Neuroplasticity and the Path of Most Resistance

A desert giant... maybe it's a monster

Last night I was thinking about the "what to do about it." I am so torn on how to handle where I am at in life because some very real injustices occurred and I have some who are almost pleading with me to stay strong, fight hard, and let my voice be heard so I can help others and help bring about real and actual positive changes in the industry while others still want me to "just let it go."
I don't want to go the whole "legal" route with the Neuroscience Institute. I never wanted to. Yet they would not listen because I wasn't. I tried to follow their rules and requests when they were not actually trying to help me and possibly even keeping me in a mentally fragile place intentionally in order to keep me from standing up for myself and being heard.
It is too weird and not ethical or fair but it seems in the world of psychologists and medical providers the term "ethical" is a term that they own and get to throw around however they like in order to benefit and protect themselves. It does not seem to matter what is actually ethical for me.
Any way you shake it, if "ethical" is a term meant to protect me, than this certainly did not happen....
and I did not come on here to write about this...
I will try to redirect back to my point, I was considering what to do. I do not want to be the bizarre creature they made me out to be and that I would rather not turn into. So last night I took to reading the very old stuff on this here blog; the stuff that I had forgotten about to see if it could offer me guidance.
If you don't know, I had forgotten completely about this blog until I was broken open and broken apart in therapy last November. I honestly had buried so much of me, or the air bag knocked more of my memories out than I realized, that it was an interesting moment when this blog came back to my recollection. Yesterday as I was reading I found that I had forgotten so much more than I even realized I had in that bizarre moment of recollection last November.
... I am kind of messed up...
But I am also very much not.
I am happy most of the time and I find magic all around me. I love life and the sensations that come with it. I am happy that my strength and stability are returning now in reality; not the false start of the buried me that jumped the gun with a manic burst and was then left untreated for far too long.
I have been on the extreme southern side of my state watching a niece and 3 nephews for the past two weeks. (with the exception of the TBI conference I went north for).  It is such a beautiful area with so many places I love to explore but have not had time to with the childcare gig consuming most of it.
This morning I took my niece to school and since my mother-in-law is also here I was able to take a moment to indulge in my surroundings. 

There was a neat little arboretum trail along the way. I decided to stop and walk it before returning to kids. I met a man who asked "is this real lava?" Apparently New Jersey does not have ancient lava flow beds. I got chatting with a lovely lady from New York for a bit. Then I turned off the pavement to enjoy the actual nature arboretum trail. It was beautiful and I enjoyed reading the names of the marked plants and learning if they were native or not. As I walked and embraced the allure of the area I found my trail had run out. But I did not turn back, I just kept on walking -as I so often do when I am intrigued and captivated by my surroundings.
It felt good on my ankle as the terrain gradually toughened and I had to work just a bit harder.  I earned a few scratches -my marks of adventure- for taking the path of most resistance.
Life is an adventure meant to be loved and I am loving my tiny moments. It is a part of me that people do not seem to see and it's too bad they are missing the magic.

I love Joshua Trees, they are so interesting.

This funky desert design is surprisingly not native.

Thinking it a peculiar place for a desert spring, I had to explore when I saw the water and heard the trickle. Instead of a spring I found a sprinkler fed patch of quicksand. Shoes clean up easily so it still made me smile.