Maintaining control in the face of adversity.

My daughter says "sometimes how you say things is not what you mean" and she is concerned I will get myself into trouble because of how others will use what I say against me.
I feel a lot of things hearing my daughter talk about this. She says, "I hate feeling powerless and I hate that there is nothing I can do." She is referring to standing up for me or helping with the mess that broke me and caused significant harm to me and my family.
How sad is that, that my daughter is afraid for me and our family for my trying to stand up for myself and she feels powerless because she has seen that my efforts to find out what was going on with my head and to have the TBI, PTSD, and Bipolar troubles that were happening acknowledged, discussed and treated have resulted in blaming, shaming, stigmatizing, victimizing and re-victimizing, and straight up abuse and ill intent by those in power.
** she is why I removed the names from the previous post of those that absolutely should be named; because she is correct; they will use it against me if they can. She does not know about this action and reaction of mine but I want readers to understand that they only reason I am allowing myself to be bullied and silenced by this institution is because I don't want my family to suffer any more than they already have.

....but this is also where I start to feel really conflicted and extremely angry. It should not be this way and my fighting alone, trying to save others from the pain it indirectly and/or directly causes them has likely been a major contributor to this mess. I don't want to be a burden, I am willing to own my own,  and I am trying to handle something too big and not solely my problem on my own. Part of why is because the rejection of being denied help or ignored when I ask for help is extremely painful. But that may be exactly why the Intermountain Neuroscience Institute has treated me the way they have. ..."Untied we stand, divided we fall" ...because if it seems nobody really gives a shit about me then why should they? For all intents and purposes it appears their bottom line is $ and alone I do not offer a significant source of that. In fact, for my families sake, I asked them to refund my bills because they were refusing me my patient rights (according to their patient bill of rights) and they were refusing me services while not referring me out appropriately. My husband did get involved in that one. But they would offer none and no apology. They missed and misdiagnosed and would not discuss or change their inaccuracies and for this I am punished again and again, while the stress of it is hurting my family and very possibly literally burning me out physically.
But I can do nothing.
and my kids are learning this very harsh life lesson, that I strongly disagree with; That we are powerless against corporations and people in power who are abusive, dishonest, corrupt, and/or whatever they are.
So then a part of me says something to the effect of "what if MLK went along with this kind of thinking?"
And I think I will fight. For now I will take the names off for my daughters sake as I take her advice to be careful in how I proceed, but I will not stop fighting for the injustices and straight up abuses I have endured at the hands of those who were in power and had an ethical, moral, and most likely legal obligation to treat me fairly. It is not right for them to vilify and try to criminalize me for their mistakes. It is not right for them to stigmatize, slander, and manipulate things to try and make it appear that I am things that I am not, to cover up their mistakes, or to protect their egos, pride and pocketbooks. It is not right for them to cause harm and then continue to perpetuate the harm once they know they are causing harm just because they either fear the repercussions, they are lazy, or, again, they simply want to protect their own ego's and/or pocketbooks. It is not right that I was so incredibly vulnerable and they knew it and they twisted and manipulated my vulnerabilities anyway they could to work it in their favor.
Alone or not
I will fight.
And if they really want to turn me into a criminal for trying to take care of me and my family while trying to protect the very therapist that made serious mistakes and acknowledged breaking me, and for standing up for myself, for trying to understand, for seeking clarification and for trusting and loving them, then I so be it.
I would rather go to jail unjustly than allow this kind of warped bullying and abuse. If I am allowing it to happen to me I am also turning a blind eye to others that are suffering and being abused by the same systems.
AND THIS IS NOT OKAY

Burning Out just for you J P

If I am being perfectly honest, lately I find myself being a touch jealous of my younger cousin that dropped dead in the middle of the night.

And then I feel torn between living harder or trying to find that homeostatic balance that will keep me around for longer. 

My mom used to tease me that I was like, "Look at me. No don't look at me." and that is kind of an accurate description of how I am. I want to speak out but I don't want it to be the Look at Me show and I don't really want the attention or maybe it is the expectations I don't want. Also when I have problematic symptoms I mention them so subtle at first, but if continues I bring it up more plainly but then I instantly hide and shy away from addressing them.

I want to be done, I want to quit and yet I mostly don't. But even in those times when I really want to quit I still keep fighting.

Like today. I needed to get a new blood test done. Turns out my concern about the initial blood draw being done later than it should have been done was valid. The doctor said that my cortisol was a little low but he felt that it was likely fine since I had done the draw later than I was supposed to. The lab tech thought it would be fine so I went along with it but it did not sit well so I decided to go back and have blood drawn again at the correct time. Dr. Endocrine did not have the results back form the second draw by the time I had my follow up appointment with him. He told me he thought it would show normal since everything else had and cortisol drops throughout the day, but he would get back to me if there was any discrepancy with sthe second draw. I questioned a lot about it. And depending on whether you are one who is hopping for my thriving survival or you are one who feels the way the Intermountain Neuroscience Institute feels and would rather I die, that was a good or bad thing because as it turns out, the second draw showed cortisol as definitely low. 

This does not surprise me. I was in fight or flight crazy manic/bipolar cycling for so long and the trauma that the Intermountain Neuroscience Institute was causing and/or exacerbating was so insane that nobodies endocrine system can keep functioning properly. 

They literally were burning me out.

So now a new blood test has to be done and we need to find out if and what mechanism is failing, or something like that. 

But, going back to the honesty I started with, I find myself wondering if I really should even worry about it. I can just let myself go. But it does sound like a very slow and boring death... and I suppose, maybe what keeps bringing my fight back is that if I am going to be alive I want a decent quality of life. I don't want to fight just to survive, I want to thrive if I have to be alive.

And now I will loop again back to my systems that seem to be breaking down from all of this trauma

Seizures

the EEG showed evidence and I had been a touch suspicious before that. However I did not want to admit or face that entirely so I do what I didn't know that I do so well and have downplayed and hiden that mostly. I especially am fearful of facing the possibility of seizures because the mood stabilizer I am on, quetiapine, "can reduce seizure threshold" and I genuinely fear messing with the medication that has been so very helpful and that has brought more stability and sanity back. 

But the other night, actually 4:30am, I was awakened by a convulsion that was so strong it hurt my back and the images inside my head shaking severely as if my brain were shot circuiting or an actual clip from certain 90's rock music videos. This time I could not deny it nor pretend that maybe it was not a seizure. I did a little reading online and it all seems to confirm that. I found that seizures can be referred to as electrical storms and I found myself thinking, "Yep, that is a good description." 

But now what?

I had an appointment with psychiatric PA and she is concerned about the seizures so she once again sent the referral to the University Hospital neurologist. She really wants me to have a neurologist to coordinate with and overseeing treatment. She will consult with Dr. Odd for now but we both (and my children who have meet him especially) agree that he is not the best fit for me since he clearly does not like to handle TBI related stuff. 

However, the neurologist providers she is associated with called today to let me know they got the referral and to check my insurance, only to find that they don't take my insurance. SIGH...

Guess who does, and who they have actually suggested I go to instead the last time they called about the referral... 

So am stuck in this crazy loop unable to get to the neurologists I need. 

and half the time I'm like, who gives a shit (because really, who does) I am tired of fighting and trying anyway, while the other half the time I'm like "I want to live!" and seizures get in the way.

It's almost as if I am in a "give me liberty or give me death" kind of position.

whatever.

And life is so much more complex than even this. 

But I'll save that for another day.

Although I would like to share a theory I have about the quetaipine and the seizure activity. 

Maybe it is not getting rid of mania but rather reformatting it. Since that manic energy is no longer coming out, but maybe it still needs to, so it now comes out in an angry electrifying seizure burst. 

