There are a few things I find interesting. First I have been pretty honest about what has been going on with me. I have not wanted to share the entirety of what the neuropsychologist said that led me to think and feel the way I have. At least I have not wanted to share it in places that I feel could get him into trouble.
But I have been behaving like someone who has been groomed. And for all intents and purposes if you look at my tests, my support system, and my spousal relationship, I appear to be a pretty easy target. Plus I am playful and I was desperate for acceptance...
It is also interesting the words and word choices the people I have had to interact there with have used and how they have behaved toward me while not willing to explain my offense. MM said I twisted her words when I had repeated back "Of course that is all you can say" with a slight laugh at myself for thinking she could or would say anything more when neither of us trusted they other. Her exact words she claimed I was twisting were "that is all I can say"
My Concussion doctor said something about wanting to keep her license, when I was trying to explain my Adderall prescription, that I need it filled. I was confused by this comment because she had asked how I had filled it in the past, and when I told her that was the comment she made. I take 15-30mgs a day as needed. Usually less. Prior to the car accident usually 10mgs a day or less.
She also said that He said I had behaved inappropriately.
The other day while looking at my medical records I found that he told her on Jan. 8th I had made multiple attempts to contact him. I don't even know what he is referring to, other then asking to talk to him that day. Prior to that I am not aware of any contact after my last appointment I had with him on December 3rd except I am pretty sure I sent a thank you note but I don't remember what I said. I sent one to the PA that saw me before Italy, all broken down, as well, before I left to Italy, when I was still straddling two worlds. Did I ask if I could talk with him when I called to schedule the appointment with concussion doctor? I don't think so. Oh, wait, in my trying to understand what kind of creature he was I did find a phone number online for him. I tried calling that one time, to see if it really was a valid number. I would have tried talking to him if it had been, because I did not want to go through his work because, even though I wanted clarification, I did not want to get him into any trouble and I was only concerned about that because he was. But that number was not his and I am not even sure I had tried it at that point.
I also found an address for him but I did not do anything with that.
He is lacking in is online presence which may be a bit suspicious in and of itself because it makes it hard to determine the type of creature that has possessed you when there is such a lack of information about him.
But searching for information to determine what he is, is not an attempt to contact.
Does he count this blog? Hmmm. well, he would have to be coming on here directly and I have no control over that. Have I attempted to contact him through this blog? No. I only told him about it and told him he is welcome to read it. Do I talk to him through it? Only if he is listening. But he is not. and my intention is to help me process and to help me work out, and work through what I need to, sometimes in hopes that it will help someone else, other times to be transparent, and still others, to document this very confusing situation and because it is, after all, a pretty fascinating story and psychology I am living.
But as I think,
I realize something.
In the report, that is so bogus and misconstrued, that releases him of any responsibility or mistakes, the one that claims I was not manic and there was no countertransference and that targets concerns that were not even mine, it does claim to be holding MM (the manager that yelled at me) accountable.
Was she also manipulated by he to protect him?
And every step down this path more and more comes out that has been done wrong or that they are worried about being held accountable for when they know damn well they are in the power position.
People in power abuse power to have and to hold power. They are willing to lie to protect.
TBI, bipolar, transference, countertransference, psychology, medical and psychological malpractice, misconceptions about "mental illnesses," successful mental health practices and being called an "outlier" and "an anomaly" by the "experts" for handling all of this so well while simultaneously being discriminated against for it- You can read about all of that and more on this here blog
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Saturday, April 13, 2019
Friday, April 12, 2019
He Said What?
I published this...then took it down... does it need to come out? does it need to be said? If I keep it inside me, I am judging and I am playing into whatever trap was set, I am agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb, when I disagree with the tradition of sacrifices to gods... so I suppose I'll publish it again
I hate when I figure out what I wish was not true.
He is so good.
He manipulated and played on my vulnerabilities. He played on the very transference that had me learning to love myself through loving him. He reflected back to me what I had projected in order to manipulate me to protect him.
Because I caught on to him, even though I had not, at least not entirely.
I had not behaved appropriately to his tests. His dabbling in the dark arts.
As of January 8th, he claims I had made multiple attempts to contact him.
When?
The last time I had tried to contact him had been an appointment that I had scheduled on Monday, December 3rd. It was scheduled. I had called the Friday before to get a referral for the speech therapy he had recommended but that I had to have a referral for, his office thought I was still on the schedule for the coming Monday. Since I was struggling to find a therapist and knew I could not keep functioning the way I was when I needed to get to Italy, I asked if I could get it back. I could admit I was wrong and that I had still needed him to be my therapist. That was the last time I had contacted him. It was a scheduled appointment, but somehow they now have no record of it.
After that I think I sent a thank you note/card. I don't really remember what I said in it. I think I probably told him to make sure he charged accurately because he was worth his weight in gold. He had been giving me a reduced rate, Just to be nice.
The thing is I had sent one to the PA at my family practice also who had seen me and addressed the symptoms he had ignored. I had forgotten that one until she thanked me for it later.
From then to January 8th, I do not know what he is referring to. I set an appointment to follow up with the concussion doctor when I got back, I needed to anyway and I figured she'd understand better what was going on with my head and if it could be related to the TBI, plus "you will have to morn that loss" was not really a good answer to my questions and concerns about returning to being a teacher. I don't remember if I had; but had I asked to talk to him when I set that appointment? That is a possibility, but still this is far from "multiple."
What is he counting? This blog?
He would have to come here himself and he said he was letting me burn out. He said he would have nothing to do with me. I know he would have stopped reading very early on if he had ever even looked at it all. I write for me. To process for me. Yes, I put it out there but I do not think this can count since he would have to make the effort to come on here.
I had asked my lawyer to call him, because he had missed the mania and I was concerned about that. I was concerned it is TBI related and it would cause me bigger problems (which it has) in settling with insurance, in getting a job, in life. But my lawyer never called. He did not want it to get messy, he did not think it wise to be involved and have say in my diagnosis or prognosis. Not ethical really, I get it now, but then I thought he did not want to help me solve what I had been told not to solve but needed to [because it is my head and my life], my bigger problems being missed...or my head that was being played with.
I am now cycling again, what I have already cycled through so many times.
I am so angry that he toyed with me and then set things up from the get go to cause damage to me to protect his ass. He even set me up carefully to distrust the whole facility. He manipulated me to distrust speaking up or speaking out to them about any of it. He had me believing they would hurt him if I did. They were the bad guys that might fire him if I tried to solve this, if I tried to understand... and his life is complex, he has had struggles and they would cause him harm if they knew what he might be feeling. And he even worded things just so, so that I would be twisting his words, no matter how I interpreted them, no matter how I relayed them. He was so careful.
I am not who he thinks I am or he enjoys inflicting pain. He has told me he does not care about suffering if it is not close to home.
Yet, I am surprised and shocked that this man, who seemed to genuinely care, was so tender about his kids, and soothing and calming, is simply a master manipulator and maybe a narcissist. I have been such a fool, giving him the benefit of the doubt again and again, believing he is really truly good at heart but just broken and vulnerable himself.
It is so sad to me.
And he has made a fool of me - really - like what the hell, you bizarre pathetic girl kind of fool? Poor patient advocate (who may just be a tool too) to have to read through all my garbled mess.
But you know what, I will be the fool. I think I am okay with that. At least I really know that the good person I saw and genuinely cared for was me, even if he was a carefully calculating those intentional reflections, of the me that I had projected, in order to manipulate me.
I am still ahead of your game
and maybe I am wrong, right now, maybe he is just a scared little boy that is behaving stupidly to save his ass and nothing more because I am far more than he can handle and he is terrified of me. I suppose that is a possibility too... but I doubt it. He is far too good. He is far too intelligent. And he is far too professional.
... I bet he has or will yet try that manipulation.
"I will never have any kind of relationship with you outside of here (therapy) because, you being an attractive woman and how easily we have connected, I could see myself falling in love with you."
"You love me?"
"I am a snake?"
"Do you want a hug?"
"If opened up to you and allowed myself to be vulnerable with you...then I could not bear you leaving"
"What we have had is a beautiful ...and I do not want to fuck that up"
"so we can agree to a clean break"
"I have tested your brain in ways you do not know"
"Unfortunately there is still a human element to all this"
"I am not meant to be with just one woman"
"I am good at connecting with people"
"Don't try to solve this"
"I told you not to try and solve this."
"I have tested your brain in ways you don't even know"
"I could lose my job"
"You could get me into trouble"
"I wonder if this is like exposing yourself to a lover for the first time"
when should I come back? "tomorrow"
"at least you have that outlet"
"I don't do well with blurred boundaries"
"I meant everything I said."
"I would always be protecting you" (boy, did that one turned out to be quite the lie)
"Hypotheticals aside, unless you have already developed feelings for me, you can still be my therapist. You can help me through this," I said to him recognizing that he had neither confirmed not denied countertransference. But he said "I am no longer your therapist. I am not your therapist anymore."
These are just words and they could mean anything but as I confess some of his "boundary violations" now I wonder if I very unintentionally turned his grooming tricks into his own web of deceit with my instinctive defense mechanism and safeguards that stemmed from insecurity, muscle memory of protecting others, and a determined subconscious core value system?
I wonder which it is; scared little boy or master manipulator caught in his own gaslit trap? He did not get what he wanted from me so he is mad. A blue balls kind of mad.
Especially since I seemed so promising; playful, far too comfortable with boys, insecure, broken, and neglected, desperate for acceptance... and an unknowingly sexy little thing in my determined naivety.
and so I wonder; Blue-balled Boy or Frustrated Mastermind?
This is far too extreme for somewhere in the middle.
The pen is mightier than the sword, but is it more powerful than your dagger?
I hate when I figure out what I wish was not true.
He is so good.
He manipulated and played on my vulnerabilities. He played on the very transference that had me learning to love myself through loving him. He reflected back to me what I had projected in order to manipulate me to protect him.
Because I caught on to him, even though I had not, at least not entirely.
I had not behaved appropriately to his tests. His dabbling in the dark arts.
As of January 8th, he claims I had made multiple attempts to contact him.
When?
The last time I had tried to contact him had been an appointment that I had scheduled on Monday, December 3rd. It was scheduled. I had called the Friday before to get a referral for the speech therapy he had recommended but that I had to have a referral for, his office thought I was still on the schedule for the coming Monday. Since I was struggling to find a therapist and knew I could not keep functioning the way I was when I needed to get to Italy, I asked if I could get it back. I could admit I was wrong and that I had still needed him to be my therapist. That was the last time I had contacted him. It was a scheduled appointment, but somehow they now have no record of it.
After that I think I sent a thank you note/card. I don't really remember what I said in it. I think I probably told him to make sure he charged accurately because he was worth his weight in gold. He had been giving me a reduced rate, Just to be nice.
The thing is I had sent one to the PA at my family practice also who had seen me and addressed the symptoms he had ignored. I had forgotten that one until she thanked me for it later.
From then to January 8th, I do not know what he is referring to. I set an appointment to follow up with the concussion doctor when I got back, I needed to anyway and I figured she'd understand better what was going on with my head and if it could be related to the TBI, plus "you will have to morn that loss" was not really a good answer to my questions and concerns about returning to being a teacher. I don't remember if I had; but had I asked to talk to him when I set that appointment? That is a possibility, but still this is far from "multiple."
What is he counting? This blog?
He would have to come here himself and he said he was letting me burn out. He said he would have nothing to do with me. I know he would have stopped reading very early on if he had ever even looked at it all. I write for me. To process for me. Yes, I put it out there but I do not think this can count since he would have to make the effort to come on here.
I had asked my lawyer to call him, because he had missed the mania and I was concerned about that. I was concerned it is TBI related and it would cause me bigger problems (which it has) in settling with insurance, in getting a job, in life. But my lawyer never called. He did not want it to get messy, he did not think it wise to be involved and have say in my diagnosis or prognosis. Not ethical really, I get it now, but then I thought he did not want to help me solve what I had been told not to solve but needed to [because it is my head and my life], my bigger problems being missed...or my head that was being played with.
I am now cycling again, what I have already cycled through so many times.
I am so angry that he toyed with me and then set things up from the get go to cause damage to me to protect his ass. He even set me up carefully to distrust the whole facility. He manipulated me to distrust speaking up or speaking out to them about any of it. He had me believing they would hurt him if I did. They were the bad guys that might fire him if I tried to solve this, if I tried to understand... and his life is complex, he has had struggles and they would cause him harm if they knew what he might be feeling. And he even worded things just so, so that I would be twisting his words, no matter how I interpreted them, no matter how I relayed them. He was so careful.
I am not who he thinks I am or he enjoys inflicting pain. He has told me he does not care about suffering if it is not close to home.
Yet, I am surprised and shocked that this man, who seemed to genuinely care, was so tender about his kids, and soothing and calming, is simply a master manipulator and maybe a narcissist. I have been such a fool, giving him the benefit of the doubt again and again, believing he is really truly good at heart but just broken and vulnerable himself.
It is so sad to me.
And he has made a fool of me - really - like what the hell, you bizarre pathetic girl kind of fool? Poor patient advocate (who may just be a tool too) to have to read through all my garbled mess.
But you know what, I will be the fool. I think I am okay with that. At least I really know that the good person I saw and genuinely cared for was me, even if he was a carefully calculating those intentional reflections, of the me that I had projected, in order to manipulate me.
I am still ahead of your game
and maybe I am wrong, right now, maybe he is just a scared little boy that is behaving stupidly to save his ass and nothing more because I am far more than he can handle and he is terrified of me. I suppose that is a possibility too... but I doubt it. He is far too good. He is far too intelligent. And he is far too professional.
... I bet he has or will yet try that manipulation.
"I will never have any kind of relationship with you outside of here (therapy) because, you being an attractive woman and how easily we have connected, I could see myself falling in love with you."
