Screwed up

I feel nauseous
I go in tomorrow (for that ankle surgery)
my husband is tiring of my mental mess, that is likely to happen, and understandably so, even more because my escalated sex drive is dying/fading.
I am hoping that the man (Dr. P) who is making me pay for my femininity, vulnerabilities, ignorance, foolishness, childishness, strength of character, ability and willingness to love and forgive, desire to understand and be understood, is reading this. I hope he is reading this to keep tabs on me, to know my next move. I hope he is smart enough to know that he can protect himself by doing that.
But I am foolish because they will use whatever I do against me. "twist my words" "behave inappropriately"
I feel sick because it is such a mess to me when the solution is so simple. Do your job, what you have been trained to do. Or is the job a scam? Is it all just insurance fraud?
Money
Is that what it is all about?
Money and sex
I am a prostitute now because my mind has been so screwed up to believe that it was something more than merely transference and counter-transference. so screwed up that I now feel like that is what I am good for.
I failed to give the therapist what he really wanted (sex) so now I'm getting the bills that  conveniently had not been charged. But my husband is happy enough with all of this bullshit because he is getting more of it. He is not so happy about the bills that he has to pay for that turned my heart elsewhere though and as I am becoming "worse off than I was before" (his words) and my sex drive is fading I am certain things will not stay as peaceful.
 ...And with the sex he is the replacement now. and he is paying for it in so many ways. But I can keep him happy... or at least I could
Tomorrow I have ankle surgery. for the same damn accident that had me seeing that neuropsychologist
This is literally fucked up
and this full confession is so much more than I care to publish but this is fucked up and I didn't do this to myself.
I'm scared.
I'll face it
but I'm scared
I'm broken
I'll face it
but I'm broken
I'm confused
I'm facing it
but I'm confused
I'm mostly okay
I'm working to be
and I'll keep working to be
but I'm really not
I'm a piece of shit that is easily discarded
and I am angry and hurt
I am angry that I can do nothing to get answers. I am angry that said therapist is holding power over me and does not care how it is effecting me. He does not give a shit about me after saying things that made me feel like I could be his whole world. I'm angry that he played with my head and my heart like that when I made it very clear that I was not in a safe or stable place, that I had an intense personality. It feels very calculated, like maybe his actions were calculated manipulations. But it went awry because I am. Because even though on paper and in appearance I seem like the perfect target, I am not, because I know too much the reality of what his profession proclaims to try and help. Because I am too familiar with real victims, I've worked to hard to understand and to help too many; friends and family members.
So now I deserved to be destroyed?
And still, am I foolish to hold onto the belief that this could have been accidental? that he could have gotten lost in his profession and his own pain and vulnerabilities?
I'd so much rather talk it out. I am capable of that. As screwed up as I have been, I at least know that about myself. That is one thing I have not lost with my concussion, rejections, firing. I can talk things through, but I am not the only one on the road. To talk things through it takes two (or more). I still have and can, and do. but the ones who cannot sure have been hurtful lately.
and I'm pounding my head against a wall. trying to kick a closed door down... like I knew that I would. Why? Because it hurt too much. because it was too much "there will be no further discussion" no wait, that was the shitty school that fired me, the ones who blame the kids for all the behavior problems. As a teacher you are supposed to adapt how you are teaching if the majority of your class isn't understanding the concept. but no, not with them. And they would tell the kids "I knew you couldn't do it" and things like that. THAT was NOT me. I was NOT the problem there. I am NOT the problem with Dr. P but I was there because I wanted to fix the problem that I was... whatever that was... but when it seemed to be working, "nope, your too broken, and you're screwing me up so were done and there will be no further discussion"... Maybe it was me at the school too. Maybe I screwed them up. It really is all my fault? "you isolate yourself"
It's so shitty. I am so angry at myself and Dr. He that really didn't love me, but let me believe it to get rid of me.
Just tell me what it was and I'll believe you. Just don't shut the door completely... not yet. Not until you have done your job, walk me through this. As my therapist you can fuck me up, you have that power over me there. And you did. But in the real world you can't "fuck this up," because that is not your job, only I can. Only I have that power over me and I seriously doubt I really have that kind of power over you. If I do, I can help you; talk you through it. I can't make any guarantees but I can at least help you help me... or have I already made too big of a mess? or was it a game and grooming and I failed your tests? then that is the other story and I suppose the way to go really is to file a complaint and pursue that path... conundrum and fuckundrum... I am too much... Yep, I'd be scared of me too... told you so.
Now I'm going snowboarding. to enjoy my last day of freedom. At least my last day in a long time... and I'll edit this later if I feel so inclined. Probably when I'm immobile and on the other side of the next big adventure. No walking... no doing... ugh

Fun Adventures through Hell

Surgery on my ankle in 2 days
 and then no weight bearing for 6 weeks.
Hell for 6 weeks
Stuck in my head... I am terrified
I think my heart might die in surgery though
It might not be strong enough
so then I would escape hell.
but it's only 6 weeks to 9 months of hell
after 9 months I should be able to be back to my regular loves of running, hiking, snowboarding
etc.
So I suppose I hope my heart doesn't fail me completely.
My poor family
they will have to endure my hell too.
that sucks.
... to look at it positively
I'm thinking it will be an exciting new adventure.
Definitely something I have never done before.
Maybe I will find new strength as I suffer through the hells of stuck... really stuck.
Maybe I can turn all my 200+ pages of crazy into a real boy book (I'm sure that is funny only to me, but its funny)
"Psychotherapy Gone Crazy"

Taboos and Forbiddens

Taboos and forbiddens
mess with people's minds
in terrible ways

evolving

...but it is more than that; than following the lead.
I need to evolve. Progress.
From what I have learned and what I understand transference is considered a "good" thing but only if you are able to work through it with your therapist. I am; but my therapist is not and therefore I am not allowed to try. I am not allowed to help him help me.
so I am left to figure this out on my own, I am left to figure out how to take the good of him, what he built, and turn it into me and what I built. I am supposed to develop independence. We were working on uncovering my buried story and helping me to both recognize and connect with my core values. So it makes sense to me to follow his lead because he is the professional that has been trained and knows better but I also have to follow my heart, my gut, and my head and become my own independent caretaker. I have to figure out how to use my own strengths, buried story, and values to become the better version of me. That is what I need to do. I wish for his leadership and guidance but he gave all that he can (is allowed) and I now need to use my own strengths in place of his weaknesses. That to me feels like how I will achieve independence.
Where I am strong or can be, I need to be, but for my sake, not his, even if it hurts him. What happened was not fair, not ethical and a repeat of patterns I want to break, or change.
I can accept it if I want to go back to old broken me, but I do not want that. I want to be confident, happy me, able to embrace my perfectly imperfect self. While I love people and care for people deeply, always trying to be what they want or need me to be has me ironically more consumed with me and less able to just be what I am which is what I actually need to be. It is a larger cycle that I have not fully figured out and really don't care to at this moment because I want to let things be whatever they are and whatever they need to be while taking care of me. I can be true to my head and my heart with out over analyzing so much (I have already put in that time -overtime).
So it is time to be and time to do.
also time to follow through
...again, not sure if my words are coming out in a way that will make sense or really how I meant for them to but I'd like to stay true to letting things be what they are and need to be without driving myself crazy overthinking and trying to get it exactly right. I am okay to make mistakes. It is okay for me to be human.

Following the leader

How do you beat the odds and become an exception to the rule?
You realize that you are not the exception to the rule.
Never say never
because you never know how you will respond and never seems to curse you to become what you never thought you could.
Can't is a powerful word
But it is your own black magic; when you say it or believe it you take away all of your power to do  the thing you say you can not do even if you can. You rob yourself of your own power.
Calm
Can I hang onto the calm? can I hang onto the peace? Can I be the calm?
How do you know when to fight and when to run?
Or when to give in?
Fighting and trying to solve is helping to kill the pain and the fantasy. I am not sure what is real and what was planted. I didn't think there was fantasy. I don't think there was at first...
But then somehow that is what it became; yet I didn't think it was because it seemed so real... I didn't think there was fantasy because I can look at things logically and I can explain it away... But the fantasy was there without invitation. It would replace my thoughts when I looked at the disappointing aspects of my life and of myself. It would tell me I was actually worthy of something better. and then the something better would find its place in my parallel fantasy life... somehow this would only bother my heart and as I shook the feelings I was better able to focus and enjoy the moment I was in.
I really don't understand this. I don't really get how this fantasy I kept trying to shake was at the same time helping me and allowing me to be my happy self.
...But also feel so much sadness and in the end the unshakable feeling of worthlessness, knowing that the fantasy was merely that; a fantasy. Not real and never to be even though it seemed so real and possible in a moment. In my childish manic survival brain.
The fantasy is fading as I face reality. I can let it go only by facing it. By fighting to keep it or fighting  for me, I face reality. The best way to kill the pain and to heal the broken is to face it.
If you want to overcome a fear you have to face it.
If you want to heal a wound you have to address it. You have to stop the bleeding... heart.
My heart hurts for a man who I feel is broken, who I believe is a good person, who I appreciate and admire. My heart hurts from him.
But just as he has to look out for himself and feels he needs to protect himself from me, I need to do the same. I am looking into the mirrored mask, remembering the trusted therapist behind it, who can only ever be that to me.  If that is the role he is to stay in and I wish to continue to stay on the path of the changes that he started but did not see through then I have little choice than to follow his lead.

just talk to me

Do ever just feel like life is too short for this kind of stupidity?

who decides anyway?

