Lucky

my doodle. I'm pretty sure I didn't plagiarize the words so I even signed it :)

I'm not sure who actually reads this blog, but thank you. Thank you for reading me. Especially to Bob. He will occasionally check in with me and give me feedback and I both love and appreciate it.
Right now I feel tired. This journey of mine has been exhausting.
But I also feel very lucky.
I am so very lucky to be in a position where I don't have to work and I can spend time and energy on healing. My new neuropsychologist and psychiatric nurse practitioner both feel this is a good thing. "Take it slow," they say and I am so glad I can. But that's also kind of funny because of how fast my mind has been going. In circles, maybe, but still very fast. I am glad it has slowed.
I also feel very lucky to have found this new team. Beautiful young PA thanked me for trying to get better and for trying something new. That was funny to me. I had thanked her for helping me, the medication is helping me to feel alive again in ways that I was faded and fading from. She, in return, thanked me for trying to get better and I responded with "I had been this whole damn time" which she understood since we have had lengthy conversation on what brought me to her. She then said, "well then thank you for trying something new." That made me laugh.
I like her.
And I laughed for a few reasons, one, because I am not sure I have ever been thanked for trying something new. And I am very good at trying new things. It reminds me of my daughters comment, "Mom, the box can't handle you."
I am also very lucky because I have friends. Amazing friends. Not the kind that I hang out with everyday or even all that regularly, but good friends none-the-less.
Yesterday I had a conversation with one such friend and she talked about my brain healing and getting myself back. I wasn't quite sure how to explain that I do not really want my old self back, because the reality is that old self was never quite good enough. I hadn't quite figured out enough tricks to working with my brain. Also there is the unfortunate reality that potentially comes with every injury and/or trauma, and that is you will never be the same. You may have to accept a new norm. She understood, but then reminded me of the me she was referring to.
Oh yeah... I love that me and I love that she remembers that me. The adventurous fun me, she called it. Oh, yeah again, that me, the one that always had big dreams and ideas that were too big for my britches but I would often try to pull off anyway. The me that her kids would randomly miss.
That me.
That me is coming back.
And starting to dream again.
Starting to ponder the endless sea of possibilities ahead of me with a returning desire to set sail.
Ahhh
We also talked about my blog and my writing. She was glad I do it. She thinks it sounds more like me because it could help people. She feels if I pursue this whole writing thing I could help a lot of people. She has confidence in me, and to her that sounds more like me. This made me feel so happy. To be understood and even appreciated. Thank you friend.

To be or not to be, who gets to decide? IHC? Insurance Companies? Directors of Facilities? Patient Advocates? Dr. He, Dr. Concussion? Office Director who yelled at me?

As I have been processing today, specifically my conversation with Dr. She (I need to come up with a better name for her) I remembered some stuff.
First, part of my issue with the whole situation that transpired was that is was fairytale bullshit come to life. The feelings I was feeling were very real, exquisitely intense, and very profound and yet I did not entirely trust them. I trusted him. But then he fed those feelings with ambiguous words and phrases. Implied, but neither confirmed nor denied- One could claim: open to interpretation. What was I to believe and what was I to do with that?
My own personal bias is that romance is mostly a load of shit that Hollywood and maybe even Walt himself feeds us to get us to easily open our pocketbooks and pants. I think a lot of it is a conspiracy of men; feed women these fairytale fantasy's of fast and furious love that always results in happily ever after and getting her to drop her pants and hop in the sack is going to be a piece of cake. Create the culture of it and you'll be able to get any woman easily and quickly. After all she wants to be loved passionately. ... So it's a conspiracy that we are molested with in our youthful innocence. And boys are molested too. They think that is what they are supposed to do, get the girl in bed by any means possible or if they are feeling these very sexual attractions, it must be love.... blah blah, I could conspiracy on and on, but mostly, and likely because I am one of the very fortunate few who was not actually physically molested as a child, I can see through the bullshit and I know it is just that AND I know that men can control themselves and blah blah...
And I don't want to head down this rabbit hole because I find it infuriating how many girls are molested as children, or raped as teens. I am mind blown again and again. and while I had some shitty youthful experiences I am extremely grateful I do not have that one in my bag of buried skeletons.
But my point is that I refuse to buy into that fairytale love, fantasy soulmate shit, and yet somehow I still do... and there I was in the thick of it, like I had never been before...
and in my misinterpretation or miscommunication I was then left trying to hold up his world at the expense of mine, and I wasn't sure how to proceed with understanding what was really going on.

Dr. She pointed out that I recognized how the fairytale feedings had likely played into this scenario, and she agreed that they likely had. I felt nauseous with myself and I want to deny it, even though I know better.
And the stupid thing is, that is the story I was more inclined to accept as it was fertilized by their bullshit of denial, ass-covering, and gaslighting. It was something similar to the common problem of children being labeled as "bad" or some other negative label by a teacher or parent and then they are stuck with carrying it and the label following them throughout the rest of their school life as the teachers spread and pass this lemming judgement on. The child then, finding no way out, eventually relents, embraces the label because they cannot seem to shake it, and starts purposefully living up to the expectations placed on them. It happens ALL THE TIME and its not fair to those kids. The person in power has them labeled and has stopped seeing them. Then the child starts believing they are bad and so therefore that is how they should continue to behave. It's so funny how there acceptance of this label can actually be evidence of their desire to conform and be accepted. Even evidence of their goodness.
Again, I could philosophize about this forever...
but ultimately I chose to buy into the fairytale fantasy more often then the IHC advocates, directors, and staff who were simply labeling me a liability and "not worth our time." Can you blame me? Especially amidst the intensity of emotions and rejection that happened. Can you blame me for wanting to believe it was a forbidden love that was the problem over an innately flawed and unsalvageable me?
One thing I can say is that initially I was fully willing to take the fall and accept full responsibility for my "misinterpretation" of the situation and conversations that led me to believe that dear Perri Cheri had in fact developed romantic feelings. I knew that he implied them and I knew that he had definitely lost objectivity, but I also perceived myself as a challenge, and indeed I may be. I could accept then that I had brought it onto myself.
But I should not be taking the entirety of responsibility in the mistakes made, especially when and as I kept asking for clarification, they not only refused that potential and reason for misinterpretation, but also started playing avoid-the-liability games with me.
I was fully prepared to face the embarrassment and shame of the situation because this is not new to me and it was so important to me to be able to understand what I was doing wrong and learn how to fix me, -the me that has been rejected like this before, the me that has frightened people away before, the me that I was thinking was likely tied to some of the problems my brain had created unknowingly in it's initial rather unassisted recovery from TBI...- I would have taken the fall for those mistakes and I did, but the perpetuation of harm and the denials of any wrongdoing or mistakes on their part, the unwillingness to even follow through with the help they had offered AND help they were legally and ethically obligated to follow through on, I am not willing to take the blame for.
And once again a main point that I remembered and realized is why I so desperately needed them to talk with me and to allow me the opportunity to clear this mistake up: It was a repeat of so many patterns and of so many misconceptions of me that, without clearing up, absolutely confirmed all the negatives, all my failings and shortcomings, AND they were telling me I was not worth there time, I was not worth saving and/or I was unsalvageable; the professionals, the experts.
I have had to be pretty damned determined to prove to myself that they are wrong.
Aaaahhh thus the blog. thus the obsessive writing and processing, thus the determination to turn this suffering into something meaningful. It has to be. Or I am not.
And if I am not
then what?

