighting the suicidal thoughts and figuring out why the hell these thoughts were plaguing me so intensely and unexpectedly at all. It was never a manipulation of anybody. It was trying to undo the manipulation of me, that happened in therapy... Accidental or on purpose.

Damn this psychology is deep. But I assure you, it was not about them, or at least it was not supposed to be, it was about me. That is what I kept trying to tell them and will maintain is my truth. Yes, Dr. Cheri was loved by me, and honestly still stupidly is, BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS THERE ABOUT AND THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS EVER AFTER IN SEEKING HELP, CLARIFICATION AND TREATMENT. It was supposed to be about me and the screwed up chemistry or injury of my brain. It was supposed to be about me and that when I so desperately needed it to be... But I am an empath and so many things that put my needs last. It should not be that way in that industry. This is where the broken, vulnerable, overlooked, neglected, caregivers need to be noticed, seen, valued, cared for and helped. Too many wounded end up wounding because they are reflective. 

And in this deep reflective epiphany moment, I am thinking maybe I need to be done with therapy with anybody ever again because it is too damn messy and too damn scary and they can twist it and twist you however they feel to either benefit or protect themselves. Sigh... and I thought they only had as much power over me as I allowed them to have. No, they have too much control, too much corruption, too much power, or there is too much disrespect, dehumanizing and stigmatizing of patients within the industry of psychology and psychiatry; the industry that is supposed to understand, help and protect me. 

Here we go round the mulberry bush...

It’s kind of strange being an adult and a child at the same time but apparently that happens when you have shit from your youth that needs to be worked through. It’s good to know I’m not alone in this even though I am very much alone in this.
I really like new therapist she is helping adult me reconcile with child me. She doesn't say that but that seems to be what she is doing. She is also helping me to understand reality. Reality is something that at times is hard for me to understand because apparently I might be bipolar and I probably have a mom that has borderline personality disorder and I definitely have a genetic predisposition for mental illness (which by itself makes me sad and mad) and head injury makes it much more likely for that genetic predisposition to manifest... I don’t really want to accept any of it and I have tried not to but ultimately that turns into me not accepting reality and rejecting part of my perfectly imperfect self which then somehow turns into me isolating myself... sigh...
So I am a child and an adult trying to figure this out and sometimes I don’t want to hear about how so much of this shit is actually normal so many people go through it because I’ve got years of feeling sorry for myself to catch up on. And that should be read with a laugh following because it is meant to be funny since, even though, there is a hint of truth, it is also not what I am really doing.
I really am grateful for my crazy ass shit because mine can at least be quite fun quite often and I have found a lot of good in it AND I have done really well with it. My lifetime friend, lets call her CP, even thinks it is funny that when I feel like I have super powers I think it is a symptom of mania or oncoming because she says I do have superpowers. I love CP, she really believes that about me.
So I really feel more proud of myself rather than sorry for myself. I mostly feel sorry for the lack of recognition and support I get. And ironically that is very likely tied to the fact that I do so well managing all my shit. I am not broken enough and, aside from me possibly isolating myself by trying to handle it myself, at times I actually end up being punished for that. Maybe people really don't believe me that snowboarding was just shy of orgasmic and that spirit animals and gods were talking to me because I wasn't full blown crazy and I could keep it within context. Maybe people don't believe I was manic because maybe I really was clairvoyant in those moments and I really did have super powers. Maybe I do need to return to that place and become a prophet or seer... Or maybe mania kept me from understanding how to handle the messages from god, maybe that keeps me for being a prophet... I could go on and on. Believe me, I have considered probably every possibility because my mind was running at hyper speed through every avenue.... my true super power. It's hard to keep up with. I can't even do it.
Yet somehow I managed, and that is discredited and that is where I feel sorry for me and angry at those who dismissed me so easily.
But back to Dr. She- today Dr. She explained that I was predisposed to have the problems I was feeling were a direct result of TBI and that TBI just brought them out. This is a hard pill for me to swallow because I first have to accept that I am "mentally ill" irregardless of TBI and somehow I have to both accept and dismiss the roles I thought or felt TBI has played in that. And I have to accept that I have to accept all of this shit I have been fighting to dismiss in myself. "If you just believe you can do anything" "if you have faith you can be healed"....Or you can go manic and have it be missed because you believe in yourself and the system that is "healing you".... tragic comedy of errors.
It's a lot to come to terms with.  I have to accept:

• that I am "mentally ill"
• that head injury may have contributed
• that head injury may not be my biggest problem
• that I have lower cognitive stamina
• I am genetically predisposed
• thus my children are also
• that my relationship struggles are deeper than TBI and Bipolar
• that I need medication 
• again
• and even more (medication)
• that I need people to help me
• the stigma, it's not going away
• that I am like my mother (in that I also have a mental illness and am a victim of some shitty circumstances) This one is harder than you know since I think she is pretty maladapted and I really don't want to be like that. I don't want to be a victim that points fingers at others criticizing them for "playing the victim" and thus doing the same thing with the situations they are not such a victim in... And yet, swinging too far the other way, when I am the victim I blame myself and get hurt more believing "I can fix this"... yeah, this is a hard one...
• and once again, I have to figure out what I want to do when I grow up, only now I appear to have a bad track record with jobs and I am old. 

And in addition to that I need to:

• once again figure out what to do with my life
• find a career that I can handle and that can handle me
• face that I have trust issues
• and avoidance issues
• grieve losses that are big and profound. 
• while staying grounded in reality and taking care of my family... but not completely at my expense. 

I’m going to be okay, I think, but I’ll also need to find a balance with my crazy and that just never seems to look like what others think it “should” look like.
Really that is what happened in my blog yesterday. I started off wanting to address the "take care of you to take care of me" problem probably many in therapy have but as I wrote my frustration with how completely powerless I am in civilly and amicably resolving anything with the Neuroscience Institute and specifically with Dr. He came out. If I had my way we would just talk and the crazy manic fed irrational components could and likely would very naturally work themselves out as I addressed them where and with whom they would be appropriate to address with. But I am not allowed, because they have me branded and stigmatized, because rules and policies don't allow it, because they (the rules and policies) are bias and stigmatizing... Such a stupid paradoxical conundrum: I have to pursue legal action and hire a lawyer to be heard because they are afraid of talking to me because I might might hire a lawyer and pursue legal action...
How do they not see
how stupid that be?