Why is this so hard?
I know this will pass but my heart hurts too much still. It has affected me in ways I didn't expect and in ways that make me feel like my heart is betraying me... and my family.
I don't sleep well.
It is unresolved for me. Too much was ignored. Too much was missed. and I was not allowed what I needed. It was not about me and my needs when that is exactly what it needed to be about. That is not selfish when you are paying for services. When that is really what it is supposed to be about.
That is partly my fault. I let it be about other people. I was worried about performing just so for everyone else. I was starting to see that it needed to be about me and that is when I got dropped.
Now my lawyer won't talk to me either. He thinks I am asking him to be more than I think I am asking. I wanted him to find out. Find out if something was missed. Figure it out and solve it for me since I was not allowed to. Since I don't know how to play their game but it is obvious they are worried about "liability" and not me. He is the one I hired to take care of all the car accident related stuff. I think he thinks this is not car accident related. I am not sure if it is. That is why I was there originally; my head was a mess from that. It was a mess. I had regressed and suppressed and forgotten even who I was. I don't know what caused what.
But I am confusing to people.

I am still basing my value on how others perceive and treat me?
That is really stupid and self-absorbed to think your value lies only in your own selfish ego. That we don't need others and that their opinions don't matter or count. Now I am being judgmental aren't I?
I care about others and value their professional opinions but that does not mean they have to value me.
I should not judge them for that I suppose...
I am trying to find the balance and sometimes doing great at it, while other times failing miserably.
I am angry and hurt. but mostly hurt ...and sad.
I have been tricked, manipulated and played with like a fascinating toy; when I needed help. I had mistaken the fascination for genuine caring and I have to remind myself that it was not real, only just a game. I have to sort it out, alone, what was real and what was imagined or misinterpreted. I have to fill in the blanks of the professional whose answers I never got (but am paying for still) or I have to relive it and try to figure out by trying to find the "right" fit and "right" doctors to help me from here. I don't want to relive it and figure it out without the person who actually knows what happened. I don't want others to make up stories about me and to pretend to understand me with out talking to me. I am not everyone else, I am not a stereotype, I am not a stigma, I am not a liability, I am not a mental illness, I am not incoherent. I am not ignorant, I am not a toy or a pawn and I am not unintelligent. I am not a statistic.
I cannot be busy enough to escape this.
Maybe I need to try harder... a cycle... I know that cycle...is that a positive one or a negative one? I don't remember.

keeping up

Sometimes mania happens when you are fighting depression, hurt or pain.
The deeper the depressions
the heavier the hurt
the more intense the pain
the more dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, endorphins
it'll take to get you up
mania, my friend, mania

I started low today.
death at the door
But I'm fighting
coming back up

"It was only a game and nothing more"

go

I do not wish to prove how broken I am.
I wish to be resilient
I want to be strong and brave
I want to overcome the odds of my injuries and upbringing
so off I go to conquer a new day
small victories
and you never know what can happen when you try
so it's time to apply

if nothing else I'll gain a thicker skin
so even if I loose, I win

hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again

This morning I am shaky.
My hands are shaking and I am not entirely sure why.
I feel a little amped up.
Anxious?
Yes, anxious
sometimes it takes too much to regulate that stuff
even when my brain is okay and thinking straight I still get this cortisol feeling in my heart and shaky in my hands
my left is especially bad today.
I requested a resolution yesterday.
I stood up for myself
and that makes me anxious
I am trying to do what I need to to care of myself and stand up for myself, also acknowledging that I am likely not the only one who has been hurt by policies or practices.
That gives me more courage, knowing that I am standing up for others as well
but it makes me nervous.
I don't like how my emotions can be so time consuming to regulate.
I liked very much the progress I was making and I like very much the progress I have made
but this is a new adventure I am on so it is causing new sensations.
So much more at peace, rational, stable
but still I know some of these symptoms all to well and they aught not be ignored.
So follow up appointment with doctor I saw before Italy when my heart and body was wearing down from 3 weeks of very little sleep and far too many chemicals surging through my system. (all from my body, I am not a substance user, I dislike even taking what is prescribed)

Mania

I was able to talk to my brother-in-law (I have mentioned him before, and he has written some books on bipolar) about mania.
It was really nice being able to talk to him about it. I talked with him actually while I was still a bit manic (or maybe still very manic, but I manage well) and he was alarmed then. "That sounds like mania" he said with intense concern in his eyes.
"Oh I know" I said. But I had it figured out already.
That is one of the funniest ironies of mania. How well you can have it figured out and know you are in complete control. Hell, you are in like super-human strength control.
And maybe, just maybe it might still be considered hypo-mania because I was able to manage without damage...
Okay, without too much damage.
Mostly I was pretty freaking awesome and powerful and while I was experiencing every single sensation of every single moment magnified by 1000 I was still aware of my surroundings and other people. I did not have hallucinations that were entirely fictitious although the signs, symbols and maybe a couple of lizards may not have been as real as I thought they were. Also my feelings...
Those may not have been as real as I thought either.
Which may have been a bit problematic. Plus then I communicate from a higher plane too... and that can/may have been a bit of a problem.
But I am good. I have gotten real good at self-regulation. I have gotten good at seeming perfectly sane. It's yet another hilarious irony, because I am, probably more so than most sane people now because I am self-aware and I know when my thoughts and emotions are becoming irrational...
Maybe I wasn't quite as on top of it as I thought but overall I did a good job navigating my crazy as I chose to embrace and enjoy it instead of fighting it.
But oh mania
If that is what drugs are like... I can see how they become a problem for people. But I have to admit I think an artificial attempt at that would be really stupid and I would not at all trust the other side. And I doubt it can even come close anyway. But the fun of it is so fun. Your senses and sensations are so heightened. You can feel happiness surging through your whole body. Every thing is beautiful and wonderful and perfectly aligned, until it is not, then it is the depths of hell. ...but if you decide to be empowered by your brokenness and choose to hold on to that euphoric place you can turn the depths of hell into a cosmic amusement park and keep euphoria going as your superpowers give you the strength to turn the world up-side-down.
And you are so productive. Extra energy and stamina. Very little sleep is needed as you have far too much to do.
This mania was the highest I have experienced. But also the most painful. Probably why it took me so high, I needed to survive after all. But when it starts to fade, when the threat starts to fade.
Oh it is boring. Even a 2nd grade classroom is boring and meaningless. I was able to tap into it the dopamine cycle some and perpetuate them to some extent for a few months but alas all good things must come to an end.
It is a bit sad to loose those feelings. Honestly I'd love to live the rest of my life there. But probably my life would not be very long there. The cortisol that came with it was wearing on my heart and no sleep was wearing on my body. A sinus infection aligned with my final manic meeting.

Talking to my brother-in-law was kind of fun, because he really gets it. It is a struggle for him to take medication that makes him feel so low, slow and dumbed down. But with out it he does not have the regulation abilities I have. He broke too big too young. I do wonder if I will be able to manage as well now but I think I am still doing okay. I am medicated for depression and anxiety, that probably helps. But as I look back I am so glad that I am not experiencing as much of that as I used to. I am glad that I stay out of the heaven and hell cycle that used to be such normal part of my life. I am glad that I could manage and mostly knew what to do through this biggest and longest manic episode.
But I tell you what, it's not easy and other people truly don't understand. Yet they are needed to help keep one in check. Part of how I set up my boundaries is by saying "hey, I am irrational right now, you might need to take care of this for me." But they do not understand and to them crazy is "bad."

We talked about that self-regulation and my brother-in-law asked me why it was that I didn't want to pursue the psychiatrist or a medication change. He wondered what that meant to me. It is hard to explain. I have played the medication game before and it can be hard. The side-effects can really suck and I don't want to be dependent, I don't want someone else making the decisions for me, and I don't know that I really need it.
He helped me realize that I felt I would be taking medication for other people's sake, not for mine. I can handle myself and I can manage, but other people don't really know how to handle me and that hurts.
It is something to consider. I do not think taking medication for the sake of others and your family members is a bad thing but if those closest to you are not worried about it and not bugging you to get on something then it is probably okay. It is not always easy to know when medication is needed for you or for others.
I am back and forth on it a bit currently but I mostly feel fine and getting better so I don't really want to mess with that... However I am open to suggestions so if you know me personally you are welcome to weigh in.

feeling sorry for yourself

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself"
is what my dad would say.
I am hearing that in my head this morning as I am waking up for the third time.

those 5 words
he said too much and not enough

I was not allowed to feel my pain.
My pain didn't count
and I was not allowed to speak up for myself if I was hurting.

