To be honest, I don't hate what I am doing right now, which is writing the very lengthy claim of medical malpractice against IHC. Even though often what I am learning is disturbing and shocking, it has been and continues to be very interesting and fascinating learning process. I am learning a ton about the law and the realities about how our legal and justice systems work. In addition to that I have gained a lifetime of experience and side information as well. So I do not regret my decision and I am happy with my progress. In fact I finding increasing enjoyment of the process and it is proving to be a very worthwhile investment in myself.
However, it has not been an easy journey to get this far and, albeit less in frequency and intensity, I still find myself repeating my sustaining and self-fulfilling mantra of "That which we persist in doing becomes easier. Not that the task itself has changed but that our ability to do it has increased." I am glad this mantra is working. And so well as each step in this heavy laden and often stressful process is transforming into such a welcomed pride invoking accomplishment as I choose to appreciate and celebrate them instead of allowing them to weigh me down.
Of course I still have to be careful and realistic, and I am which is why I came here for a bit of reprieve from my current task...
The task you ask? Well, I am intentionally trying to recall all of those confusing and conflicting memories that were on vivid detail repeat in my brain for so long. So long that I feared they would never go away and I'd be torture for eternity by them if I did not solve precisely what they were, what they meant, and what to do about them... For sooo long...
For so long I worked to solve them so I could escape them. For so long I was torn apart a thousand times a day by them. For so long those memories and words of Dr. He plagued and haunted me. ... and indirectly my family.
And the harder I tried to solve the more they tore me down and every relationship for or with me.
What a strange irony that now I am struggling to bring those memories back to my conscious recollection; asking my brain to remember them as precisely as they used to replay in me.
Mania and the after effects. TBI as well. Such interesting and fascinating phenomena; especially from the 1st person perspective.
The preciseness and heightened senses that keep things so exact in your brain while compromising your ability to act precisely and logically at all. So fascinating and I don't hate that I have experienced it. I just hate how you are treated for it. But now I am rambling, a bit tangential, and maybe avoiding a bit...
Because really, there is a cautious part of me that does not want to bring those memories back at all. Let them stay buried? Nope. I won't. They will be exposed because this is how I keep moving forward and how I keep moving on. Dig them out and keep digging until every root of the problem is out of the ground; too dried and sunbaked to ever grow again so matter the ground it is sown in.
I do find it quite helpful that I have so much written down because then I don't have to rely on memory and the emotions that digging can bring to the surface. Reading and then re-writing is much easier to neutralize and compartmentalize.
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