"You love me?"
"I am a snake?"
"Do you want a hug?"
"If opened up to you and allowed myself to be vulnerable with you...then I could not bear you leaving"
"What we have had is a beautiful ...and I do not want to fuck that up"
"so we can agree to a clean break"
"I have tested your brain in ways you do not know"
"Unfortunately there is still a human element to all this"
"I am not meant to be with just one woman"
"I am good at connecting with people"
"Don't try to solve this"
"I told you not to try and solve this."
"I have tested your brain in ways you don't even know"
"I could lose my job"
"You could get me into trouble"
"I wonder if this is like exposing yourself to a lover for the first time"
when should I come back? "tomorrow"
"at least you have that outlet"
"I don't do well with blurred boundaries"
"I meant everything I said."
"I would always be protecting you" (boy, did that one turned out to be quite the lie)
"Hypotheticals aside, unless you have already developed feelings for me, you can still be my therapist. You can help me through this," I said to him recognizing that he had neither confirmed not denied countertransference. But he said "I am no longer your therapist. I am not your therapist anymore."
These are just words and they could mean anything but as I confess some of his "boundary violations" now I wonder if I very unintentionally turned his grooming tricks into his own web of deceit with my instinctive defense mechanism and safeguards that stemmed from insecurity, muscle memory of protecting others, and a determined subconscious core value system?
I wonder which it is; scared little boy or master manipulator caught in his own gaslit trap? He did not get what he wanted from me so he is mad. A blue balls kind of mad.
Especially since I seemed so promising; playful, far too comfortable with boys, insecure, broken, and neglected, desperate for acceptance... and an unknowingly sexy little thing in my determined naivety.
and so I wonder; Blue-balled Boy or Frustrated Mastermind?
This is far too extreme for somewhere in the middle.
The pen is mightier than the sword, but is it more powerful than your dagger?
Psychological abuse
I am not sleeping again
This feels like psychological abuse now
It is and has been a straight up abuse of power
I am not sure what to do
It is a massive coverup, I can say that.
One thing people don't seem to understand about me, the thing that scares people is that I am what you see. I am not hiding anything.
I try to respect peoples space and use sense and wisdom in what I share and when but if you ask, I will tell you honestly what happened, what I think, and/or how I feel about something.
I will tell you honestly who I am
If I have a problem I will talk with the person I have a problem with.
I will only say behind your back what I am willing to say to your face
and if I say these are my intentions then those are my intentions.
Please don't force my hand with your assumptions.
I intend to stick up for myself in this situation and I am not going to back down because they are lying about me and because they are gaslighting
That only screams to me that there is a more significant reason to keep going, to stand up and speak out.
This feels like psychological abuse now
It is and has been a straight up abuse of power
I am not sure what to do
It is a massive coverup, I can say that.
One thing people don't seem to understand about me, the thing that scares people is that I am what you see. I am not hiding anything.
I try to respect peoples space and use sense and wisdom in what I share and when but if you ask, I will tell you honestly what happened, what I think, and/or how I feel about something.
I will tell you honestly who I am
If I have a problem I will talk with the person I have a problem with.
I will only say behind your back what I am willing to say to your face
and if I say these are my intentions then those are my intentions.
Please don't force my hand with your assumptions.
I intend to stick up for myself in this situation and I am not going to back down because they are lying about me and because they are gaslighting
That only screams to me that there is a more significant reason to keep going, to stand up and speak out.
Thursday, April 11, 2019
Exploring the Rocks Outside of the Box
I had a conversation with my 15 year old daughter sometime last year. It was one of those conversations you have with your kids thinking you are helping them, then they actually end up helping you.
We were talking about fitting in and the box analogy came into play. I was probably being philosophical as we analyzed the box and discussed what it meant to be in it and out of it and if and when our positions in relation to the box were appropriate. I most likely relayed some of my own experiences to try and help her not feel so alone. I really don't remember the conversation exactly but I do remember her words exactly when she matter of factly but also lovingly explained "Mom, the box can't handle you. It's not that you can't handle the box, you can, but the box can't handle you"
We laughed and laughed about that one.
Maybe I am claustrophobic.
But I am okay with that.
I love my kids profound wisdom.
Probably in January, when I was really struggling to handle the complex emotional situation I was in, my 13 year old son kind of out the blue says "the nice thing about hitting rock bottom, is that you now have a solid foundation to build on."
What amazing kids I have.
Shall I build a box on my solid rock foundation?
nah
I'll build something else.
...But not until I have sufficiently explored and understand this rocky terrain.
Life is an adventure and we never really know where it will lead us but it is an adventure to be explored, loved and enjoyed.
{and I am so glad my brain is settling and my death demons have departed}
We were talking about fitting in and the box analogy came into play. I was probably being philosophical as we analyzed the box and discussed what it meant to be in it and out of it and if and when our positions in relation to the box were appropriate. I most likely relayed some of my own experiences to try and help her not feel so alone. I really don't remember the conversation exactly but I do remember her words exactly when she matter of factly but also lovingly explained "Mom, the box can't handle you. It's not that you can't handle the box, you can, but the box can't handle you"
We laughed and laughed about that one.
Maybe I am claustrophobic.
But I am okay with that.
I love my kids profound wisdom.
Probably in January, when I was really struggling to handle the complex emotional situation I was in, my 13 year old son kind of out the blue says "the nice thing about hitting rock bottom, is that you now have a solid foundation to build on."
What amazing kids I have.
Shall I build a box on my solid rock foundation?
nah
I'll build something else.
...But not until I have sufficiently explored and understand this rocky terrain.
Life is an adventure and we never really know where it will lead us but it is an adventure to be explored, loved and enjoyed.
{and I am so glad my brain is settling and my death demons have departed}
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
The insanity of psychology
I am blown away.
No countertransference. that is the claim.
He says so himself.
Fine. I even would have agreed with that at one point, because he had worded it in a way that was implied but neither confirmed nor denied
I gave them that out even, realizing I could have misinterpreted because I had gone manic
but now they want to deny that.
They claim I was not manic
so if it wasn't my manic misinterpretation than what was it?
You even state, transference and countertransference were discussed in your own documentation. so you cannot deny this conversation but you do and you cannot deny the evidence of out of character, irrational mania in my emails but you do.
When it all became cover your ass conversations
and I became the scarlet liability
it was apparent
it was something.
They said, "not grooming, not countertransference"
but completely unwilling to talk with me and explain?
When I was trying to understand my own brain.
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
your cover is blown
so now it is gaslighting
they are working to break me
A power struggle?
Yes
But obviously you are the one in power
do you just need me to recognize that?
I don't want your power
and yes you have power over me
. Is that what you need, is that what you want?
Is your ego satisfied?
This is very very wrong.
No countertransference. that is the claim.
He says so himself.
Fine. I even would have agreed with that at one point, because he had worded it in a way that was implied but neither confirmed nor denied
I gave them that out even, realizing I could have misinterpreted because I had gone manic
but now they want to deny that.
They claim I was not manic
so if it wasn't my manic misinterpretation than what was it?
You even state, transference and countertransference were discussed in your own documentation. so you cannot deny this conversation but you do and you cannot deny the evidence of out of character, irrational mania in my emails but you do.
When it all became cover your ass conversations
and I became the scarlet liability
it was apparent
it was something.
They said, "not grooming, not countertransference"
but completely unwilling to talk with me and explain?
When I was trying to understand my own brain.
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
your cover is blown
so now it is gaslighting
they are working to break me
A power struggle?
Yes
But obviously you are the one in power
do you just need me to recognize that?
I don't want your power
and yes you have power over me
. Is that what you need, is that what you want?
Is your ego satisfied?
This is very very wrong.
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Carl D Coye
Once when I was in elementary school, about 4th grade, I noticed something written on the back of school bus seat in front of me. It was a code of some sort. I don't remember the code exactly but based on what I had figured out it said something about liking me. I don't remember if I dared look around or not. It was very strange to me that someone had written this on the bus seat and I don't think I believed it.
Later, much later, like high school or a chance meeting as adults, the writer of the message confessed to me that they were they writer, they had planted it there intentionally, and that they had been surprised I had broken their code so easily.
In high school I received two letters -no, one poem and a letter, in the mail. The poem was well written, and flatteringly beautiful but also cheesy by my cheesy romance averse high school standard:
"your luminescence is by far are the brightest star in this moonlight sky" was my favorite line (and the only line I remember now)
The letter asked me to respond. Begged me to. But I had no idea what I was responding to and I would not be made a mockery of. So I simply hand delivered to the requested mailbox a note that said it it was for real I was flattered and if it was a joke I was amused but I simply could not respond to someone or something I knew nothing about. I did not heard from them again... I assumed it had been a joke, but I kept the writings because you don't just throw out that kind of flattery, even if it is a joke, that took time, so even as a joke it is flattery, especially since I had foiled the prankster.
So I heard nothing, that is until facebook came about and (years later) this dear admirer in his facebook confessions he posted to entertain his own high school students made a confession that I recognized and called him out on. He was someone I had suspected, in fact the one I suspected most, because of some little subtleties around the time of the events, but I would not have asked, nor confronted him directly about it. So finally, after so many years my admirer finally revealed himself. Turned out it was not intended to be a joke, but rather it ended something like I deflated his ego/confidence in implying it may be a joke. I was one of a few (or maybe two) he had written letters to and he claimed he did not think through his fb confession and had not intended it to be for me. But coincidence [or maybe an internal subconscious determination to solve all mysteries] resulted in my seeing that particular confession and the mystery was solved easily after at least a decade. You can imagine the conversations we had via email after that.
...I eventually blew that up. I had to, it was spiraling out of control quickly. I suppose I was too hot a fire and far too vulnerable for that kind of flattery. But we stayed fb friends.
Maybe still I don't handle the flattery of attraction from men well...
But I am really good at solving the mystery even if I don't believe it
or don't want to.
... my guess this time; I am not the first or only, much like I was not the first or only girl to be flattered by previous cryptically composed admirers.
Later, much later, like high school or a chance meeting as adults, the writer of the message confessed to me that they were they writer, they had planted it there intentionally, and that they had been surprised I had broken their code so easily.
In high school I received two letters -no, one poem and a letter, in the mail. The poem was well written, and flatteringly beautiful but also cheesy by my cheesy romance averse high school standard:
"your luminescence is by far are the brightest star in this moonlight sky" was my favorite line (and the only line I remember now)
The letter asked me to respond. Begged me to. But I had no idea what I was responding to and I would not be made a mockery of. So I simply hand delivered to the requested mailbox a note that said it it was for real I was flattered and if it was a joke I was amused but I simply could not respond to someone or something I knew nothing about. I did not heard from them again... I assumed it had been a joke, but I kept the writings because you don't just throw out that kind of flattery, even if it is a joke, that took time, so even as a joke it is flattery, especially since I had foiled the prankster.
So I heard nothing, that is until facebook came about and (years later) this dear admirer in his facebook confessions he posted to entertain his own high school students made a confession that I recognized and called him out on. He was someone I had suspected, in fact the one I suspected most, because of some little subtleties around the time of the events, but I would not have asked, nor confronted him directly about it. So finally, after so many years my admirer finally revealed himself. Turned out it was not intended to be a joke, but rather it ended something like I deflated his ego/confidence in implying it may be a joke. I was one of a few (or maybe two) he had written letters to and he claimed he did not think through his fb confession and had not intended it to be for me. But coincidence [or maybe an internal subconscious determination to solve all mysteries] resulted in my seeing that particular confession and the mystery was solved easily after at least a decade. You can imagine the conversations we had via email after that.
...I eventually blew that up. I had to, it was spiraling out of control quickly. I suppose I was too hot a fire and far too vulnerable for that kind of flattery. But we stayed fb friends.
Maybe still I don't handle the flattery of attraction from men well...
But I am really good at solving the mystery even if I don't believe it
or don't want to.
... my guess this time; I am not the first or only, much like I was not the first or only girl to be flattered by previous cryptically composed admirers.
Monday, April 8, 2019
The Valleys
I had a job interview today for a job I feel very excited about. I am not sure how the interview went though because it was at 2:00 pm. That seems to consistently be about my max out point on optimum cognitive functioning these days and that is very frustrating.
I felt I was doing better than this before the set back of my therapist dumping me.... not up to pre-accident but better than this. I am not sure what set me back more, that or the ankle and 7 weeks of not being able to get much movement in, trying to allow one part of my body to heal at the expense of the other (again).
As far as my mood stability I have been doing immensely better this last week.
Taking the time to stand up for myself, writing it out, even though it was ignored, misconstrued, or misinterpreted, yet again, still helped me. It helped me know that I am worth it to myself to stand up for and to keep trying for myself even when I know the odds are against me. I feel good and positive about trying and making the effort to say what I felt I needed to and what was right to me even knowing that it most likely would not matter to them and knowing that they don't care and see no value to me or what I have to say.
I suppose it is empowering how hard they are working to restore the "imbalance of power" he is supposed to have over me...but that I apparently have over him or them.
It is very silly really.
Their attempts to restore and maintain the imbalance of power is the unethical issue here.
Good thing I am so powerful
or at least smart enough to see what the ethical issues are.
I feel bad for them, they feel so threatened and insecure, and they are not even sure what the threat is.
It is their own misconception of power and their fear of others who do not conform to their mold.
They are stuck in the king of the hill game that I feel hurts our society and culture. They may feel it too, but they feel forced to play, not realizing that the only way we will ever stop the perpetuation of this damaging game is to either a. stop playing or b. play differently.
I still like the idea of helping each other up and sharing the hill instead of constantly knocking everyone one down, perceiving them as a threat.
This hill in particular is important to me personally and I don't like that I know people who are vulnerable and there for help are going to get knocked down by misinterpretations of power struggles or rigid rules on treatment terms that are only in place to capitalize financially; not to help them to the individual extent they need.