I am a broken person
in so many ways and for so many reasons

And while I don't want to "feel sorry for myself"
I know that this is not appropriate language and caused far more harm than healing
so I'll try to address that now too.
"I'm not feeling sorry for myself" I would try to say but it was not heard and I always had to consider that maybe I was.
I took it to heart... I do that

One thing I know,
I don't say this to my own kids
I won't use that as a solution with other people

there must be more to my pain then my dad understood
my pain was valid
and still is
at least to me
...so, I guess I keep trying.
I did read a very helpful article by a lady who had felt betrayed
https://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/05/betrayed/
It really resonated and I think it is nice that she pointed out that it takes time.
I also really like how she signed her article:
"with peace, love, and waving no white flag (because I am a fighter)"

What breaks me the most

What breaks me the most is that I can't even work it out with a neuropsychologist. That I am so terrible at communicating or so good at making a mess of things that I can't even work it out with a therapist... and a really good one... who was helping me so very much.
I went manic. I did that "wrong." I did not mean to. But I did. I was honest while I was manic. That was probably a bad idea. But I know I was not the only one to make mistakes. However, there is no compromise. I am not worth it to them.
I don't get the chance to understand what happened and why because I am not worth their time.
As much as I think I am okay and can become that version of me he was helping me to build I am absolutely defeated and anxious when I try to revisit my resume and hopes of doing more.
I got an email from a nonprofit organization. It is my dream job... I think I could do it but I just can't seem to sell myself because deep down inside I know I haven't got a shot.
and can I take the rejection if I do try?
...I can't even work things out with a therapist.
and that hurts so much
I suppose I need to take much smaller steps.
I suppose I need to start much smaller.
I am not sure where that is or what that looks like
but the stars...
the stars will burn me up if I shoot for those
...that much has been proven

this is the reality.
I wish it wasn't and I am fighting to overcome
but it is the reality

Work it out or write me off

One of the hardest parts of recovering from a head injury is dealing with "irrational" emotions.
But irrational emotions are not an exclusive problem to head injuries.
Irrational emotions are also a problem when we are going through stressful life events.
Irrational emotions can be part attributed to puberty also.
They are a part of our basic human nature.
Sometimes our primal instincts are irrational.
Whether they are actually nature or nurture many of our "instinctive" reactions are irrational, like in snowboarding, if you understand the physics of it you know that you have to overcome the instinctive fear that causes leaning back and lean forward with the snowboard in order to have and stay in control.

But with head injury, emotional regulation becomes difficult and changed personalities are a common "problem" associated with head injuries.
I was 12 when my brain was damaged. 12; the middle of seventh grade, the beginning of all those exciting changes that throw your emotions all over the place anyway.
Anger.
That is the worst of the new and intense emotions in my opinion. That was the worst one to deal with and regulate as it could take over so quickly and cause harm so quickly.
My parents had their own difficult to extremely difficult issue's so anger was no stranger to our home.
I hated anger. I still do.
As a little little I was not an angry child. I was empathetic, shy but fun, and pretty laid back. I remember going through some elementary experiences that may have made me "mad" in some way, but I don't remember being "mad" about them. I would stand up for people or myself but I was never angry.
At least not like what I would experience later.
Immediately after my youthful head injury I don't remember anger then either. I was too tired to feel much of anything. But as my tired fog lifted new personality traits seemed to come out of the woodworks and there were times when I was very angry. Intensely angry. Instantly angry. Stewing plotting angry. Many forms of angry. It is a good thing I was surrounded by so many good people and it is a good thing I was really an empath. But you better believe being an empath with so much anger was a very difficult form to live in.
Other emotions and emotional reactions could be irrational also. But that anger, that most likely stemmed from head injury, and was an alien to my core may now prove to be my redeeming grace. Because some of these emotions caused me so much discomfort I was determined to figure them out and learn to control/manage them. I have worked long and hard for many years learning to self-regulate. I know that at times we can not trust ourselves because of our emotions and how they are effecting our thinking. I have learned to recognize so many symptoms that I can vocalize and tell people when I am irrational and my thoughts may not be so trust worthy.
I believe that many people reach some level of this as they learn to say "no, I am sorry that is too much for me right now." and that is a good thing.
However, while many people identify this in themselves, few are comfortable with being honest about it. I often have felt being honest is the best way and maybe I took the example of the man who was hearing bad Jesus to heart a bit too much ...I do have a tendency to do that, I'll take you to heart so unless you want to be trusted, appreciated and loved you probably better not try to help me...
But that is not what is usually understood.
Often in life we are so much more lemming-like than we ever care to realize as we follow all the rules, cliches, stereotypes and trends in thinking if a person admits they have had issues with other people we will hold it against them. We will be guarded and say "well this problem or thing that is making me uncomfortable must be them because they have struggled with others too." It is so much easier to write someone off and stay guarded in ourselves than to work things out and try to truly understand each other. At other times we do not want to face our own insecurities or maybe we made a mistake we don't want to face so instead of examining for ourselves we easily blame the obvious problem and let the more honest one take the fall for all.
It is an easy trap to fall into. I have myself plenty.
But I am also so keenly aware of our dual natures that it is both a strength and a weakness to me and I often make the "mistake" of trusting others to see what I so easily see but instead they will blame me.
So I have struggled some lately in knowing who I can trust, and who I should trust. The people who were supposed to help me decided that I am to blame for whatever went awry. Well they are right, if it is me that is the problem than I am to blame, but if that is why I went to them and their job was to help me fix the problem then... Obviously the agreement was to help me fix me, so blaming me for trusting them when it was their "professional" fires that burned me down or up just doesn't make sense. I don't understand their games, I don't know their rules, I have tried to learn them and I have tried to be honest about what I don't know and when I know I am in an irrational place and I was trusting them to be the professionals.. But somehow, I keep messing things up...?
Who do I trust? Can I ever really trust anyone after this?
Yes, I can trust myself. I know this because I am so keenly aware of when I cannot entirely trust myself and/or my emotions and I will ask for help. I wonder if they know how easily we can turn what we fear into the very thing that we fear when we are too heavily focused on our fear..
One of my realizations in reprocessing (and I have realized this before) is that I take way more responsibility and blame myself for way too much at times. I am the perfect scapegoat because I make myself one.
In these defining moments of my life, will I continue to be that or do I stand up for myself even if it makes people uncomfortable?
...and how far do I take that?
I'd rather be forgiving and work things out. I'd rather be forgiven and understood.

This writing did not go the way I thought. I am struggling to get my thoughts out the way I am thinking them so I hope it makes sense... but maybe that is okay, maybe this is for someone else or maybe it is for me to look at later, but it feels important so I will leave it.

Best Regards

So I have had some very interesting conversations these past few months and plenty these past few days.
I have been very open and honest about who I am and how I am doing. I have asked for opinions and advice, I have shared probably way more than I "should" with way too many people. But truth is, I don't actually feel that way. I am okay with what I have shared and when I have shared it because I understand why. Maybe the other person or people do not and they have not appreciated it (I have not felt that often, but have felt it) and that is okay too. I don't think they need to appreciate it. I do hope to respect peoples boundaries though.
That is a hard thing.
To be clear about our boundaries.
I think my boundaries are not always clear to people because they are very different. I am very comfortable outside of the box and I have found that life is more satisfying and interesting when I step outside my comfort zones so I have come to live there a bit more than many people are comfortable with. However this does not mean that I do not have boundaries or that I do not know my own boundaries, in fact I think the opposite is true. Like a rancher would needs to test his fence to be sure his boundaries are secure, my testing of my boundaries helps me know my boundaries and keep me safely in them.
Going back to sharing too much- I hope that people will realize that some of their doubts and or insecurities with me may be more reflective of their own doubts and insecurities than actual problems with me. I am not you nor you I and I can never truly understand the world or your perceptions from your perspective just as you cannot from mine. And that is what makes communication so difficult.
Communication really is manipulation.
Humans are manipulation.
We are constantly manipulating. Everything around us, everything that we are, it is all manipulated ...by so many forces.
So why would I be upset about being manipulated? It's a judgement thing. Is it a "good" manipulation or is it a "bad" manipulation?
boundaries, manipulation, interpretation... Life
Life it is an adventure and I want to enjoy the adventure everyday. I do most days and even on days that I don't I still do.
But our adventures are not alone. We are all in this together. which is why I have been okay with so liberally sharing who I really am whatever that may look like in the moment and I have been so glad for people sharing who they are and their moments with me. Things may not always work out as planned and that is okay. I am not really minding because I am learning to be okay with me and I am okay with things being what they are when they are.
This post is proving to be... disjointed feeling? and definitely different. I wonder how easy or difficult this free flow style may be to follow?
But staying true to letting things be what they are when they are I'll keep this and add
my disclaimer.
The disclaimer I have shared with people I have told about my blog: This blog is a therapeutic and artistic outlet I am utilizing to help me process my thoughts, feelings, emotions and circumstances. It is not, however, reflective of me as a whole and individual entries are reflective of where I was in that moment and may or may not be reflective of how I am currently or permanently feeling or thinking.