Maybe Quetiapine just reformats the mania into seizures. 

And then it turns into a game of "would you rather"

But the most annoying and disturbing part is that if the damn Intermountain Neuroscience Institute would have listened to me and treated me appropriately when I was manic and trying to figure that out while trying to protect the neuropsychologist that broke me, it is highly likely my brain would not be responding in this way. 

The stress and trauma is resulting in my brain literally shutting down.

Thanks * (names removed)* and the he-who-shall-not-be-named coward of a medical director. Thank you so much! you are so kind and caring. 

And even better, they decided to sick a lawyer on me threatening to and criminalize me and sue me for seeking clarification, understanding, resolution, and even medical care. 

It's disgusting. 

And I will not be silenced**. 

Give me Justice or Give me death! 

(because death is happening anyway)

* names removed because they can and have lied and they will use it against me, that much I know is real.
**Actually I am being silenced. They are they hold the power the money and the all of the cards and they have made false allegations and set things up so they could criminalize and penalize me for speaking up, speaking up and standing up for myself. It is very disgusting and disturbing. 

Apologies needed

I have this idea... maybe it is an ideal.
I want to write out my story of breaking under the care of a therapist and I want to write it now, from my perspective, from the client side of the couch
and then go back to school to get a degree in psychology or neuropsychology myself then write from that perspective, tackling the slew of subjects tied to my particular experience. i.e. mania, ptsd, memory flooding, emotional childhood neglect, transference-countertransference, therapist boundary violations, bad medical and APA policies, grooming vs mutual relationships, etc.
I want to tackle in research and practice how countertransference, therapist attachment, boundary violations, dual relationships, and/or mistakes are handled.
And I have been writing plenty for processing, thinking it is good practice and might help in writing the book.
I have thought I have gotten to a place where I think I can handle this emotionally challenging task...
But it is not easy.
I expected that.
But I am wondering if I really am capable of tackling such a feat...
I am not feeling so capable.
It is so complex and messy.
It is so painful and the unresolved injustices become so raw biting.
maybe this undertaking helps explain some of my recent entries...

My 16 year old daughter has been having boy challenges lately. She is currently dating the very close friend of the boy she was kind of dating that she really liked but suddenly just stopped talking to her. It hurt her so much. At times, I have encouraged her to try talking to the boy about it to which she would respond, "No, I am not going to, it's on him." It made sense that she did not want to try and I realized that sometimes the harder we try to gain understanding or get some sort of closure the worse people treat us. I know this very personally so you would think I would stop trying and know better than to even suggest it, and yet it sucks to see her hurt so much from the stonewalling and lack of communication.
She and both still ran in the same circles and it sounds as if they have been cordial but she felt so diminished by his seemingly complete denial of the relationship and  his unconcern with the pain he had caused that it would cut and sting her almost daily.
But last night something very simple happened and today she seems more solidly turned around and much more surefooted.
Today she is happy and keeps repeating, "I feel so relieved and I feel so much better" and I am confident this burden lighting from her is going to hold.
What simple thing happened?
This boy simply said, "I am sorry I hurt you."
She did not need an explanation, she did not need the relationship to be repaired but in his acknowledging her pain and the part he played and in apologizing he let her know that she is cared for and valued. He let her know that she matters and her pain is valid. He let her know that it was not that she was too flawed and not worth his time. He spoke so many things to her heartbroken soul in that simple little apology.
And I am so happy for my beautiful baby girl and I am proud of her strength and resilience. I also feel a sliver of hope for this up and coming generation that I feel so much concern for having assumed that their social media and electronic filled lives may have killed their abilities to communicate effectively or even at all.
Maybe, just maybe, they can teach us a thing or two. Maybe the medical industry and APA can learn a thing or two for these kids.
 I bet you can also see that it hurts knowing that my adult and professional peers do not see the need for anything like this for me. It is dehumanizing and re-victimizing that they not only would offer no apology but would even try to criminalize me for their mistakes and misdiagnosis.
So it is raw and painful and I don't know that I can handle writing a book about it then being unheard, dismissed, and unappreciated with that too.

I wish I had those last few sessions recorded; the intensity was insane and it changed me.
I wish I could illustrate and explain the insanity and intensity that followed, how I behaved, and how I was treated for it. I wish I could paint or write the picture to the degree of intensity that only a truly talented manic mind could create.
I wish I could help people see through the delusions they hold so dearly about the medical and psychological industries, about the people in power positions. I want to gain justice, fairness, and restitution for those who have been so pointlessly hurt by them. I wish I could...

But maybe I will simply allow this blog to be that book.
a kersplat, splat kind of telling of a very complex and profound story...
Because revisiting is far too painful still...
 and plain and simple: I do not have the confidence or connections.

...."unfortunately there is still a human element to all of this"
But my "get[ting] hung up on something" was not done the way that was expected or desired of me and for it I have been very harshly punished.

this next part I hesitate to say but it is the reality we all know, the reality I keep trying to deny and trying to fight against. The reality I keep trying to hope away:
Apologies would be greatly appreciated.
But, just as everyone says, they never will.
and  just as they knew I would, I will eventually burn out and they will not likely have to face up to any of it while my family will have payed their bills for the harm.
I just don't understand how they sleep at night.

Stupid is as stupid does, Welcome to the American Psychological Association.

I think I have some real problems with the industry of blasphemy... I think the people who write the rules are maybe really stupid or egocentric power trippers. The New Nazis.
I think to enter the industry but then I feel entirely turned off.
I am not sure I can fight that up hill battle against people who can't see their own narcissistic power tripping abuses.
It annoys me to the extreme that they claim to always have the patient/clients best interest placed first but then they say the way to handle a countertransference or mistaken attachment of their own is to stone wall. They determine every aspect of the therapist-client relationships and if you don't follow the pattern they want then they discard and it is 100% on their terms only. No negotiating, no compromise, doesn't matter that you have been helping them pay their bills, it is their terms only.
HOW DO THEY NOT SEE THAT THIS IS THE EPITOME OF AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP?
"I told you not to try and solve this"
"I will never have anything to do with you outside of therapy"
I still need you, ...you can still help me. 
"I am no longer your therapist"
Please don't close the door on me completely
Wait, you weren't following your own research and rules with me, and I have unanswered questions about what is happening to my head and the testing you did. 
"You have continued to try to contact me... I will not respond"
...
It is so very very wrong.
Abuse over clarification
The stigmatizing in this kind of ostracizing is ludicrous. The insanity of those that claim power and privilege of sane is astounding and dumbfounding.
"They don't want you to break delusions," my friend reminds me.
Yes, this is true.
Sometime I am just so tired of fighting in my head what could have easily been settled and laid to rest by real life communication, the very thing that that whole damn industry claims to be the experts in. Sometimes becoming an expert causes people to lose touch with the common folk and often people lose their common sense with the increasing of their ego's...

I hate the industry right now as I keep trying to fight the insanities they fed in my head.
sometimes I just want to give in
and I hate that I understand so well how suicide can win.
It seems that no amount of medication can undo the reality of their insanity feedings.
I hate them very, very much right now.

"Let them eat cake"
and your head I shall take.