Wars and Rumors of Wars

I just got home from the appointment with new neuropsychologist.
I am tired.
My head is tired.
It is so tired of trying to work this out.
Dr. She is right, they caused harm and I need to move on from this so I can start putting the pieces of me back together. She does not care about the intentions. She does not care about the motives they way I do. She does not need to. That is very lucky and also why I am there. She just cares about what they said and did and how it caused harm to me.
I care about intention and feel like I have to understand that because I want to rely on that to help me decide how to proceed and handle this. Initially I was like, "Yeah, you screwed up, but I don't want anyone to get in trouble even though I don't fully understand why or care why you screwed up, I just want help figuring out what is going on with my head and why." And I was trying to proceed while also trying to protect the guilty-position-of-power party. (much to my detriment)
As it progressed from me trying to understand and get the help I needed, to standing up for myself, to outright fighting for my life, I also progressed in my need to understand intent.
I think this is probably because I don't want to hurt anyone and I think individually and ultimately they are all likely [mostly] good people that made mistakes. But these mistakes have come at a very high price to me as they proceeded in their denials of making any and avoiding responsibility.
My tired brain and breaking family reminds me of this.
And I know these mistakes need to be acknowledged and they had a responsibility to me that they failed to fulfill again and again thus perpetuating harm. I know these mistakes are not okay and not fair and I know it has been my OWN sheer determination to minimize damage, come out okay, and make the best of it that has kept me going. I mistakenly had attributed some of that to dear Dr. Cheri, but that was likely due to his abandonment while I was in the thick of transference.
I am able to own my success now, and that is good, but, I assure you, it has taken so much more determination than you may ever be able to comprehend. I have a few advantages, namely previous head injury -I have been through so much of this before. The mistakes of other misunderstanding and misdiagnosing, so I have an advantage but I do not think everyone would fair so well...
For that I am not okay with just letting bygones be bygones, and for the expense of this and the burden on my family.
Viktor Frankl would understand; the best of them did not make it out alive, he says. And with out others fighting to end the massive insanity that was killing innocent people and plaguing the world, he would not have come out alive either.
I cannot compare my suffering to theirs but I can tell you, if I were not a fighter and if I did not have that sheer determination to survive, I would not have made it through this.
...Yet I am not out of the woods
I am so tired of trying to solve.... and the reason intentions has become an obsession in solving is likely much like in any war: we don't want to fight a war unless we are sure the other side really deserves the same level of pain and punishment they are inflicting. Intention seems to be the easiest way to judge that. And I have already said, I don't want to be the judge, but that is the position I have been put in, so I am looking for the lifting of the burden of conscience because I do not want to feel responsible in anyway for the upholding of rules I don't necessarily agree with that could create a high cost to the individuals, when it is the collective and the institution that ultimately failed but will likely get off scotch free at a high cost to one or two individuals. Or they will gain more ground and win this battle further perpetuating their false sense of rightness that is harming others.
...and my brain is tired.

A Fighting Chance

Brains are so weird. The faster they go the slower you are. At least that has been true for me.
Now that my brain is slowing and things are not going so fast all of the time, I am faster at what I am doing and even faster at processing. I can keep better track of where I am and what I am doing in the moment.
I'm more of who I am, even though I am experiencing so much less.
Things make sense and they don't, but I can handle it much better either way.
I don't think I am entirely out of the woods yet, but I am very happy to be feeling so... normal.
Not that I ever am. Not that anyone ever is. But I can say that this feeling of stability, even with the new tired and sometimes tight or dizzy head, is refreshing.
It is times like this that I really feel happy. Happy about being happy. Sometimes that scares me a bit but then I notice how this happy is different. It is just happy and not overly excited trying to contain the burst of my piñata self. It is not overly ecstatic for no reason at all and feeling as a child trying to sleep the night before Christmas. It is just pleasant, run of the mill happy. Which then makes me a bit more happy and I may feel a slight surge of that overly happy ...and that is why I do not think I am entirely out of the woods -yet.
These are also the times when I realize just how "crazy" I am or was, or however you would like to word it. It can be quite embarrassing but I have let that pass, because, just like their is no point to being embarrassed about the tears in the grocery store when I couldn't control them and they were hitting me so wildly and spontaneously that I would have gotten nothing done ever if I let them embarrass me, there is no point to being embarrassed about them now.
...Although I am still angry about them. And there may be a point to that. Anger is my least favorite emotion but right now, it is likely what I need to be, because my friends, I am now okay enough to feel that emotion too.
YAY for anger.
But BOO for the Neuroscience Institute who will feed you suicide and then nurture through Patient Experiences and with their whole team. Such a great patient experience Eh? Jack Asses. Maybe that is now his new name: Dr. Jack Ass and Dr. Jack Ass MD and Jack Ass Office Director and Jack Ass Patient Advocate and Jacked Dr.'s Assistant Ass. I loved them all and trusted them all, and it does make me sad that these are now their names, but at least they can be proud because THEY EARNED THEM!
...and I am sorry it turned to them again. I hope this anger will melt and fade like the suicidal tendencies/symptoms did so quickly with the proper acknowledgment and care.
...Then again, maybe now is really the time to stand up for myself and speak out against their very bad policies.
Maybe now, the journey really begins. And I can actually smile at that, I can embrace my creativity and my side streets thinking and you better believe, this new me, Stands A Fighting Chance!

*really I wanted to talk about how fun my freaked out brain is. It is fascinating, but I'll save that for later. Apparently I have my surprisingly goodnatured guest Anger to host first.