I am glad that I have learned and grown as much as I have over the years. I am glad for my self-awareness, I mostly love my crazy little world, and I am eternally grateful for the new me... Which brings me to a very important point: Forgiveness. I can easily look back and see how damaging and careless mistakes were made. I have documented enough and am intelligent enough to see, looking back, that it is possible there was/is a darker side to my ex-therapist and I could easily paint the picture of a diabolical scheme. But as I have been navigating and working through the new and buried, crazy and unstable territories of my broken brain I know that my ex-therapist has helped me immensely despite his shortcoming and mistakes. He is a talented and brilliant neuropsychologist and I really admire him. Yes, he hurt me deeply, and his defensive actions almost destroyed me... but only as much as his faith and confidence in me built me up.
I remember having a distinct impression of Yin and Yang while fighting so hard for a compromise with him. There was no compromise. He and his staff had decided how it would be with me and that I was no longer allowed to meet with him when I so desperately needed his followthrough. But I also know that even if their reasons were wrong and they caused harm that I still have the power to restore the balance, at least for me. I cannot simply forget and walk away but I can forgive. I can recognize both the "good" and the "bad" for me and see that all the colors in addition to those two black and white judgements has been a really interesting, educational and a worthwhile life changing adventure. I will be okay. I will be better than okay. and I am glad to have that be a part of me.
So in a more straightforward nutshell I feel I am coming to terms and I feel I am making my peace with things and though I may be a pain in the ass at times I am okay with who I am and who I have been and I do not feel malice toward or wish to harm the man or the business that I know is so desperately needed. Though I do hope they will also learn from the mistakes they made with me because, honestly, ex-therapist is good at what he does and what he knows, but so am I.
I am the other side of their profession and I have been working in it since I was 12.  

Do No Harm aka The Code of Bullshit

Do no harm. But he did. You cannot play with those kinds of emotions and feelings, those powerful of words, in that environment, with a person you know is broken AND manic and then entirely abandon a person and think that you are doing "no harm."
I am calling bullshit.
Policy/administrators people who justify abrupt termination despite a persons dramatically compromised mental state because "we don't really deal with that here" cannot claim that they are following ethical rules to "do no harm" when they are a business of licensed psychologists dealing with broken brains as a profession.
I am calling bullshit.
Lately I am feeling really annoyed with a whole lot of people in the whole industry who just seem to want to cash in on the auto-insurance than to actually help people heal.
I'm calling bullshit on all ya' all

... which may be what was the inspiration behind this answer I gave on Quora.com https://www.quora.com/How-can-I-overcome-a-crippling-phobia-of-being-predictable-obvious-expected-and-average/answer/

But at least, yesterday as I left my meeting with the facility administrator with nothing resolved I was able to walk out holding my head up proud knowing I was really there to try and help me and not to cause harm intentionally or unintentionally because I know their bullshit is just a cover up for their own crazy.
And I'd rather have my crazy :)

Destructive Defaults

I am afraid of the silence.
I have tried to write about this and my writings are scrambled and nonsensical. So I will be straight and blunt.
I am afraid of the silence because that is when images of guns releasing the pressure in my head or bottles worth of pills sliding down my throat start to invade. They are not invited quests and I do not entertain them but somehow they are my default again. It has been so many years...
It is different with age and experience. I used to see my self falling and landing into freedom from everything as my body broke apart. Still there is something romantic about that image.
At one point in my life I would find myself fighting sudden urges to self destruct, like the desire to turn my wheel sharply sending my car crashing into the cement barrier while traveling high speeds on the freeway. I am not sure when or why that phase was but I am glad it was not too intense and did not last too terribly long... Oh, yeah I am pretty sure that was the phase when we had no insurance but this symptom was concerning enough I decided to be a lab rat in a depression medication related study. I liked the psychiatrist. He said he would have liked to have been a fly on the wall of my home. I think that would probably be pretty boring, really one would need to be a fly on the wall of my brain. That is where it would be interesting. I'd like to be the fly on the wall of other peoples brains. How fascinating would that be!
Sometimes my husband tries to convince me that most people aren't nearly as... interesting... but I am not convinced.
I digress. which is fine, because that is often how I steer away from that default of destruction.
I don't know why it is.
Why I had a suicidal default.
But I was able to recognize those thoughts as imposters and symptoms. It is a tell tell sing and a symptom of something being terribly off. Maybe it is a way that deep mental and emotional pains manifest themselves? I don't know. I am not sure that I care to know. I have gotten to the bottom of it before and I will again, but some off the pain one has to feel to get out of it is the same pain that gives it power. I am not quite sure I am ready to handle that pain in all of its glory so I am not sure that I want to get to the bottom of it just yet.
I can say that on the day that I thought I was doing well to have let things go and not think or try to solve was the day that those thoughts started gaining momentum fast. It was frustrating and annoying. I had to go to bed to get it to stop.
But I see that I cannot let go just yet. I am not in an entirely safe place yet.

Church

I have a lot more drafts lately.
That is reflective of the insecurities that come with "sanity"
hah
I like the image of me walking across a no trespassing marked snow-covered field in my skirt and slightly heeled knee-high boots and then walking through the neighborhood with my jacket hanging half-down and my right-foot now calked sideways as I awkwardly limp home better than I like the image of me sitting in church with a constant stream of tears running down my cheeks.
It took a bit of courage to leave, as I knew this would draw some attention, but I could not get the tears to stop, no matter my thoughts of the good people I loved there.
I tried to go to church today to be a supportive member of my family. Maybe I also had some thoughts of returning to "normalcy."
But as I entered the chapel the tears came without my consent. Not even sure why. I did not want to grapple with the why so I tried to just let it be whatever it was, without paying it much mind, but they just came more.
I don't want to be a god.
I don't want to feel like my value only lies in my being a wife and mother.
But those weren't what seemed to be causing these tears.
These good people were reflective of the good people that put me in a sled and bounced me across the snow covered field back to a car parked in the middle of a nice neighborhood, with plenty of nice people, with phones. Then drove me home. They likely did more damage.
These good people are reflective of my parents that had so much going on with our large family and their own personal plights, that wanted to believe in miraculous recoveries so much that head injury was the overlooked element in my own struggles, though they were the units who held all of the power to get me medically guided help me and to help me understand how this may have been a contributing factor to my own struggles.
I see that they didn't understand. That they were both very broken in their own ways. And I have no malice.
But ...this place of worship causes me confusion and pain.

These were not my thoughts there. I was trying to focus on the good there, to live in the moment, to do the things that would stop the tears. but they just kept coming

I feel the need to listen to my body
to my intuition
and to forces outside of myself that are greater than I am
I am trying to find that balance
I am not finding it there (at church)
It is not a safe place for me right now
Maybe I needed that confirmed. I am okay to not go.

The tears stopped and I was able to even laugh about my plight as I walked home, limping on my ankle that was injured in the same car accident that caused the concussion which has brought so much of this past life to light again.
The ankle is getting progressively worse as I try to return more and more to my valued ways of living.
It was an injury that was overlooked due to the more pressing matters of my head. It is now the injury that is holding me back from some of the things I need most; Structure, routine exercise, a regular job, my snowboarding job and even sleep on occasions...
It is holding me back because to be rid of the pain it will require surgery or me settling for a different lifestyle and the irony or paradox of it is, had the injury been addressed initially it very well could have healed with minimal intervention -without surgery.
So many connections
and so many parallels