And this all needs to said
so that I don't drop dead

the Challenge to Changing Perceptions

Another reason for this blog is to document, educate and share in hopes that it may reach and help others. The sharing part may be a bit of a hyperbole because I am very selective with whom and when I share it and most never find the time or care to read it anyway. But I do share and I am fine with others sharing, though I know it is receives very limited views. So, I suppose, in reality it is mostly for me and my processing to stay sane.
Which is a long lead into what I came on here to write about today.
Mania
Mania is a tricky and very interesting place. I am sure it can be quite different for different people and I am certain that many conditions, details, and situations from each person's life can effect it and how the person experiencing responds and handles it. I have a feeling that most people are capable of reaching this culminating life event but I am certain the threshold is different for everyone. The neurologist Dr. Odd said something like that about seizures, I think mania is probably similar in that way.
This is something that I think is important to understand.
I also am fairly certain that is it a type of culminating event. Everything comes together, you have super powers, your are and understand everything while everything is breaking all at the same time.
Lately, as I realize I am still trying to piece together reality, I have been thinking, "A person really does not understand reality/their reality until they have broken from it or been broken by it." And when that happens you realize what your family really is and how they really handle things. You realize just how few friends you really have and how little we really can trust each other yet how much we actually need each other. The duality of reality and our human nature becomes very apparent. I suppose this not surprising considering that manic episodes and the bipolar reality is the extreme manifestation of duality.
here's a thought: Maybe manic breaks are simply a mirrored reflection of the duality surrounding us. As I think of my manic break and the few others I know that have had true manic episodes I see that those episodes were in extremes and reflective of the extremes. Maybe manics are actually the ones that are more in touch with reality and not the opposite.
I do believe there might be some truth to that.
But I'll try to get back to my intentions and focus on what I really came on here to talk about.
In my mania, very intense feelings and trust were played with. I broke at a time when a man was helping me to bring out and understand my buried story and TBI PTSD stuff. Part of that buried stuff was the hypo-manic and mood instability I had experienced in younger years. I had buried that stuff deep and it is no wonder; it is not acceptable in the "real world." And I know to well the stigmatizing and the ostracizing. Hell, I even did it to myself. It was better to bury it deep and forget about it.
But the TBI of the auto accident started bringing back memories. Initially it was not the memories of the Lamictal, giraffe spots, mania associated with let down, my blog, and bipolar like symptoms that I had worked hard to manage and avoid diagnosis of. No, initially is was the PTSD kind of memories; the reliving of symptoms and problems that had been more associated with the previous TBI than I had ever realized.  I was becoming aware of just how alone and misunderstood I really had been as a teen. With the reliving of symptoms but managing them in a muscle memory kind of way that made me appear to be doing better than I really was, I was becoming so painfully aware of just how much TBI really had effected my life.
And it was painful.
But, compounding the problem even further, the injury sights of both TBI's are area's of the brain that can profoundly effect mood stability and impulse control. -Good thing I had so much experience with that already, that I had been raised to strictly adhere to high standards, and I have above average intelligence. With those attributes I am certain I have faired better than I would be otherwise, though I will admit I have found significant peace in allowing myself to let go, to some degree, of my rigid conditioning and standards and in allowing myself to be human.
As I continue to digress I might as well point out what many have lateral thinkers have pointed out to me lately: Most people think very laterally and I don't so much. My thinking is pulling, noticing, connecting and jumping a lot. I have noticed this seems to be a common attribute amongst TBI survivors. My friend Renee often calls it "kersplat-splat." In our neuroplasticity we had to take the scenic route and maybe others, like me, unconsciously decided that they like the scenic routes. Sometimes this is really a valuable ability, sometimes it causes us problems. Working backwards can help.
But right now, I think, what I am really doing is dodging and maybe a bit avoiding the internal work I am hoping this blog entry can help me with.
So this blog entry will be long, but also jam packed if you care to stick with me and try to follow.
back on track; to the mania that was triggered by and played with by a man that had much more power over me than I ever would allow on purpose or that care to admit...
In those breaking moments I understood better what was happening than I feel like I do now. Now it is so convoluted and my brain got so confused by how it was handled. Every time they told me I could not talk to him it was a manifestation of his profound and intense attraction to me. Logically I knew this was not true, not accurate, but my broken brain and very fragile stability, and my very broken heart kept grabbing hold of those ridiculous romantic ideas. Maybe simply to save my life because the reality of the rejection was literally killing me. You may want to blame and victim shame, but in his position of power and influence over me, and because I needed, trusted, and loved him so much, things he said ruminated and I could not entirely deny, even in my logical brain that their may be some truth to that fairytale fantasy that wanted to consume me.
And now I am finding I am having trouble writing my mind the way I intended... It is so very difficult to explain mania, especially moderately managed mania...
So maybe I won't worry about that but rather focus on the things I have to notice, the things I have to do to try and figure out my reality and ground myself in it. It is sad and too bad to me that I have to focus on negatives, that I have to find the faults in this man and the institution and then keep reminding my brain of them so that I can detach and live without them. I have to grab hold of every hint that he really did not care or that he might be a grooming psychologist, the hints and likely hoods that I was not something special to him and that he has possibly done this before. It is sad that I have tpofault him for things he said that were harsh toward others including his children and me.
In the beginning, when I realized, in my phases of waking up from mania -which is also, unfortunately, a downward spiral into depression in addition to a continued digression of sanity- I recognized the way he had worded things as neither confirmed nor denied but implied and I recognized that he may have intentionally used the things he said and the way he said them to manipulate me to protect himself. Seeing this, I found myself wondering exactly what type of creature I really was dealing with. I resorted to researching this mysterious man, and not terribly surprising, he is not very visible online. But there were some clues. My poor broken and manic fed heart still grabbed hold of everything endearing and any evidence of the profound love I seemed to have felt going both directions. While my messy, broken, childlike brain, that was trying to handle flooding memories and realizations in addition to the bipolar cycling, tried to discern and determine if there was anything to my findings and what to do about it.
... and as I attempt to share and confess, I find my brain and heart are still fighting and I am still maybe not wanting to pick apart this man that I know does not feel toward me what I thought I felt and even if he had, he does not any longer.
I know he his flawed and I can see, in such subtle little hints (Shaun White) evidence of what may have been going on psychologically with him and potential reasons for his countertransference with me, but I also know, that I really don't know and maybe I really don't want to think I do.
But there is also a part of me that says, "I know boys like you," and I am actually out of his league.* Not in the trophy girl kind of way that people usually think of but is that why he messed with me, drinking up my flattery and taking advantage of my brokenness? Having grown into himself is this a form of retaliation for all the girls that were out of his league? (* I would like to be clear here, though I feel this to some extent, I do not necessarily believe that I am out of his league -it is merely something to consider)
I don't know and maybe I flatter myself. But regardless...
I hurt for him. I hurt for his family. I wish I understood what happened and why he played with me the way he did, why he denied the mania -spirit animals, emails, laughing, overly confident, easily sidetracked to whatever direction he took, too intense, too quick to reply when I did not know really know why or even what I was implying...
I know he played with me. I know he was afraid he could lose his license because of me, but I did not understand why. I know he was afraid of me, and that he could not handle me or did not want to. I was too much for him once I went manic or he was using that to his advantage.  That much I knew and still know.
That is real.
It is also real that he said he didn't need/want anymore friends and that he was going to "let it burn out." It is also real that he told me about himself, though those may have been manipulations, while I held boundaries and would not share things I felt would feed that attraction.
It is also real that he is not what I thought and I knew that but needed to see it and needed him to show and tell me that once I had broken and when I was trying to figure out reality. I needed him to set me straight in my misunderstandings.
This is not what I meant to write, I meant to point out his flaws, the things I see and tell myself to help me see him in a different light, one that is not so flattering and breaks the strange longing that is not entirely gone. But I just don't want to.
Why?
do I still want to hold on? or is it that I don't want to be unkind? or is it that I still have tenacious but confused hope of reconciliation with the institute and he that should not have exiled me?
Or is it simply because mania is intense and the feelings and experience of it are not easily forgotten and/or dismissed?
I do know I am likely more forgiving than the people I feel I have to report to because of how I was treated and how all of this was handled... I have found legal help because I want it done right and accountability is important but the waiting part of this is very difficult, especially for my impulse-control challenged mind.

