okay...It's confession time
I am dragging my feet and procrastinating.
I did not want to go this route but realized I need to let go and move on.
But the problem is I really don't want to. I don't want to let go.
I feel cheated
I feel so cheated
not JUST from the professional and institutional side of this but
from the the freaking romantic side of this...
ugh... there I said it.
November 26, 2018: I'm fighting so hard to keep him, however I can. I feel such a powerful and profound connection that I know I don't fully understand, and have not been allowing myself to understand, but I want to. I want to be able to know this man for real, to see what this connection is; to know if this connection is real or just a side effect of treatment, healing, my broken brain and/or the psychology he has been practicing with me.
We can be friends... I don't remember how but I was pushing hard enough for it that he was loosing his composure. "I could never really open up to you" "I would always want to protect you"
"what is wrong with that?" I think but do not say. the feeling is mutual.
"and if I were to open up to you and allowed my self to be vulnerable with you I could not bare you leaving" his scrambling thoughts quickly fall from his mouth and I am not sure he meant to say that.
...but he did, and I heard it. and while I know it could mean something different than I think, it is very powerful
...it keeps me coming back.
he is expecting me to do what he himself cannot.
but even more- in that same moment, the tragic irony is; he saying that he just did opened up to me and became vulnerable... and now I cannot leave him. because he could not bare it.
and I don't want to.
I don't want to abandon him the way his wife or some other significant other had. I don't want to abandon him because I know what it feels like and I don't want to hurt him like that.
I don't want to abandon him the way he abandoned me.
...especially if those feelings are or could be real.
I am just now realizing this. and it is silly and messed up because he is so entirely gone and was so clear in that he would be.
So my confession. I guess I don't want to let go and I want to believe in the fantasy.
...To bad baby girl -it's time to get over it.
I guess.
...and I'm dragging my feet... not wanting to let go...
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Validated
Yesterday I had my post op appointment for my ankle. My beautiful surgeon got called into an emergency surgery so I saw his assistant. She has been assisting in these surgeries for a very long time; part of that time in the military. She was happy to inform me that my doc was one of the best. I always like to hear that.
When she saw me she remembered my surgery right away -didn't even have to consulate the report to remember.
"Oh, I remember you," she says,
"you were the worst ever!"
No, she did not say that, it was "yours was the worst I have ever seen."
"And the surgeons," she tells me (or least she was pretty sure he had also said it was the worst he had seen, definitely one of, if not the confirmed worst)
She explains how bad it was and how it must have been that way for some time.
"about a year and I half?" I ask.
"Yeah, that is a long time" she confirms.
She explains that there was even a second tear that the MRI didn't pick up because of how bad the tendonitis was.
Remember yesterdays post where I mentioned how all three doctors I saw about it were surprised by strength and my stability?
She stopped herself as tears started to well up in my eyes. "Oh no, what did I say wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing" I try to explain.
It is validating
and I am glad my husband is there to hear it.
It's Validating for so many reasons and yet so painful also.
It is symbolic and parallel to what is going on with me...
It is painful because I know it could mean some bad things that I did not realize it was so bad. That I did not feel enough pain to get me in sooner.
...and I had just seen the wrist doctor in the same office who suggested I might want to consult with a neurologist about the weird shaking in my left hand.
Maybe I have been working a lot harder than I give myself credit for to not be a burden and a complainer. To be independent and strong.
The overlooking and neglect of it is very much tied to and paralleling TBI to me... and maybe physiologically more than I know. Which honestly scares me.
"Even if I were open to that I'd have to be willing to take that one" he said at one point when I was trying to convince him that I was worth investing his time in. I was and still am not entirely sure what he thought I was asking him to be open to. I am not entirely sure I knew or know what I was asking him to be open to... but what I heard was that he was not willing to take me on because he knew too well the type of burden I might be. It cut me deeply but I did not show it and I have tried to ignore it, especially because logically I know I don't really know what he meant by that..
But I know that I am damaged. I have brain damage. And maybe it is worse than I know. It is a fear I think I really hide and have hidden well. I am afraid of aging and my life feels so much shorter because I know I am more likely to have problems due to it as I age... sometimes I fear that I feel it already. It is part of why the car accident concussion was so traumatic. I don't feel like I can afford it.
But that is fear. and maybe, hopefully that is all it is.
It is my bigger fear manifesting in my ankle. And it is traumatic too because the ankle got overlooked because the mTBI was so much the bigger problem. I needed to do everything I could to take care of that one. And ironically, the exercise and dealing with one thing at a time that were prescribed by the head doctors was contributing to the ankle problem.
These invisible injuries can be so complex.
And I am learning so dang much about myself when I thought I had me figured out. I thought it was everyone else I needed to figure out, because I am introspective and I tend to analyze myself first and what I can do and what my part is or was. I try to fix me first.
...and I know I need to stop trying to fix the broken parts of me by myself, yet, her I am.
I thought I knew how to ask for help. I thought I knew how to say no to people.
...ahh life. The more we learn the less we know.
When she saw me she remembered my surgery right away -didn't even have to consulate the report to remember.
"Oh, I remember you," she says,
"you were the worst ever!"
No, she did not say that, it was "yours was the worst I have ever seen."
"And the surgeons," she tells me (or least she was pretty sure he had also said it was the worst he had seen, definitely one of, if not the confirmed worst)
She explains how bad it was and how it must have been that way for some time.
"about a year and I half?" I ask.
"Yeah, that is a long time" she confirms.
She explains that there was even a second tear that the MRI didn't pick up because of how bad the tendonitis was.
Remember yesterdays post where I mentioned how all three doctors I saw about it were surprised by strength and my stability?
She stopped herself as tears started to well up in my eyes. "Oh no, what did I say wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing" I try to explain.
It is validating
and I am glad my husband is there to hear it.
It's Validating for so many reasons and yet so painful also.
It is symbolic and parallel to what is going on with me...
It is painful because I know it could mean some bad things that I did not realize it was so bad. That I did not feel enough pain to get me in sooner.
...and I had just seen the wrist doctor in the same office who suggested I might want to consult with a neurologist about the weird shaking in my left hand.
Maybe I have been working a lot harder than I give myself credit for to not be a burden and a complainer. To be independent and strong.
The overlooking and neglect of it is very much tied to and paralleling TBI to me... and maybe physiologically more than I know. Which honestly scares me.
"Even if I were open to that I'd have to be willing to take that one" he said at one point when I was trying to convince him that I was worth investing his time in. I was and still am not entirely sure what he thought I was asking him to be open to. I am not entirely sure I knew or know what I was asking him to be open to... but what I heard was that he was not willing to take me on because he knew too well the type of burden I might be. It cut me deeply but I did not show it and I have tried to ignore it, especially because logically I know I don't really know what he meant by that..
But I know that I am damaged. I have brain damage. And maybe it is worse than I know. It is a fear I think I really hide and have hidden well. I am afraid of aging and my life feels so much shorter because I know I am more likely to have problems due to it as I age... sometimes I fear that I feel it already. It is part of why the car accident concussion was so traumatic. I don't feel like I can afford it.
But that is fear. and maybe, hopefully that is all it is.
It is my bigger fear manifesting in my ankle. And it is traumatic too because the ankle got overlooked because the mTBI was so much the bigger problem. I needed to do everything I could to take care of that one. And ironically, the exercise and dealing with one thing at a time that were prescribed by the head doctors was contributing to the ankle problem.
These invisible injuries can be so complex.
And I am learning so dang much about myself when I thought I had me figured out. I thought it was everyone else I needed to figure out, because I am introspective and I tend to analyze myself first and what I can do and what my part is or was. I try to fix me first.
...and I know I need to stop trying to fix the broken parts of me by myself, yet, her I am.
I thought I knew how to ask for help. I thought I knew how to say no to people.
...ahh life. The more we learn the less we know.
how to handle the perfect storm
I find myself wondering about perfect storms and how they have the ability to reshape the world. Through them humanity at its worst can come out OR humanity at its best can come out. It all depends on how the "victims" of the storm choose to handle it.
They can help each other to rebuild or they can fight for their own survival.