Projection and Reflection... And maybe some deflection

so hold on tight you might be in for a long ride as I try to explain
all that is in my brain
right now.
Just so you know. I did actually sleep pretty well last night. I only woke once around the 3 am mark and my head was full but I was able to go back to sleep and not wake again until after 6 am so I am really happy with the progress of sleep I am making. I am starting to feel more "normal."
Which is nice in many ways but also a bit sad because the euphoric states of being become harder to access and I settle too easily into repeat patterns that over so many years had buried me so deep.
Yet as I look back I am embarrassed at much of my "irrational" and "fantastic" behaviors. This time not as much because I understand it better but there are some things I said that I am like "What the hell, you know better, people don't speak that language and of course they are going to take it the wrong way."
In anger I can be real weird, though my anger was not so intense in feeling this time, just the weirdly worded and out of character thoughtless-ness of it.
Another way I speak different is
I get real generous with my love and use the word a bit to casually.
That is a confession.
I honestly wish that my use and understanding of it in my euphoric states of survival were the more universally accepted form, but it is not, and I am powerless to change those perceptions.
With that bit of understanding lets tackle the hard stuff.
Projection and Reflection
I have been thinking on this for awhile. How others have projected their insecurities onto me and I have reflected them back only to be avoided because it was likely that confused reflecting that was feeding their insecurity or frightening them in some other way.
I have thought about how I also project my insecurities on other people and then when they reflect them back I take it as confirmation of my short coming.
 It is an easy thing to see looking back and I am very aware of how I have sabotaged myself many times through this process.
But it also can be a positive.
I am trying to figure out how to capitalize on that.
Okay not capitalize but how to change my directions so I am projecting and reflecting the positives.
Now we move to the really tricky nitty gritty of the reality of my situation with the therapist I fell in love with (remember that term has different meaning to me. I fall in love all the time, it's not a sexual thing or a romantic sort of a thing -okay maybe a bit romantic but, again, not in the sense that we are so used to; not to say that it couldn't be but that is not where my mind wanders by itself and it is only a possibility if I am open to it, which I rarely, RARELY am)
Sometimes I think the intensity of me coupled with some of these projections and reflections is a bit overwhelming for people. Add to that my intuitions and sage observations and... well... people often find I am not sitting well within their boundaries of conformity so they deflect.
It doesn't always happen.
But it happens enough that I have tried to bury that and conform and be more of what people want or expect.
What is it they say about to thine own self be true?
Oh I digress
It's avoidance you know
I am here to get out the truly painful stuff and I am myself deflecting and avoiding my own plight.
or fight... its flight
I can go on like this forever you know. and it makes me laugh at myself
but it does not get to the bottom of it
so though I have visited this before I am now processing from the more rational emotionally stable and safer place, hopefully safely out of defensive cycles. So I think I shall wander into and try to keep redirecting my random thoughts back to the task on hand of facing it, admitting it, and confronting it... with my lonely little self. And I'll take that path because that is what I am already doing ;)
... I warned you this would be long. And I am still doing it, avoiding, as I type out every single thought as it comes into my head.. shush-redirect my friend- oh that was nice self talk- good job me!
I think I am funny by-the-way
But I have had a hard time believing I am attractive enough to be a threat to anyone. Why? don't know don't care right now. -Not entirely true, a lot of it has to do with mainstream media messages and my determination to be "real" and "honest" with myself amidst rather critical family dynamics ...and some deeper more painful reasons that I care not to address or re-address at this point in my life or ever if I don't need to- but no matter, that firm held belief would keep me from believing that dear therapist could really develop any kind of therapy compromising feelings for me.
The strange thing is though, that somehow he is a wizard. For the last two months I have looked different to myself. I actually would look in the mirror and look and feel actually physically beautiful. It is starting to fade and it makes me a bit sad. I actually saw a movie that made so much sense to me in this regard; "I Feel Pretty" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVx9EFK3DWE. It doesn't have the best reviews but I found it pretty honest and funny. Maybe it was more funny to me flying home from Italy, a bit run down and, though out of the full blown manic survival phase, aware of how I was still somewhat under the spell of a very powerful wizard.
As I tell myself "I am beautiful when I believe I am" I hope at least that part and other parts of his magic might stick more permanently but it is hard to loose access to that kind of magic and the farther we get from the source the more easy it is to become lost, or distorted.
am I digressing or entirely on track? ...probably somewhere in the middle. which is probably where I need to be anyway.
I have explored recently the idea of masterminded manipulation, a diabolical dabbling in the dark arts of psychology . And really that picture is not hard to paint. He is extremely intelligent and I struggle to believe
that he could be so naive.
I don't like the idea of it (diabolical mastermind) and if it is true then I'd need to reprocess from a new place. a new kind of pain. But to be perfectly honest, that is the easier answer to me. It makes more sense and is strangely less painful. To me it makes more sense from a logical perspective especially since I struggle to believe that I am, myself, powerful enough to trip up such a wizard...
But alas. In reality, I am not, had he not been in a fragile state himself it'd have likely turned out very differently I am sure.
It is a matter of bad timing and coincidence maybe. and maybe my karma is off enough to have deserved the branding and abandoning. The confusion and the pain. Maybe that is my safe less painful place to process from. I don't know it is all very painful really. No matter what route my head chooses to take.
and I am derailed again as I try to let bygones be bygones and move on.
The tricky thing is (the thing that people don't understand) is that I liked the progress I was making. I liked the me he was helping me find and guiding me into. Before he got spooked and dumped me I cried one night as I explained to my husband that it was hard because it felt like he authentically cared and he was helping me so much but I knew it was going to have to end. My husband knew before I had, that I was getting attached. It was then that I recognized that I was and I tried to rush the finish, but then somehow he did, which broke me to into bits and pieces and empowered me at the same time.
We hear of people having super human strength in the face of danger, lifting cars off of people, that sort of thing. That was me for two weeks. Super human strength to keep my confused mind and breaking heart together. Super human strength  and heightened senses. I enjoyed snowboarding being almost orgasmic and  other the worldly floating in a pool at night under a full moon. I liked the signs and symbols that were appearing regularly. The clarity of thought and temper. I could be somewhere else and entirely present in the moment at the same time.  My energy was fantastic and running was a thrill again.
...But it was all just to hold my breaking heart  and mind together.
For the first time I had found someone who understood well enough how my brain worked to help me manage myself. Though on occasion I sensed a very subtle frustration with me he always managed to redirect constructively and he seemed to genuinely care. We connected. And though I did not and could not admit it to myself I sensed some attraction but I always steered away from this and avoided myself talking on subjects that I sensed might draw him into me.  But that very act of resistance is what may have been the nail in the coffin. It was for me. The fact that he could stay grounded in his values, in spite of the intensity of emotion both impressed me and killed me. If he had not, then I'd have been turned off to him immediately, yet  his holding to what he felt was most important, what he needed to do for his family and his livelihood took him from casually attractive to irresistable to me. But it was forbidden.
... and he did not feel the same way. He confessed that he "could" potentially feel more deeply for me but he also let me know more that I was not worth the risk or his time. That is not exactly how he said it but that is what he meant and though I get it, I understand, it hurts so deeply.
so deeply that I had to fight for myself even if it wasn't productive. I had to fight to wake up my survival instincts or it would have destroyed me.
That compounded with his professional help that, remember, had and has helped me more than I  anticipated when I sought out his particular expertise. And I know that I would still authentically, physically and mentally, benefit greatly from his guidance and experience. And based on his own researched philosophies of treatment I know that he stopped short with me. These things make it very difficult to simply move on.
Not to mention the very things that give me strength right now are the things he taught and the strengths helped me establish and re-establish... the transference that happened, and needed to happen, was me learning to love myself. I was able to love myself through him because of what I saw in him that was reflective of me. If you are not starting to see how complicated this really is to try and separate yourself from, on a dime mind you, than you are the crazy one and not I.
So
I am at a crossroads. I can go back (to old me), but I do not wish to. The thought of it makes me cry. And I cannot move forward because that path was barred, so after having been built up and then abandoned for all the reasons that brought me there in the first place, I am left looking for an entirely new path in the middle of some very wild, neglected and overgrown woods. I am not sure how to proceed. I have tools but they are not trued.
Maybe they are.
I suppose I blaze my own trail now and push through the briars that I have once again fallen into. (true story, I very literally once did, alone on an exploratory jaunt while on backpacking trip, blazing my own trail, fell right into thorny bushes, in my running shorts and a tank, came out with scratches and gashes criss-crossing over every inch of my exposed appendages)
In the briars. Not sure how to get out, knowing its going to be painful no matter what way I go and I am just not dressed for the occasion. Silly girl. When will you ever learn?

...Never.
I will never learn to stop exploring
Even if it means I might get hurt.
That is something I like about myself
SO though this blog entry still went light on the heavy and I trailed off into directions I did not anticipate I will let it be what it is and leave it with my story.

my scarlet letter

Today I got a letter to inform me that I have been discharged as a patient from Dr. Cherri. (name changed).
Umm... Okay
why the games?
I don't understand this.
Do you remember the movie Zootopia?
It's about stereotyping and the damages of it. It's also about the futile battle that many of us have in attempting to live outside of what we are being pigeonholed as. Unfortunately when you are in that place, anything you do will count against you as confirmation that you are what they suspected.
It is sad and exhausting and most people just give up and live within the confines of what they are being told they are.
I thought I'd had found the help I needed to find my way out. I thought I was making progress.
But suddenly it was decided that I was too much of a liability.
I don't think I was or am.
But I see how in my tired and frustrated moments I proved them right.
I see how in my intensity of concern I sabotaged myself yet again.

It would be nice if life were like the movies and we all had a happy ending.
Or even like all the true success stories we are so keen to eat up.
But rarely is there a success story that comes from a person who really had all the odds stacked against them. Rarely do our big box heroes come from the odds of most of us and if they do we only know about them because someone of higher status or wealth is exploiting them.

It is a strange world we live in and sometimes I would like to leave it.

...Which is why I choose to laugh instead.
To laugh at the craziness of humans and their silly egos
To laugh at my own plight and stupidity
To laugh at the sad things that break my heart in such beautiful ways.

My scarlet letter is an L
and this is funny because I need not be a liability
but I likely will be if you treat me as such
because this fire is wild and free and will maintain the forest ecosystems if you allow it and work with it
but it will burn down the world if you think to control it by ignoring it or demanding it to conform to the rules that are ethical only for squirrels.

And I think that analogy is really stupid
so it makes me laugh
and I'll leave it
because why the hell not

Dad

I went skiing with my dad today. Well, actually, he skied and I stuck with my trusty snowboard. My therapy board.
On the way up we were talking. He only has an inkling of an idea of what is going on in my world. Lately I have attempted to talk with my parents about the brain injury from my youth but they seemed to have blocked a lot out and I sense that they are not prepared to feel my pain in reprocessing since it was a traumatic event for them as well. They handled as best they could. They have their own variables that effect their responses to pain and healing.
It is not easy for me
I feel the neglect in a new way and sometimes the occasional joking comments about me having brain damage sting a little more deeply than I will let on.
Today I told my dad that I had a lot of reprocessing of my life I needed to do within the context of brain injury. I asked what he remembered about the extent of damage. "It was bad, really bad" he said.
I asked my dad if he remembered seeing the CT scan. He did not. He said that he wasn't sure if they had showed it to him at all. He said I should ask my mom because she remembers more.
That was really about the extent of it.
But with my dad, the tough guy that I cannot keep up with on anything even still, that worked from sun up to sun down even as he starts to stumble when helping me build my shed, that will call you a pansy or something similar if you complain or can't keep up, that downplays pain and injury so much that you know if he says it was really bad, then it was bad. Especially if he blocks it and has a hard time talking about it.
"You weren't the same, but you were doing good and getting better."
I end the conversation. I don't think he needs to feel my pain. I don't think he needs to know how hard it really has been for me. He suffered too. Maybe still more than I know. He was the one who slept in the hospital the night they moved me from the ICU to the regular unit. The 1st night I remember.
It was a comfort all the times I woke in the night confused about where I was to look over and see my dad. That is how I knew I was safe and that I knew I would be okay.
He was there and he is now. He may not know how to help me but he is there to remind me that I am okay.