The good news

"You get more of what you focus on."
I know this adage/ cliché and it holds a lot of truth and power to it.
My dear Managed Manic Magnificence friend reminded me of this in conversation today. She was not intentionally trying to remind me of this, which is nice, it just got me thinking and remembering. And I thought about this here blog, my processing blog. This blog often turns into my venting and maybe ranting space, and it does helps me reset, so to me it is good. But I also see that on here I am not or have not recently focused enough on the good news, the positives, and the silver linings and as I listen and think I start to feel like maybe I want to write more on that stuff to help me keep that focus going and growing.
So the good news:
Today I got good news. The pituitary tumor is non-functional and nonthreatening at this point. It is not interfering with hormones or my eyes and that is good... Well there is still a very slight possibility it is a cyclical cortisol producing tumor, but that is unlikely and also apparently hard to diagnose.  Basically if I have another manic episode I need to get my blood tested and then we would know if that could be a possibility. The funny thing is, I am tempted to push myself into mania just to find out. But that is about as far as I will respond to that temptation because I really don't want to go there.
So tumor and pituitary are good and that is good.
Of course there is that small part of me that is a little disappointed the tumor is not accountable for the crazy and then I feel tempted to mistakenly think I didn't get any answers there. But that is not true, this good news actually gave some very solid answers: TBI and neuropsychologist error/misconduct are more clearly the culprits.
Other good news:
Yesterday was rough at one point but I also had some very positive experiences. One of which was the snowboarding lesson I taught. Two kids, 10 and 12, first timers, and they were awesome. They were fun and teachable and they did amazing. Yet, for me, the real highlight was the conversation with the 12 (almost 13) year old girl about TBI. She told me she had gotten a concussion from skiing a couple of years ago. As she was telling me about it and about how it showed up on an MRI and she said, "they said something about a brain bleed," I was a bit surprised they were calling it a concussion. She told me about how reading was really hard that year in school and that the week she returned to school she had to do a standardized reading test and it made her head hurt so bad it made her sick; so sick she threw up. My heart hurt for her and all the kids and people who have serious head injuries that are not treated seriously enough. But again focusing on the positive, I was so happy to have a conversation with her about issues she has had and that she might face in her teen years. She is a very intelligent girl and is capable of recognizing things -like feeling sad for longer than she did before- as symptoms. She was so receptive and happy to discuss the subject. Her eyes were lit and she was appreciative as I explained that if she felt or experienced some added intensities in her teen years it could be due to that TBI, [especially considering the location (same as mine)] and that knowing that could help her through it.
My sweet MMM friend reminds me, getting this girl as my student was not a coincidence and I agree.
I am so happy I could help her.
And even though my family (the parent-sibling part) has mostly been hands off and keep it to yourself through these very trying times, I have one sister who occasionally checks up on me to see how things are going and another who I can usually talk to about these things and that is very nice.
So I am grateful and I do want it to be clear to my readers and myself that I do have and I am aware of the so very many positive things in my life.
I am lucky.
And I am especially lucky to have my MMM friend.

Redefining Crazy

I hate that I have all these stupid problems that make me more likely to commit suicide. I hate it because it is too damn real and I understand too well why that is true. I hate it because I want to quit and give up and in addition to that people treat you differently.
Maybe that is why people with bipolar, TBI and who have had a family member commit suicide are more likely to,
because people treat them different
And not usually in good ways.
In fact it is too often kind of crappy
so then I get scared of everybody and I isolate myself to protect,
which really does not work so well,
but the alternative can be so very painful.
Especially when people poke.
It's like the friends that have really been bad friends. They want out because they don't want to be burdened by the extra burden -or they don't know how to handle you now -or they are just plain ignorant and stigmatizing cowards. So they start doing things to push your buttons and then if you react they say "see" and feel fully justified in being a jerk to you.
Employers do this too.
If they find out you have any kind of mental health struggle they often start looking for reasons to fire you. Or they pass you over and avoid you, making it impossible to be promoted or get anywhere. And all this in addition to the isolation you already feel. Then if you say anything or react they say "see" and you will be let go for far lesser offenses than you have seen your unmarked peers make and are not even chastised for.
Even medical providers and psychologists will use it against you.
And the worst part: even if your reaction falls well within normal, you will be accused of overreacting. Even when your reaction is under-reactive. Then you might be accused of not reacting when you should have... and you are stuck in a lose lose scenario. If you react at all you lose, if you don't react you lose.
So, as if it is not hard enough, let's add all of that to it and then expect our genuinely psychologically challenged people to behave better than everyone else.
It is asinine and maddening and no wonder people behave so badly in this country.

My kids and I witnessed a contrast to this in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
We decided to go shopping in a popular shopping area that was in a very tight part of the city. I am sorry I cannot remember the name. It is a very busy area and there are shops and people everywhere. When we got there a man noticed us and started talking to us. Our Portuguese was not great, so we were gleaning and using context clues. He seemed to be about my age and he seemed to be trying to help us. He was especially watchful of my son who was 10 at the time, although he looked to be no older than 8.
The man was trying to guide us to different places and was trying to tell us stuff but since our Portuguese was very limited we were not understanding him or his intentions very well. We did gather that he had a son and it seemed his son had passed away. He was with the angels; we understood that much. He brought us to a vendor that spoke English. We asked him who this man was and questions that would help us understand this man's intentions. The English speaking vender told us, "it's okay, he's just crazy." Another vendor told us the same thing. They both knew this man, were happy to see him, were kind to him, and they assured us we were in no danger; "he was just crazy."
I was not so assured and after visiting a few more places with the assistance of our happenstance escort the stress of the area was getting to me so we asked him where the subway station was and he took us there. I gave him some money thinking that was what he was really after. He looked at me, unsure of what to do. I was not sure if he was offended, hurt or just surprised by the offering. We thanked him and left to catch the sub-train as he stood there with his hand still half out, confused as he looked from me to the money and back. 
In the quiet and less chaotic spaces and in the places that we new better, where we felt safer and more comfortable, I had time to reflect on the series of events and this man.
It was then that I realized just how stigmatizing, ignorant, and fearful I was of mentally ill people.
In America when we say a person is "crazy" it is usually a condescending and degrading remark. Even in cases of true biological mental illness, here, it is a justifiable reason to treat the person labeled as such in any terrible way. Examples: "he divorced her because she was crazy," "OMG, he's crazy, don't even talk to him." We ostracize and easily excuse comments like "get away from me you crazy b*@#" etc.
Is it any wonder that some of our crazies end up doing horrible things?
Meanwhile in Brazil, they have a saying, "we don't have natural disasters so God gave us all the crazy people," or something to that effect. But they don't treat their crazy people like a natural disaster, at least they did not in that shopping district we went to.
We encountered other mentally ill people in  Rio and we saw how they were treated in contrast. It was really beautiful and refreshing.
That day, with the man that was really just being protective and helpful, when I had a chance to reflect, I felt pretty bad about being afraid of him and for not being nicer. Not that I was terrible to him but I was not as kind as I could have been nor as kind as I usually am.
Just imagine how much kinder a place our own country would be if we stopped treating "crazy" like it was a plague and people with mental illnesses as less than human. Especially since every one of us will face mental illness or psychological struggles at some time in our life. Depression is the common cold of mental illness and our culture breads and feeds so many different varieties of mental health problems; anxiety, gender confusion, depression, narcissism etc, what do we think is going to happen?
When we label crazy as "bad" and we stigmatize people for the traits that make them different; when we make their struggles taboo and forbidden to talk about; when we won't even give them a chance; we isolate and encourage the darker sides of people to come out.
So there are my two cents for the day.
I did not want to come on here at all
but when I found myself fighting to reset suicidal thoughts again, after once again having the stigmatizing and ostracizing a bit too in my face, and I could not go to sleep (often a great way to reset) I decided this might be a good option. And it is. Written out, I feel reset again.
Please have a lovely day and try to love the crazies in your life because when crazy is nurtured with love it can be a really beautiful thing. I mean seriously, think Disneyland, theater, and sports; those things are just crazy, and often created by people who are "crazy," yet it is obvious how truly beautiful, exciting and fun they can be.
XOXO

Adjustments.