...So in my game I will help you up, hoping this time you don't knock me down. We can discuss our rules and maybe we can negotiate but if you insist on knocking me down again and again, and in playing that way, I'll walk away from you as well.
Maybe someday I'll find a hill that is a good fit and has room for me. But even if I don't I think I'm pretty okay with walking these valleys and loving the souls I find down here.
Down in these valleys you find all sorts; but mostly we are not weak, we are kind by choice.
I felt I was doing better than this before the set back of my therapist dumping me.... not up to pre-accident but better than this. I am not sure what set me back more, that or the ankle and 7 weeks of not being able to get much movement in, trying to allow one part of my body to heal at the expense of the other (again).
As far as my mood stability I have been doing immensely better this last week.
Taking the time to stand up for myself, writing it out, even though it was ignored, misconstrued, or misinterpreted, yet again, still helped me. It helped me know that I am worth it to myself to stand up for and to keep trying for myself even when I know the odds are against me. I feel good and positive about trying and making the effort to say what I felt I needed to and what was right to me even knowing that it most likely would not matter to them and knowing that they don't care and see no value to me or what I have to say.
I suppose it is empowering how hard they are working to restore the "imbalance of power" he is supposed to have over me...but that I apparently have over him or them.
It is very silly really.
Their attempts to restore and maintain the imbalance of power is the unethical issue here.
Good thing I am so powerful
or at least smart enough to see what the ethical issues are.
I feel bad for them, they feel so threatened and insecure, and they are not even sure what the threat is.
It is their own misconception of power and their fear of others who do not conform to their mold.
They are stuck in the king of the hill game that I feel hurts our society and culture. They may feel it too, but they feel forced to play, not realizing that the only way we will ever stop the perpetuation of this damaging game is to either a. stop playing or b. play differently.
I still like the idea of helping each other up and sharing the hill instead of constantly knocking everyone one down, perceiving them as a threat.
This hill in particular is important to me personally and I don't like that I know people who are vulnerable and there for help are going to get knocked down by misinterpretations of power struggles or rigid rules on treatment terms that are only in place to capitalize financially; not to help them to the individual extent they need.
...So in my game I will help you up, hoping this time you don't knock me down. We can discuss our rules and maybe we can negotiate but if you insist on knocking me down again and again, and in playing that way, I'll walk away from you as well.
Maybe someday I'll find a hill that is a good fit and has room for me. But even if I don't I think I'm pretty okay with walking these valleys and loving the souls I find down here.
Down in these valleys you find all sorts; but mostly we are not weak, we are kind by choice.
Saturday, March 30, 2019
Transference in A Thousand Years
I want to make my own music video to this song. Christina Perri: A thousand years
About transference. The kind where you need to learn to love yourself.
I listen to this song and visualize the good of what was happening in therapy. The part that I needed [maybe] most.
Christina Perri: A thousand years
I see myself sitting in the waiting room.
My therapists comes out where he usually does, sometimes looking a little ragged and worn down sometimes looking just normal. I am happy to see him, always. I smile at him, standing there alone. He returns the smiles with the light in his eyes that I love to see.
As I walk toward him it becomes apparent that he is holding a mirror the mirror that then turns into a full length mirror and I am there alone staring at myself.
My smile disappears as I realize he has disappeared. I look behind the mirror and then back into the mirror.
He is there, in the mirror with his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me through the mirror. He turns me around to face myself again, this time I'm looking at myself from the other side of the mirror. I turn back to my therapist but he points me once again to face myself.
I then see myself the way my therapist has been trying to help me see myself.
I see that I am worth loving and I am beautiful in my own way. I see that it is okay to love my perfectly imperfect self, and even that I have and can continue to.
I walk out the front side of the mirror rejoining my real self and my therapist walks out the back.
...."you can listen to it while you cry yourself to sleep tonight" I say but it's not about him at all, I am speaking of myself; evidence of how enmeshed and entangled I am in this complex psychological web.
... I don't think about that part when I listen to this song. Rather, I try to see the whole me and leave with that me fully intact, loving myself for a thousand years and loving my therapist as my past therapist and simply that.
Maybe I need to listen to it more.
Or maybe less.
But mostly I need to accept and love the me that I am, broken into brilliantly shiny pieces or not.
About transference. The kind where you need to learn to love yourself.
I listen to this song and visualize the good of what was happening in therapy. The part that I needed [maybe] most.
Christina Perri: A thousand years
I see myself sitting in the waiting room.
My therapists comes out where he usually does, sometimes looking a little ragged and worn down sometimes looking just normal. I am happy to see him, always. I smile at him, standing there alone. He returns the smiles with the light in his eyes that I love to see.
As I walk toward him it becomes apparent that he is holding a mirror the mirror that then turns into a full length mirror and I am there alone staring at myself.
My smile disappears as I realize he has disappeared. I look behind the mirror and then back into the mirror.
He is there, in the mirror with his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me through the mirror. He turns me around to face myself again, this time I'm looking at myself from the other side of the mirror. I turn back to my therapist but he points me once again to face myself.
I then see myself the way my therapist has been trying to help me see myself.
I see that I am worth loving and I am beautiful in my own way. I see that it is okay to love my perfectly imperfect self, and even that I have and can continue to.
I walk out the front side of the mirror rejoining my real self and my therapist walks out the back.
I think this is how the story is supposed to end.
...But in my story, I looked back.
...But in my story, I looked back.
and I noticed the pain in my therapist's eyes as I looked back. I trusted his strength, but I also felt his hesitation to turn me around and his vulnerability as he leaned just slightly on me. I felt his fear and his pain as he then carefully pushed me away to regain his own footing. I realized how hard his job is. Unfortunately, he didn't notice that my concern for him had distracted me, and my split self had not fully rejoined the me that was walking away strong.
And as he left to retreat back to his office the mirror fell and shattered and the now split me is left facing the closed door he escaped through while strong me doesn't make it too far before the unaddressed brain damage and reality of the split takes me down and I am left into a millions pieces of shiny glass- glass that was supposed to melt and fade away as we both went our seperate ways- but that I am now stuck in, alone and wondering what I did wrong and how to fix it. How to put my millions of tiny pieces, now etched with his name on them, back together so that I can have me again. So that I can rejoin and reclaim the new and better me that was supposed to walk strong and imperfectly perfected.
...."you can listen to it while you cry yourself to sleep tonight" I say but it's not about him at all, I am speaking of myself; evidence of how enmeshed and entangled I am in this complex psychological web.
... I don't think about that part when I listen to this song. Rather, I try to see the whole me and leave with that me fully intact, loving myself for a thousand years and loving my therapist as my past therapist and simply that.
Maybe I need to listen to it more.
Or maybe less.
But mostly I need to accept and love the me that I am, broken into brilliantly shiny pieces or not.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Suicidal Explained
Too many hits too close together.
compounded by the big hit that left permanent damage
Yesterday I thought I'd not visit you (blog) for awhile
today, as the gun to the head persists in its nagging I decided to come back to you
I know the stigma all to well
almost impossible to escape
and it starts to feel hopeless so you start to look for a way out. you try hard but when you keep coming back to the same place of rejection, misunderstanding, and "not a chance" your brain may naturally start looking for a way out.
It can be a symptom.
A symptom of something physical
something mental or something emotional
or it could even be a symptom of a screwed up society
But you got to catch it and do something with it or it will do something with you.
You start to plan.
Very naturally. because it makes sense. One less pathetic, burdensome, non contributor to our world is not a bad thing. I can help with that at least... at very least I can do that.
Yep those are the natural thoughts. Haven't been haunted by to this degree for like 20 years.
But I am now.
The thing is; I don't really want to die. It is just what my body is starting to think it is supposed to do. Maybe because I haven't been able to walk for 5 weeks now. I'm in the final stretch. This is a norm I am not accustomed to and my body and mind love movement. They are wearing down. And there goes that left hand again. shaking. Do I need to see a neurologist? But why? so I can feel like even more of a burden and be told nothing anyway.
off on a tangent lets get back to my death. How my body is dying through my brain.
How do people do it when they have the diseases that count and you are allowed to die from; even given credit for dying from?
They often still fight to live, even when they are dying from nobly accepted ailments.
So the question I find myself asking -the chemo to my cancer- is "How do I not die today?"
Today I will not die by blogging.
Today I will not die by sleeping.
Today I will not die by smiling.
Today I will not die by petting my dog.
Today I will pet my dog
and smile
today I will breath
and get a coke with a friend
Today I will talk about it. the hard stuff with the patient advocate.
She was patient, even when I was hard. She kept asking if there was anything else
...and I needed that.
I needed her to keep asking. and I needed to open up and talk, like a human, not a liability who is frustrated with the hurt she cannot change.
Today I will appreciate that. and I will love her for it.
And the friend who gave me the benefit of the doubt and dared to talk openly with me.
Today I will live
and I will again tomorrow
and the next day
and just like it has before
it will get better and the uninvited images of fast ways out will disappear
because life is an adventure
no matter what it looks like
and my goal
is to keep living it
...and loving it.
**Update, After finally being heard by the new team, that I had to find myself, and finally put me on a mood stabilizer that is working surprising well and surprisingly quickly: Unfortunately the patient advocate did not help me get the help I needed and eventually turned on me as well, calling the police to do the job they would not do, and the police, they can do nothing, because I was not in immediate danger, as I had told the other "patient advocate" lady on the phone. I was just fading as I was trying to start over trying to find a new team with no help from the old one, whose jurisdiction I was under and who had the responsibility and obligation to help me but was simply doing what they could to appease but avoid treating, trying to subtly coax me to go elsewhere with all of their games, denying what had happened and what was going on with me, refusing to talk to me about it and refusing treatment.
Ultimately this conversation and others were used against me as justification for exile in there claim of "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues" and at this time, not cops were called, but they did maintain the no actual concern for me as evidenced in no follow through or actual concern about these very serious issues I was experiencing.
Friday, March 22, 2019
cryptic
was it he or was it me?
cryptic
I liked the game but
was it only my game?
maybe I don't know so much as I think
maybe I was farther gone then I knew
but if so, fooled I you
so that means something
My super powers
I don't yet know how to control
or the extent of them
In the meantime
I'm learning to be okay again
learning to be better than before
because, even if they all want to deny it,
I confused them
I at least know
my new reality is my old reality
that I didn't understand.
my new reality is new again
but this time I know it is head injury
and knowing my reality I can adjust
and learn how to live accordingly
It is confusing
but at least I know what I am and why
and that doesn't mean I deserve to die
or that I am the bad guy
cryptic is your game
and I played along
TBI is my reality
broken, I play wrong
cryptic
I liked the game but
was it only my game?
maybe I don't know so much as I think
maybe I was farther gone then I knew
but if so, fooled I you
so that means something
My super powers
I don't yet know how to control
or the extent of them
In the meantime
I'm learning to be okay again
learning to be better than before
because, even if they all want to deny it,
I confused them
I at least know
my new reality is my old reality
that I didn't understand.
my new reality is new again
but this time I know it is head injury
and knowing my reality I can adjust
and learn how to live accordingly
It is confusing
but at least I know what I am and why
and that doesn't mean I deserve to die
or that I am the bad guy
cryptic is your game
and I played along
TBI is my reality
broken, I play wrong
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
How to begin again.
It is the biggest mystery of all
and I am not sure where to start
Tuesday, March 19, 2019
Rules are made to be...?
Here is a theory:
Rules are made to for the masses and ideally to protect the masses.
However there is always an exception to the rule.
Should we ignore the exception and force the rule? Or allow the exception only for the exception?
If we allow the exception we compromise the rule.
If we do not allow the exception we compromise the exception.
But if the exception is the ideal the rule is artificially attempting to replicate or protect from abuse then should the rule be reconsidered?
If we do not allow for the exception to the rule we risk destroying or defiling the exception.
We may even risk the destruction of the rule if it becomes known that enforcing the rule abused the exception.
This could result in the untimely changing of rules that are still needed for the majority.
But when the majority becomes the exception to the rule and the rule is hurting large numbers of people then the rule is no longer noble but now an easy abuse of power and the rule needs changing.
Rules are made to for the masses and ideally to protect the masses.
However there is always an exception to the rule.
Should we ignore the exception and force the rule? Or allow the exception only for the exception?
If we allow the exception we compromise the rule.
If we do not allow the exception we compromise the exception.
But if the exception is the ideal the rule is artificially attempting to replicate or protect from abuse then should the rule be reconsidered?
If we do not allow for the exception to the rule we risk destroying or defiling the exception.
We may even risk the destruction of the rule if it becomes known that enforcing the rule abused the exception.
This could result in the untimely changing of rules that are still needed for the majority.
But when the majority becomes the exception to the rule and the rule is hurting large numbers of people then the rule is no longer noble but now an easy abuse of power and the rule needs changing.
Psychiatrist vs Psychologist
The difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist is that
a psychiatrist prescribes drugs
while the psychologist is the drug.
a psychiatrist prescribes drugs
while the psychologist is the drug.
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Confession
okay...It's confession time
I am dragging my feet and procrastinating.
I did not want to go this route but realized I need to let go and move on.
But the problem is I really don't want to. I don't want to let go.
I feel cheated
I feel so cheated
not JUST from the professional and institutional side of this but
from the the freaking romantic side of this...
ugh... there I said it.
November 26, 2018: I'm fighting so hard to keep him, however I can. I feel such a powerful and profound connection that I know I don't fully understand, and have not been allowing myself to understand, but I want to. I want to be able to know this man for real, to see what this connection is; to know if this connection is real or just a side effect of treatment, healing, my broken brain and/or the psychology he has been practicing with me.
We can be friends... I don't remember how but I was pushing hard enough for it that he was loosing his composure. "I could never really open up to you" "I would always want to protect you"
"what is wrong with that?" I think but do not say. the feeling is mutual.