In rebuilding they can improve upon or completely reshape what had been destroyed.
Who will you be?
I also find myself wondering about how we perpetuate our own cycles of neglect and abuse. How do we break those cycles? We may think we have, only to find ourself there once again... was it them or is it me this time? and often the abused becomes the abuser or the neglected becomes the neglector.
and I don't want to be either.
They can help each other to rebuild or they can fight for their own survival.
In rebuilding they can improve upon or completely reshape what had been destroyed.
Who will you be?
I also find myself wondering about how we perpetuate our own cycles of neglect and abuse. How do we break those cycles? We may think we have, only to find ourself there once again... was it them or is it me this time? and often the abused becomes the abuser or the neglected becomes the neglector.
and I don't want to be either.
Monday, March 11, 2019
The perfect storm
I think that I might be the perfect storm.
This will be a disjointed post of a whole lot of stuff rattling in my brain that I just want to get out quickly, so I can move on and be "more productive"
?what does that really mean anyway?
I get my stitches out today; post op on my ankle. "Will you have a scare?" my daughter asked.
" I better!" I reply.
This will be a disjointed post of a whole lot of stuff rattling in my brain that I just want to get out quickly, so I can move on and be "more productive"
?what does that really mean anyway?
I get my stitches out today; post op on my ankle. "Will you have a scare?" my daughter asked.
" I better!" I reply.
Why?
to me scars are the tattoos of adventure
and I think I want the scar to show because I have so many injuries that do not visibly show so people are not as careful with me as I sometimes may need them to be.
I think this is true for most people.
With my ankle I have learned:
to me scars are the tattoos of adventure
and I think I want the scar to show because I have so many injuries that do not visibly show so people are not as careful with me as I sometimes may need them to be.
I think this is true for most people.
With my ankle I have learned:
- some seemingly small injuries can become big problems if they are ignored or overlooked. I did not actually ignore this injury. I had my chiropractor adjusting it, I had mentioned it to doctors, but merely mentioned it, and it was overlooked because the head was much more pressing. I also tried to build it back carefully thinking it was just a sprain, and being a runner I knew plenty of ankle strengthening exercises so I had (according to all three orthopedic surgeons who looked at it) really good stability for the injury. But it was overlooked, misdiagnosed by me at the very beginning when it maybe could have healed without surgery, had I been booted.
- When your head is a mess you overlook many things. And you behave strange
- Many variables effect why things like this get missed
- It does not mean every little thing needs to be addressed immediately, but it suggests that balance is tricky (especially with a rattled/broken brain and injured ankle :)
- I got way better at riding switch (using your non dominant food as your lead while snowboarding) because of it; good things can come from injuries
- sometimes things need to get worse and you have to make decisions to actually allow or make it worse in order for real healing, improvement, and/or growth to happen.
so the ankle is recovering in my eternity of no weight bearing.
I do not know what to do with myself when I grow up again.
that is tricky
today I was struggling to get out of bed and face my fears and continue to cause those problems I need to cause in order to keep my other healing and growth going... In order to face reality and break the cycles of fantasy and my broken heart.
My body wanted to just keep sleeping away my troubled thoughts. But I knew by doing so I would be feeding a very negative and extremely counterproductive sleeping pattern/ routine that becomes harder and harder to break the longer you let it go. It is hard to force yourself to get out of bed when you have such limited mobility, nothing that you have too do, and crap you don't want to face. So I turned on the TV. I chose to do this and allowed myself to do this, to help tease my brain and body out of sleep and bed. It was a little thing, but it was doing something.
Turned out to be a great motivator as I "stuck around" to hear the story of a the Maslin's on Good Morning America https://www.today.com/video/how-a-married-couple-rebuilt-their-lives-after-a-tragic-crime-1455671875774
There are so many great lessons learned in this short clip. And I absolutely love how Abby explains that at the beginning she thought this was a journey about brain injury but she came to realize that this was really a "journey and a story of the human struggle."
Brain injuries and all troubles have a bright side. Mania can me fun, depression can give you depth and complexity, neuroplasticity helps you make connections that other people don't even know exist, anxiety can give you drive, and it can keep you safe, guilt can cause you to think before you act and to think of others... Obviously too much of these is no bueno, but they are not all bad.
Maybe this is why I liked this article so much:
I love the idea of utilizing our own alter egos. I like how they embrace the idea that our identity is constantly changing. Identity is fluid and dynamic not static and unchangeable.
I love this guy Jim Kwik's story. My sister shared a link to his story, I'll share the link on it's own blog entry because it deserves it's own attention.
But the point I will end on here is that life is so very strange and timing and things may or may not actually be "for a reason," it may all just be coincidence but sometimes I doubt it.
And other times I think it is just plain helpful and exciting to find so many things aligning that seem to point us in certain directions.
Other times I think it can be very healthy to give it all a reason and meaning. It can keep life, fun, interesting and meaningful.
I don't always understand the reasons, and maybe my brain takes things a bit too far. Maybe at times I have a hard time distinguishing reality from fantasy but maybe I am not so far off and maybe imagination is an excellent tool for not only surviving but thriving. :)
Maybe fantasy is the reality that makes life worth living.
"I love my beautiful crazy life." I tell the mountains as I remembered my blog I had forgotten for years amidst a flooding or memories that had been suppressed, when new me was trying to process the pain and strength of my heart where JP had taken root.
...Yep, I really love JP, it's one of the best lifts at our resort
Saturday, March 9, 2019
How to survive TBI
The thing about TBI is there are so many degrees and variables. Some recent information I have found suggests that the degree of recovery and lasting effects may be directly related to the amount of social and psychological support the person has.
... At 12 I was pretty screwed. While I had a lot better support than many people in the world, and I love and appreciate my parents, they had pretty screwed up thinking patterns and psychology from their own traumatic life experiences so it was not exactly in line with what a person needs when recovering from TBI.
Maybe that is why I really liked this article I found:
https://www.brainline.org/article/lost-found-what-brain-injury-survivors-want-you-know#comment-44708
I especially wish my parents had understood this one about me when I was a teen:
"We need cheerleaders now, as we start over, just like children do when they are growing up. Please help me and encourage all efforts. Please don’t be negative or critical. I am doing the best I can."
[I was really screwed on that one because Negative and Critical are my parents' middle names]
That and the stuff about sleeping. I got raked over the coals a lot about sleeping too much and being lazy.
...which is really stupid now that I think about it because in high school I was on the cross country, track and swim teams. Regularly placing, #1 for girls in distance running -holding at least 3 school records. I was on the yearbook staff, I was active in my church activities, I participated in student counsels, I was in the honor society and usually held at least one job.
...sigh... reprocessing
maybe I am not so worthless. ...although I was battling serious depression, mood stability and suicidal thoughts then.
some reliving there.
...But I have made huge progress. I do have much more ground now than I did then.
.... and yet so much less at the same time as my life and prospects grow ever shorter and ever stranger.
40 is possibly my weirdest year yet.
and for some strange reason I find this encouraging.
Dilemmas
Filing a complaint/ opening an investigation
Why am I struggling with that so much?
I don't want to say the wrong things, yet I know I will make plenty of mistakes
I don't want to do undeserved damage to anyones career or reputation but who am I to judge goes both ways: speak up or shut up, either is making a judgement or appears to be.
But I think the biggest reality that I am really struggling with is my sense of self worth
Do I really want my worthlessness and/or ability to screw things up to be confirmed to the next level?
Thursday, March 7, 2019
28 years crushed
I was able to talk to my sister the other day.
The one that is 13 months and 3 days older than I.
We shared a room and just about everything else growing up and she was there (age 13) when I (age 12) sustained the TBI from the tree that my tube collided with upon descending a snow covered path. She was the one who was furious when she saw them pulling my seemingly lifeless body in a sled across the field to the cars. My head rested on her shoulder or lap as she accompanied me home and then to the hospital. She has never even complained about me throwing up in the car, and then riding to hospital in that car. She had to fill out incident reports and medical histories about me. She listened to me scream from the other room "don't take my clothes off" when they were trying to get me into appropriate hospital attire.