Care Bears need to air out there shit covered laundry!

I went back to school to complete my degree back in 2013 or so. I choose WGU because it was the most economical and feasible considering my circumstances. They have a great program for teaching. One thing I liked is they assign you a mentor that you check in with and that checks up on you every so often to help keep you going. I loved my mentor with WGU. At one point they assigned me a new mentor because the other mentor was only meant to be a startup kind of mentor. But new mentor's lack of life experiences and possibly her rigid "professionalism" made it hard for me to connect with her thus rendering her useless as a mentor to me and the check ins became kind of annoying to me, which did not help me with my schooling. Fortunately my old mentor was able to pull some strings and I got to keep him throughout the rest of my schooling with WGU.
And that is the back story to this very simple comment that my WGU mentor would say to me; often he would tell me I needed to take care of myself to which I would reply, "part of how I take care of myself is by taking care of other people." And now, obviously I was at least somewhat balanced in my taking care of others and myself because I allowed myself to request my old mentor and not worry too much about how that might make the new mentor feel.
It can be tricky finding that balance and I imagine therapists often see people who are unbalanced in how they define themselves with this very same trait. I bet they see many people who are trying to fix themselves and quite often repeat patterns of loving other people too much or neglecting themselves for the sake of others and they will repeat that mistake in therapy also by caring for their therapist when it is the therapists job to care for them. I would think this may be especially prevalent in my part of the world where my religious upbringing teaches girls heavily that their value lies in being a wife and mother and what they are doing to serve others.
Their is merit to this and it is important, however, I do feel we may be a bit too far to one side on this issue and I feel like it has got to be a huge challenge for a therapist not to get attached and find themselves getting some of their emotional needs met by their clients. They are human after all.
So this further confuses my brain on how the hell the APA and people in the field think it is a good idea to just shut a person out cold turkey if a therapist develops feelings. It is kind of disgusting how negatively stigmatized a therapist will be for that and how negatively this stigmatizes the client/patient with the slew of false and negative misconceptions and stereotypes this brands them with. I see that grooming can be an easy game for a therapist to play if their are no rules but the shutting out only protects the therapist and so hugely at the expense of the person on my side of the couch.
... And It has been fed, this stupid idea of "forbidden love" that my manic mind latched onto, by everyone denying me conversation about this and about what was going on with me. It has been fed by my husband trusting them and me trusting them and them refusing to call mania and misdiagnosis what it was. It has been fed by his refusal to apologize and by my husbands uncertainty of how to proceed with me. It has been fed by my broken heart again and again. It has been fed by Dr. Concussion's unwillingness to talk about what happened and her being swayed by whatever she was being told by people who had never even talked with me or had talked with me very little. It has been fed by the grapevine communication with the patient advocate and her acting as though she was helping me but then not even asking the questions I asked her to ask. It has been fed by the scarlet letter they branded me with.
It has been fed by them making it all about him and not about me. When it was supposed to be about me.
 It has been fed by their bullshit that "he felt threatened" by me, because the only threat that was known to me was that he didn't want anything to do with me because he could possibly love me, and because, they said, I used the word "but" in an email. In trying to have a conversation about what was going on with my head, and in, once again. trying to tell him that he was missing something that I needed him to see and that we needed to talk about (mania), I said I didn't want to go the route of filing a complaint "but" if that is what I had to do then I that was what I would do... It has been fed while he peacefully and easily burns out knowing he does not have to face me or talk about any possible countertransference or misunderstandings. I am angry again. I am hurt again. I am angry and hurt and all of it still just feeds the damn creature Perri Cheri that is eating my brain and my heart.
Please admit your mistakes IHC. PLEASE END THIS CYCLE. I have begged and followed your rules. If I am to continue to follow the rules you claim to follow, if I am to be a good citizen and if I am ever going to recover from this then I have to fight harder and you need to be held accountable. If you insist the fight is against me and with me and not for me and with me from what is going on with my damn head and the stigma's and misconceptions than the fight is with you... and I fight... to the death. To the death of my bills and the bad policies of the Neuroscience Institute and APA, or to the death of me. And if you keep winning so easily, so then my blood really will be on your hands if this continues until I am all burned up and burnt out completely.
...This is not at all where I thought I would go with this blog entry..  but there it is. I am tired. I am sad. I want to believe that is was simply a comedy of errors. I want to be able to be proud of my magnificent managed mania because it was damn hard but I managed to stayed out of complete psychosis and loosing complete touch with reality. I broke big and yet still managed. I begged for it to be seen when I wasn't even sure that was what it was, I kept trying and I want to be able to be proud of that, but instead I was shunned, shamed, lied to and lied about, I was slandered, stigmatized, denied treatment and exiled. And I am stuck in limbo not wanting to do anything because it could potentially hurt people I loved and trusted even though they were neglecting, gaslighting and abusing. When I was fighting for my rational brain they were fighting against it, insisting that I was fighting for the irrational, and this fed the irrational. It does not make sense. They would only listen when there was talk of lawyers or when I used appropriate legal jargon, but as soon as I told them I was not interested in going that route they would continue with disregarding me and feeding the wild fantasy that may not have been my own in the first place.  I hate that legal action feels like my only option. I know I can continue to just work on "letting it go" but "letting it go" just seems to fuel the damn fire that is supposed to have burned out months ago and "just letting it go" still seems to tie my brain to just letting me go, letting me burn out. I don't want to burn out. I want to improve again and I want to live again.
I don't think, at this point in my life, it is entirely wise to continue to define myself by how I can benefit others and what I can do for them. I think now, maybe, as I had said long ago in a previous post, I need to follow my damn guru's example and simply do whatever I feel I need to to protect and take care of myself, no matter how it might affect someone else. Look out for number one and number one only... No conversation, no negotiation, not trying to protect or care, just stigmatize and use against him all that I can to protect myself and make sure my ass is being taken care of financially because "I am okay with being wrong" at the expense of others... so where am I wrong? Please somebody tell me? I was wrong in trusting a person who had lost objectivity, acknowledged he broke me ["you broke me" "I did not mean to"], but would not address that and then openly told me "I am okay with being wrong."
I'd rather love you and be your friend, I'd rather work with you on my behalf and even help you to benefit my people you claim to be helping, but if that is not possible then I'll fight you to the bitter end, because you broke me, and then trashed me and I will not die for you no matter how you want me to!
...sigh... I'll leave this crazy shit here and post, because this shit needs to be talked about, this shit needs to be addressed, this shit needs to be washed out of the laundry it is dirtying and then hung up to air out.
Good night. sleep tight...
we ain't out of the woods yet.
But I sure as hell would rather talk about it than burn down the whole damn forest. I wish we (the Neuroscience Institute, IHC, Dr. He, Dr. Concussion and I) were on the same page... I am still willing to get there...
but my words are likely in vain.