Jack Ass in Neuropsychology

(Jack Ass). His name is (Jackass) Phd. **(name changed to protect me)
And I will not keep trying to protect him anymore. I will not protect him from me and the consequences of his actions.
He would rather let me die than admit any mistakes.
He manipulated me to protect himself. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And when it became very clear that I was not okay, that his mistakes caused and were contributing to significant problems, -to harm- he denied it all and then he slandered me -defamation to his colleagues and employees.
All the while I was trying to protect him. Trusting them and trying to work with them, not against them when, I was broken and vulnerable, trying to get the help I needed at the "right place" from the "right people."
This is not okay.
I am sorry Perri. I know it is possible you were simply broken too, but, you, my friend, were the one in the position of power and you used me and then abused me by discarding me so carelessly as if I were trash. I am not. You most certainly misjudged and misrepresented me.
And even it it is just me speaking out for me, I am worth standing up for and I am worth fighting for.
Just as I told Office Director "I don't know what it looks like but I know I need to stand up for myself" I am now starting to see how I need to, what I need to do, and sadly, it is not so pretty due to the way this has progressed.
Sigh...
stability
brings with it the ability
to fight back.
But you probably knew that way back when
"you broke me"
"I did not mean too"

My mind and heart are speaking to me in slight rhyme again and I wonder:

You used me to stroke your delicate ego, maybe heal your broken heart
subtly feeding me your fantasy
then when it all came crashing down
you ran out of town
claiming it was me that had played with you.
which is not even possible considering the "imbalance of power" and the rules that govern you.

"I'd love to take you home with me..."

"...and tuck you into bed.
I'd love to see what makes you tick inside your pretty head..."
"Do you think your better than me? Do you want to kill me or befriend me?"

It has been years since I have heard this song, but it has been coming into my head lately.
It is a bit disturbing and long but worth listening to in it's entirety.

Oingo Boingo "Insantiy"

"I'm not scared of you" REALLY?

my rational anger is increasing rapidly.

Freaking JACK ASSES!!!

I WAS SUCH A *@$** MESS AND THEY JUST KEPT MESSING WITH ME!

THEY TURNED ME INTO SOMETHING I WAS NOT BECAUSE I WAS SO DAMN IRRATIONAL WHILE TRYING TO HOLD MY OWN!

I WAS **#@ PARANOID AND IT WAS SO OBVIOUS AND THEY TURNED IT INTO ME BEING OBSESSED WITH THE JACKASS THAT MANIPULATED ME TO PROTECT HIM MYSELF!

....breath

and though the all caps magnify the intensity of my emotion, it is not unsound at this moment. I am not at all manic. Which makes me that much more angry. This is rational. This is the reality of the shit you start to see more and more clearly as you stabilize.

It is very, very hard for me, in these moments, to believe that he didn't know what he was doing, that he didn't know or recognize the harm and damage he was causing. 

Now it is getting harder and harder to believe that his "I told you not to try and solve this" was not strictly for his sake; was not reflective of his fear that I was onto what I intuitively was protecting against when I sent those crazy emails; sent because I needed them to not be missed. "Stop emailing me" was a command too late, yet not at all because he still pulled out just in time because I was manipulated well.

Vulnerable

broken

"you isolate yourself"

limited family and social support

slow processor

caring

rejected

hypnotic voice

"I've tested your brain in ways you don't know"

so many things...

BUT I KNEW

broken, vulnerable, fragile, desperate

I still knew

BECAUSE

I have been the expert on the other side of your damn profession since I was 12!

I am the other side of what you do

and 

I KNOW WHAT YOU DO!

The energy to be angry

What a strange journey this has been. The mood stabilizer it a good change so far. I did have a moment of realization and again embarrassment as my mind stabilizes and wakes up still more (I thought I had entirely). And in that moment I felt as though they (the self-centered Ego's doctors and directors of IHC-Neuroscience Institute ) were right, I am of no value and no worth. My embarrassment and frustration ironically exacerbated by the so-easily-had new feelings of okay, that came so quickly with the new medication. I was sure, in that moment, I deserved to die...
Fortunately, I have been through enough of this and I have emerged victorious from deep and dark places before, so I was still able to hold onto, "go to sleep and reset" coupled with the "your going to be okay" energy of the new medication. So I slept and settled and the next day was good again. Much better than before. Still hard to get out of bed but this time it was the exhaustion-after-a-race kind of tired not the can't-even-explain-and-don't-want-to-because-it-sucks-so-much-and-sounds-pathetic tired. Better.
And that is when I started remembering more of those long lost memories and putting together pieces of all I have learned and forgotten/buried over so many years. I am remembering my theory or my disliking of a theory, or maybe it is an assumption and a label based on observations of the inexperienced minds; I am remembering the warning that "antidepressants and other such medications may increase the risk of suicide and/or suicidal thoughts." And I am remembering how this bothered me, because they really only increase the risk because the person now has the energy and ability to follow through. The medications don't cause the thoughts as some statements I had heard and read implied, and it is highly unlikely they cause the suicide. I am stating this as an implied fact with no other alternatives and I know that this may not always be the case, but if there were anyway to prove this opinion of mine, I'd put money on it being accurate the vast majority of the time.
As I have said before; When medication is working correctly it does not change who you are and it does not change the problems you have, really it might not even change your thinking, it just changes your chemistry enough so that you can then make the needed changes.
That is my theory and I could explain it in greater detail with a lot of support and evidence from personal experience and many observations and conversations I have had over the years with many people, however that is not what this moment on my blog is for, instead I go back to my remembering.
I had that moment of weakness from my weakened brain, confidence, self esteem, thinking and all that  had been growing for so many months fed by the Institution that was supposed to be helping me. Nurtured along by a bullshit investigation as I was trying to figure out what was going on with my head. And instead of the simple acknowledgement of the problem and the treatment I needed I was faced with suspicion and walls by those whose job, and ethic responsibility it was to help me figure it out.
Fortunately I recognize this and so that moment did not and will not last. Now I am gaining the strength and the correcting chemistry to face my problems, which was what they actually were, and since I am still paying for it and will be as I seek treatment and sort out the screwed up psychology of the situation that so deeply effected me, they still are my problem.
And I am kind of really pissed.
Because
When I was fighting for my life he turned a blind eye,
He'd rather let me die.
Why?
and considering what I was turned into to by him, or by the whole institution;
what a freaking egocentric ignorant, or brilliant grooming, jack ass!
What a freaking debacle of me.
Maybe they are frauds and maybe they new exactly what they were doing, buying their time to statute of limitations, and gaslighting as a back up, and avoiding intentionally to treat or prescribe in a manner that would give me my strength to both recognize and fight back.
JACK ASSES!!! FREAKING CREEPS!!!