Though it was a closed head injury it caused some swelling that lasted awhile and she remembers my head being swollen and squishy. I remember that part too, but the memory of it doesn't bother me nearly as much.
It was a very traumatic experience for her.
This is my sister who knew me better than anyone. I was often her little shadow. She knew me before the accident and she knew me after. She has always seemed to know better than even myself how the accident had effected me.
She is the sister that saw, through our adolescence and beyond, how the head injury effected friendships and relationships. She watched me struggle and has confessed she wishes she had known how to explain to people what they didn't understand about me; that even though it was me it wasn't really me.
So when I told her of how things had taken a turn with my neuropsychologist,
she was very angry.
She was furious when I told her that at one point in trying to understand all of this, my concussion doctor -after discussing with the neuropsychologist- had suggested that the concussion problems may be secondary to mental illness.
"No, the only reason you have mental illness problems is because of head injury!" she fumed. "They need to understand that"
and she was furious that the office manager treated me the way she had. She was baffled that a place that treats people with neurological conditions would ever think that is a good idea.
She pointed out that they put my life in jeopardy. I explained to my sister that I was no longer in crises when that lady yelled at me, but she pointed out it did not matter and that I was still vulnerable. She is right.
Sometimes we need big sisters to speak up for us.
And it was especially wrong considering I had recently had a manic episode. I do not like to admit things like this and also I have made such huge progress I like to not focus on it as much as possible, but the truth is I have had to be hyper-diligent in fending off and being aware of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
and that is all I want to say about that, because I know enough to know I don't really want to die and if they plague me too much or start tainting other desires I've got loads of tools to fight it... including the antidepressant that my doctor recently doubled my dose of.
But even more than all of this the one thing that my dear sister was able to recognize, the most important thing I tried and have tried to explain to Dr. He, was that that moment of him deciding I was done with TBI related treatment and therapy was actually the beginning of me accepting how TBI was the part of my whole self and the perfectly imperfect part of my life that I need to come to understand and accept in order to really stay connected with my self and feel that I was of value.
In that moment, 28 years of hope were crushed
as he dropped me and then allowed me to be transformed into whatever monster of a liar or "crazy person" his facility has painted me to be, ignoring the fact that head injury is what drove me there and what has been driving me to be heard ever sense.
My sister got it as she put it into the word context of what I was trying to explain "28 years of hope were crushed." She understands the magnitude of this for me.
I cannot just let this go. To do so is to die. I cannot believe that I do not belong or am unwelcome at a neuroscience institution that specializes in treating people with TBI, especially when they were my hope and chance to rewrite the wrongs of abandonment and rejection that had perpetuated the negative effects of my first TBI related emotional regulation difficulties.
The rejection of a man I connected so easily and naturally with and could love in any form is one thing
but coupled with the rejection of my broken brain where it is supposed to be safe and cared for is too much to bare.
So I fight for me.
The one that is 13 months and 3 days older than I.
We shared a room and just about everything else growing up and she was there (age 13) when I (age 12) sustained the TBI from the tree that my tube collided with upon descending a snow covered path. She was the one who was furious when she saw them pulling my seemingly lifeless body in a sled across the field to the cars. My head rested on her shoulder or lap as she accompanied me home and then to the hospital. She has never even complained about me throwing up in the car, and then riding to hospital in that car. She had to fill out incident reports and medical histories about me. She listened to me scream from the other room "don't take my clothes off" when they were trying to get me into appropriate hospital attire.
Though it was a closed head injury it caused some swelling that lasted awhile and she remembers my head being swollen and squishy. I remember that part too, but the memory of it doesn't bother me nearly as much.
It was a very traumatic experience for her.
This is my sister who knew me better than anyone. I was often her little shadow. She knew me before the accident and she knew me after. She has always seemed to know better than even myself how the accident had effected me.
She is the sister that saw, through our adolescence and beyond, how the head injury effected friendships and relationships. She watched me struggle and has confessed she wishes she had known how to explain to people what they didn't understand about me; that even though it was me it wasn't really me.
So when I told her of how things had taken a turn with my neuropsychologist,
she was very angry.
She was furious when I told her that at one point in trying to understand all of this, my concussion doctor -after discussing with the neuropsychologist- had suggested that the concussion problems may be secondary to mental illness.
"No, the only reason you have mental illness problems is because of head injury!" she fumed. "They need to understand that"
and she was furious that the office manager treated me the way she had. She was baffled that a place that treats people with neurological conditions would ever think that is a good idea.
She pointed out that they put my life in jeopardy. I explained to my sister that I was no longer in crises when that lady yelled at me, but she pointed out it did not matter and that I was still vulnerable. She is right.
Sometimes we need big sisters to speak up for us.
And it was especially wrong considering I had recently had a manic episode. I do not like to admit things like this and also I have made such huge progress I like to not focus on it as much as possible, but the truth is I have had to be hyper-diligent in fending off and being aware of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
and that is all I want to say about that, because I know enough to know I don't really want to die and if they plague me too much or start tainting other desires I've got loads of tools to fight it... including the antidepressant that my doctor recently doubled my dose of.
But even more than all of this the one thing that my dear sister was able to recognize, the most important thing I tried and have tried to explain to Dr. He, was that that moment of him deciding I was done with TBI related treatment and therapy was actually the beginning of me accepting how TBI was the part of my whole self and the perfectly imperfect part of my life that I need to come to understand and accept in order to really stay connected with my self and feel that I was of value.
In that moment, 28 years of hope were crushed
as he dropped me and then allowed me to be transformed into whatever monster of a liar or "crazy person" his facility has painted me to be, ignoring the fact that head injury is what drove me there and what has been driving me to be heard ever sense.
My sister got it as she put it into the word context of what I was trying to explain "28 years of hope were crushed." She understands the magnitude of this for me.
I cannot just let this go. To do so is to die. I cannot believe that I do not belong or am unwelcome at a neuroscience institution that specializes in treating people with TBI, especially when they were my hope and chance to rewrite the wrongs of abandonment and rejection that had perpetuated the negative effects of my first TBI related emotional regulation difficulties.
The rejection of a man I connected so easily and naturally with and could love in any form is one thing
but coupled with the rejection of my broken brain where it is supposed to be safe and cared for is too much to bare.
So I fight for me.
Wednesday, March 6, 2019
gaslighting?
I learned a new term today "gaslighting"
I feel intimidated and small, and I question myself.
I am not sure who I can trust and every effort takes immense courage.
But my efforts are being used against me.
...and even in things unrelated to where I feel that gaslighting may have happened
it takes immense courage to put myself out there
... even for the sake of my kids (maybe even more for the sake of my kids, because I don't want to screw things up for them)
I feel intimidated and small, and I question myself.
I am not sure who I can trust and every effort takes immense courage.
But my efforts are being used against me.
...and even in things unrelated to where I feel that gaslighting may have happened
it takes immense courage to put myself out there
... even for the sake of my kids (maybe even more for the sake of my kids, because I don't want to screw things up for them)
Monday, March 4, 2019
Power Struggle?
He rubbed his right eye with his right middle finger
while listening to the song I played to help me express the feelings my mind was blocking me from expressing
my transference feelings
the stuff that all the online research had told me I "should" discuss with my therapist
(and there it is that word "should" the mistake of my cherished golden map...)
The stuff that skilled therapists looked forward to as it meant their patient was ready to really start making progress.
Safe, trusted, responsible, skilled therapists
he was that to me... I knew he could help me
he was in the position of power
...but I was not willing to give that to him
There is something more to this story.
while listening to the song I played to help me express the feelings my mind was blocking me from expressing
my transference feelings
the stuff that all the online research had told me I "should" discuss with my therapist
(and there it is that word "should" the mistake of my cherished golden map...)
The stuff that skilled therapists looked forward to as it meant their patient was ready to really start making progress.
Safe, trusted, responsible, skilled therapists
he was that to me... I knew he could help me
he was in the position of power
...but I was not willing to give that to him
There is something more to this story.