The Basic Rules of Good Citizenship

If you are reading my blog for the first time or have read a few but not every entry may I suggest you go back to: https://amicrazy2.blogspot.com/2018/11/reprocessing-so-much-to-do-so-little.html
and really there are a lot that tell a lot about what happened, how it effects the brain, and even possibly why it effects it this way as I have gone through this crazy journey and have documented my processing and the damaging and harmful process that could have been largely avoided or a least greatly minimized if the Neuroscience Institute and IHC policies did not think they were above the basic rules of good citizenship that we teach our children in our public schools.
At very least, read the last paragraph on this lesson:

Substitute teaching the other day this was the Social Studies lesson I was given to teach and it broke my heart because "When you obey rules you are showing resect to authority and those who make the rules," and "a good citizen is someone who is not afraid to admit that he/she is wrong and is always willing to ask for a second chance."
 I was not even sure how to handle teaching it because the reality is the honest kids who take this to heart will be hurt and taken advantage of time and time again by big organizations and institutions, by people in authority and power... and these kids that take this to heart, and believe in the good of humanity and individuals, will believe in those trained, licensed and credentialed authority figures who are in reality refusing to take responsibility and admit their mistakes and are willing to do so completely at the altruistic child (now an adults) expense. And they will not realize this as they continue believing in and work for these basic, elementary taught, rules of good citizenship, expecting that these educated authority figure will also come to their senses and honor these rules thus stopping the harm and perpetuation of it and then working together solve the problem they are the ones that are trained and being paid to solve.
I want to protect these kids from believing in a society that actually lives the way this lesson teaches because I know, in reality, we do not live in a society where their medical providers, the ones they will likely trust the most, will do this.
...And these same rules are in their hipocratic oath's and APA guidelines (though the APA also has contradictory rules that are made to protect the therapist who may be abusing clients)
...It is sickening.

the problems with transference, countertransference and mania

"Why can't you just let it go?"
It is an annoying question for a few reasons:
#1. because I have and I do over and over again. But when I succeed in letting it go in one way, it comes back to bite me in another, again and again. If I  redirect and avoid thinking about it "it" pushes through in some other way. Sometimes in ways that are much worse than focusing on "it" and trying to understand and solve.
#2. "It" is not the Neuroscience Institute and/or Dr. He. To the person saying this they may think that, but in reality they are asking me to just let go of far more than that. They are asking me to just let go of my experiences and life and the new understanding I was coming to about how my life has truly been altered by the TBI that happened when I was 12. They are asking me to repeat the same patterns that have led to so much trouble, let go of the injury I cannot change and have no control over, and just be fine. All I have control over is how I handle it and what I do with it, I cannot just let go of what my body is and how it functions. I have to work with it in order to be fine, I cannot simply let it go.
#3. If I "just let it go" I am accepting and/or agreeing with them that I was not manic. Yes, I can logically say that is probably not accurate but they are the professionals, and then I am haunted and plagued by the injustice of that, the problems a misdiagnosis can cause if it is stated and upheld in my medical records, the defamations and the fact that this ignorance and/or abuse of a patient is not likely going to be isolated to just me. There are big problems and I am certain I am not the only one who has been or will be harmed by policies and procedures that perpetuate the kind of harm and worse that befell me.
#4. My core says I need to stand up for myself for reasons mentioned in #3 and because not doing that feeds that part of my psyche that buys into "I'm not worth it."
#5. Mania is not easy to manage through, nor is it easy to recover from. It is hard on brains and families. Yet the intensity of it is... exciting, exhilarating, supernatural, deep, profound, and very real. If it is denied, as it has been by the ones in power, the ones who diagnose, the ones that are supposed to be trained to recognize it, and the ones that I trusted, than it must mean that what I was feeling and the connections there were real for both parties and I am no longer meant to be with my husband. I can't come back even when he says "I just want you back" because this is no longer where I belong if the "not manic" diagnosis is accepted.  Furthermore, to deny both mania or that divinely orchestrated transference-countertransference connection is, at very least, equivalent to denying God. With all the spiritual connections, omens, bizarre coincidences, etc. of this situation to do nothing, to let it go, would be to deny God. Even if it is entirely something different and heading down this path takes me entirely somewhere different, I am not willing to deny God. I am not entirely sure what I need to do or how, but I know I have to do something. Return to Dr. He or address the bigger issues?
#6. When I choose to do something and choose to stand up for myself and fight back I am choosing to live and I am choosing my husband. I would like him to choose me too because if he is not standing up for me and with me in fighting this than it feeds that return-to-He-beast also.
Dr. He was my safe place, he was my support and he is where I felt most at home at that point in time ...and possibly ever in my life... and in my defense, from what I have researched, this is not an entirely uncommon occurrence in therapeutic relationships. It is a connection that is powerful and profound and hard to loose even without it being transference and manic fed.
So as much as I don't believe in the word can't and I know that I could in fact continue to try to "just let it go" I hope you will understand a little better what I meant and the effect it might have on a me. I hope when I say "I can't just let it go" you understand that if I did I would be stuck in limbo and my heart will just keep trying to find its way back home... to a home that does not exist and probably never did and/or to a home that needs and/or wants me gone so very completely.
I am sorry to say this, but it is the truth that all parts of me seem to agree on.  And I know that because right now, in saying this, I feel no surges, I feel no crazy out of control chemistry, I just feel... normal and balanced. I feel safe, sane, rational and plain.
and I have nothing left to say.