and it is so funny, because now more stable I can actually allow myself to feel and be angry. I can allow it now, because it won't destroy me. But still, I am magnificent even without my mania, and I just might destroy them... maybe.
Not manic, I think I can, because they have brought it so heavily upon themselves in there ruthless carelessness.
But just like I tried to tell them before, just because I can does not mean that I will.
I am undecided still. Some time they still have bought, ...and yet their bought time is still on my tab...
jack asses
hmmm....
to damn bad I still have the negative effects of head injury, I'd conquer this things so quickly, but alas I am slow, and these tasks take there toll.
And this they know
...Oh Captain, my Captain, you may want to return, because this fire doth burn!!! (and not in a sexual way -sarcastic sorry)


** I do hope as time goes on and the medication makes strong my sanity,
that I do not loose all my oh so clever creativity.

TBI patients = Malpractice insurance

A comedy of errors turned into a tragic perpetuation of harm. And all along the way I was begging them to stop the perpetuation of the harm and pain. However they did not want to admit any guilt so it continues as an abuse of power.
"First do no harm" says the APA
and IHC will add "...But if you accidentally do then don't admit it and light those gas powered lamps  to burn the evidence up with the patient."
Right now I feel angry.
When medication works, it does not change you, it does not change what has happened, it just changes your chemistry and makes it so you can then handle making the changes that need to be made.
It is so simple.
And it could have been so simple.
It should (spelled correctly) have been so simple!
I was in the right place, trying to doing the right things, going to the right people to try and get the help that I knew I needed. But they kept moving forward in their errors, by covering and denying and trying to pass me off without following through.
Did they know that me getting the help I needed would make me strong enough to stand up for myself and fight back against the mistakes they made?
How deeply disturbing is this debacle?
Are they insurance frauds?
My emotions, more balanced, are most certainly still strong and more powerful in ability with the "right" help.
Which they -now obvious to me- were not.

To be or not to be?

...now hopes and dreams fall through
knowing they were fiction just like you;
A dream I believed in that just isn't true

This Little Bluebird -thank you Christina

Reality in simplicity
I am finding my way around.
Feet planting on the ground

Still, do I embrace all parts of me
the imperfectly creative insanity
that beckons me carelessly
and wants so badly to be
a part of me?

and wants to be free...

Like a Bird -thank you Nelly

The Road Less Traveled

...slow at processing new things.
He was giving me knew information. Important. I was psychologically processing through some PTSD so processing as a child and an adult.
This new information replays over and over-
that is a trick I have learned-
to help me process new information.
and I link it to things I know
connecting it to prior knowledge.
I am very good at this,
It is the strength of my creativity
I think it comes from my being forced to use the surface streets of my mental infrastructure.
then finding that I liked the scenic route.
I found it pleasant, enjoyable, enlightening
So I have used my surface streets far more than is common.
Ever discovering more along the way
Maybe this has hurt the building of the efficient super highways,
But I have found so many hidden treasures and
besides
my super highways are so deeply rutted with negative thinking
I will always fall into those deep ruts of negativity and be stuck on that track if I return to them
So I avoid those.
they don't get fixed
while I enjoy the side streets.
It is not super efficient
so I am slow at processing new information...
 But I keep going and I have figured out how to drive in circles until I can learn them if I need to,
circles that, at times, confuse my guest instructors, because I am still driving and I am connecting even though I haven't really figured it out yet.
But I keep going
Paying attention to how they connect.
and they do-
connect to prior knowledge-
This is also a teaching strategy -scaffolding
So
New information is where I got stuck. New information he was giving me.
I looked for connections. there were some and there were none.
Prior knowledge suggests abuse, manipulation, rejection, self preservation
or (maybe and/or) fairytale and fantasy...
The words, the feelings, the drug that he was
These are new things to me. I have not experienced anything quite like this before...

...here is something deeply personal that (in my sanity) I am reluctant to disclose -because then people really think you crazy,- but this is my safe place, so I pray you be kind in your judgements.
Something that I felt there was close to what I felt so very long ago, in the dream that I had as a child, where I felt God's inexplicable and incomprehensible love, the love that changed how everything felt -not as much then when I was a child but -as I aged. A love that you would do anything to return to but simply cannot... because you are mortal and human and meant to be just that.
So those are connections to that new information I was receiving but too slow to process...
What is it?
And what do I do with it?
That intensity doesn't just simply burn out
Thus, he is, admittedly, like a god and devil to me and the taboo's, forbidden, his denials and refusal to discuss, even his protecting and covering his ass, they feed that misconception and it seems to grow overtime.
You see, when the very human element (that he perceived as the problem) is missing form the equation the only connections I (a human) can make are manipulation, abuse, self-preservation, rejection, fairytales, fantasy, and/or otherworldly thus perpetuating and growing that touch of human insanity.
But as I think and review... from my processing place anew, I know, though to his embarrassment and maybe in spite of himself, -maybe still as a groomer,- he had developed feelings and chemistry was a part of this equation.
So my god of this world, the one who can actually physiologically change me, had feelings for me... and what do I do with that? Again...
I thought he only had as much power over me as I allowed him to have
but maybe I am wrong
-Oh dear kiwi god,
Please release me from my fantasy.
Let me be rational again. Please be real and human again.-

...And maybe Dr. She is right, I have been dealing with this crazy my entire life... compounded, complicated by TBI... Or did that actually knock some sense into me and that is why I am not full blown, talking-to-God kind of crazy?
Oh the joys of the side streets and the adventures to be had when we go off the beaten path.

and further still into this analogy
another possibility

Maybe I am the god of his world
burdened under the weight he put on me.
Do I tell or let it be?
I have the responsibility to hold him up by letting go at my expense
or put down his world, passing it off to the false gods of DOPL and APA
...because I am not a god
and I don't want to be the judge
the weight of his world is crushing me.
Is his world out of balance and I need to speaking out for my sake, his sake and/or other clients
to help bring it back to ethically
Yin and Yang
what is my place?