the 80-20 split and snowboarding therapy

On the golden map that I was abandoned with he left instructions on how to continue to care for myself.
The 80-20 split really seems to be the critical component to my mood stability.
On the days that I can leave 20% reserves, meaning I only expend 80% of my physical and mental energy, and take breaks or call it a day before I have spent the last 20%, I do so much better.
I don't cry
I don't get confused
I can keep my focus where it needs to be
My patience is solid

...The problem I am having is that it is too easy to spend too much.
I just don't seem to have the same mental stamina.
I thought my past 2 nights good sleep would get me closer to back on track... but I was spent after a half day snowboard training clinic and lunch with the friends there. Then I had to come home and try to help my daughter figure out her school stuff and by the time I got home I was in tears and my mind wandered to it's confused and hurt place, trying once again to fix what I cannot fix. To solve what I don't understand. It just wants to sleep when this happens, so I let if I can. It is the best way I have been able to figure out to reset. It usually works on some level. But sometimes I still feel sad and confused as to why I am spent so easily.  Especially when I am eating better, exercising regularly, and taking care of myself.
Mourn the loss of that?
...and really you want me to mourn the loss of that at the same time?
sometimes life is more than we can handle.
Even if we look fine
and act fine
Sometimes the seemingly little losses can nickel and dime us to death.
And sometimes little losses are not so little when you were already working with less.

...writing has also been a helpful reset and it somehow relaxes my brain.
I have been writing a lot lately. A LOT, much more than you see here.
I'll share a snippet that helped me relax as I wrote:
The other day I was working with a girl who just kept dropping the opposite edge after turn initiation. This is a very unsafe thing to do in snowboarding and I was trying everything I could think of to help her hold the correct edge through her turn. She was getting frustrated, not to mention those types of falls do not feel good. She was taking a break and thinking she was just not laid back enough for snowboarding, starting to believe that she could not do it. 
I explained that for a lot of us snowboarding is what helps us to get to that laid back place. It helps us let go and feel relaxed and carefree. “It is my therapy,” I told her. She said she could see that in my riding and she wished for that. I told her about how the physics of snowboarding can transfer philosophically to many aspects of life; like how often in snowboarding “your intellect has to override your instinct.” This led me to consider the reverse as I tried to think of someway we could connect the snowboarding concept she was struggling with to what she does or has experience with in everyday life. 
She talked about how she loved cheer. That is not one area I have any experience in and I will admit I have had my bias not in her favor. But I don’t like to hold onto bias so I asked questions and listened as she explained how she was a flyer, which meant she is the one that would be launched into the air. She said, as a flyer, it is always about being up, floating and light and when I was asking her to turn I kept telling her to pressure and be heavy into her feet to hold the edge which she just couldn’t seem to get. She felt like maybe her muscles memory was causing problems. 
It was an epiphany for both of us. 
I was totally excited when I exclaimed “that is exactly what you are doing.” Every time she turned she would push to turn then up-unweight almost immediately after. It was a launch, not a snowboarding turn. We talked about what happens before she up-unweights when she is being a flyer; how she would have to press down with that perfect balance between her and the person launching her just before she launched. I told her to hold that launch pressure to complete her turn on the snowboard. She wasn’t sure she could do it because of her muscle memory that was fully conditioned to be light and float.  Fortunately she also likes yoga, so we turned it into a yoga pose to hold. It was awesome to see her go down and tackle those turns with that new self awareness. It was a night and day difference. 
She was now cognizant of her muscle memory and by being aware of it she was able to adapt more easily to perform a new task.  Therapy.

Master Manipulators or Flawed Policies

I am happy to say that I have finally started to get better sleep.
It is amazing what good sleep will do for a person.
With TBI sleep is especially important as "you are more susceptible to that"
But when you are being groomed that lack of sleep due to precisely timed isolation is the turning point.
The mastermind will know to either catch or release.
Catch, I don't know what that looks like. I was released. Why, because he got spooked. On paper I may look like the perfect target but statistics fail to take into account individuals and I am far too intuitive.
"Don't try to solve this" "I told you not to try and solve this"
"You don't understand, that is what I have been doing since I was 12, I can't just stop trying to solve things. It's a matter of how I try to solve, what direction I take."
It became clear that I was going to be extra trouble. It's my talent.
So shift blame, play on vulnerabilities, take advantage of the manic state and pleadings for help, plant ideas and feed her crazy and then write it off as, treatments done, she's a crazy delusional patient who is obsessed with or pursuing the practitioner. It was all in her head.

He's been covering his tracks.
The shaming from 3rd (2nd try at new) therapist confirmed that.

Sadly, despite my belief in humanity and this man, I know from previous experiences that the best liars hide their lies in the truth and though I am naive and trusting, I am not naive enough to believe that I am special and that I am the only one.

I sincerely hope this is not the case, but as I wake up to my reality and apply what I know, (ironically form caring for others and putting their needs first) to the situation I am finding a lot of evidence of this and I am not exactly sure what to do about it. I have no malice, I do not feel vindictive. Yet I know better than to think I am "special" so I do want him scared if this is the case. If this is a game he plays I want him to know that his cover is blown. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him hurting other people. In that regard, I am special so the dilemma is what to do now. What direction do I take?
Maybe all the directions, that is my strength.
I may just write a book about it (I already have a very good start) and let the reader decide.
...or do I have a responsibility to take it to the "authorities."
I don't like that idea... and I am still clinging to hope in humanity.
...and maybe some of the fantasy of a deeper connection that he implied but neither confirmed nor denied.
And if it were merely an emotionally compromised practitioner who was spooked by policies against the forbidden emotions that humans, including human psychologists, will feel on rare occasions, then there is an unethical problem within the institution that needs to be addressed.

Yes, I have brain damage

I don't like that so much of the information I find about brain injuries and personality problems after the brain injury come from the family members or "caretakers." Very little comes from the person themselves unless it is a dramatic success story usually from someone with immense emotional support and that obtained their injury after they had established themselves as a successful adult. There also seems to be a lack of information on less dramatic events that leave people with brain damage but not so severe that is immediately visible. My intelligence is both a blessing and curse in that regard. The fact that I was 12 and in school means that some cognitive rehabilitation was automatically happening but with out the appropriate guidance and understanding. No one seemed to question my mood instability since I was a teenager and "that just happens with teens, especially teen girls."
Though the injury happened in January and track was in spring I was not allowed to run that year. I had been looking forward to joining the track team since the previous year when I had run at the track with my older sister who was on her high school track team so I expressed anger and annoyance about it. But at the same time I was secretly relieved because I was still so tired and really didn't have the mental energy for it.
That summer I don't remember feeling so much mental fatigue anymore but that is when I started to have fallouts with friends. or maybe it was the next year. I am not entirely sure and I don't remember much of 8th grade. It was rough. Ninth was better but still friendships were always a struggle. It wasn't that I fought or was angry, though at times I was, I just seemed to take things very personally. I don't really want to reanalyze all that as I don't feel that reliving the pain of those years is all that beneficial and it is so difficult to understand because teens years are just rough anyway. I watch my kids going through their teen years and I am sure I am making overcompensation mistakes so I suppose it is good to be aware of what was really happening
...and this what has lead me to reanalyze my life with a more full acceptance of the fact that I have brain damage.
I have never fully accepted that and it is something that is very hard to admit. It is shameful and the stigmas attached are... undefinable. I have not been able to accept diagnoses of mental illness either, because I am not that but I also do not like feeling like I am the burden of a TBI caregiver which seems to be the vast majority of the information out there.
 I want to understand what is wrong with my brain, how to adapt and how to mover forward. Only this time I'd rather it not take a lifetime like it did before.
There is so much more to me and, yes, there are many other variables that have led to my current state of ...interesting, but I need to reframe my life with the understanding of how that traumatic brain altering occasion effected it.
It is not an easy task. I've already burned down one therapist and after 3 appointments know that this 3rd therapist in not quite equipped to handle me. I still have a 3rd appointment to attend to with the 2nd therapist and he may just work since he can relate to the brain injury component... But then there is the part of me that just wants to step away from all of their crazy and just breath for a moment. Just breath and allow myself to recenter in my own thoughts and see where I end up as I write this all out.