More Drama for my Trauma

I don't know that I will return to teaching... But I will say that substituting now, with the mood stabilizer helping me out, is so much better. My head doesn't feel like it's going to explode by the end of the day and I don't have to hide in the bathroom during recess or lunch because my eyes are leaking again. The over stimulating environment that it is, is not so bad and I can play great teacher for a day and be gone. It is nice. But substitute teaching is not a career and I don't know that everyday would be a good idea for me, which would then not be great for the kids. I am a great teacher in many ways but I know my limits. ... and so I am here again, trying to decide what to do when I grow up.
There is an identity crises that seems to accompany my mental lapses... And I hope I will get this one figured out better this time around. I mean damn, I broke big enough this time that I am likely (and proving to be true) not going to be able to burry that part of me so well and forget that is a problem and part of me. I kind of have to embrace now that this is a part of my perfectly imperfect... I can't fake it anymore. I am what I am and I have to accept it...
It is not as easy to do as it is to say...
SO
I'll talk about suicide now.
There is a lot I can say about that. But mostly I want to say it is a symptom. It is not the problem and it is not the solution. It is a symptom that needs to be listened to and addressed. Find out why, where it is coming from and then treat the problem while managing the symptom.
and that is something I have said before and will say again and again until people listen and start thinking of it differently.
One of the tricky things about the suicidal tendencies is that on one side there are the people who are hiding, not wanting to be a burden and not wanting to talk about it because of the misconceptions or because people with freak out and/or treat them different while on the extreme other side there are plenty of people who use it as a way to control others, a threat to get their way and their family members feel held hostage by the threat. They give those of us who know this damn symptom too well a bad rap. I question whether or not they really know what it is to be suicidal. Possibly it could just be an enabling problem. Mental illness is not an excuse for bad behavior. And on the flip side people with mental illness should not be condemned anymore or less for bad behavior. Very sane and rational people are capable of very bad behavior and they are branded as "crazy" when really they are just jerks.
... I am rambling kind of pointless floating... because I want to talk about this, but at the same time I am not in the mood.
...and just now I am returning from a phone call from a referral my psychiatric PA made. She apparently wanted me to see a physiatrist. She wants me to have someone helping me manage the TBI related stuff but the neurologist through her network has a long wait list. So maybe that is why she wants me to see a physiatrist.. I don't know. but turns out they don't take my insurance. So the nice girl gave me a recommendation. The doctors name and the phone number. Yep, can't go there. It's the Neuroscience Institute's number. That is where this guy is at and I have been exiled from there. What a mess. What a fiasco. Why can they deny me treatment? But then again, at this point I think I don't trust any of them and now really wondering if it is all just fraud. I think they don't know shit about head injuries and they are simply using and abusing people like me for a pay check.... a nice cushy fat pay check, easy money and low liability because my brain marred peers don't stand a fighting chance in this industry of glutenous god-complex narcissists
... just when I think I can let it go...
NOPE.
And if I were symptom free it'd make this so much easier.
Keep fighting
drama for trauma

Mania is hard on families... especially when coupled with transference.

Mania is very hard on families.
Even when you think you have it under control. Maybe especially when you think you have it under control...  But definitely when you think it is something else and/or you don't recognize it as mania.
It is also hard on brains.
And it is hard on the hearts and brains of those you are living with.
Please don't punish people for it and if they are trying to tell you that you are missing something. When someone says, "I'm just trying to understand what is going on with my head" or "I need to make sure I am stable"  "I need to make sure I am safe" those are very important words to listen to.
When they have a books worth of flooding memories and processing and are trying to show you what is going on by printing that book out don't ignore it. If they tell you they can physically feel surges of chemicals or their heart is physically hurting, it is very important not to ignore these things.
When they say "I am not having them right now, but I have and I know how to handle them I know what to do with them" this means the suicidal symptoms are present and the person is fighting them. Don't ignore these words, because suicidal tendencies ARE a symptom. Neither the problem or the solution but a symptom and indication that something is wrong and the longer they go untreated the worse they get. And if it is problem of chemistry, without medication, it takes soooooooooooooooo much time, energy and focus to stay ahead of it. Suicide is far to easy too commit, if your brain chemistry is deteriorating and your brain is looking for relief than you cannot ignore it or it'll get you, catch you off guard, and destroy you before you even know what you are doing. This is what happened to my brother. This is a battle I have fought and won many times. I know it for what it is, but that does not make it any easier, when it hits and if it is fed then it is harder to fight, takes more time and more energy and the world becomes an even more confusing place.
Please don't ignore these things.
If the person is concerned about being a burden and trying to take care of all those troubles themselves, facing the demons alone, they are very likely in worse shape than even they know. They need help. Don't ignore the cries for help. Don't make it about you.
I hope YOU read this.
And please don't do anything to hurt my son.

To gay or not gay... That is the question. (Because I am scared)

My last post... Is it my body pushing back against medication and am I swinging into a delusional high filled with grandiose ideals?
That is just it, I don't know. It may be and is that all bad? Can I, can we, as a society and individuals, capitalize on the positive aspects of some of what comes along with mental illness?
I used to have a great uncle who was our family doctor for my growing up years. He said homosexuality used to be considered a mental illness, now if you were to say something like that you would be figuratively lynched. But maybe it is, just as much as bipolar, depression, OCD, and others are. Why not? Why is saying that considered condescending to the gay and lesbians but the reverse is not considered condescending? Can we not embrace and accept other mental illnesses the way that the homosexual conditions have been fought for, embraced, and even celebrated?
When it is acceptable to be a "furry," why is it so damning to be bipolar?
Can't there be some good that comes along with bipolar? With my own over intensities?
Why is it okay to be gay but not okay to be mentally ill?
After a conversations with some teens recently I feel even more concern about all of this and the directions our society is heading. The comment was made that furries don't have a choice. I have heard that gender identity is not a choice while at the same time kids should be allowed to choose. What the hell are we teaching these future generations, what the hell are we doing to these kids?
So here is something to think about:
Like it or not, gender is not a choice. How we choose to identify IS a choice. Our sexual orientation IS a choice. Yes, I am very naturally attracted to men but I also choose to be straight. And I can change my thinking to choose differently. While I do believe their are people to which the opposite may be true I do not see how this is any different than other mental illnesses where your brain wiring and chemistry is not inline with the norm or the standard. Maybe we are not mentally ill but rather we are mentally diverse and should be accepted as such. I do not make a choice about how my brain gets so awry but I do choose how I handle it and what I do to treat it and how I work to fit in or to adapt outside of the norm.
I also see there being a problem with homosexuality being accepted while mental illness is not because, guess what, sexual attraction to the opposite sex causes? Anxiety. And it can cause a lot of it. It can be very uncomfortable and awkward to pursue that and thus we are likely to see more and more kids actually mistaking their comfort with their own gender as attraction to their own sex because they actually are attracted to the opposite sex but the anxiety and intensity of emotions they experience that accompany actual attraction is being labeled as "mental illness."
It's something to think about. And if this conversation makes you angry and you want to jump to defend gays, well, then my friend reread and please carefully exam your own bias and prejudice against "mental illness." Maybe mentally diverse really is a better term, but then will people not get help and treatment when they need it? I don't know. The problem is big and profound.
And the real reason I came on here was to say that I feel small and scared because I don't want to be big and profound. I want to me "normal" and I want to be accepted. I want to not feel the fear that I am feeling right now about trying again to establish myself within society. About the job that I feel I need to do because of my circumstances. And considering I don't take that on, I don't like the fear and apprehension I have about trying to find a job again and revisiting our former projects and some of my dreams, goals and aspirations. I am scared to branch out into the new, to say what I said I would do.
I am scared. and small. and I lack the confidence because my brain tires quickly, I know I might break, I will make mistakes, and my perfectly imperfect is really not accepted and tolerated even though I am not threatening or violent. 