...too deep, I could get him into trouble...
too deep, I could get me into trouble?
too deep, I was in trouble

the Kintsugi Artist

I need her to accept that I am broken. She and he wanted me to believe that I am not. ...maybe it is because he believed I was not that I feel she needs to believe that I am, maybe I just need things to play out this way for my own head, but while she believes I am not broken I need her to understand that I am.
and here is why
Kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a very strong glue that includes gold.
I need her to be the artist and repairman to put me back together in a more solid and beautiful way. When she says I am not broken she may be speaking truth because she, the skilled expert, sees me as the pieces of a whole and easily repaired, but I know I am in pieces and hearing that -me being the unskilled vessel- does not understand what she is saying. I do not know if I can trust that she will be able to find all the pieces and put me back together properly if she does not see and acknowledge that I am in shards of me.
Unlike the pottery of Kintsugi, I am a living, breathing, thinking being and I have to trust my artist, I have to, in essence, allow her to do her job. I cannot if she does not see me for what I am.
And I am broken
the evidence is in
my job history
my confidence
my relationships
my rejections
my inability to follow through
how I isolate myself
my identity crises
my tears that come so damn frequently that I am not even embarrassed by them anymore.
Those tears that happen everywhere and are triggered so easily. This is not the first time in my life, though it is the longest and the most.
Broken because I know, that if every person or even half, had tears spilling out as much as I do I would never be the only one at the grocery store failing in their fight to hold them back... and guess what, I have, for these last so many months, been the only one. I know because I secretly look for it, studying, researching, because I think I can't possibly be that different. But I have rarely -over so many years- noticed people fighting back tears and failing the way I do. For many many years I had it beat, but no more, and now it's so much worse. So bad that I am not even embarrassed by it.
Why bother being so? I'd never be able to get anything done if I held onto that embarrassment.
And the weird thing about now, the biggest difference, is that they just come so randomly, so easily triggered by the simplest things, while -really- I am hardly feeling, as they well and run. Hardly feeling compared to what it was when I was young. But maybe the intensity of the tears then was magnified by my fighting so hard to contain them. Maybe that is why they flowed less, but I felt more.
I don't really know but my dear sister agreed, it's not normal and there is definitely something "wrong" if that is happening so regularly.
Wrong hmmm... You see, I prefer broken. I would rather be broken then have something wrong with me.
Broken feels fixable,
wrong feels innately flawed and expendable.

Sorry, not sorry, but I am an artist now!

A purple cloud took on a life of it's own.

And as I analyze my thoughts and actions in these moments, I wonder, "Is this really productive? Is this really helping me? or am I just feeding crazy?"
Truthfully; I don't think I care. I am enjoying this writing journey, and I am enjoying the painting portions too.
So maybe I will chase that dream for awhile. Pretend I am an artist of words and paint. An author and an illustrator. Writing for my life, Painting for my pain.
And I can chase the dream more fervently, without fear of rejection, because I already know that
I am not an artist.
Maybe here the rejection won't hurt so bad, because here, in this space, I know I don't belong and that is what I have to offer.
Diversity.
And the therapy of it all.
Embracing your perfectly imperfect even when others do not.
So chase away
A dream to play
In the field where I don't belong

An intentionalish  painting of an open mind. 

Therapist= The-rapist: penetrating and impregnating the mind

The psychiatric PA-C asked who is overseeing the head injury stuff.
This is a painful question to try and answer.
"Nobody." Because those who were helping me manage that, who were hired to oversee that, felt I was too big a Liability to them and thus dropped me. Dr. Concussion felt I needed a new team and said she would help me find one. Alas, she most certainly did not. And so my answer is "nobody."
Psychiatric PA-C does not think that is a good idea. She thinks I need a neurologist, she would like me to have one to manage and over see this care. ...And she doesn't even know about the shaky left hand that I have avoided facing. ...that Concussion Dr. suggested I see a neurologist about but did not want to refer for.
Today I had another appointment with new neuropsychologist.
I am curious about the new drug and how it is effecting me. I feel rather tired but it is also settling my brain, and that is nice. I was happy that the day before I didn't cry at all ...well at least outside of therapy anyway, and believe it or not, that is big progress at this point.
In my appointment with new neuropsychologist, Dr. She: Even though the brain feels it is settling it is still moving rapidly in multiple directions causing my words to spill out sloppily as I try to explain, get to the point, and head in a productive direction. I am not so sure I am in the right place or utilizing my therapy time wisely.
She listens patiently and then when I seem to loose track of what I am saying and where I am going with it she steps in. Asks a few questions, helps me get somewhere, and then lays out a plane.
I am feeling calm as she speaks and her plan makes perfect sense. I think the medication is already helping to settle things...but it all seems too easy. I tell her this; that it all seems too easy, and then I add, "I don't know if I trust it."
She seems to understand that, but is not terribly worried, so neither am I, though I am really and truly uncertain about trusting this. It is time to say goodbye, so I'll see her next week.
After: I get to meet my sister for lunch. I have not seen my sister for months. In fact, I think the last I saw her was when she came with me to an appointment with Concussion Dr. I wanted someone there because I was obviously making mistakes in my interpretations of things and I wanted another set of ears and hopefully a more rational brain present on my behalf. -I really should have had someone with me much more frequently, but that is not a luxury I have.- Back-on-track-
I have been feeling some hurt and anger toward Big Sister because of how she and her husband had responded to some texts and my asking for help in understanding and resolving my situation. She seemed to think I was caught up in how I had been wronged when I was really trying to justify my battle for my self worth... the battle I was loosing as IHC and Dr. He kept writing me off, unwilling to talk to me, unwilling to hear, unwilling to discuss what was going on with my head and why, but perfectly willing to continue to charge me for the treatment and care they refused to discuss.
I was loosing my battle of self worth with every hit from the industry that was set up to help protect me. So I am sure that didn't help my interpretation of texts from my sweet sister and I new that getting together would likely help set those hurt feelings straight.
It did.
We had great conversation about many things.
However the part of the conversation I wish to share pertains to my previous points. As I was telling her about the medication and the new therapist I explained the feelings of calm and hopeful and how I wasn't sure if I could trust it. Big Sister thought I was not sure if I trusted the medicine, but as I was speaking with her I realized what I was feeling distrustful of; it was new therapist. It was probably a small form of transference. The calm, the safe the hopeful, I felt that so very much with Dr. P. and I trusted him so completely... So very completely. He was so comfortable to me. I needed his calm demeanor and I loved him for it... But he could not handle that, he could not handle me needing him, so he dropped me, to protect himself, because I am too difficult, too much... That is what I feel now, in this moment.
So, that is what I do not trust. I do not trust her and I do not trust me, because of the relationship with he.
Hopefully I can get over that quickly with the help of new god-doctor, Dr. She.
Or should I retreat, and protect? Isolate myself?
It seems so easy, as I am lulled off into another fantasy dream of fixed and well. "I am not broken, I am standing, walking and talking," she tells me. And I am, she is right. But am I really not broken?