How deep or diabolical it is I don’t know
but I know that amidst the omens of gods and spirit animals
it is not the time to drop a patient of psychotherapy
Sunday, March 3, 2019
TBI: embracing my "disability" ?
The more I learn about head injuries (TBI- traumatic brain injury) the more I wonder if part of the counter-transference problem is that I am a physical manifestation of his profession and maybe even of his own work. (and a not so bad looking one either) Everything he has dedicated so much of his life to I embody in a real life form. I have developed my own ways to adapt and the more effective ones, I am sure, have mirrored his studies while other adaptations may make him question. But I am a manifestation of longterm outcomes of TBI.
I don't think he wanted to see that in me.
When he said something to the effect of "being willing to take that on" I wonder if that was a negative stigma and prejudice he, himself held, jaded by his education and career. He has to maintain superiority and elevated status?
I felt it was a major slight to me. Am I Michael Bluth's Mr. F?
Maybe.
But I am not less.
I am significant and I could be of value in the industry and to the facility that has so callously turned their back on me.
I know this field. I know TBI. I handled it alone and built a box to keep it contained that, though incredibly flawed, fooled even the best.
I don't think he wanted to see that in me.
When he said something to the effect of "being willing to take that on" I wonder if that was a negative stigma and prejudice he, himself held, jaded by his education and career. He has to maintain superiority and elevated status?
I felt it was a major slight to me. Am I Michael Bluth's Mr. F?
Maybe.
But I am not less.
I am significant and I could be of value in the industry and to the facility that has so callously turned their back on me.
I know this field. I know TBI. I handled it alone and built a box to keep it contained that, though incredibly flawed, fooled even the best.
Dear Exiling Therapist,
Why did you choose to go this route with me.
To banish me from the hope of recovery
the hope of reconciling my split parts with an understanding of how TBI had effected those splits
To take away any hope of successful reconciliation with anyone
...successful communication
To devalue me so completely.
"you want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about"
Do you think I am a fraud in your industry?
Or are you all frauds in your industry?
Is the industry itself a fraud?
I suppose in a very sad way that can give me hope
but can it?...as I continue to fail in my attempts to prove
that I am worth investing in.
Will I ever be given the chance to prove myself or have I already proven myself to my fullest potential
and I need to resign myself to acceptance of this life the way it is and being what everyone else believes it should be.
To banish me from the hope of recovery
the hope of reconciling my split parts with an understanding of how TBI had effected those splits
To take away any hope of successful reconciliation with anyone
...successful communication
To devalue me so completely.
"you want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about"
Do you think I am a fraud in your industry?
Or are you all frauds in your industry?
Is the industry itself a fraud?
I suppose in a very sad way that can give me hope
but can it?...as I continue to fail in my attempts to prove
that I am worth investing in.
Will I ever be given the chance to prove myself or have I already proven myself to my fullest potential
and I need to resign myself to acceptance of this life the way it is and being what everyone else believes it should be.
Friday, March 1, 2019
The Best Way to Kill Fantasy is Through Reality
so it's time to write again... I really have a lot to work through this morning and I thought to put it in my 200 plus page self discovery report but I think I want this one "out there"
I was talking to my sister the other day, who lives a couple of states away. I told her about how the the facility manager treated me when I tried to speak with her when I went in to request a copy of their patient bill of rights. I think I have mentioned this; that she was aggressive and rude, she yelled at me in front of my kids and she refused to provide me with my medical records or a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She even left the area code off of the phone # she very begrudgingly provided, a passive aggressive move -I think. I told my sister the details and my sisters simple reply was;
"she's in love with him."
Hmmm... Interesting. Funny thing is, something similar had crossed my mind in my first encounter with her. But it had merely crossed it.
This is something to consider though.
And this is where I struggle to suggest things because I do not think so highly of myself so I may have to take a 3rd person perspective on this one because when I do that I see that this possibility could make sense. I'll write in 1st person but I'm thinking more in an objective 3rd person way.
Is it possible?
If so
This guy had it bad for me
and she is extremely jealous because she either has some sort of relationship with him or wants it. That would make sense why she would behave so incredibly unprofessionally and why she would even cross into the potentially illegal (denying a patient their records and refusing to address complaints or provide them with the information they need to resolve their issues). It would make sense why they would not want to keep me in house and label me with a scarlet letter. It makes sense in that realm with her.
But what about his feelings for me? Could they have been that intense?
He had it bad for me? Is it possible that while I was hearing that he wanted nothing to do with me -ever- to mean that he did not think I was capable (of helping him, of becoming a therapist myself, of being a friend or anything or even of being his client anymore) or worth his time... maybe he really was professing his profoundly deep but forbidden feelings for me? Maybe he genuinely believes that it was not mania at all but the feelings of those forbidden feelings reciprocated? Maybe it is.
I can not stand that thought. It grips my heart and presses it so hard I am certain I won't survive.
I doubt it because I am too practical and I can easily see so many reasons for a typical transference countertransference or even atypical, but still, not something nearly as soulmate-esque: It could have simply been that we both love his profession but just from different sides of it and that fascination was misplaced or misinterpreted as a more romantic connection as it was not something either party fully realized or understood. I think this is a very real possibility and something I would love to discus/explore. It makes sense and could be so beneficial to so many people if we could work together to better understand that kind of transference-countertransference scenario.
But alas, I don't imagine that the intrigue of the way I had accommodated and intellectually handled head injury for so long, without formal training or complete understanding of what I was actually dealing with, would get me banned from his facility. Of course they currently have me painted as a Liability so the sad loss of that is yet another failure and lost potential I get to grieve.
...and, though I am just starting my day after a good nights sleep, I am ready to sleep again and my mind is already worn down by the thought of this ridiculous but deeply desired "romantic" connection that I am certain I need to accept as only a product of my manic delusions.
This is why I so desperately want clarification but making so many mistakes in asking for it. This is my most vulnerable confession ...
- January- I know I need to follow up with the concussion doctor if I want to understand this new mood instability but I also know it will be hard to because she is in the same facility as Dr. He.
I am waiting for my name to be called.
A tall middle aged man with longish hair and a beard walks out of the far door with a plain white paper in his hand.
I strain to see the handwriting
I recognize it instantly and it makes me happy. I love that handwriting. [If I were a handwriting analysts I would guess the owner of it were well educated, well disciplined and responsible but also had a playful side and secretly a touch of hopeless romantic at heart.]
I am happy to see he is doing well
and he is helping people.
I am happy for this man because I know he is in the best hands.
I am hopeful that I will catch a glimpse of Dr. He as he comes out to get his next patient. But instead I notice an Asian lady coming out to get a patient... and then she does again. This is unusual, I have never seen that happen before. This time as she walks by she seems to be staring me down. She at least notices me. I do not know her so I am not sure why. It is awhile before I am called back and Dr. P never comes out.
Finally I am called in. I ask the nurse who is taking me back if I can talk with Dr. He while I am there.
As I try to explain to my concussion doctor my breakdown and current symptoms I struggle.
I am in protection mode, I do not know who I can trust and I do not want to get Dr. He into trouble. I do not want to cause him harm or further complicate his already complex life. I break down and am an emotional mess. I beg to see Cherri, (Cherri since he can no longer be Dr. He to me) because he knows what happened, he will know what to do and how to help me.
"I need him to be real again" I say.
And I do
the manic fed fantasy is destroying me, and I just need to understand it from a rational place, but I need him to be real for that to happen.
It is interpreted differently than that. Evidence that I am "crazy"
But deep down inside I know it is not just me that put me here and I know there is something more to it. I know this because it is new territory for me. I know it because of how it has effected me, my relationships and my thoughts. ...and like it or not we are all connected in this universe and what we do impacts others... Especially when you are intentionally working with the psychology of others.
... so my most vulnerable confession becomes evidence of either how seriously difficult mood instability, head injury, mania, mental illness or whatever it is really can make life for a person
OR
evidence of how counter-transference is being handled or used so carelessly and unscrupulously by facilities and practitioners, the APA, and within the field of psychology.