It is not like in the movie "I Feel Pretty," when you wake up to your embarrassment and want to hide away. In real life everyone lets you hide and far too often they don't forgive and they don't try to understand, sometimes simply because your mistakes were not big enough and obvious enough, just weird and maybe annoying or intimidating or too intense so therefore, you are disposed of because their are plenty of other fish in the sea. 

When you have a brain injury and you are foggy, anxious emotional, and forgetful you don't get extra help or understanding, you get bad grades, mad parents, or you get fired.
I'd rather be a legit homosexual at this point in society. But I'm not going to be because, for me, I would simply be choosing that and going against my natural and default personal chemistry ...when I am already fighting enough of my own personal chemistry.
It's the same reason I never did drugs or got into drinking as a teen, I was already screwed up enough. I didn't need any help with that. What I do need is love, acceptance, compassion, respect, equal and fair treatment and for people to stop using my "conditions" against me or thinking that they mean so many things they do not. 

Shallow Hal needs a Big Gal

Sometimes it is one, occasionally I have jumped by teens. This blog that I don't really advertise but occasionally share with individuals, tells me how many unique views it receives. It's not many. And I am okay with that. I have actually asked very few people to actually read it or a specific entry and I am never sure if they do. My sister, I asked to read it awhile ago. She never remembers to and that is fine, it is how life goes. I get that.
But every time I come on here and see my numbers change I feel a bit of joy as I say to myself "Oh, I've been read."
Helping looks something like that. Often we want or wish for big numbers and we may not even invest our time in helping if we are not getting those big numbers but long ago I realized helping just one person is helping and it is significant because that one person is very significant.
If all I ever help is one person I have made a difference and I have changed the world
and I like the sense of satisfaction that brings. This is something I write because I feel it will likely be important for me to remember as I proceed with what I am coming to see and accept as my life's purpose.
I have a voice that needs to be heard. I know this and I have been told this more than once. I can bridge gaps and face stigma's because I have been doing that for so very long. It is when I shy away and hide myself from this, when I become self deprecating, that I inevitably start to break again. I think it is time for me to embrace who and what I am.
I believe it is time for me to get big.
Something like the kind of big that confused dear Dr. He in his office and profession but not the kind of big I was when he lost all his power to me and turned to self preservation not understanding himself that, in that moment, I was physiologically big from the chemical effects of mania. He did not understand because he had lost objectivity and I really am that good at managing my madness or he did understand and knew that he could play that to his advantage, use it against me. I suspect the first but there is evidence that suggests the latter and it could be a human conscious or unconscious combination of both. I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is as I have tried to solve the mystery of what happened and what was and still is going on with my head I have found all the TBI stuff ringing so very true time and time again. I have found research that is tied to Dr. He that has me written all over it. I don't know if he has ever realized that and at the time of much of this research we had not even met, but I'm there in it, plain as day.
This morning, this research, confirmed that I need to keep fighting. I am in that world and that is where I belong. They really could learn so much from me and my voice needs to be heard, not just for my sake. I can bridge gaps and help or straight up fix the Neuroscience Institute.
So I have started to make connections with people that I hope can help and now my goal, my life's purpose is to make sure all that I know, all the work I have done to get me to this point is shared and heard and available to others because can be helpful to many more people.
I have worked hard to be the change I wish to see in the world now I will fight for the change I wish to see in the world. I will fight to end stigma's, to bridge gap's and to bring understanding and healing to broken minds and broken hearts.
I will fight harder and ironically that is bringing me back to life.
I hope you will join me, as I am about to go big.

I Walk Alone

I’m at the Out of the Darkness Suicide Prevention walk. I came alone. “How pathetic” I think. But no, I am not pathetic at all. How many people do you know that ultimately have the courage to show up at an event like this alone?
I collect my beads. 1st Orange for my brother. Next blue, for supporting, teal for any other friend or family member, and green for my own struggles. I put the orange, blue and teal around my neck and then I placed the green into my pocket.
I am here alone in my struggle and I don’t want to advertise that. I don’t want to be noticed for it AND I don’t want to not be noticed for it. In my pocket is fine.
I walk away from the beads, see two awkward adolescents also wearing orange, ask if they also lost a sibling. The girl answers yes, their brother. I say "it sucks" and ask if I can give her a hug. Her brother, looks younger, shies away behind her. I ask him if I can give him a hug also. “Yes” awkward side hug, but I don't care, he said yes so he probably needed it too.
I head toward the center of this massive event and I see their posters with the notes people posted.This is the first and only one I see. And I need to turn away because now I am crying. And alone. so I want a little quite place of my very own where I can disappear into a tree and be present from the sidelines.