This sounds something like "accept your perfectly imperfect"
And here I am...
My thoughts penetrated
and then impregnated
by the man who would not stick around
to see it through.
Pulled out to late and yet too soon
The love child of the fertile
left to grow alone in fiction fed by forbiddens, taboos, cliches, and mania
Long overdue this stubborn bastard being
Will you be born or reborn and what will you become?
Will you stay in?
A parasite? sucking the host until there is nothing more to suck, tethered into every major organ and event?
Or can the midwife help birth the spawn of satan from her profession so we can return him to his father.
Oh my lovely imagination. You get carried away sometimes. Today I will embrace. I am properly medicated by the way, and crazy, maybe not broken, but certainly crazy, delusional about how delusional I am not, Thank you IHC for that justification.
Time to stop. I am not sure I am even making sense to myself anymore, but at least I am smiling.
so good evening.
... But can't you just see, me and Dr. He, the day that he broke me? As I am bleeding out the buried me and embracing my insanity; Heeding Dr. He's advice to uncover the buried me and embrace my perfectly imperfect, -the me that is breaking free he is starting to see. Can you see him saying to himself while hoping to flee, "Oh shit, she is one of those. Never mind, I take it all back. Your perfectly imperfect really is unacceptable."
"Bury her, let her burn out, whatever you need, but keep that crazy siren away from me."
Replay... the loop... begins again.
No conversation for clarification when I could actually handle it. No negotiation. It's their way and the highway if you have a mind like mine that got lost on the sides streets long ago.
and oh the embarrassment for poor Dr. He in the event that he actually had developed feelings for me. Countertransference with that crazy ass chick? Yeah, I'd hide it and deny it also.
And now a song comes to mind that my 2nd sister shared with me the other day, it is by Lilly Allen... I won't quote it.

solved, solving, and unsolved mysteries. And stupid ones to.

I met with the psychiatric PA-C. I have been nervous to meet with her and she looked very young. But she was pretty great.
I will tell you it is mentally exhausting trying to explain myself. And truthfully I don't think I have ever sought as thorough help as I am now. I am tired. My brain is tired.
And I am tired of the flood of tears that comes so frequently and often unexpectedly. Today as I tried to rehash I remembered even more than I had when I was remembering and trying so hard, while also trying to protect, to help the Neuroscience Institute to see that I needed their help much more than I had realized or even wanted to admit to myself.
She is seeing me, and listening, and she is not trying to send me away because she thinks I am too much or she thinks that I will be fine because I have been able to manage... or because she is afraid of me.
She wants me to return in two weeks. She wants me to see a neurologist. She wants to help me find one because she does not think I should be left alone to handle this. She wants my records. She wants to know and understand and she wants to help me.
I hope that this time the medical helpers I am finding are sincere. That they won't break me more then abandon me.
PA-Looks-too-Young understands what I am talking about when I mention mania. She seems to understand that, while I was not hospitalized, it was hard on my brain. She seems to understand how I could seem so okay, and how it could be fun, exhilarating, and even how Dr. Cheri's not addressing it but rather addressing the transference countertransference topic could lead me to a different place but not solve the problem. She understands that I believed him and thought I was really going to be okay, that it was not mania, it was something else.
...But even then, I knew. I knew the up was too high and I could not maintain. I knew I would have to come down and as high as I was the down would be harsh. I knew I could not "not solve this" because if I stopped trying to solve for even a moment I could loose my tight, but thin, grasp on my sanity that was pulling away with astronomical leverage. I knew he was missing something. He was wrong. I tried so hard to tell him, to tell others, but alas, the my not-actually-as-tight-as-I-had-thought grasp on sanity made this insanely difficult to communicate. ...which you think would be a clue. And I am certain it was... But him for me, that was the exchange, they felt was necessary. I would very much like to know who or what they thought were or  exchanging with? Why the felt they could not protect both of us?
That, to me, is still a mystery.
...And stupid. It is also stupid to me.
And -just one more thing- reliving this story trying to get the help I need to stabilize and understand what is going on with my head, this far down the road and after so many failed attempts with the ones who should have known but didn't want to help me, is exhausting.
I am tired.
and they perpetuated harm.
again and again.

Oh blessed sleep, please return.