I was talking to my sister the other day, who lives a couple of states away. I told her about how the the facility manager treated me when I tried to speak with her when I went in to request a copy of their patient bill of rights. I think I have mentioned this; that she was aggressive and rude, she yelled at me in front of my kids and she refused to provide me with my medical records or a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She even left the area code off of the phone # she very begrudgingly provided, a passive aggressive move -I think. I told my sister the details and my sisters simple reply was;
"she's in love with him."
Hmmm... Interesting. Funny thing is, something similar had crossed my mind in my first encounter with her. But it had merely crossed it.
This is something to consider though.
And this is where I struggle to suggest things because I do not think so highly of myself so I may have to take a 3rd person perspective on this one because when I do that I see that this possibility could make sense. I'll write in 1st person but I'm thinking more in an objective 3rd person way.
Is it possible?
If so
This guy had it bad for me
and she is extremely jealous because she either has some sort of relationship with him or wants it. That would make sense why she would behave so incredibly unprofessionally and why she would even cross into the potentially illegal (denying a patient their records and refusing to address complaints or provide them with the information they need to resolve their issues). It would make sense why they would not want to keep me in house and label me with a scarlet letter. It makes sense in that realm with her.
But what about his feelings for me? Could they have been that intense?
He had it bad for me? Is it possible that while I was hearing that he wanted nothing to do with me -ever- to mean that he did not think I was capable (of helping him, of becoming a therapist myself, of being a friend or anything or even of being his client anymore) or worth his time... maybe he really was professing his profoundly deep but forbidden feelings for me? Maybe he genuinely believes that it was not mania at all but the feelings of those forbidden feelings reciprocated? Maybe it is.
I can not stand that thought. It grips my heart and presses it so hard I am certain I won't survive.
I doubt it because I am too practical and I can easily see so many reasons for a typical transference countertransference or even atypical, but still, not something nearly as soulmate-esque: It could have simply been that we both love his profession but just from different sides of it and that fascination was misplaced or misinterpreted as a more romantic connection as it was not something either party fully realized or understood. I think this is a very real possibility and something I would love to discus/explore. It makes sense and could be so beneficial to so many people if we could work together to better understand that kind of transference-countertransference scenario.
But alas, I don't imagine that the intrigue of the way I had accommodated and intellectually handled head injury for so long, without formal training or complete understanding of what I was actually dealing with, would get me banned from his facility. Of course they currently have me painted as a Liability so the sad loss of that is yet another failure and lost potential I get to grieve.
...and, though I am just starting my day after a good nights sleep, I am ready to sleep again and my mind is already worn down by the thought of this ridiculous but deeply desired "romantic" connection that I am certain I need to accept as only a product of my manic delusions.
This is why I so desperately want clarification but making so many mistakes in asking for it. This is my most vulnerable confession ...
- January- I know I need to follow up with the concussion doctor if I want to understand this new mood instability but I also know it will be hard to because she is in the same facility as Dr. He.
I am waiting for my name to be called.
A tall middle aged man with longish hair and a beard walks out of the far door with a plain white paper in his hand.
I strain to see the handwriting
I recognize it instantly and it makes me happy. I love that handwriting. [If I were a handwriting analysts I would guess the owner of it were well educated, well disciplined and responsible but also had a playful side and secretly a touch of hopeless romantic at heart.]
I am happy to see he is doing well
and he is helping people.
I am happy for this man because I know he is in the best hands.
I am hopeful that I will catch a glimpse of Dr. He as he comes out to get his next patient. But instead I notice an Asian lady coming out to get a patient... and then she does again. This is unusual, I have never seen that happen before. This time as she walks by she seems to be staring me down. She at least notices me. I do not know her so I am not sure why. It is awhile before I am called back and Dr. P never comes out.
Finally I am called in. I ask the nurse who is taking me back if I can talk with Dr. He while I am there.
As I try to explain to my concussion doctor my breakdown and current symptoms I struggle.
I am in protection mode, I do not know who I can trust and I do not want to get Dr. He into trouble. I do not want to cause him harm or further complicate his already complex life. I break down and am an emotional mess. I beg to see Cherri, (Cherri since he can no longer be Dr. He to me) because he knows what happened, he will know what to do and how to help me.
"I need him to be real again" I say.
And I do
the manic fed fantasy is destroying me, and I just need to understand it from a rational place, but I need him to be real for that to happen.
It is interpreted differently than that. Evidence that I am "crazy"
But deep down inside I know it is not just me that put me here and I know there is something more to it. I know this because it is new territory for me. I know it because of how it has effected me, my relationships and my thoughts. ...and like it or not we are all connected in this universe and what we do impacts others... Especially when you are intentionally working with the psychology of others.
... so my most vulnerable confession becomes evidence of either how seriously difficult mood instability, head injury, mania, mental illness or whatever it is really can make life for a person
OR
evidence of how counter-transference is being handled or used so carelessly and unscrupulously by facilities and practitioners, the APA, and within the field of psychology.
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Depression
this post was drafted in 1/26-ish
Remember the Jesus Man and the night I spent in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida?
The next morning when I got to be evaluated I was told that I had depression. Maybe manic was used in there too, and maybe the word clinical. I really don't recall, at that point depression was the only word that I knew so it was the word that stuck. It was quite the conversation and bit of a hard one, especially since I came from my family where you just get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I was not sure how to handle this news and was not sure I wanted to take medication. But I agreed. She was very persuasive and I liked her temperament so I listened and agreed. I also agreed to meet with a lovely psychologist, her name was Peggy (or maybe that was the psychiatrist). It was in talking with her that I learned that it was actually not a normal thing to have thoughts of self destruction and how. She legitimately and authentically answered "no" after giving it some thought when I asked her if she really had never thought about it.
It was mind blowing.
Maybe there really was a medical problem with me.
I also explained how I felt I was being crushed by an anvil like in the cartoons, only it was slow and constant.
I told here about how I wanted to break my brain open so I could see all the pieces and sort out the puzzle that was inside. I explained how I was stuck in indecision because I wanted to do everything and if I started down one path that would keep me from doing the other things and then I'd be missing out on those. She learned about my excessive jobs (I think I held four at the time) and my slew of activities I was involved in during high school. I didn't see her that many times, but I loved her and she was a great source of comfort to me. She helped me be okay with taking medication.
When I arrived back home all the way across the country a few months later, one of the first things I did was head to the library to find out what I could about this "illness" I had been diagnosed with. I think the word manic may have been used because I remember information about that in my stack of books. My stack was at least knee high, probably closer to my waist. One of those stacks that make you think "Wow, I am surprised a public library lets people check out that many books at once."
I renewed them a couple of times.
I will admit I did not fully read all of them, I probably didn't fully read any of them front to back really, but I read a lot. I skimmed to what was most important to know. What would help me. I only skimmed most of the personal stories as I started to feel the sense of hopelessness that was a common theme.
While I learned a lot, like that caffeine and alcohol are major contributors to depression and anxiety, that regular exercise and a healthy diet were important etc., Over all I really did not like how damn depressing they all were. How so much of the writing was there to convince me or my family members that this was going to be a problem for me my entire life.
With much resolve and determination I decided that was not for me. I would not like that to be me. I was not going to let this be a damned lifelong depressing battle.
And though I enjoy some crazy sometimes and I do occasionally go on antidepressant (this most recent because of the car accident) I feel that over all I have beat the hellish depression of my younger days. Even having lost myself and feeling the pain of rejection from some pretty intense situations, I am not depressed, at times delusional, sometimes sad and hurt. okay, I suppose sometimes I am depressed but I have learned so many coping strategies and know how to identify it, treat it, embrace it, and avoid it as needed. And really I feel quite happy about this. Looking back I can say it sucks and it's hard but I can also say I have learned and gained so much in really truly trying to overcome it and/or work with it. I am a better and happier version of me because of it!
Really, depression is not all bad. :)
Remember the Jesus Man and the night I spent in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida?