Yesterday I had to help with fencing before teaching snowboarding. Fencing is putting up the net fences and taking care of other tasks that need to be done to prepare the ski resort for the day. Yesterday's fencing job included shoveling out one of the magic carpets. It hurt my bruised ribs... But still I worked knowing I probably should not. I eventually told the other two I was working with that I could not go any longer. The job was almost done, I was the only biological female (biologically weaker in physical strength), and the other two are much younger anyway so I didn't feel too bad.

After that I taught snowboarding all day to a higher level kids group -which was better for my ribs especially considering the heavy (albeit awesome fun) snow conditions of the day. Then I finished the work day by helping take fences down. 

I was pleasantly surprised, driving home, that may ribs did not hurt as bad as the day before and my emotions held despite the fatigue. Yet still tired, I pulled into my driveway around 4:45 pm and shut my eyes for a minute; a little rest before unloading my gear. With my eyes closed I felt so heavy and tired I thought I might pass out right there. The degree of heavy-swaying-tired I felt reminded me of my youth. It reminded me of skiing with my day when I was a kid.

My dad, I have mentioned before, is hard core, and not in any kind of trendy, "I'm hard core," kind of way but in the genuine workaholic, push yourself beyond the limit, tougher than nails but still thinks of himself as wimp kind of way. Though he knows he is not a wimp, my dad is not large in stature and he knows he is not as tough as an old western cowboy so he does not think of himself as being as tough as he really is. He can be very hard to keep up with; which can be a challenge but also, I love how much his toughness and his work-hard-play-hard ethics and livelihood teach and inspire me. 

That said, I hope this helps illustrate how skiing with my dad would have been when I was a kid. I loved it. And then, because we were active young stock and of his bloodline, we could kind of keep up... actually, not really, and that is probably why I often got to go with him as the free-child-with-paying-adult; because often my siblings did not enjoy skiing for as long and hard as my dad liked to... anyway, days on the slops with my dad meant: up at the crack of dawn to get there as soon as they opened and skiing nonstop until the resort closed -some stayed open for night skiing, by-the-way, and that made for a very long day. When I say nonstop the only exaggeration is in the occasional bathroom break (probably less than one a day) and maybe a stop for a quick sandwich and drink at the car or no stop for lunch because we could carry a sandwich in our pockets and eat them on the lift. 

It's hardcore. And I remember being so tired when we got home that often I didn't make it out of my base layers before falling asleep. I'd lay down on my bed, just for a minute, for a little rest before changing and going to bed for real. Of course, on those days, I was so tired that I'd feel heavy and swaying and I'd not make it back up to change into pajamas or brush my teeth. I remember, as I would start to fall asleep, I could still feel my body moving form side to side as if I were still skiing down the mountain. It was such a thirst quenching kind of tired. 

That is how I felt in the car after work yesterday. It's a good feeling and I am glad I get to feel it. 

But 

...and now I move again into the processing, writing out, and trying to figure out how to accept the realities that are different now -of my new norm.

...but

it is sad, frustrating, annoying, hard, sometimes discouraging, etc, that my stamina is so much shorter than it used to be. 

I know this a normal part of aging and I am glad I have the health and physical abilities that I do have. I am glad that I can still teach snowboarding at all (just to clarify, it was skiing as a kid and I switched to snowboarding as a teen, but I can and do both. And though I am snowbadextrious, currently I only teach snowboarding). 

I am very grateful for a husband that supports our family well enough and loves me enough that I can have these hobbies and low paying jobs that allow me that freedom, fun and ability. 

Please know, I am so very grateful.

But it is also hard. It is hard to loose healthy functioning parts of your self too soon and it can be hard to adjust. 

Like today, I went and had my blood drawn (again) at about 9 am and fasting. Not a big deal but I could feel, in my tiredness, the blood draining from me and I felt even more like I was going to pass out right there than I did in the car the yesterday day after work. I did not pass out but the prevalence of the tiredness and the draining can be a bit disheartening.  

My husband and I went to breakfast after. Then to Costco to get some prescriptions refills. By then my head was hurting. Right side, pain actually coming from the same region as the damaged temporal lobe. That is where my headaches seem to always be since the car accident (the last TBI). Today it was the kind of headache that pushes on my eyes making it hard to keep them open. 

Now my husband is going up to the ski resort to get a few runs in, I want to go too, but I need to lay down and rest my heavy head... I think I can go and be tough... but getting back up my head starts to hurt again. He doesn't want me to go, he wants me to recover. It is not like him to be concerned and I know if he is worried about me then he is not going to have as much fun so I listen to him and my body and stay home. 

But not without breaking again as evidenced by the stream leaking from my eyes.

I am not tough enough. I want to be stronger. I want to push myself... but I also know better

And, to be perfectly honest, I am kind of afraid of that seizure like activity that the EEG found and that I have been a bit suspicious of... I don't want to push into or beyond that limit.
Adjustments.
They can be difficult
even when they are invisible.
or
maybe
especially when they are invisible. 

tired broken brains

Blah blah wah wah

I hate this shit here on this page and I am tired of being second class. Why am I still nice to lousy friend that is shameless in replacing me and I know will say shit about me to relieve her own conscience? I am nice because that is who I want to be and even though she is a shitty friend to me I know that she is mostly a good person and I do know she has a lot of her own shit and baggage. I reminded myself of that, so that I can be nice and not so hurt.

But it still hurts.

and I don't know how to expect to be treated better by people. 

And I am crying and fighting damned suicidal thinking again and it is pissing me off because that is not what I want and not what I am going to do. 

SO I get that out of my head ...

but somehow find myself pushing into reckless.  

And WHY???

What the hell is going on with me now?

WHY???

I am stable 

I say 

but I am also tired, physically and mentally after teaching snowboarding and being around so many people and having it in my face how much of an outsider I am. 

And my stupid ribs hurt. The damn ribs that cover my heart. 

because I had an oh so graceful endo onto a box slide when a divot caught my snowboard just before mounting the railed box. 

Oddly while driving home the pain in the region of my heart brings back memories to my tired dejected brain of a time when my heart hurt like hell until I got back in... and it catches me off guard

When will this hell end?

I think

as my the tears start to stream.

It's annoying as hell

but I also know that I was not in hell a few hours ago and that I am still very enthusiastic about life, really. So I remind myself that my broken brain will wear out a bit faster than others and faster than it used to. I remind myself that it was fragile before anyway. And I remind myself - nope, I stop on that one- don't remind yourself there. But I know my emotions go when I do too much or push too hard and I know that is an unfortunate reality of my injuries. So I can cut me some slack and allow the tired and know I will be okay again after some rest. 

Yet there is still a truth: It is so damn frustrating to have this low of cognitive stamina- I am tougher than this-

and yet I am not.

SO that makes me kind of mad and the cycle starts all over again

Except for this time it doesn't because I am writing it out and in doing so I see the comedy of it and my tired brain laughs. 

Good night.

Time to rest this heavy burdened head. 