"and if I were to open up to you and allowed my self to be vulnerable with you I could not bare you leaving" his scrambling thoughts quickly fall from his mouth and I am not sure he meant to say that.
...but he did, and I heard it. and while I know it could mean something different than I think, it is very powerful
...it keeps me coming back.
he is expecting me to do what he himself cannot.
but even more- in that same moment, the tragic irony is; he saying that he just did opened up to me and became vulnerable... and now I cannot leave him. because he could not bare it.
and I don't want to.
I don't want to abandon him the way his wife or some other significant other had. I don't want to abandon him because I know what it feels like and I don't want to hurt him like that.
I don't want to abandon him the way he abandoned me.
...especially if those feelings are or could be real.
I am just now realizing this. and it is silly and messed up because he is so entirely gone and was so clear in that he would be.
So my confession. I guess I don't want to let go and I want to believe in the fantasy.
...To bad baby girl -it's time to get over it.
I guess.
...and I'm dragging my feet... not wanting to let go...
I am dragging my feet and procrastinating.
I did not want to go this route but realized I need to let go and move on.
But the problem is I really don't want to. I don't want to let go.
I feel cheated
I feel so cheated
not JUST from the professional and institutional side of this but
from the the freaking romantic side of this...
ugh... there I said it.
November 26, 2018: I'm fighting so hard to keep him, however I can. I feel such a powerful and profound connection that I know I don't fully understand, and have not been allowing myself to understand, but I want to. I want to be able to know this man for real, to see what this connection is; to know if this connection is real or just a side effect of treatment, healing, my broken brain and/or the psychology he has been practicing with me.
We can be friends... I don't remember how but I was pushing hard enough for it that he was loosing his composure. "I could never really open up to you" "I would always want to protect you"
"what is wrong with that?" I think but do not say. the feeling is mutual.
"and if I were to open up to you and allowed my self to be vulnerable with you I could not bare you leaving" his scrambling thoughts quickly fall from his mouth and I am not sure he meant to say that.
...but he did, and I heard it. and while I know it could mean something different than I think, it is very powerful
...it keeps me coming back.
he is expecting me to do what he himself cannot.
but even more- in that same moment, the tragic irony is; he saying that he just did opened up to me and became vulnerable... and now I cannot leave him. because he could not bare it.
and I don't want to.
I don't want to abandon him the way his wife or some other significant other had. I don't want to abandon him because I know what it feels like and I don't want to hurt him like that.
I don't want to abandon him the way he abandoned me.
...especially if those feelings are or could be real.
I am just now realizing this. and it is silly and messed up because he is so entirely gone and was so clear in that he would be.
So my confession. I guess I don't want to let go and I want to believe in the fantasy.
...To bad baby girl -it's time to get over it.
I guess.
...and I'm dragging my feet... not wanting to let go...
Validated
Yesterday I had my post op appointment for my ankle. My beautiful surgeon got called into an emergency surgery so I saw his assistant. She has been assisting in these surgeries for a very long time; part of that time in the military. She was happy to inform me that my doc was one of the best. I always like to hear that.
When she saw me she remembered my surgery right away -didn't even have to consulate the report to remember.
"Oh, I remember you," she says,
"you were the worst ever!"
No, she did not say that, it was "yours was the worst I have ever seen."
"And the surgeons," she tells me (or least she was pretty sure he had also said it was the worst he had seen, definitely one of, if not the confirmed worst)
She explains how bad it was and how it must have been that way for some time.
"about a year and I half?" I ask.
"Yeah, that is a long time" she confirms.
She explains that there was even a second tear that the MRI didn't pick up because of how bad the tendonitis was.
Remember yesterdays post where I mentioned how all three doctors I saw about it were surprised by strength and my stability?
She stopped herself as tears started to well up in my eyes. "Oh no, what did I say wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing" I try to explain.
It is validating
and I am glad my husband is there to hear it.
It's Validating for so many reasons and yet so painful also.
It is symbolic and parallel to what is going on with me...
It is painful because I know it could mean some bad things that I did not realize it was so bad. That I did not feel enough pain to get me in sooner.
...and I had just seen the wrist doctor in the same office who suggested I might want to consult with a neurologist about the weird shaking in my left hand.
Maybe I have been working a lot harder than I give myself credit for to not be a burden and a complainer. To be independent and strong.
The overlooking and neglect of it is very much tied to and paralleling TBI to me... and maybe physiologically more than I know. Which honestly scares me.
"Even if I were open to that I'd have to be willing to take that one" he said at one point when I was trying to convince him that I was worth investing his time in. I was and still am not entirely sure what he thought I was asking him to be open to. I am not entirely sure I knew or know what I was asking him to be open to... but what I heard was that he was not willing to take me on because he knew too well the type of burden I might be. It cut me deeply but I did not show it and I have tried to ignore it, especially because logically I know I don't really know what he meant by that..
But I know that I am damaged. I have brain damage. And maybe it is worse than I know. It is a fear I think I really hide and have hidden well. I am afraid of aging and my life feels so much shorter because I know I am more likely to have problems due to it as I age... sometimes I fear that I feel it already. It is part of why the car accident concussion was so traumatic. I don't feel like I can afford it.
But that is fear. and maybe, hopefully that is all it is.
It is my bigger fear manifesting in my ankle. And it is traumatic too because the ankle got overlooked because the mTBI was so much the bigger problem. I needed to do everything I could to take care of that one. And ironically, the exercise and dealing with one thing at a time that were prescribed by the head doctors was contributing to the ankle problem.
These invisible injuries can be so complex.
And I am learning so dang much about myself when I thought I had me figured out. I thought it was everyone else I needed to figure out, because I am introspective and I tend to analyze myself first and what I can do and what my part is or was. I try to fix me first.
...and I know I need to stop trying to fix the broken parts of me by myself, yet, her I am.
I thought I knew how to ask for help. I thought I knew how to say no to people.
...ahh life. The more we learn the less we know.
When she saw me she remembered my surgery right away -didn't even have to consulate the report to remember.
"Oh, I remember you," she says,
"you were the worst ever!"
No, she did not say that, it was "yours was the worst I have ever seen."
"And the surgeons," she tells me (or least she was pretty sure he had also said it was the worst he had seen, definitely one of, if not the confirmed worst)
She explains how bad it was and how it must have been that way for some time.
"about a year and I half?" I ask.
"Yeah, that is a long time" she confirms.
She explains that there was even a second tear that the MRI didn't pick up because of how bad the tendonitis was.
Remember yesterdays post where I mentioned how all three doctors I saw about it were surprised by strength and my stability?
She stopped herself as tears started to well up in my eyes. "Oh no, what did I say wrong?" she asks.
"Nothing" I try to explain.
It is validating
and I am glad my husband is there to hear it.
It's Validating for so many reasons and yet so painful also.
It is symbolic and parallel to what is going on with me...
It is painful because I know it could mean some bad things that I did not realize it was so bad. That I did not feel enough pain to get me in sooner.
...and I had just seen the wrist doctor in the same office who suggested I might want to consult with a neurologist about the weird shaking in my left hand.
Maybe I have been working a lot harder than I give myself credit for to not be a burden and a complainer. To be independent and strong.
The overlooking and neglect of it is very much tied to and paralleling TBI to me... and maybe physiologically more than I know. Which honestly scares me.
"Even if I were open to that I'd have to be willing to take that one" he said at one point when I was trying to convince him that I was worth investing his time in. I was and still am not entirely sure what he thought I was asking him to be open to. I am not entirely sure I knew or know what I was asking him to be open to... but what I heard was that he was not willing to take me on because he knew too well the type of burden I might be. It cut me deeply but I did not show it and I have tried to ignore it, especially because logically I know I don't really know what he meant by that..
But I know that I am damaged. I have brain damage. And maybe it is worse than I know. It is a fear I think I really hide and have hidden well. I am afraid of aging and my life feels so much shorter because I know I am more likely to have problems due to it as I age... sometimes I fear that I feel it already. It is part of why the car accident concussion was so traumatic. I don't feel like I can afford it.
But that is fear. and maybe, hopefully that is all it is.
It is my bigger fear manifesting in my ankle. And it is traumatic too because the ankle got overlooked because the mTBI was so much the bigger problem. I needed to do everything I could to take care of that one. And ironically, the exercise and dealing with one thing at a time that were prescribed by the head doctors was contributing to the ankle problem.
These invisible injuries can be so complex.
And I am learning so dang much about myself when I thought I had me figured out. I thought it was everyone else I needed to figure out, because I am introspective and I tend to analyze myself first and what I can do and what my part is or was. I try to fix me first.
...and I know I need to stop trying to fix the broken parts of me by myself, yet, her I am.
I thought I knew how to ask for help. I thought I knew how to say no to people.
...ahh life. The more we learn the less we know.
how to handle the perfect storm
I find myself wondering about perfect storms and how they have the ability to reshape the world. Through them humanity at its worst can come out OR humanity at its best can come out. It all depends on how the "victims" of the storm choose to handle it.
They can help each other to rebuild or they can fight for their own survival.
In rebuilding they can improve upon or completely reshape what had been destroyed.
Who will you be?
I also find myself wondering about how we perpetuate our own cycles of neglect and abuse. How do we break those cycles? We may think we have, only to find ourself there once again... was it them or is it me this time? and often the abused becomes the abuser or the neglected becomes the neglector.
and I don't want to be either.
They can help each other to rebuild or they can fight for their own survival.
In rebuilding they can improve upon or completely reshape what had been destroyed.
Who will you be?
I also find myself wondering about how we perpetuate our own cycles of neglect and abuse. How do we break those cycles? We may think we have, only to find ourself there once again... was it them or is it me this time? and often the abused becomes the abuser or the neglected becomes the neglector.
and I don't want to be either.
Monday, March 11, 2019
The perfect storm
I think that I might be the perfect storm.
This will be a disjointed post of a whole lot of stuff rattling in my brain that I just want to get out quickly, so I can move on and be "more productive"
?what does that really mean anyway?
I get my stitches out today; post op on my ankle. "Will you have a scare?" my daughter asked.
" I better!" I reply.
This will be a disjointed post of a whole lot of stuff rattling in my brain that I just want to get out quickly, so I can move on and be "more productive"
?what does that really mean anyway?
I get my stitches out today; post op on my ankle. "Will you have a scare?" my daughter asked.
" I better!" I reply.
Why?
to me scars are the tattoos of adventure
and I think I want the scar to show because I have so many injuries that do not visibly show so people are not as careful with me as I sometimes may need them to be.
I think this is true for most people.
With my ankle I have learned:
to me scars are the tattoos of adventure
and I think I want the scar to show because I have so many injuries that do not visibly show so people are not as careful with me as I sometimes may need them to be.
I think this is true for most people.
With my ankle I have learned:
- some seemingly small injuries can become big problems if they are ignored or overlooked. I did not actually ignore this injury. I had my chiropractor adjusting it, I had mentioned it to doctors, but merely mentioned it, and it was overlooked because the head was much more pressing. I also tried to build it back carefully thinking it was just a sprain, and being a runner I knew plenty of ankle strengthening exercises so I had (according to all three orthopedic surgeons who looked at it) really good stability for the injury. But it was overlooked, misdiagnosed by me at the very beginning when it maybe could have healed without surgery, had I been booted.
- When your head is a mess you overlook many things. And you behave strange
- Many variables effect why things like this get missed
- It does not mean every little thing needs to be addressed immediately, but it suggests that balance is tricky (especially with a rattled/broken brain and injured ankle :)
- I got way better at riding switch (using your non dominant food as your lead while snowboarding) because of it; good things can come from injuries
- sometimes things need to get worse and you have to make decisions to actually allow or make it worse in order for real healing, improvement, and/or growth to happen.
so the ankle is recovering in my eternity of no weight bearing.
I do not know what to do with myself when I grow up again.
that is tricky
today I was struggling to get out of bed and face my fears and continue to cause those problems I need to cause in order to keep my other healing and growth going... In order to face reality and break the cycles of fantasy and my broken heart.
My body wanted to just keep sleeping away my troubled thoughts. But I knew by doing so I would be feeding a very negative and extremely counterproductive sleeping pattern/ routine that becomes harder and harder to break the longer you let it go. It is hard to force yourself to get out of bed when you have such limited mobility, nothing that you have too do, and crap you don't want to face. So I turned on the TV. I chose to do this and allowed myself to do this, to help tease my brain and body out of sleep and bed. It was a little thing, but it was doing something.
Turned out to be a great motivator as I "stuck around" to hear the story of a the Maslin's on Good Morning America https://www.today.com/video/how-a-married-couple-rebuilt-their-lives-after-a-tragic-crime-1455671875774
There are so many great lessons learned in this short clip. And I absolutely love how Abby explains that at the beginning she thought this was a journey about brain injury but she came to realize that this was really a "journey and a story of the human struggle."
Brain injuries and all troubles have a bright side. Mania can me fun, depression can give you depth and complexity, neuroplasticity helps you make connections that other people don't even know exist, anxiety can give you drive, and it can keep you safe, guilt can cause you to think before you act and to think of others... Obviously too much of these is no bueno, but they are not all bad.
Maybe this is why I liked this article so much:
I love the idea of utilizing our own alter egos. I like how they embrace the idea that our identity is constantly changing. Identity is fluid and dynamic not static and unchangeable.
I love this guy Jim Kwik's story. My sister shared a link to his story, I'll share the link on it's own blog entry because it deserves it's own attention.
But the point I will end on here is that life is so very strange and timing and things may or may not actually be "for a reason," it may all just be coincidence but sometimes I doubt it.
And other times I think it is just plain helpful and exciting to find so many things aligning that seem to point us in certain directions.
Other times I think it can be very healthy to give it all a reason and meaning. It can keep life, fun, interesting and meaningful.