It is funny, I found a college level psychology text book on our living room floor this morning and as I picked it up I wondered which child of mine took it off the shelf and why. I wondered if this had been my text book from college, my husbands, or just a random book I had picked up somewhere years ago because I am kind of a nerd like that. It has no highlighter marks or notes on pages so it is not likely my book from college. It is a curious time to find it.
As I look through it I find information about"Neuroscience and encoding," the processes of encoding, and of memory storage. This snippet is interesting to me: "The processes of encoding are also affected by preconceived biases people have; humans tend to notice and encode information that confirms beliefs that they already hold-a tendency called confirmation bias. This tendency to 'see what you expect to see' is a powerful force in allowing people to retain inaccurate beliefs."
It is also interesting that the left frontal cortex is said to be used more in the encoding of new information. This was an area I exhibited problems on the neuropsychological test taken this last year. It also happens to be where my brain bleed was when I was 12. I can analyze my thinking and see how I have used different parts of my brain and different strategies to help me with this function. I do have a hard time paying attention to new information and I find that writing it down helps encode it even if I never look at the written down information again. I also repeat. Parrot. I try to connect new information with something I already know and often I will respond with comments that make it seem like I understand the new information better than I do. Sometimes the act of allowing an off the cuff or intuitive response is what starts the processing of information. It is an interesting phenomena to me as I am just now becoming aware of these tendencies that may be or have been the sources of some relationship troubles for me. It also explains the reprocessing that, to others, may seem counter-productive. At times it very much is and I do need to be careful of that but it is a way that I believe my brain learned to compensate for a missing piece. It can also lead me to pick up on deeper level understanding and connections that are often missed.
I am finding my brain to be a fascinating place and I am enjoying learning more about it.
People will not easily understand what they perceive as me being "stuck" on my old therapist, but I get that he is only one component of a very complicated puzzle and he was the one who woke me up to how I was "stuck" in my reality.
So in our out, it seems I am or have been "stuck."
Trying to figure out the way out is tricky
But I am and I will.

The Jesus Man

At 18 I spent the night in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida. I was living with my sister at the time. A friend, who also happened to be a boy, came out for a visit. I invited every friend to visit. He actually took me up on the offer, but then acted like an ass while he was there. I was hurt. Florida was a hard place for me to make friends. I didn't party and I was not interested in sugar daddies or being a trophy so it probably stung a little more than it would have anywhere else.
I had gotten a speeding ticket while he was there and then a day or two after he left I got pulled over again. As the police officer proceeded to give me a ticket, I made an off the cuff comment about wanting to borrow his gun so I could take care of the problem.
That was a really stupid thing to say.
It took me a bit and some "discussion" with the officer to realize he wasn't sure if I had just made a threat on his life or mine.
When he realized I had made a threat on my life he insisted that I give him a family members phone number as he felt the responsible thing to do was to release me to one of them.
I was late for work and I did not want to bother, worry, or embarrass my sister or anyone so I was not very cooperative.
I simply refused and tried to convince him to let me go because I really had no intention of doing any harm to myself. Yet I would not deny that I might like to... not be alive.
Damned honest core.
It took him putting me in hand cuffs before I realized he intended to make good on his threat and take me in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist if I would not cooperate. I finally decided to give him my sisters #.
But alas, it was too late.
So off I went; hand cuffed in the back of his police car to the 45th Street Mental Health something or other in Rivera Beach maybe, Florida. I was being "Baker acted." It was some law in Florida that said you could be detained against your will if somebody felt you were a threat to yourself. Too bad I didn't know about that law beforehand. High school and drivers ed had taught me nothing about that.
I only had to wait until the next morning for the psychiatrist that would evaluate me. It was a late Saturday afternoon, evaluating staff had gone for the day, and the next day was Easter. Thus those of us being "Baker acted" had to wait an extra hour or two in the morning so the psychiatrist could attend her Easter services.
Fortunately my sister brought me a change of clothes because I was appropriately dressed -for my job at Wet Seal in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall- in a very short shiny blue skirt and a Sheera print t-shirt with cute white go-go boots. I was not allowed to wear my belt or have shoe laces.
I don't remember how the blankets and pillows worked but I was given somethings to sleep with. Problem was there was only one room with two stretcher like beds and the benches in the waiting room. The two beds had already been claimed but I didn't really care because I would not have wanted to sleep in the closed room with some strange person when the night watch was at the desk on the other side of that door. Didn't matter to me that it was a flap door (I can't remember what those are really called).
There was also a padded room in the hall on the way to the bathroom. I wished that I could sleep in there but they would only have let me if I also needed to be restrained in a straight jacket... I kind of longed for it, but I would not admit that to them.
There were 3 men, one other woman (who was very strange), and the night guard there. Two of the men were approachable. One was there because his mom had called the cops on him for trying to break into his house to get his stuff, or because he had nowhere to stay, or something like that. He claimed she did it out of malice. The other had been in jail and they were trying to put him in a cell with a man that he knew would kill him so he threatened to kill himself. Both were actually surprisingly pleasant company and we had funny conversations. I was glad they were there too because the lady and the other man did not seem to be entirely all there and I will admit, at 18 and 125 lbs, I was kind of scared of them. I don't remember much about the night watchman/guard. So amidst my company I claimed a hard wooden bench and settled in for the night.
About 3 am I woke up to the talking of a police officer who was bringing in yet another of us psychos. He checked him in and left. The man made his bed on the bench across from me and began to tell his story, though I am not entirely sure who he was telling it to; me, the night guard, just anyone or no-one at all. But I was very awake and listened carefully to how he landed himself in my present company.
At some point that night Jesus had started talking to him. At first it may have been a more generic voice but somewhere along the line it turned into Jesus and Jesus was asking the man to do things. 

In the beginning of his hallucinations, the man seemed to have had been entertaining conversations with the Jesus voice. However, as the "Jesus" started to get more demanding the man started to wish for him to leave him alone. The "Jesus" voice started to tell him to do bad things and was getting increasingly persistent and angry with my companion as he argued that he would not. The man decided to tell his friends to take him to the hospital. At first they didn't listen but as Jesus got more insistent this man got more assertive with his friends as he explained that they needed to take him to the hospital before he hurt somebody. They obliged and then the hospital called the police and they brought him to our fine little facility. 

It was an interesting situation I was in and I wondered if I should feel more scared then I did.
This man was fascinating to me and I would reflect on his story for years to come. It bewildered me how he could think this voice was Jesus, but to him it was, and I admired the man for being able to discern right from wrong even when he believed it was Jesus himself telling him to do the "bad" things. I was impressed that he had learned how to keep himself in check. Because of that self control he became a source of inspiration for me and valuable educator. I knew if this man, who walked and talked with a very bad Jesus, could keep himself in check, with one foot firmly planted in reality, and knowing when to get help, then I could too.
And I have.
He really is a personal hero of mine and I wish I could thank him for it, but he was the first one to be taken from the waiting room the next morning and I never saw him again. I am not certain if I ever saw his face at all as I can only vaguely remember watching the back of him as he followed his escort, while trying to keep his baggy belt-less pants up, from the waiting room and into the unknown quarters beyond. 

Lovely Little Lab Rat

When I struggled with friends in high school my mom used to tell me that I was a very intense person that I had a very intense personality and that not everyone could handle that kind of intensity.
She said this to help me understand and to comfort me.
A couple of years later this came up in conversation with a boyfriend. He thought it was a terrible thing to say. I thought about this from his perspective.
Maybe.
Maybe it was not as helpful as I thought. Maybe it justified intensities that didn't need to be. Or maybe it planted the idea and fed that. Maybe it was a genuine put down.
I don't know.
But I do not think of it as good or bad but rather just a thing. I used it for what I needed it to be when I needed it.
Is that good or bad?
Labels are interesting. "Good" and "bad" are labels and both judgements.
It is funny how we often consider someone judgmental if we disapprove of or disagree with their judgment, or if we feel it is a negative judgement. Yet we do not call the "good" judging. But it is/can be. If you say "that is a good person," you have just judged them. And, well, who are you to judge?
So I ramble into my next thoughts of my conspiracy theory.
"he may have been playing with fire" says the new therapist of the old therapist. I was still in my protect him frame of mind.
That broke and I awoke when it was implied that I have been stalking.
Why had I been so concerned about protecting him from getting into trouble on my account when I had done nothing wrong?
The power of suggestion?
What is it that this is and what does it need to be?
Was it simply that emotions caught him off guard and he panicked? Was it that he genuinely had developed feelings for me and he panicked due to inappropriate protocols and or stigmas attached? Was it misunderstandings and misconceptions of me or something I said because he was emotionally vulnerable, and I crazy? Was it counter-transference in some form he did not want to talk about? Was it a power struggle to him? Was it an "oh shit, she's one of those" moments but then failed to tell what he thought I was?
Or was it something more diabolical?
Experimenting
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
And I was his test subject
his unsuspecting victim?
On paper, I am the perfect target.
...and sadly there is evidence that points to that.
But is that what it is or am I still just trying to understand the what-it-is-that-it-was or how to let it be what it needs to be.
I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is that his expectations of me to just walk away from everything and forget were so completely unrealistic and really unfair, even if he did not want to treat me, someone there should have been looking out for me. It is actually their obligation.
So why the manipulation? Why the games of neither confirming nor denying? And why did no one stop and say "this girl is not in a safe mental place and this is harming or will harm her?" That is, after all, their profession.
So withdrawal then looks like a red-zone defense mechanism.

the straight jacket

I don't know how I am going to explain all of this. I don't know how I am going to "file a complaint" yet. I am not sure what direction to take, who to take this up with, and yet I know I need to in order to resolve this for me. My life has in some ways come to a halt because of it and I want to move past this.
I was foolishly hoping that I could talk to my captor outside of his professional restraints. I believed if I could he would not be as tempted to use his Jedi mind tricks and that they would not work so well outside of his palace of power. Snowboarding could have freed his mind as it is a place of friendship and fun where safety is always the first priority, so I hoped he might come take a lesson from me or at least be willing to meet up in an environment like that. I hoped that I could help him see better what I was trying to explain about still needing him. I hoped it could be a place where he could safely explore the "human" element that was effecting him so profoundly. I was not afraid of this because I know my boundaries and I know that I am not a threat. I also really did understand the transference and counter-transference and some of the parallels that were taking place. I also wanted him out of his office and professional place because something or someone there had him convinced that I was a liability, which I was not. He believed (and still does) that I was a liability to himself, I was not and am not a liability, danger or threat. He was so afraid of loosing his license because of me, which I knew was irrational. It was frustrating.
...or diabolical. I can't be certain there because I don't truly know his intentions and what he was so fearful of (although he did say it was not me "I am not scared of you," he said when I was talking about how people are afraid of me).
It is a deeply unsettling situation and event that transpired at a time when I was already unsettled.