I'm tired but awake. Not sleeping yet again. I have an appointment with the psychiatric PA-C tomorrow. My new Neuropsychologist suggested I go with the PA-C for now just to get me on a mood stabilizer and then we can find a good psychiatrist to follow through with longterm.
I am a bit nervous about this appointment so maybe that is why, even though I am tired, I am a bit keyed up and not sleeping.
I also started taking a new supplement. Actually two, one for adrenal support (my thyroid seems to need that extra help these days) and one for mood. Considering the chemistry and silly excited-like feelings I was experiencing today I am thinking the mood supplement might be a bad idea.
I took a melatonin going to bed because I felt a little extra keyed up and thought that may help. I seemed to be falling asleep but then, all of the sudden, I was awake and agitated. Not irritable and not angry, just agitated and kind of restless. Probably what restless leg syndrome feels like only in your whole body. I used to experience this from time to time in my younger years, but it had been a long time, until the car accident that is... Or was this one not until after the breaking of me by ex-therapist? I can't be certain. Fortunately it has not happened many times since the recent onset because it is terribly annoying (the restless leg in the whole body feeling). And as I am writing it out I am remembering that the Clonazepam helps with this, and oh yes, I had to use it maybe twice within the couple of months immediately following the car accident for this particular problem and then not again until after the ex-neuropsych breaking.
Anyway, I haven't taken that tonight (maybe I will) but first I tried sex. Fortunately I have a willing husband. That helped and I slept for bit. But not long enough. I woke again, this time feeling more like a real restless leg problem (not the whole body) except that it is the surgery ankle leg -the one that is taking it's sweet time to heal. It feels a little pained but mostly irritated; still, maybe ibuprofen will settle that and do the trick... It's had more than enough time to start working. It's not.
So here I am writing it out.
I'm in the thick of it again in a way. I am feeling mighty angry, or is it sad? about how I was treated by that whole damned institution that is supposed to see and help with problems like this. Stigmatized and ostracized. Conversations are replaying again as I try to figure out what I could have done differently, where I made mistakes. I made plenty. But the contradiction, the tragic irony, is that those should have been the red flags to them that suggested I was in a much worse place then I was letting on.
I have been managing this madness of mine for a long time, and I had gotten quite good at it. I also had outgrown a lot, even loosing touch with some of it. Which was nice. And still, I can proudly say I am still in many ways so much better off than I was in my younger years. I hope to God it stays that way and I start improving instead of continuing to digress. Again this is where I then get really frustrated because I was! Before he dropped me unexpectedly I was finally getting to the point where I could actually start processing some of this stuff. My restless leg reminds me of that. As the pain and discomfort now run the entire length of my leg I am reminded of the pains after the car accident and how it bothered me in different ways but I could not emotionally handle that and I felt small and insecure, not wanting to bother anybody or take advantage of the insurance company, or look like I was. I figured it was minor so it would heal and I worked it along, thinking I was being careful enough and utilizing my previous knowledge from sports, first aid, and ankle sprains to nurse it along. Until, finally, when I was really doing better, starting to build confidence, and having break through moments with the help of dear Dr. Cheri, I was like, "It has been over a year, why the hell haven't I had this looked at?"
... I found out that I needed surgery the very week Dr. Cheri decided to write me off with a long term plan due to the unfortunate human element that still exists in him and his profession... (the gist of his words).
I am pretty sure the news of the ankle is what put me over the manic edge. Or at least it is what switched it from heartbroken slightly crazy to full blown empowered manic crazy.
An empowered, magnificent and divine is how I returned to Dr. Cheri, mistakenly hung up on he. His mistake or mine? probably both. But that was not really the problem, at least not the worst of mine, now was it?
So here I am still stuck in it, though not nearly so "crazy" but finally to the point where I am willing to see the psychiatry people, now knowing Dr. Cheri was wrong, that is what it was. Yet he was accurate in his assessment that I did not need to be checked into a facility. However, my friends,- and I'll toot my own horn here (something I do not often do)- that is simply because I have become quit exceptional at managing some very intense psychology.
Sadly you cannot tell them that, [those who are in charge and paid to help you manage that], because they just don't get it and then they turn you into something you are not, basically claiming you to be delusional about how delusional you are; gaslighting what is already lit up just to cover their bases, It is, well, crazy!

Run, Run as fast as you can, you can't catch me, nobody can!

Sometimes I get tired of thinking about me. This blog is all about me. So if you read it you likely think that is what I am all about. And, right now, you might be right.
But I am sometimes fascinated by myself also, it is interesting how my brain works and I wonder how others work. How are they similar? How are they different?
At physical therapy I had enjoyable conversations with my therapist and another patient who reminds me a bit of my friend Bob (I hope Bob doesn't mind that I use his real name, but it is such a good name, and for sure Bob will me know if he minds). I am a bit younger then both men and fake Bob thinks I am much younger than I am, which always makes it more fun.
The conversation today was mostly on interesting cultural attitudes, specifically on work, and education came up. I have a lot to offer to the conversation and fake Bob enjoys it so much he wants to schedule his appointments at the same time as mine. I am sure he will not, in real life, but the thought and appreciation is nice. I am reminded that I do have value. I do contribute to this world even it I am an outlier, a true and not-trying-to-be nonconformist, and my contributions are atypical and (unfortunate for me) not easy to make money on.
We are speaking on education and observations that the smartest is not always the best. That being top of the class can actually contribute to a an inability to think outside the box and creatively problem solve. I point out that fake Bob's inability to problem solve in some area's may be directly linked to the methodologies he was schooled with in his youth; how we are far too often taught in schools that there is only one right answer and that if you don't get it right the first time you have failed and there are no second chances (especially on tests). There are many things like this in our school systems that are not reflective of real life.
This theory makes sense to fake Bob. He tells me about his son. I want to tell him about a book that would be very helpful. I can't remember the name. I am causing a lag in the conversation trying to remember. I manage to remember the author; Carol Dweck. I have no idea how, I am even worse with names. But I cannot remember the title in the midst of this conversation. My mind is moving too fast. I know tricks to help me when this happens, if I relax for a minute and clear my mind it will usually come. I am struggling though, my mind is moving too fast to relax. "It'll come," I remind myself and I am certain, but how is this simple title so very lost?
It's a moment where I am both frustrated and fascinated with the inner workings of my brain. I remember this feeling, and in a way it is both good and bad, scary but also invigorating. It is scary because I don't like when I feel memory going and I have a hard time with recalling the simple. It may be a bit scary because of how fast my mind is working. Is it the start of racing thoughts? But, no, I am not scared of that because I know this kind of speed it is familiar in a good way because I am alive again. I am something else again. Excited and passionate. I am starting to break free of the new crazy that has had me so trapped. This old crazy is not crazy but just difficult. Difficult because I can't keep up with myself. I have been this way before. I have been this way for a long time. It is funny how this very difficult aspect of me is like a cherished visit from a long lost friend in my moment of frustration with it.
The conversation went on as I gave up on the task of finding the title, and then, just like magic, there is was, the title "Growth Mindset." (and funny in that moment just now, I lost it again, had to stop shut my eyes and relax to get it back).
Ahh the brain. It is such a fascinating thing.
How does yours work? Does yours work like mine?

Eddy Swirls with Silly Girls.

Sooo, I'll be honest -shocker, I know- I question therapy.
Right now I have to question my new therapist because I am likely to get too attached too quick and screw things up. "I am really good at that," I think. But then I run the risk of self sabotaging in the pendulum swing of the opposite direction.
And really I am only thinking this because I am trying to solve again.
Which he told me not to do.

He is like a god, as I worship, wish to return to, and still hang on his every word and I hate myself for it. ahh the mind traps I am letting flow freely out on this blog. stupid me
but again, that is a negative thinking rut I am getting pulled back into and it will not help me... or will it?
I don't even know anymore. I was thinking to say that I enjoy trying to solve and as I do things make some sense, and more sense, and I scrutinize myself.
Yet I can't quite handle it, as you can see, my mind so easily goes quite crazy. Even though just a literal moment ago I was sound and sane and it was making sense to me as I was figuring things out.

Why is that?
Is this what happens to everyone who tries to solve things of this nature? or is it my lowered cognitive stamina due to TBI and emotional trauma? Is that just a load of crap? Or is it that I am mentally weak or unskilled in structure, organization and self discipline?