The next morning when I got to be evaluated I was told that I had depression. Maybe manic was used in there too, and maybe the word clinical. I really don't recall, at that point depression was the only word that I knew so it was the word that stuck. It was quite the conversation and bit of a hard one, especially since I came from my family where you just get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I was not sure how to handle this news and was not sure I wanted to take medication. But I agreed. She was very persuasive and I liked her temperament so I listened and agreed. I also agreed to meet with a lovely psychologist, her name was Peggy (or maybe that was the psychiatrist). It was in talking with her that I learned that it was actually not a normal thing to have thoughts of self destruction and how. She legitimately and authentically answered "no" after giving it some thought when I asked her if she really had never thought about it.
It was mind blowing.
Maybe there really was a medical problem with me.
I also explained how I felt I was being crushed by an anvil like in the cartoons, only it was slow and constant.
I told here about how I wanted to break my brain open so I could see all the pieces and sort out the puzzle that was inside. I explained how I was stuck in indecision because I wanted to do everything and if I started down one path that would keep me from doing the other things and then I'd be missing out on those. She learned about my excessive jobs (I think I held four at the time) and my slew of activities I was involved in during high school. I didn't see her that many times, but I loved her and she was a great source of comfort to me. She helped me be okay with taking medication.
When I arrived back home all the way across the country a few months later, one of the first things I did was head to the library to find out what I could about this "illness" I had been diagnosed with. I think the word manic may have been used because I remember information about that in my stack of books. My stack was at least knee high, probably closer to my waist. One of those stacks that make you think "Wow, I am surprised a public library lets people check out that many books at once."
I renewed them a couple of times.
I will admit I did not fully read all of them, I probably didn't fully read any of them front to back really, but I read a lot. I skimmed to what was most important to know. What would help me. I only skimmed most of the personal stories as I started to feel the sense of hopelessness that was a common theme.
While I learned a lot, like that caffeine and alcohol are major contributors to depression and anxiety, that regular exercise and a healthy diet were important etc., Over all I really did not like how damn depressing they all were. How so much of the writing was there to convince me or my family members that this was going to be a problem for me my entire life.
With much resolve and determination I decided that was not for me. I would not like that to be me. I was not going to let this be a damned lifelong depressing battle.
And though I enjoy some crazy sometimes and I do occasionally go on antidepressant (this most recent because of the car accident) I feel that over all I have beat the hellish depression of my younger days. Even having lost myself and feeling the pain of rejection from some pretty intense situations, I am not depressed, at times delusional, sometimes sad and hurt. okay, I suppose sometimes I am depressed but I have learned so many coping strategies and know how to identify it, treat it, embrace it, and avoid it as needed. And really I feel quite happy about this. Looking back I can say it sucks and it's hard but I can also say I have learned and gained so much in really truly trying to overcome it and/or work with it. I am a better and happier version of me because of it!
Really, depression is not all bad. :)
The Seductress
“Stop emailing me” It was a direct command, stated very boldly. It was a side of him I had not seen before and it was a bit scary but mostly it was odd, because it was meant to be scary and it was meant to be a type of Jedi mind trick. I figured that much. and looking back it is funny to me.
“yeah, sorry about that,” I responded casually, “I figured I had that luxury..."He scrambled... soft voice, maybe baffled by my reaction, "It's just that it was... very deep and... it could get me in trouble..." or something to that effect, but he didn't seem to know quite what to say or maybe even what he was saying.
I couldn't figure why it would get him into trouble. Nothing "wrong" had been said or transpired.
...but then again I was a bit... oh, yep, there it is; manic... which was actually the point I was trying to make or what I was trying to help him see at the time through the emails, (though that was not my manic conscious intention; however, looking back at them it is clearly obvious)
and, well, in those manic times... interpretations are very easily misconstrued.
I think some of his staff think I was there with the intent to seduce. I think they have tried to convince him of that. Or he them.
It's taken me awhile to figure that one out, because it is harder to figure out the things people suspect or are likely accusing you of when your intentions are so far from that.
But I think my mystical manic abilities fooled them and they felt threatened by my temporary superpowers, so that is what made sense to their menial mortal minds.
Which must mean I am really good because they are the professionals. They are the ones with doctorates, fancy titles of influence and accolades and yet they felt and feel threatened by little old me!
A power struggle and I was winning when I wasn't even playing.
its so freaking hilarious!
(but also very frustrating)
and as far as the Jedi mind tricks go: It won't work on me if it is that obvious and I will let you know that you are only allowed to have as much power over me as I allow you to have. I'll obey if I want to obey.
Buried me, coming to the surface
Yes mam'
Welcome Back
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Cherished and grieved
... and on that note I will add that I am realizing that I can not simply let go and forget those people who I cherish in my heart. When I try to my heart breaks and hurts and I find myself fading and dying with them. And while I may not be able to have them in my life all the time or even at all, I will forever cherish them -no matter the fight I have to fight for me- and my heart will always be open for and to them.
And today, this new day like everyday, I embrace me and continue to work to be the best version of me. Today I am choosing to be patient with my grieving. To love myself through it and forgive myself. To be kind to myself because I did not ask for this and I was not ready to grieve a loss that was both significant to me and confusing.
Today I am not trying to fight, push out or burn up memories I am just letting them be what they are and loving them the way I do when I think of others I have lost.
I would never try to push memories of my brother out, try to force myself to "get over" him. He is cherished to me and I hold onto and cherish the memories of him.
I found strength today in thinking of my ex-therapist similarly. I do not think of him like I do a brother but he was a cherished and dear person to me with whom I connected easily and more deeply than I ever let him know. While I understand I have to let him go and grieve that loss I do not want to lose him anymore than I wanted to lose my brother and so I suppose I will have to let his memories stay... because as he fades and die so do I*
...and I still have far too much life left in me
(*and though that sounds super romantic [kind of super cheesy] and maybe it is; it also may just merely be the one sided reality for the client/patient that was dealt the hand of premature/mishandled termination, lost objectivity, and/or office politics driven decisions in counseling/psychotherapy)
And today, this new day like everyday, I embrace me and continue to work to be the best version of me. Today I am choosing to be patient with my grieving. To love myself through it and forgive myself. To be kind to myself because I did not ask for this and I was not ready to grieve a loss that was both significant to me and confusing.
Today I am not trying to fight, push out or burn up memories I am just letting them be what they are and loving them the way I do when I think of others I have lost.
I would never try to push memories of my brother out, try to force myself to "get over" him. He is cherished to me and I hold onto and cherish the memories of him.
I found strength today in thinking of my ex-therapist similarly. I do not think of him like I do a brother but he was a cherished and dear person to me with whom I connected easily and more deeply than I ever let him know. While I understand I have to let him go and grieve that loss I do not want to lose him anymore than I wanted to lose my brother and so I suppose I will have to let his memories stay... because as he fades and die so do I*
...and I still have far too much life left in me
(*and though that sounds super romantic [
Isabella
While we were in Brazil (my kids and myself) my son participated in a youth beach soccer group once a week -Flamenco's, I believe. It was pretty fun to see what they were teaching the kids in Brazil soccer organizations because many of the moves are "illegal" in our US youth soccer organizations (i.e. bicycle kicks and headers). My daughter and I enjoyed hanging out on the beach and watching while my son played. My daughter participated in dance instead of soccer while there so she hung with me instead of the soccer kids.
One week we met a lady who was visiting Rio from a different Brazilian state. Her daughter being a huge soccer enthusiast was excited to participate in the beach soccer practice.
Isabella had done some schooling in the US and had also lived in New Zealand (the daughter was born there and her dad still lived there) so she was an easy person for us to talk to since she was fluent in English (we were far from fluent in Portuguese).
We hit it off very well, so well that she invited us to come visit her in her home state of Bahia.
This may be the sort of thing that earns me a reputation for being crazy but after some phone conversations and some WhatsApp communication we decided to take her up on the offer. So off we went to stay with Isabella and her daughter and some of their friends for 2 weeks.
My son still considers this the best two weeks of his life. If he could live anywhere or travel anywhere in the world he insists it would be Pria de Forte. It really was an amazing two weeks and I absolutely love and admire the friends we made. We learned so much from them in such a short period of time and had so many great experiences it feels like it was a lifetime worth of experiences.