Flashback to the year 1991:
"I remember the feeling of that," I exclaimed to my mom when we were talking about the events that transpired between the time I took the blow to my head while sledding and I awoke in the hospital the next day; the events that I had no memory of. It had been a year or more since the accident but the whole story had still not been fully told to me. I did not know the details of my story.
They had put me in a straight jacket at one point because I was thrashing, crazy, fighting and out of control and, though I had not and would not regain any other memories from that day and a half, I remembered the feeling of the heavy canvas swaddling me tightly into myself. It was soothing. It helped me feel safe and comforted as something else was able to take control of my out-of-control body and my broken brain. It was the straight jacket that calmed me. I remembered the feeling and I still remember it in a very endearing way. Sometimes I long for it. Irony or paradox?
Present:
That is how my therapist felt to me. He was soothing and comforting as he took control and at times held me tight with his methods, teaching me how to take care of myself while restraining something that felt out of control. He was my straight jacket when my emotions were out of control and my mind was so broken.
I knew I was going to loose him eventually but I did not see it coming when and how it did. I was not as physically broken as I was when I was a child and he was not a straight jacket but when I lost that comfort, at that moment it broke me in a new way. It broke me in ways that were familiar but also in a way I have never experienced before.
It was and still is confusing.
And I have, at times, longed for a straight jacket

writing because I'm bored

Nobodies home.
I'm to tired to write and send the emails that I really need to get done. If I try I am likely to make some silly mistakes which are fine here but not there.
So I am lazily watching television
and only feeling a tiny bit not at all guilty about it.
But I must admit I feel a little bored.
Funny thing is awakenings
those happen for me from time to time. And it not really a funny thing at all. Often it is very embarrassing. It confuses me how I got so turned around. And yet it is not confusing at the same time. The boring now is my mind resting. It is resting because it has been so busy trying to get straight again.
Boring can also happen after highs. Highs can be fun but when they are over the world is not so exciting and you kind of wonder what you are supposed to do with yourself now.
I wonder, sometimes how "normal" this is.
So many things are so much more common than we realize... But somehow I am not common. I really do confuse people.
I can tell you why. At least some possible reasons. And I can tell you why I scare people. I scare people because I figure things out. Sometimes before I even know that I have figured anything out at all. That or I have not attached the same meaning and/or judgement and they don't realize that. I also will call it out, but likely again, not with the same meaning and judgement they are expecting so that is confusing and confusing can be scary to people. Also it can be scary if a person knows they are doing something wrong.
Their interpretations and actions associated take me time to figure out and I may not always be right or correct but I am open to explanations and discussion. Problem is often others are not, but if you are doing something wrong I will eventually figure it out.
So this may seem like directionless disjointed ramblings, but it is not.
It is how my brain works at times. It is how I figure things out.
It all started with an injury that left my brain damaged. It left a void in my processing and the bumping, bruising and rattling that triggered firings and misfirings of epic proportions needed to settle and then work themselves out. I have been thinking about brains a lot this last 15 or 16 months because mine was shaken again and it woke up familiar feelings and experiences. I remember being able to actually feel my brain rerouting as a sports medicine concussion doctor asked me questions to test my level of concussion or something like that. I could tell my brain was not taking the same paths or that those paths had been disrupted and yet I knew how to compensate; though it was slower I instinctively knew how to relax and let it work through the process. I felt that with the chiropractor who first realized I had a concussion that needed to be addressed. He had me remember some words that I would not have otherwise remembered except I automatically recognized a pattern that helped them stick. The pattern had to do with the shapes of the letters and how they matched if turned certain ways. The funny thing is prior to the concussion I would not have immediately recognized that pattern. There were other things that I picked up on with heightened senses as well. Almost like super powers. And yet I couldn't remember peoples named or faces and many other annoying things.
I saw an fMRI picture of a brain after concussion and it has stuck in my head. The brains efficiency is less effective as the whole brain is lit up. Normally our brain fires in very specific areas according to the task that is being preformed but the concussion or injured brain (if I am remembering correctly) right after injury is firing all over the place which is part of why it is so tired. But I have this theory  that as the brain fires all over and begins to reroute it becomes aware of those parts that have been forgotten or unused. It learns that there are more places to go and more ways to do things. It realizes it has other resources to access. It has made connections and knows how to make connections that the undamaged brain doesn't even know exists; which is hard for the undamaged brain to understand.
Its boundaries truly are different.
Bipolar- they say
depression
anxiety
these are places the brain can go or can get stuck. Had I not a damaged brain I may have never experienced these places at all, whose to say? (I was 12) but in my damaged brain they are more manageable  because I can reroute. I know how, even when I am not cognizant of it.
That is what happened when I hurt so bad from the feelings of rejection and like I had done something wrong -at the moment my buried self started to reveal itself in what was supposed to be a safe place with a person who I trusted, admired, and cared deeply for. It was an unbearable pain. It was far more than I could handle.
My brain accessed mania. Intense happy and too much dopamine. It was a fun place, but, as this article https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/dark-side-of-happiness-why-too-much-good-thing-is-not-a-good-thing/ points out too much happiness can be... dangerous. And mania can most certainly be dangerous. If for no other reason than your body is going to eventually get sick if you keep running on so little sleep (which it did).
It accessed this place to fight the pain. To hold onto the good. And to get me over a hurdle that would have otherwise destroyed me. My brain has that ability. and not because I am any mental illness label but because it knows how to use those parts and come back from it when it is safe again.
Not without solving. Not without fixing. I am constantly collecting and analyzing, categorizing and sorting information, trying to make sense of where it belongs, if it belongs, and how it belongs. I need to know how and where this information fits so I can figure out how and where I fit.
Fixing has become such an innate part of me that I automatically do it without even trying. I need to fix to survive. I need to fix to find value and meaning to myself. I need to fix to fight depression that comes from many sources.
I need to fix to convince myself I belong in this place that doesn't understand me and very often rejects me in very harsh ways.
So that is my bored explanation of the crazy that embarrasses me from time to time, (though it has been a long time and to date and I do not remember a mania so intense) and the depression and other places I sometimes find myself waking up from.
It sounds much more intense than it usually is but maybe it is much more intense, but it is my normal. That is why very little scares me.
And there are so many stories to tell
but now it is time for sleep
so I can teach life lessons through snowboarding tomorrow. "your intellect has to override your instinct" I tell my students to help them learn how to ride in control by leaning down hill into their turns.

12 again

At age 12 when I returned home form the hospital after the sledding accident that damaged my brain, my parents thought it would be a good idea and good use of my time, since I could not return to school for sometime still (2 weeks or more, I don't remember), to write thank you cards to all the people who had given me gifts while I was in the hospital.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.

I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.

Giving up on marriage

It it is strange the places this recent situation has taken me. In my marriage especially. It is peculiar how the therapy that turned so very messy [with the therapist I fell madly in love with either through deep meaningful connection or manipulation] started with a book of Tao. It is especially peculiar because I was certain for a time that the reason for transference and timing definitely had a lot to do with my marriage. It may have.
But as I am very open and honest about how I am feeling and what I am thinking it has led to some incredibly bizarre, never thought possible conversations with my husband and I will tell you what, not many men (or women) would handle some of the things I say so well. But he knew I was hurting and he knew that my head was a mess and likely through no fault of my own. And even crazier the "new me" or rediscovered me was helping to facilitate these hard conversations in an effective way. The me that was uncovered and partially created by the therapist who then just about destroyed me, intentionally or not we may never know.
 But ultimately we both gave up on our marriage and somehow that has helped us get along in a really pleasant and productive way. Somehow we have been able to talk about moving on while savoring what we have and realizing that we can just let it be what is for now and enjoy it for what is. And we have enjoyed it.*  
It seems that letting go of the commitment to our marriage has helped us be more committed to a healthy relationship and each others needs. It has been so helpful and what I have needed through this healing process. I am so glad that I have a good friend in my life who can love me, forgive me, support me, and listen when it is what I really need, even when it is hard to listen to. I often need to talk to help me process and what I need to process in not always so simple, easy to talk about or easy to hear.  He has been helpful in listening to what I need to process or need him to understand. We have not always had that but I am grateful for it now.
It is such a strange world I am living in right now.

*that is an sexual innuendo, I rarely, actually use those or mean those though it has come to my attention that I may make them very unintentionally or naively with out realizing it... until it is too late -sigh. But this one is intentional and about as far as I ever care to discuss this very personal topic on such platforms and most other places too but it does seem like it might be a bit important to this story.