Bipolar blood

Blood draw today.
The girl has me poked and needle in as soon as I sit down. I am kind of glad for this because I really don't like needles.
It was a bit of a problem in my younger years. My heart rate would shoot way up and I'd have some sort of panic attack. I wonder if this was a form of PTSD because the fear and anxiety did not start until after the 1st TBI and the hospital stay. As a kid, of course I did not like getting shots but reactions like that did not happen. Needles did not scare me when I was little.
Regardless I have learned to manage. I usually use a form of meditation through it. But this lovely young lady had the needle in so fast I didn't even have time to worry about it.
So I was happy she was so quick.
But
The funny part was on the 5th or 6th vile; she makes a comment about how the blood is flowing.
I ask if it is slowing.
She says it is weird because it is like nothing is coming then suddenly it is fast.
I tell her is must be the bipolar in my blood.
And I am glad she finds my joke funny too.
Because I really don't like to offer up that kind of info so easily

Shades of grey... the colors of yesterday that just don't stay...Black and white; much more air tight.

I'm feeling things. Things that are really angering. I want to speak out. I want to stand up for myself... to people who don't want to hear, people who don't care. So I come here, to save myself from the pain I will inevitably feel in my rejected efforts to be heard.
Those friends that are being, and/or have been, kind of shitty friends through all this,... it is causing my brain to relive shit again.
Mainly the stupid comments of one friend with his narrowed suspicious eyes, "what are you up to?" he asks, wanting me to question my motives. I tried to explain, but he just kept at this weird suspicious therapist bs. Believe me, I have questioned my motives. It is why this is taking far too long. but since said conversation with x-friend
I have realized
#1 he had already decided whatever it was he had decided and no matter what I said he was not going to hear me
#2 I could not really address his concern very well because I actually have no freaking idea what it is he thinks I am up to that he claims is out of line with his "core values."

But I can tell you this; this questioning- that has led to reliving again- is shedding more light on the reality of the bullshit Dr. He fed me and how he manipulated me merely to protect himself.
It is not and was not me that people should be asking that question to. It is him. "What was Dr. He up to?"
What were the rest of them up to?
What are they up to?

It is extremely fishy and suspicious and Dr. He knew all to well how to manipulate things to his favor, how to get me into trouble for trying to protect him.

My middle fingers go up as I am once again reliving scenarios and hearing the words replay.
I know what your are up to... I did even when I was broken, even when I was fading, even when my heart loved him so very much that I could not and would not believe it. I caught him, in his trap, and he was terrified of me.
My guess
it was likely all three:
he played with me,
he broke me,
and he loved me
because I
could keep up
and maybe even stay ahead of him
and since he is a coward
he chooses to hate me for it
...because I just might be smarter than he -even broken-
and he wanted me
but he couldn’t have me.
At least not so easily
and not as the obedient toy he intended me to be

so he has to hate me

That is what I think just may be the reality
I don't want it to be. I want to be wrong. I hope I am wrong.
I don't think that highly of myself anyway
...but the evidence and behaviors, the way things were handled, the way they are still being handled
very strongly suggest otherwise. I don't want to be right... but I think it is more important to say these things and be wrong then to not say them and be right. If I am wrong we can talk and set the record straight... But they won't. Why?
If I am right... these things need to be brought to light and he needs to be stopped. The machine that is protecting him, the machine that may be frauds in the entirety, needs to be stopped and changed.
Sometimes I really hope I am wrong... but very often I am right.
...and sometimes I really hate when I am right...

The scrutiny
Where should it really be?
And yet I feel it doesn't really matter because they own the shoulds and hold all of the cards.
... I post this blog entry and then pull down at the slightest slight from a different source
...because I know some will think I need to be humbled
while others are just tired of hearing about it.
and yet others will most certainly use is against.
I am tired of thinking about it
I am tired of knowing what I know
but not knowing what to do about it and how to handle it
and feeling powerless.
I am not a victim
but yet I am
... yet so many others have been through so much worse
... so I should just shut up?
but my friend who has been through so sooo much more and so much worse is right;
others would not fair so well
they would not survive.
so it's back up it goes
so others who may be going through or have gone through similar may know
it is not you
 it is them and
you too deserve to live too.
I'll keep speaking for the voiceless and those who have been abused by the systems and the people in them that they have trusted so completely.
https://qr.ae/TmRzyx
This problem is real and I am not an isolated incident, nor am I to blame. It is bigger than just this incident. it is bigger than just me...

no straight lines

I am so very emotional today. I feel like I have regressed months as the tears just keep flowing. I find myself feeling a bit angry and annoyed with myself for this. I felt like I had made and was making so much progress. I even felt I was gaining some confidence...
But maybe sometimes I try to run faster than I am really capable of. sometimes I feel like I know the right answer and I know what to do but then it still hurts and is hard.
Like burning bridges.
Some bridges, I feel, really just need to be burned so I can't keep going back to them.
So I do the right thing, give people what they want, but then my stupid mind still goes back and I second guess.. or maybe I just hurt at the cold harsh realities of it, that it really is what they wanted or were pushing for, and they really don't care to understand; the harsh realities that come to the forefront during difficult times.
I am also still very much dealing with backlash. I have many people who witnessed me in mania and the mess that followed and they are now deciding if I am worth their time, effort and concern. They are deciding this now that I am not appearing to be in immediate danger/crises. Many were not there but were at least kind in their avoidance. Now I feel things from them that I am not understanding, I think it is reluctance.
I have one friend that I now work with. I actually got her the job. She is one of those strong personalities, quick whit type of person that everybody loves. She is and can be a lot of fun. I have known her a very long time. We were roommates in college, and, while she can be a lot of fun, I know some other sides of her. For one, she can be a pretty lousy friend. She almost always backs out of plans last minute and she is pretty shameless about replacing you. I also have had a sneaking suspicion that she may be saying crap about me to relieve maybe justify her being such a crappy friend when I have really needed people. I tell myself I am being paranoid... But then again, I know this friend and I know how she works... and then today at lunch she joined our clinic group. As all eyes lit up and I could feel the enthusiasm for her, I felt further lonely and rejected... I figured I was maybe just jealous...
but then over the course of lunch she proceeded to tell about an experience when we were roommates and their is certainly an air of putting me down. Is it an attempt to make me look bad and her heroic? I respond with numb down playing of her comments that were making me sound irrational and foolish while I solidly own the punching of a boy that was being a jerk. Maybe it was my attempt to make sure they all knew I am tough enough not to mess with and I will not be a victim. But I feel annoyed with how she is telling the story. I don't like  the tone she is using and the direction she chooses to take it.
I have heard her tell this story and others with much more enthusiasm and a very different tone. I am not sure why she is telling it al all and especially with this somewhat condescending/pitying tone.
As I am feeling so many things form people, I feel my suspicions may have just been confirmed. I try to ignore it. I try to down play it and I try not to be hurt by it.
But it hurts.
It hurts.
I am not the same person I was a year ago. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago. I am not the same person I was when she and I were college roommates... I am no longer okay with being the sidekick to fair-weather friends. I am not okay with them putting me down to feel better about how they are or are not treating me.
I'm done.
But it is not so easy as I would like it to be.
It still hurts.
And I don't know how to break away from the things people hold you too, the me they want to keep me pegged as.
"Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away..."
...and as I assess my emotions and where it is all coming from I also feel sad and scared as I can guess the reality of people utilizing me and sharing my story; they very likely won't because I offended one of their board members by trying to understand, and I am not welcome by people they want strong ties to. I am too risky once again, even though I am not and should not be seen that way. I  fear I will be discarded once again by an institution that is where I belong.
I hope this is not true... but I see it coming and the writing is on the wall.
And it hurts.
It hurts knowing mistakes made, when I was so very broken and vulnerable have been used so harshly against me and attempts to reconcile and/or to understand, my attempts to help them understand, my misunderstandings, even my faith in humanity and so many things were used against me and will be used against me. Even my kids' choices and desires to understand and/or help have been used against me.
He will, and they will, use whatever they can against me
...for loving him and for believing in them.
And it hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts that family is handling this about the same as how they handled the first TBI; it's too much so they don't.
Sometimes, somedays, it is just too in my face.
And I suppose that is what today was.
It would be nice if I could run away and start over...
But alas...
I stick around. Because my husband has been pointing out for years, when I have felt ditched and hurt by the above mentioned friend, that she is not a very good friend to me
and because my kids still believe in and need me. They even look out for me.
And because some friends are still friends and offer words of encouragement
and actually try to understand
and because I can still process my emotions and face whatever it is that is hurting me.
Today it hurts. Today the backlash was too in my face. Today I cried and cried as I tried to ignore and avoid the reasons why. Avoiding, trying not to think about it, just trying to forget did not work. It brought back the suicidal thoughts, the feelings of worthlessness...
So I once again looked at it as a symptom and then I allowed myself to analyze the why of the symptoms.
Why?
because the harsh realities of life can be pretty damn harsh at times.
Why?
because I make mistakes
Why?
because other people make mistakes
but also people can be serious jerks and behave really stupid to feel better about being a jerk.
Why?
because I have a lot of broken pieces that I am working to hold together and striving to fix what I can and accept what I cannot fix.
and also because even though people hurt me I still give them credit -which I want to continue to do- but sometimes it makes the hurt cut extra deep.
So I'll be a cutter by cutting myself some slack and cutting some ties
and as I do
I remember what Dr. She said about how healing, recovery, learning how to live with these new norms and realities is not a straight line.