But there is one image of the beautiful, quirky, carefree, and amazing Isabella that is forever etched in my memory that I find myself more often referring to in my broken brain; it is of Isabella standing in the airport with her eyes closed taking a deep breath and slowly, though not super obviously letting it out. It was and had been a bizarre and stressful day, by no fault of any of our parties (well, maybe a little of it) but she remained calm, present and pleasant. I was impressed.
I had witnessed her doing this other times and it impressed me. Knowing what I knew about her pilates training and enthusiasm I figured it was a centering technique that came from that -I am not certain- but I loved the simple yet profound example she set for me as she would take these deep breaths and release them in such a controlled way.
She is one of my all-time favorite people in this world even though we haven't seen each other for years and rarely talk, but the moments we had are highly cherished and her influence lives on in me forever as I refer back to her when I need to take my own calming and cleansing breaths to help me stay calm, focused and happy. I will forever love her and her daughter as they had become part of my heart.
One week we met a lady who was visiting Rio from a different Brazilian state. Her daughter being a huge soccer enthusiast was excited to participate in the beach soccer practice.
Isabella had done some schooling in the US and had also lived in New Zealand (the daughter was born there and her dad still lived there) so she was an easy person for us to talk to since she was fluent in English (we were far from fluent in Portuguese).
We hit it off very well, so well that she invited us to come visit her in her home state of Bahia.
This may be the sort of thing that earns me a reputation for being crazy but after some phone conversations and some WhatsApp communication we decided to take her up on the offer. So off we went to stay with Isabella and her daughter and some of their friends for 2 weeks.
My son still considers this the best two weeks of his life. If he could live anywhere or travel anywhere in the world he insists it would be Pria de Forte. It really was an amazing two weeks and I absolutely love and admire the friends we made. We learned so much from them in such a short period of time and had so many great experiences it feels like it was a lifetime worth of experiences.
But there is one image of the beautiful, quirky, carefree, and amazing Isabella that is forever etched in my memory that I find myself more often referring to in my broken brain; it is of Isabella standing in the airport with her eyes closed taking a deep breath and slowly, though not super obviously letting it out. It was and had been a bizarre and stressful day, by no fault of any of our parties (well, maybe a little of it) but she remained calm, present and pleasant. I was impressed.
I had witnessed her doing this other times and it impressed me. Knowing what I knew about her pilates training and enthusiasm I figured it was a centering technique that came from that -I am not certain- but I loved the simple yet profound example she set for me as she would take these deep breaths and release them in such a controlled way.
She is one of my all-time favorite people in this world even though we haven't seen each other for years and rarely talk, but the moments we had are highly cherished and her influence lives on in me forever as I refer back to her when I need to take my own calming and cleansing breaths to help me stay calm, focused and happy. I will forever love her and her daughter as they had become part of my heart.
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Are you crazy 2?
"what do you hope to get out of it"
that is the question of filing a complaint
a discussion, understanding, a chance to clarify; when I am stronger and more rational, a chance to set things straight when I am no longer a child and I am willing to be vulnerable; not when I am forced to be vulnerable and naively being played. Even a chance to test my own stability and try my boundaries, a chance to put him back into a reality reference on my terms since treatment was supposed to be about me and not him. It did not end that way. It was non-negotiable coming down to what he needs versus what I need. But he was in "the position of power" so his needs win.
It did not and does not need to be that way. I did not need to be sacrificed to save him. I want a chance to rewrite the ending in a way that my brain can balance better and in a way that lines up with the idea I was sold: that they will do their best to do no harm and that treatment was supposed to be about me and helping me.
"it'll never happen" they say
"they don't care and it is really just about money".. and now liability they tell me
I know that is the sad reality but it is not where I choose to put my faith.
I'll try anyway
unfortunately I make so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes
but that is the irony and the paradox and all those things that are funny about this anyway. I am allowed to make those mistakes and it makes perfect sense that I do. They are the ones who are supposed to be helping me work through that. That is what I am paying them for. They are the ones being paid to see and understand that, figure that out, and then help me work through those problems. I want to. I am the "perfect" client/patient in that regard, and yet they are refusing. They don't want to and are unwilling to do their professed jobs. They would rather do harm. The office manager/director or whatever she is, actually yelled at me, in front of my kids. It upset my kids more than it upset me. They needed to talk about it, they hate her and think she is a horrible person. They now hate the whole operation, even when I try to rationalize some of it. I think it is best to allow them that pain and to allow them to stand up for me and themselves by feeling angry and even saying mean things about her. I don't think it would be good for me or them to work to convince them right now about how we need to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt.
Sometimes the only cheek left to turn is a bare-mooned ass.
After all she did this yelling after 2 weeks of ignoring a request to resolve these matters and refusing to provide me with a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She insisted I was asking for Dr. P to still be my therapist when I clearly stated then and in the email request I had sent that I DO NOT want that but rather want to resolve what had happened with who it had happened with and not with other therapists and doctors that don't have the full story and that continues to cost my family more money; with this complication and his statement of car accident treatment being complete it is no longer due to the car accident, even if the mood stability crazy is directly linked to it... so it will only come form our pockets. Their "solution" is keeping a cycle of harm going.
It is insanity
It is absolute insanity
I think they think I am trying or was trying to seduce him. They are wrong.
I think they think I might try to sue them
If they keep it up, they might be right, but that is not at all the route I want to go yet at some point their actions suggest there might be grounds to, because ignoring, intimidating, avoiding, and charging new charges for a treatment that so obviously went awry [and who knows when it stopped being about me] really is not okay. But still, I'd rather not go down that path and I still think this can be worked out
I have a lot of faith in humanity.
In people and foolishly maybe, but I still do, have a lot of faith in Dr. P.
I see no reason not to. If I try and fail then I will be disappointed. If I don't try at all then I agree to their crazy and I am mess for who knows how long and I will be disappointed. Either way I will be disappointed. I'd rather put my faith in people and work to be the change I wish to see, even with my very flawed me.
I'd rather try and be wrong than not try and be right.
and here is my new epiphany:
I am not the one who is insane
it is all crazy
I just have a harder time ignoring crazy and staying emotionally balanced through it
I am more sensitive to the insanities of our duel natures and that most people can just play along with
I have a harder time ignoring crazy and being okay with it
and that is it
I have solved it. hah!
go me
I was right and you were wrong, and learning to embrace insanity really is what I need to work on. but not just mine. I have to recognize and embrace others insanity as well.
It feels good to be able to move beyond me and solving me.
Now that I have solved me
I can continue to be the change I wish to see in the world
as just little old me
I am not significant and they see no value in me
But it matters very little because they are wrong.
They could learn a lot from me. I really could help them. I am the other side of their profession that they have lost touch with and I will try to help them see that
but in the end I will be okay, knowing I gave it my best shot no matter what happens.
I hope they will hear me if not for their sake for mine because I wish for my heart not to be stuck in the confusion it is in for too much longer and getting Dr. P back into a more solidly real form can fix that.... or break me completely again, but I'm willing to take that risk. Either way, I'd at least know for sure what kind of broken I am and how to move forward. Its a win win, instead of a lose lose. I am the patient who needs to have some say in the direction of her care, that is all. I am the client who actually can recover and move on, knowing we are not in this alone. Someone who has the faith to keep trying.
Please give me that chance.
so Are you crazy 2? Yes, yes you are -but I bet you already knew that
... and then I am finding that distance, breaking free of the memory and heartache... until the image of the balanced scale with "ideal" on one end pops into my head..
AAARGH CURSE YOU Dr. P, Just get out of my freaking head! ... it will eventually fade... but really, the timing was so freaking terrible and the termination was not handled well.
that is the question of filing a complaint
a discussion, understanding, a chance to clarify; when I am stronger and more rational, a chance to set things straight when I am no longer a child and I am willing to be vulnerable; not when I am forced to be vulnerable and naively being played. Even a chance to test my own stability and try my boundaries, a chance to put him back into a reality reference on my terms since treatment was supposed to be about me and not him. It did not end that way. It was non-negotiable coming down to what he needs versus what I need. But he was in "the position of power" so his needs win.