 What a beautiful anomaly this tree is. I decide to join it. This is where I start this very bog entry. Sitting on the root arch of that tree. As my emotions settle again and the eye flooding subsides I realize, with this very unique tree, perched on the arch, I am hardly invisible. So I laugh inside and hop down. I listen to a well known radio DJ tell the story of loosing his own brother.
I see IHC's booth and I feel my anger but also know the people there are not who I am angry with. However, I am here to stand as a witness, if only to my self, that even when you think you are alone you are not and to show that I can keep fighting and I am worth standing up for. So I go to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention organization's booth (they are the facilitators of this event) and I collect their information. I write "Neuroscience Institute, across the top along with the name of the facility/office director whom I had told "I am just trying to understand what is going on with my head" and "I am not sure what it looks like but I know I need to stand up for myself" and then later yelled at me for wanting to be kept in-house, thinking they should talk to me and address the issues that happened there I was trying to address instead of sending me away, alone, to try and find an entirely new team when I was such a mess and not even sure what help I needed and for what since I was allowed no clarifying conversation.
I go to IHC's booth and ask who works for them. I tell her they need some training. I show her the green beads from my pocket and say "They are feeding this" and then I walk away shaking.
But I think, and return. Talk a little more to the lady but explain very little, just that they played games with me and feed the suicidal, instead of treating me fairly. I write down Concussion doctor's name, Neuropsychologist's name, and Patient Advocate's name. I ask that they all get trained or at very least they get this reading material.
I talk to a few people. Get some hugs and love from one lady and I am glad I am here.

I am so impressed at the amount of people present. I notice beautiful people being honored on t-shirts and I am so happy to see that they are honored and loved still in spite of how they passed. I see my brother in one particularly fun looking brother of a beautiful lady who is there alone with her 3 young children. I admire her. I appreciate the picture of her brother. I let her know. 

Then I am then drawn to these shirts. I loved the design and saying. As I got close I found some of my own coincidental humor in them also. If you zoom in to read and you have been following my blog I think you may also find it ever so coincidentally comical. I have to ask, "who is Jon?" I am then introduced to the mom of Jon. She is a beautiful and significant person. She designed the shirts. She tells me some about Jon. He was 18. I tell her a bit about my brother and the military's flawed policies. He was 28 or 29, it's been 10 years and I can't remember exact age and don't really care to fixate on that detail, he was too young and that is what matters most. As this beautiful mom tells me about her son I am sad for them and proud of them. They were trying. Her son was sensitive and intelligent. He felt things deeply and that made life a challenge at times. I can relate to what she is telling me. I tell her things that surprise her a bit. She asks "how do you know so much about all of this?" I have been living it for a very long time. "I'll write you a book," I say and she likes this idea. 

I have been fighting similar battles as her son for a very long time. I explain my belief that suicidal tendencies are a symptom. They are neither the problem nor solution, they are a symptom and we need to listen to them as that. They were doing that, and from what she has told me, I am so impressed at how they were. But she had never heard it put the way I just did and wishes it would be. She thinks it is a helpful and more productive way to approach this. She thinks it could have helped her son.... Because her son got caught in that trap of not understanding that it was a symptom and after being on medication for short period, when they were just starting to see the improvements, is when he passed. He did not realize or understand what he was fighting. He swung too fast before his thinking was able to correct. He likely did not have the tools or even know he needed them. One thing his mom told me was that he had said things about not wanting to be a burden. My own voice echoed in my head at this. I thought of my brother, others who I know that have gone this way, and more I know that I still fear we will lose to mental illness. I believe that many of the most likely to succeed in their attempt are also very likely to be in a mindset of not wanting to be a burden or tired of feeling like a burden. In their mind they are taking care of the problem themselves and doing their part to relieve the burden on others. 

I am going off in a direction I did not intend to, but as I have so many times before and to stay true to my own healing and processing process I will let it be. Though I know it is getting lengthy, today was significant so I suppose a significant post is appropriate. 

I'm going to jump now to another significant part of this event. At one point  I was walking and fingering the green beads in my pocket when I noticed that the necklace had come apart. It was broken. I could not even wear it now if I wanted to. This made me so happy. I even pulled it out and showed the beautiful mom.  I loved that the suicidal struggles of my own are broken. This is a good thing to have broken. I'm taking this as a sign and an omen and I'm going to run with it. I will keep holding on to that, -the breaking of my brokenness- because I have beat this before. And now that these beads are broken I can officially say that I have beat it once again (at least the suicidal part of it) and I will do it again and again if I have to. 

This is what I thought as I walked back to my truck and noticed this beautiful green tree with it's amazing and peculiar long green beans and then it was followed by the tree covered in so many tiny loving hearts. 

My heart has been broken so many times for so many reasons but still there are amazing people worth loving for any amount of time and this world holds so very many special and magical treasures all around. I love that. And I love living which is why I will keep fighting not just to survive but also to live and be a alive. I will keep working to thrive. 

  You'll Never Walk Alone

This is also a fun one You'll Never Walk Alone

Push back and history. Please listen

My dang head has been in this stupid mess for too long. I had no idea I needed Dr. She's simple words as much as I still do.
"Keep fighting"
Psychiatric PA let me know the double dose was not going to be a time release pill.
I think I am noticing that.
My brain seems to be pushing back. It wants to return to it's homeostatic chaos...
Maybe I just need to be busy. Maybe I just need a real job.
I kind of dislike the identity crises of this whole process.
I dislike that, though this is significantly different than any other time, I have been through this stuff before. The unstable and stabilizing.
I am remembering more again.
I once rolled my car as a result of an up. Sometimes I like to blame the worn out shocks on the little Jetta with over 300k, but the truth is, I was in a "spiritual high" and taking high stake risks that my more level brain knows are not wise. My toddler, who was directly behind me, was falling asleep with the sun blazing on him, so I turned back to position his blanket in the window. The windows were manual, I was driving. This is very stupid and not something I would normally consider doing while driving, especially on a freeway at freeway speeds (at least it was uncrowded and rural). When I turned back I found I was drifting off the road. I steered us back on, maybe over corrected a bit. That coupled with the 300+k worn suspension, made my overcorrection an impossible come back, and it resulted in a fluid floating rollover that landed us top side down facing the wrong way in the dip just off the side of the freeway.
God was watching over us, I know, and I experienced true faith knowing, as we floated over, that everything was going to be okay.
It was.
My babies strapped in their carseats in the back were okay, only babygirl, who was around the age of 4, had a slight red mark on her shoulder from hanging upside down in her carseat a bit longer.
We were very lucky. And I am so grateful.
And while I know God was protecting us, that was also the moment in time when I made a conscious decision to start shutting that part of me off. I was choosing to close the curtains into the realm of the spiritual. That would present it's own new struggles, especially in my family and culture, but I would rather keep my family safe in this human mortal realm.
This is a reminder that my perfectly imperfect may not actually be acceptable. I know this. It is my buried story that needs to stay buried and contained. It is what I struggle to understand, control, and manage. It can at times be what both attracts and detracts people to and from me.
When people say things like "everyone is like that" or "everyone has feelings like that," or "everyone experiences those things," sometimes I think "Well than EVERYONE needs to be medicated."
So the push back to the medication, is unwelcome.
Push back,
please go away,
please don't come again some other day.
I used to think a person is likely better off not having a major break or a major episode. It was a theory of mine; That if we could catch mental illness early enough and prevent major episodes, the person would be much better off. I think I am feeling this breaking of me to the higher degree is proving my theory to be accurate.
I can't go back, I can only move forward, but man it has sure been much more challenging moving forward this time around, and now I'm finding my body pushing back, likely not as responsive to the medication as it would have been had I not broken quite as big and been enduring without the medication and without honest help for so long.
...
...They could learn a lot from me
If only they would listen.