refusing to die, because I am the bad guy

More and more I feel like it was intentional grooming. Subtle and sly in his methods, he was setting me up, manipulating for a desired outcome.
On paper I am a prime target for it.
Prime target also means the effects will be much more devastating.
And I am trapped
back in the dysfunctional marriage, friend and family relationships.
I am burning many of them down
because I am tired of hurting
I am tired of the dynamics that hurt me.
My head is confused
my heart is broken
but I have no way out
I am dependent
and beat down
but I am supposed to keep being so considerate and aware of the burden that I am. I am supposed to be there to meet their needs and to make sure they are okay and feel okay about being a jerk to me...
And in the event that I say something that makes someone uncomfortable or expect some help with my shit, I will often take a verbal beating about it...
And here I go, feeling sorry for myself again.
Only the good die young, which must be why I am still alive...
Maybe that is why
I refuse to die, to kill myself, to relieve them of their burden.
Because really I am bad
...for not killing myself.
So maybe I will keep burning down bridges as I head on over to the dark side
in my attempt to hold onto my immortality

Writing it out in my safe place

Sometimes I am kind of a jerk. Not very often is it intentional.
Right now maybe it is a touch intentional as I am being one to the friend that thinks I had thought myself into a rabbit hole.
I am refusing to read his text after I gave a blunt and calling-out-your-bullshit-kiss-off-back-at-you text in reply to his kiss-off text.
His message is a repeat of others. He wants to remain aligned with the views that I challenge and he wants me to bugger off but he also does not want to feel guilty about telling me to bugger off or for not wanting to help the way he had previously suggested he would or was willing to.
I get the feeling from him that I am a thorn in his side and a pain in his ass and therefore I should be grateful that he has carried me as said thorn/pain as long as he has.
I disagree.
I think I need to stop trying to nurture, salvage and make amends in relationships with people that view me as such.
So I am negotiating in this hurtful friendship end. I can allow him the end he desires but I am refusing to honor him as a hero and good friend in the way he is attempting to end things and in his timing.
I am lighting my side of the bridge on fire so he can stop shooting the camouflaged fiery darts over to make sure the bridge catches and appears to burn down from my side.
They have not been that good of friends for years, as they keep trying to replace us and only utilize us as their friends when their attempted replacements don't work out as planned. I wonder if they think we don't notice this.
I don't need those kind of friends and I need to stop waiting in the wings loving them regardless always hoping for their return.
So I am being a jerk.
Or am I safeguarding?
The last three texts sent by said friend have started with subtle jabs or backhanded comments and that is as far as I am willing to read.
Maybe I am being too sensitive because I am extra sensitive right now.
Dr. She says it is okay, normal and expected that I am gun shy and too nervous about friends and trying to pursue any old or new goals right now. She says after what I have been through and the hurts of these last couple of years she would be more worried if I was not.
I ask her to read the long text from said friend that I could not bring myself to read. She does and thinks it is better, more human and sincere than the last one, she gives me the cliff notes. I ask her if I should try to salvage that friendship. She says it is up to me. She says I may get hurt again because we are human and people make mistakes, which she knows I already know, but basically I have to decide if it is worth it for me and she says, whatever I decide is the right answer for me.
I think on this.
I think about reading the text but
"Running the risk of offering up more "shit," I wanted to apologize" feels backhanded and I don't trust. I find I need to safeguard so that is where I stop reading again.
I think about what has been said and what has been consistent. I realize that what has been consistent is the desire to end the relationship. It feels very much like he is using these events to justify that. It feels as though he is jumping on the bandwagon and that does not feel good. I think I do not need that. I think maybe it would be best to severe ties.
So I give a reply that will help with that -severing the ties- but I refuse to honor him as a hero in it and I take a stand for myself. I share some of the things he has not bothered to ask about that I am trying to come to terms with and that are effecting even that conversation.  Some of what I say and how I say it is mimicking his patterns/methods. I let him know that even though I have no energy or desire to read his text, I am open to speaking in person.
He texts, another long text, back.
"Sounds like I am writing to myself then. I am glad you have proper care givers..." that is far as I can go. Ordering tests and the words on the MRI are not proper care givers. In fact I am far from it. I still have a 4 month wait to see the TBI neurologist and one that I hope I can understand better than Dr. Odd. Dr. Odd who does not see people for TBI but would see me for the tremors. And a good thing, since it allowed me to get the testing done in a year that I had met my out of pocket max, but he says contradictory things and is definitely not the right guy to have treating for the stuff I have going on; too much contradiction and uncertainty in his views. After a ridiculous amount of effort just to get an appointment with the endocrinologist I still have not met with him either. And my psychiatric PA is still trying hard to get me in with the neurology department she would like me to see. She has been trying since August and the best we have is a letter saying I am on the waiting list to even schedule an appointment. So the comment annoys me and is further evidence of his intention to remain ignorant. Plus the first comment, again, feels backhanded or like a subtle jab. I am a bit to tender right now, so I do not respond well to the jabs. So again I refuse to read the long texts and reiterate part of why, but once again say I might be open to conversation in person.
The last text, he is clearly mad as evidenced by the first few words that I cannot avoid reading [due to the fact that they show up without even opening and I am a good enough reader that I do not have to focus on every word individually] but I do my best to avoid reading.
At this point I am feeling a touch sorry but I also know I am giving him at least half of what he wants and I think maybe he is showing a lack of respect for my terms by continuing to text when I told him I was not open to that form of communication.
I am temped to text him back and say, "look, all three of your last texts start off with subtle backhandedness or slight jabs, I don't feel safe continuing to read and I gave you an alternative form of communication I would be more open to."
But I just don't think I am going to get anywhere and I really don't need to keep going back to people who perceive me to be something I am not nor want to be. I have made plenty of mistakes, and I have been a pain in the ass at times, I am sure; I can own these, but I have also been dismissed and discredited in many ways and I really don't need that.
So...
Here I am writing out, instead of continuing in a pointless impasse fight.