It did not and does not need to be that way. I did not need to be sacrificed to save him. I want a chance to rewrite the ending in a way that my brain can balance better and in a way that lines up with the idea I was sold: that they will do their best to do no harm and that treatment was supposed to be about me and helping me.
"it'll never happen" they say
"they don't care and it is really just about money".. and now liability they tell me
I know that is the sad reality but it is not where I choose to put my faith.
I'll try anyway
unfortunately I make so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes
but that is the irony and the paradox and all those things that are funny about this anyway. I am allowed to make those mistakes and it makes perfect sense that I do. They are the ones who are supposed to be helping me work through that. That is what I am paying them for. They are the ones being paid to see and understand that, figure that out, and then help me work through those problems. I want to. I am the "perfect" client/patient in that regard, and yet they are refusing. They don't want to and are unwilling to do their professed jobs. They would rather do harm. The office manager/director or whatever she is, actually yelled at me, in front of my kids. It upset my kids more than it upset me. They needed to talk about it, they hate her and think she is a horrible person. They now hate the whole operation, even when I try to rationalize some of it. I think it is best to allow them that pain and to allow them to stand up for me and themselves by feeling angry and even saying mean things about her. I don't think it would be good for me or them to work to convince them right now about how we need to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt.
Sometimes the only cheek left to turn is a bare-mooned ass.
After all she did this yelling after 2 weeks of ignoring a request to resolve these matters and refusing to provide me with a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She insisted I was asking for Dr. P to still be my therapist when I clearly stated then and in the email request I had sent that I DO NOT want that but rather want to resolve what had happened with who it had happened with and not with other therapists and doctors that don't have the full story and that continues to cost my family more money; with this complication and his statement of car accident treatment being complete it is no longer due to the car accident, even if the mood stability crazy is directly linked to it... so it will only come form our pockets. Their "solution" is keeping a cycle of harm going.
It is insanity
It is absolute insanity
I think they think I am trying or was trying to seduce him. They are wrong.
I think they think I might try to sue them
If they keep it up, they might be right, but that is not at all the route I want to go yet at some point their actions suggest there might be grounds to, because ignoring, intimidating, avoiding, and charging new charges for a treatment that so obviously went awry [and who knows when it stopped being about me] really is not okay. But still, I'd rather not go down that path and I still think this can be worked out
I have a lot of faith in humanity.
In people and foolishly maybe, but I still do, have a lot of faith in Dr. P.
I see no reason not to. If I try and fail then I will be disappointed. If I don't try at all then I agree to their crazy and I am mess for who knows how long and I will be disappointed. Either way I will be disappointed. I'd rather put my faith in people and work to be the change I wish to see, even with my very flawed me.
I'd rather try and be wrong than not try and be right.
and here is my new epiphany:
I am not the one who is insane
it is all crazy
I just have a harder time ignoring crazy and staying emotionally balanced through it
I am more sensitive to the insanities of our duel natures and that most people can just play along with
I have a harder time ignoring crazy and being okay with it
and that is it
I have solved it. hah!
go me
I was right and you were wrong, and learning to embrace insanity really is what I need to work on. but not just mine. I have to recognize and embrace others insanity as well.
It feels good to be able to move beyond me and solving me.
Now that I have solved me
I can continue to be the change I wish to see in the world
as just little old me
I am not significant and they see no value in me
But it matters very little because they are wrong.
They could learn a lot from me. I really could help them. I am the other side of their profession that they have lost touch with and I will try to help them see that
but in the end I will be okay, knowing I gave it my best shot no matter what happens.
I hope they will hear me if not for their sake for mine because I wish for my heart not to be stuck in the confusion it is in for too much longer and getting Dr. P back into a more solidly real form can fix that.... or break me completely again, but I'm willing to take that risk. Either way, I'd at least know for sure what kind of broken I am and how to move forward. Its a win win, instead of a lose lose. I am the patient who needs to have some say in the direction of her care, that is all. I am the client who actually can recover and move on, knowing we are not in this alone. Someone who has the faith to keep trying.
Please give me that chance.
so Are you crazy 2? Yes, yes you are -but I bet you already knew that
... and then I am finding that distance, breaking free of the memory and heartache... until the image of the balanced scale with "ideal" on one end pops into my head..
AAARGH CURSE YOU Dr. P, Just get out of my freaking head! ... it will eventually fade... but really, the timing was so freaking terrible and the termination was not handled well.
Saturday, February 23, 2019
lost
...and the pain just won't die
Solving actually seems to help some
So many songs with so much pain. at least I know I am not alone. this is "normal"
heartbreak is "normal" (I try not to listen too much)
this http://www.continuingedcourses.net/active/courses/course065.php
tells me... the perfect storm. It's not real...
much more tells me of the stigma attached.
there is no hope.
I am truly not worth it
I am still holding on... or at least I wish to. though I am realizing I have to let go. so very completely
It is what I knew I wasn't ready for
it is what I knew I couldn't do just then, not like that, not when I was so completely broken. standing literally on broken parts, held up by adrenaline and endorphins that had been over worked for the last year. a last surge to keep me up when the rug was being pulled
How did he miss it?
or did it just not matter?
Solving- I also figured out that APA is pretty bullshit and it is I that would hold the power to cause the problem. which I would not do... or maybe I would... I didn't let it go that way... but now, with nothing I am being treated as though that is exactly what I did or am supposed to do.
of course that makes me suspicious and I wonder if I then need to.
a moral obligation? stuff I have already hit on
but the only thing that is really real is the pain of loss.
I don't belong anywhere.
no matter how or what I try it just never seems to be the right place for me...
I was supposed to get answers there. I had found my place and I felt I was on the right track. but the rug, pulled
with words that said too much and nothing at all. and it was my fault.. because I spoke? tried to speak up, but with words that were taboo, that were "forbidden" though I didn't know.
Now one therapist insists it meant nothing the other thinks it meant everything.
and I have to keep repeating the story to figure out if I am "stable" and even "employable"
of course I am... but my emotions are not helping to sell me right now. they leak out when they are not supposed to. sometimes even when I believe that I am fine.
I'm mostly fine... but mostly, with my resume, just isn't good enough
What do I want to be when... I am grown up.
Lost
I want to be lost
... no that is just what I am
forever lost in the world that I don't belong in.
Solving actually seems to help some
So many songs with so much pain. at least I know I am not alone. this is "normal"
heartbreak is "normal" (I try not to listen too much)
this http://www.continuingedcourses.net/active/courses/course065.php
tells me... the perfect storm. It's not real...
much more tells me of the stigma attached.
there is no hope.
I am truly not worth it
I am still holding on... or at least I wish to. though I am realizing I have to let go. so very completely
It is what I knew I wasn't ready for
it is what I knew I couldn't do just then, not like that, not when I was so completely broken. standing literally on broken parts, held up by adrenaline and endorphins that had been over worked for the last year. a last surge to keep me up when the rug was being pulled
How did he miss it?
or did it just not matter?
Solving- I also figured out that APA is pretty bullshit and it is I that would hold the power to cause the problem. which I would not do... or maybe I would... I didn't let it go that way... but now, with nothing I am being treated as though that is exactly what I did or am supposed to do.
of course that makes me suspicious and I wonder if I then need to.
a moral obligation? stuff I have already hit on
but the only thing that is really real is the pain of loss.
I don't belong anywhere.
no matter how or what I try it just never seems to be the right place for me...
I was supposed to get answers there. I had found my place and I felt I was on the right track. but the rug, pulled
with words that said too much and nothing at all. and it was my fault.. because I spoke? tried to speak up, but with words that were taboo, that were "forbidden" though I didn't know.
Now one therapist insists it meant nothing the other thinks it meant everything.
and I have to keep repeating the story to figure out if I am "stable" and even "employable"
of course I am... but my emotions are not helping to sell me right now. they leak out when they are not supposed to. sometimes even when I believe that I am fine.
I'm mostly fine... but mostly, with my resume, just isn't good enough
What do I want to be when... I am grown up.
Lost
I want to be lost
... no that is just what I am
forever lost in the world that I don't belong in.
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