I don't always understand the reasons, and maybe my brain takes things a bit too far. Maybe at times I have a hard time distinguishing reality from fantasy but maybe I am not so far off and maybe imagination is an excellent tool for not only surviving but thriving. :)
Maybe fantasy is the reality that makes life worth living.
"I love my beautiful crazy life." I tell the mountains as I remembered my blog I had forgotten for years amidst a flooding or memories that had been suppressed, when new me was trying to process the pain and strength of my heart where JP had taken root.
...Yep, I really love JP, it's one of the best lifts at our resort
Saturday, March 9, 2019
How to survive TBI
The thing about TBI is there are so many degrees and variables. Some recent information I have found suggests that the degree of recovery and lasting effects may be directly related to the amount of social and psychological support the person has.
... At 12 I was pretty screwed. While I had a lot better support than many people in the world, and I love and appreciate my parents, they had pretty screwed up thinking patterns and psychology from their own traumatic life experiences so it was not exactly in line with what a person needs when recovering from TBI.
Maybe that is why I really liked this article I found:
https://www.brainline.org/article/lost-found-what-brain-injury-survivors-want-you-know#comment-44708
I especially wish my parents had understood this one about me when I was a teen:
"We need cheerleaders now, as we start over, just like children do when they are growing up. Please help me and encourage all efforts. Please don’t be negative or critical. I am doing the best I can."
[I was really screwed on that one because Negative and Critical are my parents' middle names]
That and the stuff about sleeping. I got raked over the coals a lot about sleeping too much and being lazy.
...which is really stupid now that I think about it because in high school I was on the cross country, track and swim teams. Regularly placing, #1 for girls in distance running -holding at least 3 school records. I was on the yearbook staff, I was active in my church activities, I participated in student counsels, I was in the honor society and usually held at least one job.
...sigh... reprocessing
maybe I am not so worthless. ...although I was battling serious depression, mood stability and suicidal thoughts then.
some reliving there.
...But I have made huge progress. I do have much more ground now than I did then.
.... and yet so much less at the same time as my life and prospects grow ever shorter and ever stranger.
40 is possibly my weirdest year yet.
and for some strange reason I find this encouraging.
Dilemmas
Filing a complaint/ opening an investigation
Why am I struggling with that so much?
I don't want to say the wrong things, yet I know I will make plenty of mistakes
I don't want to do undeserved damage to anyones career or reputation but who am I to judge goes both ways: speak up or shut up, either is making a judgement or appears to be.
But I think the biggest reality that I am really struggling with is my sense of self worth
Do I really want my worthlessness and/or ability to screw things up to be confirmed to the next level?
Thursday, March 7, 2019
28 years crushed
I was able to talk to my sister the other day.
The one that is 13 months and 3 days older than I.
We shared a room and just about everything else growing up and she was there (age 13) when I (age 12) sustained the TBI from the tree that my tube collided with upon descending a snow covered path. She was the one who was furious when she saw them pulling my seemingly lifeless body in a sled across the field to the cars. My head rested on her shoulder or lap as she accompanied me home and then to the hospital. She has never even complained about me throwing up in the car, and then riding to hospital in that car. She had to fill out incident reports and medical histories about me. She listened to me scream from the other room "don't take my clothes off" when they were trying to get me into appropriate hospital attire.
Though it was a closed head injury it caused some swelling that lasted awhile and she remembers my head being swollen and squishy. I remember that part too, but the memory of it doesn't bother me nearly as much.
It was a very traumatic experience for her.
This is my sister who knew me better than anyone. I was often her little shadow. She knew me before the accident and she knew me after. She has always seemed to know better than even myself how the accident had effected me.
She is the sister that saw, through our adolescence and beyond, how the head injury effected friendships and relationships. She watched me struggle and has confessed she wishes she had known how to explain to people what they didn't understand about me; that even though it was me it wasn't really me.
So when I told her of how things had taken a turn with my neuropsychologist,
she was very angry.
She was furious when I told her that at one point in trying to understand all of this, my concussion doctor -after discussing with the neuropsychologist- had suggested that the concussion problems may be secondary to mental illness.
"No, the only reason you have mental illness problems is because of head injury!" she fumed. "They need to understand that"
and she was furious that the office manager treated me the way she had. She was baffled that a place that treats people with neurological conditions would ever think that is a good idea.
She pointed out that they put my life in jeopardy. I explained to my sister that I was no longer in crises when that lady yelled at me, but she pointed out it did not matter and that I was still vulnerable. She is right.
Sometimes we need big sisters to speak up for us.
And it was especially wrong considering I had recently had a manic episode. I do not like to admit things like this and also I have made such huge progress I like to not focus on it as much as possible, but the truth is I have had to be hyper-diligent in fending off and being aware of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
and that is all I want to say about that, because I know enough to know I don't really want to die and if they plague me too much or start tainting other desires I've got loads of tools to fight it... including the antidepressant that my doctor recently doubled my dose of.
But even more than all of this the one thing that my dear sister was able to recognize, the most important thing I tried and have tried to explain to Dr. He, was that that moment of him deciding I was done with TBI related treatment and therapy was actually the beginning of me accepting how TBI was the part of my whole self and the perfectly imperfect part of my life that I need to come to understand and accept in order to really stay connected with my self and feel that I was of value.
In that moment, 28 years of hope were crushed
as he dropped me and then allowed me to be transformed into whatever monster of a liar or "crazy person" his facility has painted me to be, ignoring the fact that head injury is what drove me there and what has been driving me to be heard ever sense.
My sister got it as she put it into the word context of what I was trying to explain "28 years of hope were crushed." She understands the magnitude of this for me.
I cannot just let this go. To do so is to die. I cannot believe that I do not belong or am unwelcome at a neuroscience institution that specializes in treating people with TBI, especially when they were my hope and chance to rewrite the wrongs of abandonment and rejection that had perpetuated the negative effects of my first TBI related emotional regulation difficulties.
The rejection of a man I connected so easily and naturally with and could love in any form is one thing
but coupled with the rejection of my broken brain where it is supposed to be safe and cared for is too much to bare.
So I fight for me.
The one that is 13 months and 3 days older than I.
We shared a room and just about everything else growing up and she was there (age 13) when I (age 12) sustained the TBI from the tree that my tube collided with upon descending a snow covered path. She was the one who was furious when she saw them pulling my seemingly lifeless body in a sled across the field to the cars. My head rested on her shoulder or lap as she accompanied me home and then to the hospital. She has never even complained about me throwing up in the car, and then riding to hospital in that car. She had to fill out incident reports and medical histories about me. She listened to me scream from the other room "don't take my clothes off" when they were trying to get me into appropriate hospital attire.
Though it was a closed head injury it caused some swelling that lasted awhile and she remembers my head being swollen and squishy. I remember that part too, but the memory of it doesn't bother me nearly as much.
It was a very traumatic experience for her.
This is my sister who knew me better than anyone. I was often her little shadow. She knew me before the accident and she knew me after. She has always seemed to know better than even myself how the accident had effected me.
She is the sister that saw, through our adolescence and beyond, how the head injury effected friendships and relationships. She watched me struggle and has confessed she wishes she had known how to explain to people what they didn't understand about me; that even though it was me it wasn't really me.
So when I told her of how things had taken a turn with my neuropsychologist,
she was very angry.
She was furious when I told her that at one point in trying to understand all of this, my concussion doctor -after discussing with the neuropsychologist- had suggested that the concussion problems may be secondary to mental illness.
"No, the only reason you have mental illness problems is because of head injury!" she fumed. "They need to understand that"
and she was furious that the office manager treated me the way she had. She was baffled that a place that treats people with neurological conditions would ever think that is a good idea.
She pointed out that they put my life in jeopardy. I explained to my sister that I was no longer in crises when that lady yelled at me, but she pointed out it did not matter and that I was still vulnerable. She is right.
Sometimes we need big sisters to speak up for us.
And it was especially wrong considering I had recently had a manic episode. I do not like to admit things like this and also I have made such huge progress I like to not focus on it as much as possible, but the truth is I have had to be hyper-diligent in fending off and being aware of suicidal thoughts and feelings.
and that is all I want to say about that, because I know enough to know I don't really want to die and if they plague me too much or start tainting other desires I've got loads of tools to fight it... including the antidepressant that my doctor recently doubled my dose of.
But even more than all of this the one thing that my dear sister was able to recognize, the most important thing I tried and have tried to explain to Dr. He, was that that moment of him deciding I was done with TBI related treatment and therapy was actually the beginning of me accepting how TBI was the part of my whole self and the perfectly imperfect part of my life that I need to come to understand and accept in order to really stay connected with my self and feel that I was of value.
In that moment, 28 years of hope were crushed
as he dropped me and then allowed me to be transformed into whatever monster of a liar or "crazy person" his facility has painted me to be, ignoring the fact that head injury is what drove me there and what has been driving me to be heard ever sense.
My sister got it as she put it into the word context of what I was trying to explain "28 years of hope were crushed." She understands the magnitude of this for me.
I cannot just let this go. To do so is to die. I cannot believe that I do not belong or am unwelcome at a neuroscience institution that specializes in treating people with TBI, especially when they were my hope and chance to rewrite the wrongs of abandonment and rejection that had perpetuated the negative effects of my first TBI related emotional regulation difficulties.
The rejection of a man I connected so easily and naturally with and could love in any form is one thing
but coupled with the rejection of my broken brain where it is supposed to be safe and cared for is too much to bare.
So I fight for me.
Wednesday, March 6, 2019
gaslighting?
I learned a new term today "gaslighting"
I feel intimidated and small, and I question myself.
I am not sure who I can trust and every effort takes immense courage.
But my efforts are being used against me.
...and even in things unrelated to where I feel that gaslighting may have happened
it takes immense courage to put myself out there
... even for the sake of my kids (maybe even more for the sake of my kids, because I don't want to screw things up for them)
I feel intimidated and small, and I question myself.
I am not sure who I can trust and every effort takes immense courage.
But my efforts are being used against me.
...and even in things unrelated to where I feel that gaslighting may have happened
it takes immense courage to put myself out there
... even for the sake of my kids (maybe even more for the sake of my kids, because I don't want to screw things up for them)
Monday, March 4, 2019
Power Struggle?
He rubbed his right eye with his right middle finger
while listening to the song I played to help me express the feelings my mind was blocking me from expressing
my transference feelings
the stuff that all the online research had told me I "should" discuss with my therapist
(and there it is that word "should" the mistake of my cherished golden map...)
The stuff that skilled therapists looked forward to as it meant their patient was ready to really start making progress.
Safe, trusted, responsible, skilled therapists
he was that to me... I knew he could help me
he was in the position of power
...but I was not willing to give that to him
There is something more to this story.
while listening to the song I played to help me express the feelings my mind was blocking me from expressing
my transference feelings
the stuff that all the online research had told me I "should" discuss with my therapist
(and there it is that word "should" the mistake of my cherished golden map...)
The stuff that skilled therapists looked forward to as it meant their patient was ready to really start making progress.
Safe, trusted, responsible, skilled therapists
he was that to me... I knew he could help me
he was in the position of power
...but I was not willing to give that to him
There is something more to this story.
How deep or diabolical it is I don’t know
but I know that amidst the omens of gods and spirit animals
it is not the time to drop a patient of psychotherapy
Sunday, March 3, 2019
TBI: embracing my "disability" ?
The more I learn about head injuries (TBI- traumatic brain injury) the more I wonder if part of the counter-transference problem is that I am a physical manifestation of his profession and maybe even of his own work. (and a not so bad looking one either) Everything he has dedicated so much of his life to I embody in a real life form. I have developed my own ways to adapt and the more effective ones, I am sure, have mirrored his studies while other adaptations may make him question. But I am a manifestation of longterm outcomes of TBI.
I don't think he wanted to see that in me.
When he said something to the effect of "being willing to take that on" I wonder if that was a negative stigma and prejudice he, himself held, jaded by his education and career. He has to maintain superiority and elevated status?
I felt it was a major slight to me. Am I Michael Bluth's Mr. F?
Maybe.
But I am not less.
I am significant and I could be of value in the industry and to the facility that has so callously turned their back on me.
I know this field. I know TBI. I handled it alone and built a box to keep it contained that, though incredibly flawed, fooled even the best.
I don't think he wanted to see that in me.
When he said something to the effect of "being willing to take that on" I wonder if that was a negative stigma and prejudice he, himself held, jaded by his education and career. He has to maintain superiority and elevated status?
I felt it was a major slight to me. Am I Michael Bluth's Mr. F?
Maybe.
But I am not less.
I am significant and I could be of value in the industry and to the facility that has so callously turned their back on me.
I know this field. I know TBI. I handled it alone and built a box to keep it contained that, though incredibly flawed, fooled even the best.
Dear Exiling Therapist,
Why did you choose to go this route with me.
To banish me from the hope of recovery
the hope of reconciling my split parts with an understanding of how TBI had effected those splits
To take away any hope of successful reconciliation with anyone
...successful communication
To devalue me so completely.
"you want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about"
Do you think I am a fraud in your industry?
Or are you all frauds in your industry?
Is the industry itself a fraud?
I suppose in a very sad way that can give me hope
but can it?...as I continue to fail in my attempts to prove
that I am worth investing in.
Will I ever be given the chance to prove myself or have I already proven myself to my fullest potential
and I need to resign myself to acceptance of this life the way it is and being what everyone else believes it should be.
To banish me from the hope of recovery
the hope of reconciling my split parts with an understanding of how TBI had effected those splits
To take away any hope of successful reconciliation with anyone
...successful communication
To devalue me so completely.
"you want something to cry about, I'll give you something to cry about"
Do you think I am a fraud in your industry?
Or are you all frauds in your industry?
Is the industry itself a fraud?