You think, therefore I am? No

"Because you chose tough," says Renée, "You don't want to be a victim, you are intelligent and an empath."
"You seem okay and appear to be okay so therefore you must be" and they will not allow you to shake their world views or perceptions. "They double down" says Dr. She "so therefore it must be you that is wrong."
This is why people want to miss and dismiss the troubles of TBI.
This is why people don't want to help or believe their could ever be a problem with the medical providers who missed and dismissed.
I am fortunate, says Renée because mine is at least easily proven by MRI.

The magicians hat.

“Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, ‘I am running away.’
‘If you run away,’ said his mother, ‘I will run after you. For you are my little bunny’…”
This is the beginning of one of my most favorite childhood books. It is by Margaret Wise Brown with pictures by Clement Hurd. The words were running through my brain our last few days in Mexico.
...

I think this story appeals to me not just because the little bunny's desire to run away resonates but maybe also because I crave the relationship he has with his mother. She will continue to go after him. Her statements following his always an "if you do then I will follow you and become whatever I need to be there with and for you and love you." 

It is such a sweet premise and such a desirable ideal. It is my wish to be loved that much. I believe most people wished to be loved that much. 

But it is not real.

Just a sweet children's story book that feeds those silly ideals.

...

Also I think I am addicted to this blog. 

It offers me rather instant and usually seemingly effective relief when I need it. 

But I find myself wondering if it is entirely good or healthy.

Why do I judge or think I need to judge this?

Are some addictions good and healthy? 

The runners high can be addicting

and it is said to be good and healthy

But is it?

I suppose I wonder this today, because I feel sad and melancholy, and I don't really want to.

I feel a bit lost and insecure when I think what to do with myself from here. 

I feel very beat down in my big ideas making it feel pointless to pursue since I lack influence and support, thus I feel I do not have the courage or energy to pursue them.

I want to keep believing...

but I also want to 

disappear. 

more rational manic

One of my writings is up on my computer, not sure why. It is dated Dec. 11, 2018 and I wrote it while we were on the flight to Italy. I am not sure if I would have been still considered manic at that time.
What I wrote is logical and makes sense. I understood the situation I was in very well, it seems. It even seems I was more logical and rational about it then. And I wonder how that was even possible because I know I had been manic and things, at least in my mind, had gotten so crazy.
How is it I was so much more logical and rational when I was in that still somewhat manic phase?
As I read I remember the feeling of needing things addressed then. I remember feeling angry when I finally did get put on a mood stabilizer because, surely, it would have been so much easier if I had been put on something way back in January when I went to Dr. R (Concussion Dr) after returning from Italy, knowing I was not functioning normal and wanting to discuss it but not sure how because I was trying to protect Dr. P. Way back when Dr. R recognized that I needed one but then proceeded down a path that did not make sense to me in giving me the names for 2 PA's at less suitable and fitting practices, and expecting me to make the appointments and follow through with that. I did try by-the-way.
But mostly as I read I vaguely remember something that Dr. She said about how if it is truly mania or bipolar than a person will progressively loose touch with reality. If we were to graph it the mood and mental state would continue on a downward slant if it was, but it would not if a person just experiencing a high time or something else, not bipolar or true mania.
... That is what happened. Even as I was waking up from mania in various phases I was loosing touch with reality and slipping deeper and deeper into depression also. I was fighting hard to keep grounded and fighting hard to stay sane, but it was getting progressively worse and I was definitely working hard to maintain that footing.
It knots my throat up and moistens my eyes.
It has been such a messed up messy mess and such a bizarre fight for survival

the wrong climate for fair weather friends

I'm tired as we are driving back to our Airbnb in Cozumel. I feel a bit forlorn, maybe just because I am tired. I am not thinking about things. I am enjoying this vacation. It is the  Christmas and Birthday presents I surprised my husband with. He deserves this vacation, especially considering the shit I have put him through this last year, so I have made it that, vacation for him; committed to letting it be whatever he wants. And mostly I have done well with that.
...but tonight, with 3 nights left I feel a touch sad. This alternate reality is going to end and I feel a little lost.
... I think about what I am going to do when I get home and
 I think I have lost myself.
I wonder who I am.
Then my husband says something about staying here and how it is so much less lonely here. I feel that too and I am glad I am not the only one, but I also know I would probably have the same problems here.
I apologize to my husband for not being able to keep friends and he says rather quickly and bluntly that they are all ... not going to repeat his choice of words but it made me cry ... probably with gratitude that he does not blame me and he appreciates me. It also makes me cry because I don't want to go home to the cold state that I live in. I don't belong there.
...but then again
Where do I belong?
and who am I?
I am lost.
and yet I am not sure a person can be lost if they never really belonged anywhere.
So I am not sure I have ever really known who I am in this moment.
I thought I had it. For a brief moment in time I thought I knew who I was and I was finding me...
...but then it was mania.
and then denied by the very people who are supposed to know and the one place in the world that felt safe, calm, and like home to me.
So the denial confused me
it then meant I was the forbidden fantasy of the very person I needed most.
And I did need him
he was helping me find me
...but once again I found myself with
a person I loved and needed not able to handle me.... And I was sure he could... if only he would try.
So I was the forbidden fantasy of the man who was finding me and helping me to see that I could be me, loved, and I could love me.
...but...
 in reality I know it is/was not a forbidden fantasy - rather he told me things in a way that left it open to interpretation, implying what he thought might help me but more importantly what would protect himself while getting him out and away from me -from the fantasy he knew he should not have played with, but too late.
so what am I?
A toy?
to my husband now?
to get back at him; my transference that betrayed me?  A toy to my husband to try and break free of the those manic meaningful moments where I knew I was no longer my husbands or even my own person but his. These ideas solidly reinforced by too many months and too many games played with my broken mind by the him and the Institute that protects him.
This is what happens when therapists play with their very fragile and vulnerable patients. This is what happens when the people we need, who we love and trust, use us as play things and then discard us. 
It is not well and good. It is not fair. It is very very wrong. If it is mistake, play fair and fix it, but they don't. They lie and hide because you are never the only one and you are not so special; it is their game.

And people back at home say shit like "what are you trying to do?"
Well,
I am fighting for my husband.
I am trying to get my head straight
and to set the record straight
and I am also speaking out against a man who played with me
and then made a mess of things when it came to getting the help I needed
or -to cover his ass and tracks- he manipulated me so that I would make a mess of things in trying to get the help I needed.
I am bringing this to light, because if that is what it was, it needs to be brought to light and addressed.
I am trying to set the institution straight
that kept this nonsense going for far too long when I was trusting them to be the medical providers they are supposed to be. When I was begging for help in my oh-so-put-together way while I was so incredibly broken, unstable, and vulnerable but refusing to be that or a victim. When I was crying for help because my brain was and is literally broken and it was being missed and dismissed.
I am speaking up and out against the doctor that messed things up by not ordering tests that would have shown the damage and injury and other anomalies in the first place.
Maybe, had they done their jobs and due diligence Dr. He would not have played with me the way he had. Maybe. but still, he did, and that needs to be addressed.
I am crying out for the misunderstood of mentally ill and the TBI, and the people who genuinely try.
I will not relent.
I cannot
because to loose one's mind is a scary thing and trying to find and/or hold yourself together while going through it is immensely difficult and should not be so discredited and dismissed
especially by those who are supposed to help
and could benefit from that kind of knowledge, experience, and ability to do just that.
That is what I am up to,
my fair weather friends,
this is what I am up to...
...and maybe I am not so lost after all. Maybe I am exactly who I need to be and where I need to be, Maybe I really am finding me.