Intertwined Rewind

"Have you ever been evaluated by a psychiatrist?" It is the question I am being asked as part of the pre-paperwork for my neuropsychological evaluation that will be done tomorrow. I think back... Have I?
Oh yes, at age 18 when I spent the night in the place in Florida... oh, and I have one other time by the doctor of the study I did to get help with what I was experiencing in a way that would keep it hidden from records. I went this route because by then I knew too well how that stuff will follow and haunt you. How opportunities will disappear and judgements will become quick, severe, and unjust.  So I knew it was best to keep it as hidden as I could and going through a study would do just that. Good thing that study doctor liked me well enough to help me stay hidden for years -until I really no longer needed a psychiatrist. Do I share that now? Of course, because I was evaluated by a psychiatrist, I do remember that now, and I am no longer interested in hiding and/or burying that part of me because that has led to some trouble...
But when? The paperwork I am filling out asks for when...
I really cannot recall. I know an approximate within 5 years but thats a big spread. Then I remember this here blog and I think maybe I can find a more exact time frame...
So I find myself reading the very old stuff. A lot is the same. A lot is different. I am surprised at how the pattern of hypo-manic cycling is so similar to the manic crazy I went through- just not nearly to that same level. I am reading and remembering
...and then I am crying as I see pieces of me that were so clearly reflected back at me by that man that broke me...
I was even "okay with being wrong."
And now I am fighting words that curse God because this mess is so painful and so very confusing.
I don't want to fight that man. I don't want to be at odds with the reflections of me in the expert in the field of my life's defining trial.
It is too much.
And I hate that I have to remind myself, tell myself, or convince myself that it is not real, that he is not real. I hate that I have to keep fighting that in my head in order to escape whatever that was that I am not allowed to be a part of. I hate that I have to hate.
My story is his story in so many ways and his story saturated mine. I hate that he denies and hides   after twisting things just so to make me believe that he cared and cares more than he does.
Please oh please stop professing your love by having nothing to do with me outside of therapy.  
We both know it's not true so please let me off your hook, please help me break the cycle you started.
It really can be just that simple.
I don't need to keep getting burned in so many ways by the medical records that can't sort themselves out just so I can burn out for you.
Please

...and I don't know who it is reading this blog but I am certain it is NOT him... yet sometimes I still hope. Hope that he'll care, listen, soften his heart and his ego, let go of his fear and hear me.