I suppose in a very sad way that can give me hope
but can it?...as I continue to fail in my attempts to prove
that I am worth investing in.
Will I ever be given the chance to prove myself or have I already proven myself to my fullest potential
and I need to resign myself to acceptance of this life the way it is and being what everyone else believes it should be.
Friday, March 1, 2019
The Best Way to Kill Fantasy is Through Reality
so it's time to write again... I really have a lot to work through this morning and I thought to put it in my 200 plus page self discovery report but I think I want this one "out there"
I was talking to my sister the other day, who lives a couple of states away. I told her about how the the facility manager treated me when I tried to speak with her when I went in to request a copy of their patient bill of rights. I think I have mentioned this; that she was aggressive and rude, she yelled at me in front of my kids and she refused to provide me with my medical records or a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She even left the area code off of the phone # she very begrudgingly provided, a passive aggressive move -I think. I told my sister the details and my sisters simple reply was;
"she's in love with him."
Hmmm... Interesting. Funny thing is, something similar had crossed my mind in my first encounter with her. But it had merely crossed it.
This is something to consider though.
And this is where I struggle to suggest things because I do not think so highly of myself so I may have to take a 3rd person perspective on this one because when I do that I see that this possibility could make sense. I'll write in 1st person but I'm thinking more in an objective 3rd person way.
Is it possible?
If so
This guy had it bad for me
and she is extremely jealous because she either has some sort of relationship with him or wants it. That would make sense why she would behave so incredibly unprofessionally and why she would even cross into the potentially illegal (denying a patient their records and refusing to address complaints or provide them with the information they need to resolve their issues). It would make sense why they would not want to keep me in house and label me with a scarlet letter. It makes sense in that realm with her.
But what about his feelings for me? Could they have been that intense?
He had it bad for me? Is it possible that while I was hearing that he wanted nothing to do with me -ever- to mean that he did not think I was capable (of helping him, of becoming a therapist myself, of being a friend or anything or even of being his client anymore) or worth his time... maybe he really was professing his profoundly deep but forbidden feelings for me? Maybe he genuinely believes that it was not mania at all but the feelings of those forbidden feelings reciprocated? Maybe it is.
I can not stand that thought. It grips my heart and presses it so hard I am certain I won't survive.
I doubt it because I am too practical and I can easily see so many reasons for a typical transference countertransference or even atypical, but still, not something nearly as soulmate-esque: It could have simply been that we both love his profession but just from different sides of it and that fascination was misplaced or misinterpreted as a more romantic connection as it was not something either party fully realized or understood. I think this is a very real possibility and something I would love to discus/explore. It makes sense and could be so beneficial to so many people if we could work together to better understand that kind of transference-countertransference scenario.
But alas, I don't imagine that the intrigue of the way I had accommodated and intellectually handled head injury for so long, without formal training or complete understanding of what I was actually dealing with, would get me banned from his facility. Of course they currently have me painted as a Liability so the sad loss of that is yet another failure and lost potential I get to grieve.
...and, though I am just starting my day after a good nights sleep, I am ready to sleep again and my mind is already worn down by the thought of this ridiculous but deeply desired "romantic" connection that I am certain I need to accept as only a product of my manic delusions.
This is why I so desperately want clarification but making so many mistakes in asking for it. This is my most vulnerable confession ...
- January- I know I need to follow up with the concussion doctor if I want to understand this new mood instability but I also know it will be hard to because she is in the same facility as Dr. He.
I am waiting for my name to be called.
A tall middle aged man with longish hair and a beard walks out of the far door with a plain white paper in his hand.
I strain to see the handwriting
I recognize it instantly and it makes me happy. I love that handwriting. [If I were a handwriting analysts I would guess the owner of it were well educated, well disciplined and responsible but also had a playful side and secretly a touch of hopeless romantic at heart.]
I am happy to see he is doing well
and he is helping people.
I am happy for this man because I know he is in the best hands.
I am hopeful that I will catch a glimpse of Dr. He as he comes out to get his next patient. But instead I notice an Asian lady coming out to get a patient... and then she does again. This is unusual, I have never seen that happen before. This time as she walks by she seems to be staring me down. She at least notices me. I do not know her so I am not sure why. It is awhile before I am called back and Dr. P never comes out.
Finally I am called in. I ask the nurse who is taking me back if I can talk with Dr. He while I am there.
As I try to explain to my concussion doctor my breakdown and current symptoms I struggle.
I am in protection mode, I do not know who I can trust and I do not want to get Dr. He into trouble. I do not want to cause him harm or further complicate his already complex life. I break down and am an emotional mess. I beg to see Cherri, (Cherri since he can no longer be Dr. He to me) because he knows what happened, he will know what to do and how to help me.
"I need him to be real again" I say.
And I do
the manic fed fantasy is destroying me, and I just need to understand it from a rational place, but I need him to be real for that to happen.
It is interpreted differently than that. Evidence that I am "crazy"
But deep down inside I know it is not just me that put me here and I know there is something more to it. I know this because it is new territory for me. I know it because of how it has effected me, my relationships and my thoughts. ...and like it or not we are all connected in this universe and what we do impacts others... Especially when you are intentionally working with the psychology of others.
... so my most vulnerable confession becomes evidence of either how seriously difficult mood instability, head injury, mania, mental illness or whatever it is really can make life for a person
OR
evidence of how counter-transference is being handled or used so carelessly and unscrupulously by facilities and practitioners, the APA, and within the field of psychology.
I was talking to my sister the other day, who lives a couple of states away. I told her about how the the facility manager treated me when I tried to speak with her when I went in to request a copy of their patient bill of rights. I think I have mentioned this; that she was aggressive and rude, she yelled at me in front of my kids and she refused to provide me with my medical records or a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She even left the area code off of the phone # she very begrudgingly provided, a passive aggressive move -I think. I told my sister the details and my sisters simple reply was;
"she's in love with him."
Hmmm... Interesting. Funny thing is, something similar had crossed my mind in my first encounter with her. But it had merely crossed it.
This is something to consider though.
And this is where I struggle to suggest things because I do not think so highly of myself so I may have to take a 3rd person perspective on this one because when I do that I see that this possibility could make sense. I'll write in 1st person but I'm thinking more in an objective 3rd person way.
Is it possible?
If so
This guy had it bad for me
and she is extremely jealous because she either has some sort of relationship with him or wants it. That would make sense why she would behave so incredibly unprofessionally and why she would even cross into the potentially illegal (denying a patient their records and refusing to address complaints or provide them with the information they need to resolve their issues). It would make sense why they would not want to keep me in house and label me with a scarlet letter. It makes sense in that realm with her.
But what about his feelings for me? Could they have been that intense?
He had it bad for me? Is it possible that while I was hearing that he wanted nothing to do with me -ever- to mean that he did not think I was capable (of helping him, of becoming a therapist myself, of being a friend or anything or even of being his client anymore) or worth his time... maybe he really was professing his profoundly deep but forbidden feelings for me? Maybe he genuinely believes that it was not mania at all but the feelings of those forbidden feelings reciprocated? Maybe it is.
I can not stand that thought. It grips my heart and presses it so hard I am certain I won't survive.
I doubt it because I am too practical and I can easily see so many reasons for a typical transference countertransference or even atypical, but still, not something nearly as soulmate-esque: It could have simply been that we both love his profession but just from different sides of it and that fascination was misplaced or misinterpreted as a more romantic connection as it was not something either party fully realized or understood. I think this is a very real possibility and something I would love to discus/explore. It makes sense and could be so beneficial to so many people if we could work together to better understand that kind of transference-countertransference scenario.
But alas, I don't imagine that the intrigue of the way I had accommodated and intellectually handled head injury for so long, without formal training or complete understanding of what I was actually dealing with, would get me banned from his facility. Of course they currently have me painted as a Liability so the sad loss of that is yet another failure and lost potential I get to grieve.
...and, though I am just starting my day after a good nights sleep, I am ready to sleep again and my mind is already worn down by the thought of this ridiculous but deeply desired "romantic" connection that I am certain I need to accept as only a product of my manic delusions.
This is why I so desperately want clarification but making so many mistakes in asking for it. This is my most vulnerable confession ...
- January- I know I need to follow up with the concussion doctor if I want to understand this new mood instability but I also know it will be hard to because she is in the same facility as Dr. He.
I am waiting for my name to be called.
A tall middle aged man with longish hair and a beard walks out of the far door with a plain white paper in his hand.
I strain to see the handwriting
I recognize it instantly and it makes me happy. I love that handwriting. [If I were a handwriting analysts I would guess the owner of it were well educated, well disciplined and responsible but also had a playful side and secretly a touch of hopeless romantic at heart.]
I am happy to see he is doing well
and he is helping people.
I am happy for this man because I know he is in the best hands.
I am hopeful that I will catch a glimpse of Dr. He as he comes out to get his next patient. But instead I notice an Asian lady coming out to get a patient... and then she does again. This is unusual, I have never seen that happen before. This time as she walks by she seems to be staring me down. She at least notices me. I do not know her so I am not sure why. It is awhile before I am called back and Dr. P never comes out.
Finally I am called in. I ask the nurse who is taking me back if I can talk with Dr. He while I am there.
As I try to explain to my concussion doctor my breakdown and current symptoms I struggle.
I am in protection mode, I do not know who I can trust and I do not want to get Dr. He into trouble. I do not want to cause him harm or further complicate his already complex life. I break down and am an emotional mess. I beg to see Cherri, (Cherri since he can no longer be Dr. He to me) because he knows what happened, he will know what to do and how to help me.
"I need him to be real again" I say.
And I do
the manic fed fantasy is destroying me, and I just need to understand it from a rational place, but I need him to be real for that to happen.
It is interpreted differently than that. Evidence that I am "crazy"
But deep down inside I know it is not just me that put me here and I know there is something more to it. I know this because it is new territory for me. I know it because of how it has effected me, my relationships and my thoughts. ...and like it or not we are all connected in this universe and what we do impacts others... Especially when you are intentionally working with the psychology of others.
... so my most vulnerable confession becomes evidence of either how seriously difficult mood instability, head injury, mania, mental illness or whatever it is really can make life for a person
OR
evidence of how counter-transference is being handled or used so carelessly and unscrupulously by facilities and practitioners, the APA, and within the field of psychology.
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Depression
this post was drafted in 1/26-ish
Remember the Jesus Man and the night I spent in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida?
The next morning when I got to be evaluated I was told that I had depression. Maybe manic was used in there too, and maybe the word clinical. I really don't recall, at that point depression was the only word that I knew so it was the word that stuck. It was quite the conversation and bit of a hard one, especially since I came from my family where you just get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I was not sure how to handle this news and was not sure I wanted to take medication. But I agreed. She was very persuasive and I liked her temperament so I listened and agreed. I also agreed to meet with a lovely psychologist, her name was Peggy (or maybe that was the psychiatrist). It was in talking with her that I learned that it was actually not a normal thing to have thoughts of self destruction and how. She legitimately and authentically answered "no" after giving it some thought when I asked her if she really had never thought about it.
It was mind blowing.
Maybe there really was a medical problem with me.
I also explained how I felt I was being crushed by an anvil like in the cartoons, only it was slow and constant.
I told here about how I wanted to break my brain open so I could see all the pieces and sort out the puzzle that was inside. I explained how I was stuck in indecision because I wanted to do everything and if I started down one path that would keep me from doing the other things and then I'd be missing out on those. She learned about my excessive jobs (I think I held four at the time) and my slew of activities I was involved in during high school. I didn't see her that many times, but I loved her and she was a great source of comfort to me. She helped me be okay with taking medication.
When I arrived back home all the way across the country a few months later, one of the first things I did was head to the library to find out what I could about this "illness" I had been diagnosed with. I think the word manic may have been used because I remember information about that in my stack of books. My stack was at least knee high, probably closer to my waist. One of those stacks that make you think "Wow, I am surprised a public library lets people check out that many books at once."
I renewed them a couple of times.
I will admit I did not fully read all of them, I probably didn't fully read any of them front to back really, but I read a lot. I skimmed to what was most important to know. What would help me. I only skimmed most of the personal stories as I started to feel the sense of hopelessness that was a common theme.
While I learned a lot, like that caffeine and alcohol are major contributors to depression and anxiety, that regular exercise and a healthy diet were important etc., Over all I really did not like how damn depressing they all were. How so much of the writing was there to convince me or my family members that this was going to be a problem for me my entire life.
With much resolve and determination I decided that was not for me. I would not like that to be me. I was not going to let this be a damned lifelong depressing battle.
And though I enjoy some crazy sometimes and I do occasionally go on antidepressant (this most recent because of the car accident) I feel that over all I have beat the hellish depression of my younger days. Even having lost myself and feeling the pain of rejection from some pretty intense situations, I am not depressed, at times delusional, sometimes sad and hurt. okay, I suppose sometimes I am depressed but I have learned so many coping strategies and know how to identify it, treat it, embrace it, and avoid it as needed. And really I feel quite happy about this. Looking back I can say it sucks and it's hard but I can also say I have learned and gained so much in really truly trying to overcome it and/or work with it. I am a better and happier version of me because of it!
Really, depression is not all bad. :)
Remember the Jesus Man and the night I spent in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida?
The next morning when I got to be evaluated I was told that I had depression. Maybe manic was used in there too, and maybe the word clinical. I really don't recall, at that point depression was the only word that I knew so it was the word that stuck. It was quite the conversation and bit of a hard one, especially since I came from my family where you just get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I was not sure how to handle this news and was not sure I wanted to take medication. But I agreed. She was very persuasive and I liked her temperament so I listened and agreed. I also agreed to meet with a lovely psychologist, her name was Peggy (or maybe that was the psychiatrist). It was in talking with her that I learned that it was actually not a normal thing to have thoughts of self destruction and how. She legitimately and authentically answered "no" after giving it some thought when I asked her if she really had never thought about it.