I don't know and now that I have this little mess of mental knots all pulled out, though it may not be entirely straightened out yet, I think I'll set that aside and get to my point; Why I came her in the first place. Actually, I suppose that is still part of the point because today I came her to self scrutinize as I try to solve, -oh but have no fear I am certain I will still turn this into it being the God of Therapy's fault ... because he accepts non and I am still mad. You see, self sabotaging and what ever the hell is going on in my brain is so stupid I'm letting it spill out in hopes that I'll be rid of it. So there you go, I digress yet again in my personal scrutiny.

But before I go there I want to scrutinize and maybe even criticize this article: https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/therapy/how-to-identify-the-signs-of-countertransference-in-therapy/

I will say, going back to it I find my scrutiny pacified a bit. First here is what I got hung up on: "Your therapist's job is to remain impartial throughout your sessions. They are there to help you through your situation and to do that they need to keep their own experiences out of your sessions. They should not be passing judgment on you or anyone else in your life. If they do, it can be easy for them to lead you into thinking certain things that you might not have arrived at on your own."

Now the reason this bothers me is two fold: first and foremost why on earth would I want to pay for therapy that is NOT going to lead me in to certain thinking I might not have arrived at on my own? Isn't that exactly why people go, to help them change their thinking and arrive at a place we could not get to on our own? And I don't want a completely impartial therapist. I want him/her to have opinions and thoughts based on their education, training and even their own personal beliefs and I want them to share them when appropriate and when I ask. I'm even okay with them sharing them when it is not appropriate because then I can know if they are a good fit for me or not.

I mean, I get it, but I don't at the same time. And I think it is thoroughly stupid for us and them to try to completely dehumanize themselves like this.  Which leads me to my second issue with this statement (which ironically may suggest a form of counter-transference I am experiencing in reading this article): I have read so much psychology crap that is like, "the therapist is to withhold all human emotions, and have no judgement and opinion and if they do they are harming the client..." blah blah as if they are supposed to be a completely empty vessel that we fill with all of our grievances and they simply take it, listen, wash away our sins, and then allow us to walk away completely blameless and healed of all hurt and pain because we have been validated by the uninterested and unemotional therapist, that has somehow magically connected with us without letting us know nothing about them. What a load of shit.

So, yeah, definitely some sort of countertransference happening there as I read that because this article is really not saying that but rather it seems just a hint or nod to that line of thinking.

And that is my scrutiny to be followed with my countertransference style personal experience [and probably hypocritical on some level considering my previous grievance] complete agreement with this following statement from said article:
"If they are putting their emotion onto you, then you end up with another problem to have to overcome. You can't work through your feelings, emotions, and situations when you have to sort through the emotions your therapist is putting on you as well."
So much more true than you can know if you have not experienced this personally. And really I don't mind this, if they stick around until it is worked through [so maybe I am not so hypocritical after all]. But if they put that on you then abandon ship, you are hopelessly lost trying to sort through the emotions that may not even be your own; sucked into the swirling eddy caused by the emergent obstacles of transference and countertransference in the sea of psychology.
That is actually a really good analogy on many levels; like how the captain of the ship has abandoned and the ship is powerless without the captain. I'm pathetic, I tell you.... but if what they say about the therapist being in a position of power is true than this is an accurate analogy. "Oh captain, my captain" 

and, oh yes, that is a nod to the movie Dead Poets Society; a movie about emotional intensities and even suicide! hah. so funny -not funny,- no, it's freaking hilarious- and by saying this I ensure my survival; this is how I utilize Murphy's law coupled with my own analysis philosophy of "I'd rather say it and be wrong then not say it and be right." So it's clever and funny; if you get me, anyway, which I'm thinking many people do not.
It seems again I digress but alas it is the perfect lead in to my personal scrutiny. I read this article also: http://drjasonjones.com/dark_psychology/ and then his next: http://drjasonjones.com/how-to-avoid-being-manipulated/ and I find that I do have a tendency to "Love Flood" but is it manipulation if you genuinely feel that way?

And then their is this term "Semantic Manipulation – Using words that are assumed to have a common or mutual definition, yet the manipulator later tells you he or she has a different definition and understanding of the conversation. This is often used in a negotiation to create a sense of agreement by both parties, but the manipulator will later explain that his/her understanding of the words used was different than the other party, thus excusing the breach of the agreement. Words are powerful and important" 

this one bothers me because I think it appears that I do this when I do not. I will admit I have been careful to word things occasionally that allows the listener to assume what they want. I have used that technique... but not intentionally in a long while. Mostly I try to be conscientious of what I say but I make mistakes so frequently in this area, especially if I get lax or am under stress. That is when my language skills deceive even myself. I think this would be easy to accuse me of. It may be why I tend to get overly wordy and try to over explain. That doesn't always help though, for a few reasons: 1. because sometimes people are going to hear what they want to hear and they will not change their opinion regardless. 2. they think you are back peddling 3. I suppose they think you are doing exactly this and then, to them you are simply proving their point, (so #3 is kind of an extension of #1) or 4. I just make too many mistakes in my communication, so the more words I speak the more I increase my odds of making mistakes like this, again and again.
It is the one area that most frustrates me in the final communications I had with Captain Therapist God because these are all things I said but I think may have had a very different meaning to him: "What should I do about my husband?" "I think we are off track," "People are afraid of me," "I don't have the same boundaries," "I fall in love with people all of the time, this is not an uncommon theme with me, but you are something special, you are something different," "I can't loose you right now," "You are like a Christmas present I have been looking forward to getting but now I have to give you away to more needy kids?" "If you can't be my friend that I'm not coming back to you as my therapist," "I have needed you since I was 12,"- really, that last one should not be so difficult to interpret if he remembered anything about me... but alas, I am not so sure he did and I am can't especially blame him, he's got plenty to remember. 

But the evidence that I was not trying to semantically manipulate was in the moment I knew I was maybe influencing his mind, -when I felt I was either strengthening his resolve or weakening it- in that moment I decided it was time to go, because I did not want to manipulate that decision, his decision to be my friend. So I ended it. ...which may be a manipulation itself. However he did tell me he was going to let me burn out... and suggested I do the same ...let me burn out?.. so maybe it was him manipulating? I don't know.

...See I needed the stupid captain on board and in control, because I sure as hell was not. 

the end.

abrupt and sad and angry again, right back in the eddy... How the hell do I get out of this eddy without a captain and how the hell can I do it even with a captain that is not willing to steer the ship away from itself?

so the end

I've got better things to do with my time... If my damn sinking head will let me

...Oh new captain, my captain?