Out of the Darkness!

Tomorrow there is an Out the Darkness community walk. It is about fighting suicide, supporting families and people who are affected by it and trying to change stigma's around mental illness and mental health.
I want to attend and I also don't.
I want to invite my family and friends to come with me... but, I am afraid to.
I am afraid because I don't want to feel the lack of support if they say no. I am afraid to because I know some people will look at me differently, for whatever reason, no matter how I present it.
I am afraid because I don't want them to think things about my brother that may not be true because I know there will be people there that are nothing like him and nothing like how he was. I am afraid to because I am not sure I want to explain that is not just because of him that I want to attend. I am afraid to go because I may find myself in an angry tirade at IHC because they are one of the sponsors and I think that is very hypocritical considering how they have handled me.
...But mostly I am afraid to ask family and friends because I fear the rejection and how that might actually feed those fading thoughts and that core beleif that thinks I might be worthless.
Isn't that silly?
I can't attend the suicide prevention walk because I fear it might fuel it?... But then again, I think that is a pretty normally occurring phenomena. We don't want to be around sick people because we fear catching it. We don't want to accept mental illness because we fear it will increase it. We don't want to hang out with people who are different than we are because we fear we might become too similar to them.
The thing is these fears are not entirely irrational or ungrounded. Some can be, especially in the extreme, but there is some accuracy to those fears. Which is why people listen to their fears. I think when we can identify our fear we can then address it constructively and make a wise and rational decision that can benefit ourselves and others. But that fear is also a nudging into something we need to address.
So as I think of my fear and identify where it is coming from and then objectively look at it and how and why I might be feeling it, the realities of if and the extremes that are not so real or may be inaccurate, and I realize, I am pretty normal for feeling those things.
Which is why I'll go, with or without support from friends or family. They have their stuff and I have safely waited until the last minute to mention it to anyone so I can't really take it personally if they don't go anyway.
So I will go because I am normal and normal people, even good, kind, and intelligent people can struggle with this and be affected by it. I will go because even when I feel alone I am not alone and if simply being there can communicate that to someone else and offer some form of hope, I'll go.

"Keep fighting," she says; and How to change your negative core beliefs

It's not that I don't value myself. I do. But deep inside I am insecure and Dr. She says I "fear being worthless" or having no value to anyone.  She says I have a core belief about this that is in my heart. And when anything happens that will take a hit to my self esteem or sense of self worth that core is going to come out and tell me I am worthless and that what ever is happening is happening because I am worthless and/or unlovable or whatever that negative core belief is.

Yes. She is probably correct. And my brain, being the analyzer it is will often quickly agree: "Yes, that must be true because it is a basic law of economics. Supply and demand. It doesn't matter how amazing or awesome the product is, if no one is calling for it, there is no demand, it has no value." And I am so keenly aware of so many things. It is not just one thing that suggest this to my logical brain there are many. Including, but not limited to, how our flawed primary educational systems feed it. Remember all those dumb work sheets? "Good, better, best." All the sorting and categorizing? "Cut and paste all the picture that start with P, throw out the ones that don't belong"

Then I have to rationalize with things like: "I built that shed" to which the core will reply, "with your dad who was impatient and mad at you most of the time, despite how patient he has become with everyone else over the years."
So I'll try: "I biked 2 countries in 2 months with my 2 kids" to which my core will reply "and lost many friends because you tagged along and they didn't actually want you there, but you were too stupid to respond to the red flags."
"But I have at least walked a mile in the shoes of an elementary school teacher"
"And they did not offer to hold your job while you were in Brazil, plus the two teachers that shot down 100% (wish I were exaggerating there) of your ideas."

..."I am tired of fighting." I tell Dr. She today
 She said I have to keep fighting and fight harder again.
She meant it.
And while I am tired of fighting that was really all I needed to hear.
And she is correct.
So to my thoughts I say:
"now wait a minute, I didn't claim anything more than walking a mile in teacher shoes, and I fully admit that about did me in. My back gave out twice and I had more colds and lost my voice with those more times than I think I have in the rest of my life combined. And I was putting in 14 hour days, did you really want to go back to that? I did not ask them to hold the job either. Plus, those two teachers, that did, in fact, shoot down 100% (I also wish I were exaggerating) of my ideas also snagged many of those ideas out from under me and even pulled them out meetings with the big guys to make themselves look good. There is something to that which actually says a lot of good things about me."

"And I love my shed. I designed it and did a lot of the inside myself. Also it's probably good my dad feels safe enough with me to be ornery and impatient with me. He doesn't have that safety other places."

"As far as the friends, good riddance. You were there, you saw their true colors and you only biked with them for 1 out of the 2.5 months. You did this with your kids, by yourself, and you and I both know (or rather I and I know) they kind of hated you for that because it overshadowed them a bit and stole some of there glory, even though you weren't trying to."
"So core belief, you are wrong again and I am not okay with you being wrong about this so you will have to keep working on changing or be gone."
"You are right myself" and my core is softening, remembering why it has been so determined to change for me, and agreeing with Dr. She, to fight harder.
Because I am worth it.

Yes, others help determine my value

I need to feel loved.
I have felt so easily discarded and disregarded so many times by so many people that I am logically drawn to the conclusion that I am of little value.
How do we become what we are not?