It was mind blowing.
Maybe there really was a medical problem with me.
I also explained how I felt I was being crushed by an anvil like in the cartoons, only it was slow and constant.
I told here about how I wanted to break my brain open so I could see all the pieces and sort out the puzzle that was inside. I explained how I was stuck in indecision because I wanted to do everything and if I started down one path that would keep me from doing the other things and then I'd be missing out on those. She learned about my excessive jobs (I think I held four at the time) and my slew of activities I was involved in during high school. I didn't see her that many times, but I loved her and she was a great source of comfort to me. She helped me be okay with taking medication.
When I arrived back home all the way across the country a few months later, one of the first things I did was head to the library to find out what I could about this "illness" I had been diagnosed with. I think the word manic may have been used because I remember information about that in my stack of books. My stack was at least knee high, probably closer to my waist. One of those stacks that make you think "Wow, I am surprised a public library lets people check out that many books at once."
I renewed them a couple of times.
I will admit I did not fully read all of them, I probably didn't fully read any of them front to back really, but I read a lot. I skimmed to what was most important to know. What would help me. I only skimmed most of the personal stories as I started to feel the sense of hopelessness that was a common theme.
While I learned a lot, like that caffeine and alcohol are major contributors to depression and anxiety, that regular exercise and a healthy diet were important etc., Over all I really did not like how damn depressing they all were. How so much of the writing was there to convince me or my family members that this was going to be a problem for me my entire life.
With much resolve and determination I decided that was not for me. I would not like that to be me. I was not going to let this be a damned lifelong depressing battle.
And though I enjoy some crazy sometimes and I do occasionally go on antidepressant (this most recent because of the car accident) I feel that over all I have beat the hellish depression of my younger days. Even having lost myself and feeling the pain of rejection from some pretty intense situations, I am not depressed, at times delusional, sometimes sad and hurt. okay, I suppose sometimes I am depressed but I have learned so many coping strategies and know how to identify it, treat it, embrace it, and avoid it as needed. And really I feel quite happy about this. Looking back I can say it sucks and it's hard but I can also say I have learned and gained so much in really truly trying to overcome it and/or work with it. I am a better and happier version of me because of it!
Really, depression is not all bad. :)
The Seductress
“Stop emailing me” It was a direct command, stated very boldly. It was a side of him I had not seen before and it was a bit scary but mostly it was odd, because it was meant to be scary and it was meant to be a type of Jedi mind trick. I figured that much. and looking back it is funny to me.
“yeah, sorry about that,” I responded casually, “I figured I had that luxury..."He scrambled... soft voice, maybe baffled by my reaction, "It's just that it was... very deep and... it could get me in trouble..." or something to that effect, but he didn't seem to know quite what to say or maybe even what he was saying.
I couldn't figure why it would get him into trouble. Nothing "wrong" had been said or transpired.
...but then again I was a bit... oh, yep, there it is; manic... which was actually the point I was trying to make or what I was trying to help him see at the time through the emails, (though that was not my manic conscious intention; however, looking back at them it is clearly obvious)
and, well, in those manic times... interpretations are very easily misconstrued.
I think some of his staff think I was there with the intent to seduce. I think they have tried to convince him of that. Or he them.
It's taken me awhile to figure that one out, because it is harder to figure out the things people suspect or are likely accusing you of when your intentions are so far from that.
But I think my mystical manic abilities fooled them and they felt threatened by my temporary superpowers, so that is what made sense to their menial mortal minds.
Which must mean I am really good because they are the professionals. They are the ones with doctorates, fancy titles of influence and accolades and yet they felt and feel threatened by little old me!
A power struggle and I was winning when I wasn't even playing.
its so freaking hilarious!
(but also very frustrating)
and as far as the Jedi mind tricks go: It won't work on me if it is that obvious and I will let you know that you are only allowed to have as much power over me as I allow you to have. I'll obey if I want to obey.
Buried me, coming to the surface
Yes mam'
Welcome Back
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Cherished and grieved
... and on that note I will add that I am realizing that I can not simply let go and forget those people who I cherish in my heart. When I try to my heart breaks and hurts and I find myself fading and dying with them. And while I may not be able to have them in my life all the time or even at all, I will forever cherish them -no matter the fight I have to fight for me- and my heart will always be open for and to them.
And today, this new day like everyday, I embrace me and continue to work to be the best version of me. Today I am choosing to be patient with my grieving. To love myself through it and forgive myself. To be kind to myself because I did not ask for this and I was not ready to grieve a loss that was both significant to me and confusing.
Today I am not trying to fight, push out or burn up memories I am just letting them be what they are and loving them the way I do when I think of others I have lost.
I would never try to push memories of my brother out, try to force myself to "get over" him. He is cherished to me and I hold onto and cherish the memories of him.
I found strength today in thinking of my ex-therapist similarly. I do not think of him like I do a brother but he was a cherished and dear person to me with whom I connected easily and more deeply than I ever let him know. While I understand I have to let him go and grieve that loss I do not want to lose him anymore than I wanted to lose my brother and so I suppose I will have to let his memories stay... because as he fades and die so do I*
...and I still have far too much life left in me
(*and though that sounds super romantic [kind of super cheesy] and maybe it is; it also may just merely be the one sided reality for the client/patient that was dealt the hand of premature/mishandled termination, lost objectivity, and/or office politics driven decisions in counseling/psychotherapy)
And today, this new day like everyday, I embrace me and continue to work to be the best version of me. Today I am choosing to be patient with my grieving. To love myself through it and forgive myself. To be kind to myself because I did not ask for this and I was not ready to grieve a loss that was both significant to me and confusing.
Today I am not trying to fight, push out or burn up memories I am just letting them be what they are and loving them the way I do when I think of others I have lost.
I would never try to push memories of my brother out, try to force myself to "get over" him. He is cherished to me and I hold onto and cherish the memories of him.
I found strength today in thinking of my ex-therapist similarly. I do not think of him like I do a brother but he was a cherished and dear person to me with whom I connected easily and more deeply than I ever let him know. While I understand I have to let him go and grieve that loss I do not want to lose him anymore than I wanted to lose my brother and so I suppose I will have to let his memories stay... because as he fades and die so do I*
...and I still have far too much life left in me
(*and though that sounds super romantic [
Isabella
While we were in Brazil (my kids and myself) my son participated in a youth beach soccer group once a week -Flamenco's, I believe. It was pretty fun to see what they were teaching the kids in Brazil soccer organizations because many of the moves are "illegal" in our US youth soccer organizations (i.e. bicycle kicks and headers). My daughter and I enjoyed hanging out on the beach and watching while my son played. My daughter participated in dance instead of soccer while there so she hung with me instead of the soccer kids.
One week we met a lady who was visiting Rio from a different Brazilian state. Her daughter being a huge soccer enthusiast was excited to participate in the beach soccer practice.
Isabella had done some schooling in the US and had also lived in New Zealand (the daughter was born there and her dad still lived there) so she was an easy person for us to talk to since she was fluent in English (we were far from fluent in Portuguese).
We hit it off very well, so well that she invited us to come visit her in her home state of Bahia.
This may be the sort of thing that earns me a reputation for being crazy but after some phone conversations and some WhatsApp communication we decided to take her up on the offer. So off we went to stay with Isabella and her daughter and some of their friends for 2 weeks.
My son still considers this the best two weeks of his life. If he could live anywhere or travel anywhere in the world he insists it would be Pria de Forte. It really was an amazing two weeks and I absolutely love and admire the friends we made. We learned so much from them in such a short period of time and had so many great experiences it feels like it was a lifetime worth of experiences.
But there is one image of the beautiful, quirky, carefree, and amazing Isabella that is forever etched in my memory that I find myself more often referring to in my broken brain; it is of Isabella standing in the airport with her eyes closed taking a deep breath and slowly, though not super obviously letting it out. It was and had been a bizarre and stressful day, by no fault of any of our parties (well, maybe a little of it) but she remained calm, present and pleasant. I was impressed.
I had witnessed her doing this other times and it impressed me. Knowing what I knew about her pilates training and enthusiasm I figured it was a centering technique that came from that -I am not certain- but I loved the simple yet profound example she set for me as she would take these deep breaths and release them in such a controlled way.
She is one of my all-time favorite people in this world even though we haven't seen each other for years and rarely talk, but the moments we had are highly cherished and her influence lives on in me forever as I refer back to her when I need to take my own calming and cleansing breaths to help me stay calm, focused and happy. I will forever love her and her daughter as they had become part of my heart.
One week we met a lady who was visiting Rio from a different Brazilian state. Her daughter being a huge soccer enthusiast was excited to participate in the beach soccer practice.
Isabella had done some schooling in the US and had also lived in New Zealand (the daughter was born there and her dad still lived there) so she was an easy person for us to talk to since she was fluent in English (we were far from fluent in Portuguese).
We hit it off very well, so well that she invited us to come visit her in her home state of Bahia.
This may be the sort of thing that earns me a reputation for being crazy but after some phone conversations and some WhatsApp communication we decided to take her up on the offer. So off we went to stay with Isabella and her daughter and some of their friends for 2 weeks.
My son still considers this the best two weeks of his life. If he could live anywhere or travel anywhere in the world he insists it would be Pria de Forte. It really was an amazing two weeks and I absolutely love and admire the friends we made. We learned so much from them in such a short period of time and had so many great experiences it feels like it was a lifetime worth of experiences.
But there is one image of the beautiful, quirky, carefree, and amazing Isabella that is forever etched in my memory that I find myself more often referring to in my broken brain; it is of Isabella standing in the airport with her eyes closed taking a deep breath and slowly, though not super obviously letting it out. It was and had been a bizarre and stressful day, by no fault of any of our parties (well, maybe a little of it) but she remained calm, present and pleasant. I was impressed.
I had witnessed her doing this other times and it impressed me. Knowing what I knew about her pilates training and enthusiasm I figured it was a centering technique that came from that -I am not certain- but I loved the simple yet profound example she set for me as she would take these deep breaths and release them in such a controlled way.
She is one of my all-time favorite people in this world even though we haven't seen each other for years and rarely talk, but the moments we had are highly cherished and her influence lives on in me forever as I refer back to her when I need to take my own calming and cleansing breaths to help me stay calm, focused and happy. I will forever love her and her daughter as they had become part of my heart.
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Are you crazy 2?
"what do you hope to get out of it"
that is the question of filing a complaint
a discussion, understanding, a chance to clarify; when I am stronger and more rational, a chance to set things straight when I am no longer a child and I am willing to be vulnerable; not when I am forced to be vulnerable and naively being played. Even a chance to test my own stability and try my boundaries, a chance to put him back into a reality reference on my terms since treatment was supposed to be about me and not him. It did not end that way. It was non-negotiable coming down to what he needs versus what I need. But he was in "the position of power" so his needs win.
It did not and does not need to be that way. I did not need to be sacrificed to save him. I want a chance to rewrite the ending in a way that my brain can balance better and in a way that lines up with the idea I was sold: that they will do their best to do no harm and that treatment was supposed to be about me and helping me.
"it'll never happen" they say
"they don't care and it is really just about money".. and now liability they tell me
I know that is the sad reality but it is not where I choose to put my faith.
I'll try anyway
unfortunately I make so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes
but that is the irony and the paradox and all those things that are funny about this anyway. I am allowed to make those mistakes and it makes perfect sense that I do. They are the ones who are supposed to be helping me work through that. That is what I am paying them for. They are the ones being paid to see and understand that, figure that out, and then help me work through those problems. I want to. I am the "perfect" client/patient in that regard, and yet they are refusing. They don't want to and are unwilling to do their professed jobs. They would rather do harm. The office manager/director or whatever she is, actually yelled at me, in front of my kids. It upset my kids more than it upset me. They needed to talk about it, they hate her and think she is a horrible person. They now hate the whole operation, even when I try to rationalize some of it. I think it is best to allow them that pain and to allow them to stand up for me and themselves by feeling angry and even saying mean things about her. I don't think it would be good for me or them to work to convince them right now about how we need to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt.
Sometimes the only cheek left to turn is a bare-mooned ass.
After all she did this yelling after 2 weeks of ignoring a request to resolve these matters and refusing to provide me with a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She insisted I was asking for Dr. P to still be my therapist when I clearly stated then and in the email request I had sent that I DO NOT want that but rather want to resolve what had happened with who it had happened with and not with other therapists and doctors that don't have the full story and that continues to cost my family more money; with this complication and his statement of car accident treatment being complete it is no longer due to the car accident, even if the mood stability crazy is directly linked to it... so it will only come form our pockets. Their "solution" is keeping a cycle of harm going.
It is insanity
It is absolute insanity
I think they think I am trying or was trying to seduce him. They are wrong.
I think they think I might try to sue them
If they keep it up, they might be right, but that is not at all the route I want to go yet at some point their actions suggest there might be grounds to, because ignoring, intimidating, avoiding, and charging new charges for a treatment that so obviously went awry [and who knows when it stopped being about me] really is not okay. But still, I'd rather not go down that path and I still think this can be worked out
I have a lot of faith in humanity.
In people and foolishly maybe, but I still do, have a lot of faith in Dr. P.
I see no reason not to. If I try and fail then I will be disappointed. If I don't try at all then I agree to their crazy and I am mess for who knows how long and I will be disappointed. Either way I will be disappointed. I'd rather put my faith in people and work to be the change I wish to see, even with my very flawed me.
I'd rather try and be wrong than not try and be right.
and here is my new epiphany:
I am not the one who is insane
it is all crazy
I just have a harder time ignoring crazy and staying emotionally balanced through it
I am more sensitive to the insanities of our duel natures and that most people can just play along with
I have a harder time ignoring crazy and being okay with it
and that is it
I have solved it. hah!
go me
I was right and you were wrong, and learning to embrace insanity really is what I need to work on. but not just mine. I have to recognize and embrace others insanity as well.