Doubled up

11:45 pm
I can't sleep again.
The haunting images are coming back. My sons pocket knife left on the couch is harmless yet it begs to join the madness in my head. be physically present. And it is showing me (in visions) how it can be.
I HATE these thoughts. They are not welcome and I don't let them stay.
I force them away with whatever I've got. But sometimes they are persistent. If I change my thinking direction they will find someway to remind me of my worthlessness and advocate for killing me off in my own story. Like Antigone, not even the main character in her own play, I must die for the Creons' sake, pride and/or ego because he/they is/are the one/s in power.
Of course I will not, or at least I hope I will not, ...at very least I can say I will keep fighting for my life and resist the urge to hang myself in my forsaken tomb of abandonment- because I currently have a spoon to dig with and a few others that are hoping to help free me.
What a silly analogy.
I am already starting to feel a bit tired. Tired like my husband's patience is wearing with me.
I took 2. doubled my dose. I need to call the psychiatric PAC to get that officially prescribed. I think that may be wise.
Why the change?
Is it simply, like I already know, the medication does not change you and your thinking it just makes it possible for you to make the changes you need to.
At least that is my hope. Is that hope real?
Or is the timeline the culprit?
New neuropsychologist suggested I write one with all the things that happened, that they said or did that may have caused harm, and all the times I tried to tell them what was going one with me and it was ignored or avoided... All the times I tried to tell them that I was being haunted by suicidal thoughts followed by "I know what handle those" to keep me out of a lockup?  And all the times I tried to tell them "I just want to know what is going on with my head"
This is hard... HARD!
As I tried to write the timeline I realize and remember; it is too much. Too many times I tried to explain, to ask for help, hoping they saw what was really going on with me and believing them every time they took a different approach, decided it was something else or that I should go somewhere else.

Today: The previous was all written just before midnight last night and that last statement was exhausting enough (probably coupled with that double dose of quetiapine) to put me to sleep.
Trying to write out the timeline started the whole thing replaying again. "he loves me, he loves me not" flower petals trying to determine my fate kind of bullshit coupled with "You crazy!" and "They be crazy" and what the hell do I do about this?
I am so tired of this cycle, this damn cycle of mediocre crazy. And yet I am also immensely grateful that my crazy is so benign and understood (if only by me) because I know I am nowhere near the crazy of all the crap I hear and see all me and all around the world.
...Which can at times add to the burden I carry, because "where much is given, much is expected"
So I think it is time to walk away from all this today and enjoy my day. And I will.
But I'd like to share this funny story that was playing on the truck radio this morning: The nurse who loved me. ...( revised 9/10: Wait this isn't funny, it's the nurse that is saying hello to the rugs topography... I din't initially understand the violent attack part of it... Thankfully my crazy is much less violent towards others, an embarrassing mistake to think this song is beautiful and funny but at least evidence to suggest my own naive innocence, at least that)
Also I'm happy to say the knife is just a knife that got left laying around again; not a threat to my safety.

Superman takes Kryptonite for his sanity.

There have been many memories returned or revisited these last almost two years.
First the auto accident made everything feel off and unbalanced. My emotions were an instant mess, I felt disoriented and confused,  and even one side of my body felt taller than the other.
Then I started having feelings  and thoughts of "I have been here before, I have experienced this before" in relation to ways my brain was rerouting and functioning.
The chiropractor who suspected a concussion I was seeing did a little test. First he told me some words to remember; they were something like: apple, bubble, and ladder and I immediately recognized the visual pp, dd, bb pattern of the words so I was able to recall them later. I am not sure if he was conscious of this pattern or not, but for me, normally I don't visualize things like that so quickly and hardly care about remembering or making an effort to remember such things. However, it was an instinctive reaction, that was not how I normally function, but that felt familiar. Before he asked me to repeat those words the chiropractor had me track his finger. I was thinking it was silly and wondering why until he stopped. Then all of the sudden my head was swimming and the world was physically and visually throbbing or shaking. "What did you just do to my head," I eked  out as tears started to fall uncontrollably. I had to sit for sometime before the world stopped moving and I was able to drive myself home again.
I didn't know what magic he possessed and how he had done that to my head but I had experienced the world moving like that before, but I couldn't quite place it at that moment.
One of the more interesting things about that concussion was how my brain seemed to know how to accommodate, and even hide symptoms. I could feel the black dead ends that used to be well traveled routes and then I could feel it rerouting; doing something different to arrive at the same place. It was fascinating, confusing, exciting and scary all at the same time. It made me emotional and quiet.
Many strange moments, memories, and realizations have occurred since including the intriguing beard that suddenly spoke my name, and the names and faces that abandoned my recollection as they spoke in familiar tones; including the sensitivities to light and motion that I could not pinpoint as my internal surroundings danced around until my vestibular therapist pointed them out and we put them into controlled contexts. So many strange things I suspect related to TBI/mTBI... So many reoccurrences.
In this last week I had yet another deja vu memory. I feel as though I have been feeling pain more "normally" again since starting this mood stabilizer and I am actually happy for that because I was concerned about how I had not been feeling pain equivalent to the levels of injuries sustained (my ankle and lower back specifically). I laughed as I remembered how I had once before thought of how medication seemed to turn me into a mortal being. I used to claim an iron stomach and rarely ever got sick until I started taking nortriptyline. It worked well but eventually killed my immune system, the culprit for the ongoing flare up of cystic acne, and I was getting sick all the time. It was severe enough I had to stop taking it and my immune system came back. I don't remember what medication came after or if I was able to stop everything for awhile... I think it was lamictal next, but I am not certain. Eventually I went off all of them and was fine for sometime. Though maybe never really as well as I thought. It is hard to tell because so many things can simply be situational. I did go on adderall in 2015 and that has been a God send because so many things would pull too much energy from my brain, that I'd struggle to stay focused and keep up, which caused mild depression.
But since that dang airbag punch the head, my brain and emotions have been all over the place; functioning so differently that I have once again experienced crosses into the immortal realms. Even bigger and "better" cross overs. And as fun and/or fascinating as that may sound, if you have never experienced it, I can assure you, it is not maintainable and a sacrifice worth making so I join the realm of the mortals again (finally)  with the help of quetiapine.
Really, if you think about it: could you imagine how lonely it would be to be Superman? Yet when I take my kryptonite I find I may be more capable.