It feels good to be able to move beyond me and solving me.
Now that I have solved me
I can continue to be the change I wish to see in the world
as just little old me
I am not significant and they see no value in me
But it matters very little because they are wrong.
They could learn a lot from me. I really could help them. I am the other side of their profession that they have lost touch with and I will try to help them see that
but in the end I will be okay, knowing I gave it my best shot no matter what happens.
I hope they will hear me if not for their sake for mine because I wish for my heart not to be stuck in the confusion it is in for too much longer and getting Dr. P back into a more solidly real form can fix that.... or break me completely again, but I'm willing to take that risk. Either way, I'd at least know for sure what kind of broken I am and how to move forward. Its a win win, instead of a lose lose. I am the patient who needs to have some say in the direction of her care, that is all. I am the client who actually can recover and move on, knowing we are not in this alone. Someone who has the faith to keep trying.
Please give me that chance.
so Are you crazy 2? Yes, yes you are -but I bet you already knew that
... and then I am finding that distance, breaking free of the memory and heartache... until the image of the balanced scale with "ideal" on one end pops into my head..
AAARGH CURSE YOU Dr. P, Just get out of my freaking head! ... it will eventually fade... but really, the timing was so freaking terrible and the termination was not handled well.
that is the question of filing a complaint
a discussion, understanding, a chance to clarify; when I am stronger and more rational, a chance to set things straight when I am no longer a child and I am willing to be vulnerable; not when I am forced to be vulnerable and naively being played. Even a chance to test my own stability and try my boundaries, a chance to put him back into a reality reference on my terms since treatment was supposed to be about me and not him. It did not end that way. It was non-negotiable coming down to what he needs versus what I need. But he was in "the position of power" so his needs win.
It did not and does not need to be that way. I did not need to be sacrificed to save him. I want a chance to rewrite the ending in a way that my brain can balance better and in a way that lines up with the idea I was sold: that they will do their best to do no harm and that treatment was supposed to be about me and helping me.
"it'll never happen" they say
"they don't care and it is really just about money".. and now liability they tell me
I know that is the sad reality but it is not where I choose to put my faith.
I'll try anyway
unfortunately I make so many mistakes. I have made so many mistakes
but that is the irony and the paradox and all those things that are funny about this anyway. I am allowed to make those mistakes and it makes perfect sense that I do. They are the ones who are supposed to be helping me work through that. That is what I am paying them for. They are the ones being paid to see and understand that, figure that out, and then help me work through those problems. I want to. I am the "perfect" client/patient in that regard, and yet they are refusing. They don't want to and are unwilling to do their professed jobs. They would rather do harm. The office manager/director or whatever she is, actually yelled at me, in front of my kids. It upset my kids more than it upset me. They needed to talk about it, they hate her and think she is a horrible person. They now hate the whole operation, even when I try to rationalize some of it. I think it is best to allow them that pain and to allow them to stand up for me and themselves by feeling angry and even saying mean things about her. I don't think it would be good for me or them to work to convince them right now about how we need to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt.
Sometimes the only cheek left to turn is a bare-mooned ass.
After all she did this yelling after 2 weeks of ignoring a request to resolve these matters and refusing to provide me with a copy of the patients rights and responsibilities. She insisted I was asking for Dr. P to still be my therapist when I clearly stated then and in the email request I had sent that I DO NOT want that but rather want to resolve what had happened with who it had happened with and not with other therapists and doctors that don't have the full story and that continues to cost my family more money; with this complication and his statement of car accident treatment being complete it is no longer due to the car accident, even if the mood stability crazy is directly linked to it... so it will only come form our pockets. Their "solution" is keeping a cycle of harm going.
It is insanity
It is absolute insanity
I think they think I am trying or was trying to seduce him. They are wrong.
I think they think I might try to sue them
If they keep it up, they might be right, but that is not at all the route I want to go yet at some point their actions suggest there might be grounds to, because ignoring, intimidating, avoiding, and charging new charges for a treatment that so obviously went awry [and who knows when it stopped being about me] really is not okay. But still, I'd rather not go down that path and I still think this can be worked out
I have a lot of faith in humanity.
In people and foolishly maybe, but I still do, have a lot of faith in Dr. P.
I see no reason not to. If I try and fail then I will be disappointed. If I don't try at all then I agree to their crazy and I am mess for who knows how long and I will be disappointed. Either way I will be disappointed. I'd rather put my faith in people and work to be the change I wish to see, even with my very flawed me.
I'd rather try and be wrong than not try and be right.
and here is my new epiphany:
I am not the one who is insane
it is all crazy
I just have a harder time ignoring crazy and staying emotionally balanced through it
I am more sensitive to the insanities of our duel natures and that most people can just play along with
I have a harder time ignoring crazy and being okay with it
and that is it
I have solved it. hah!
go me
I was right and you were wrong, and learning to embrace insanity really is what I need to work on. but not just mine. I have to recognize and embrace others insanity as well.
It feels good to be able to move beyond me and solving me.
Now that I have solved me
I can continue to be the change I wish to see in the world
as just little old me
I am not significant and they see no value in me
But it matters very little because they are wrong.
They could learn a lot from me. I really could help them. I am the other side of their profession that they have lost touch with and I will try to help them see that
but in the end I will be okay, knowing I gave it my best shot no matter what happens.
I hope they will hear me if not for their sake for mine because I wish for my heart not to be stuck in the confusion it is in for too much longer and getting Dr. P back into a more solidly real form can fix that.... or break me completely again, but I'm willing to take that risk. Either way, I'd at least know for sure what kind of broken I am and how to move forward. Its a win win, instead of a lose lose. I am the patient who needs to have some say in the direction of her care, that is all. I am the client who actually can recover and move on, knowing we are not in this alone. Someone who has the faith to keep trying.
Please give me that chance.
so Are you crazy 2? Yes, yes you are -but I bet you already knew that
... and then I am finding that distance, breaking free of the memory and heartache... until the image of the balanced scale with "ideal" on one end pops into my head..
AAARGH CURSE YOU Dr. P, Just get out of my freaking head! ... it will eventually fade... but really, the timing was so freaking terrible and the termination was not handled well.
Saturday, February 23, 2019
lost
...and the pain just won't die
Solving actually seems to help some
So many songs with so much pain. at least I know I am not alone. this is "normal"
heartbreak is "normal" (I try not to listen too much)
this http://www.continuingedcourses.net/active/courses/course065.php
tells me... the perfect storm. It's not real...
much more tells me of the stigma attached.
there is no hope.
I am truly not worth it
I am still holding on... or at least I wish to. though I am realizing I have to let go. so very completely
It is what I knew I wasn't ready for
it is what I knew I couldn't do just then, not like that, not when I was so completely broken. standing literally on broken parts, held up by adrenaline and endorphins that had been over worked for the last year. a last surge to keep me up when the rug was being pulled
How did he miss it?
or did it just not matter?
Solving- I also figured out that APA is pretty bullshit and it is I that would hold the power to cause the problem. which I would not do... or maybe I would... I didn't let it go that way... but now, with nothing I am being treated as though that is exactly what I did or am supposed to do.
of course that makes me suspicious and I wonder if I then need to.
a moral obligation? stuff I have already hit on
but the only thing that is really real is the pain of loss.
I don't belong anywhere.
no matter how or what I try it just never seems to be the right place for me...
I was supposed to get answers there. I had found my place and I felt I was on the right track. but the rug, pulled
with words that said too much and nothing at all. and it was my fault.. because I spoke? tried to speak up, but with words that were taboo, that were "forbidden" though I didn't know.
Now one therapist insists it meant nothing the other thinks it meant everything.
and I have to keep repeating the story to figure out if I am "stable" and even "employable"
of course I am... but my emotions are not helping to sell me right now. they leak out when they are not supposed to. sometimes even when I believe that I am fine.
I'm mostly fine... but mostly, with my resume, just isn't good enough
What do I want to be when... I am grown up.
Lost
I want to be lost
... no that is just what I am
forever lost in the world that I don't belong in.
Solving actually seems to help some
So many songs with so much pain. at least I know I am not alone. this is "normal"
heartbreak is "normal" (I try not to listen too much)
this http://www.continuingedcourses.net/active/courses/course065.php
tells me... the perfect storm. It's not real...
much more tells me of the stigma attached.
there is no hope.
I am truly not worth it
I am still holding on... or at least I wish to. though I am realizing I have to let go. so very completely
It is what I knew I wasn't ready for
it is what I knew I couldn't do just then, not like that, not when I was so completely broken. standing literally on broken parts, held up by adrenaline and endorphins that had been over worked for the last year. a last surge to keep me up when the rug was being pulled
How did he miss it?
or did it just not matter?
Solving- I also figured out that APA is pretty bullshit and it is I that would hold the power to cause the problem. which I would not do... or maybe I would... I didn't let it go that way... but now, with nothing I am being treated as though that is exactly what I did or am supposed to do.
of course that makes me suspicious and I wonder if I then need to.
a moral obligation? stuff I have already hit on
but the only thing that is really real is the pain of loss.
I don't belong anywhere.
no matter how or what I try it just never seems to be the right place for me...
I was supposed to get answers there. I had found my place and I felt I was on the right track. but the rug, pulled
with words that said too much and nothing at all. and it was my fault.. because I spoke? tried to speak up, but with words that were taboo, that were "forbidden" though I didn't know.
Now one therapist insists it meant nothing the other thinks it meant everything.
and I have to keep repeating the story to figure out if I am "stable" and even "employable"
of course I am... but my emotions are not helping to sell me right now. they leak out when they are not supposed to. sometimes even when I believe that I am fine.
I'm mostly fine... but mostly, with my resume, just isn't good enough
What do I want to be when... I am grown up.
Lost
I want to be lost
... no that is just what I am
forever lost in the world that I don't belong in.
grooming psychologists
And what about the grooming psychologist?
When he realizes it is not going as planned all he has to do is claim "counter-transference" and he is off scotch free. Easy peasy
They are dropped, with their scarlet letter of L and he's the hero for not succumbing and moves on easy while the groomed is left with an altered mind.
The grooming was working, just has he knew it would, but she was too instinctively in tune due to so many things he forgot to learn in his effort to maintain a safe grooming distance, that she so naturally -without even realizing- was putting into place the safeguards against it. Determined to be what she needed to so desperately believe she was; something of value.
But she had been manipulated to believe he cares too deeply and she is a liability. She has been manipulated (when she is vulnerable) to believe that her uniqueness has never really been appreciated by others, that she isolates herself and that she is in fact the one looking for something sexual.
..now sex with her husband is sex with the other man... and the man who makes it good, she'll never have.
What have you done!!!...what have I become...
He's fine and nothing worse for the wear.
but what will become of her, the forbidden?
When he realizes it is not going as planned all he has to do is claim "counter-transference" and he is off scotch free. Easy peasy
They are dropped, with their scarlet letter of L and he's the hero for not succumbing and moves on easy while the groomed is left with an altered mind.
The grooming was working, just has he knew it would, but she was too instinctively in tune due to so many things he forgot to learn in his effort to maintain a safe grooming distance, that she so naturally -without even realizing- was putting into place the safeguards against it. Determined to be what she needed to so desperately believe she was; something of value.
But she had been manipulated to believe he cares too deeply and she is a liability. She has been manipulated (when she is vulnerable) to believe that her uniqueness has never really been appreciated by others, that she isolates herself and that she is in fact the one looking for something sexual.
..now sex with her husband is sex with the other man... and the man who makes it good, she'll never have.
What have you done!!!...what have I become...
He's fine and nothing worse for the wear.
but what will become of her, the forbidden?
Psychology is bullshit
I think that the profession of psychology is total bullshit. They decide what you are and then manipulate how you behave to fit whatever diagnosis or prognosis most benefits them.
Then they teach you to be independent or dependent depending on what they want the outcome to be. I bet most people going to psychologists actually have a better perception of reality than the therapists.
Okay, that is a bit of an angry, jaded exaggeration.
But I am starting to really understand why my friend does not want to go because she is afraid of "something like that happening." To trust, be betrayed or manipulated and then discarded like trash and told treatment is complete. That is such bullshit.
"You truly are the worthless trash you questioned you were coming in. We can confirm that for you, solidify it into a solid belief. Yep, you are not worth our time but we will still charge you for it." what a great note to end on. And all your efforts to understand your own mood stability, to clarify, set the record straight and to have your questions about your mental state answered are going to be warped into whatever egotistical power play they want to use to get you to go away. But you better believe they will not negotiate. Why would they? You are merely a liability for asking and must be looking to do as much harm as they have. Or you must just be looking for a lawsuit because nobody in the real world actually cares and the professional and personal worlds only cross when someone is looking to make money, right? It's such bullshit.
"dono ...more... harm [then they can]"
Yep, I'd rather be my kind of crazy.
Then they teach you to be independent or dependent depending on what they want the outcome to be. I bet most people going to psychologists actually have a better perception of reality than the therapists.
Okay, that is a bit of an angry, jaded exaggeration.
But I am starting to really understand why my friend does not want to go because she is afraid of "something like that happening." To trust, be betrayed or manipulated and then discarded like trash and told treatment is complete. That is such bullshit.
"You truly are the worthless trash you questioned you were coming in. We can confirm that for you, solidify it into a solid belief. Yep, you are not worth our time but we will still charge you for it." what a great note to end on. And all your efforts to understand your own mood stability, to clarify, set the record straight and to have your questions about your mental state answered are going to be warped into whatever egotistical power play they want to use to get you to go away. But you better believe they will not negotiate. Why would they? You are merely a liability for asking and must be looking to do as much harm as they have. Or you must just be looking for a lawsuit because nobody in the real world actually cares and the professional and personal worlds only cross when someone is looking to make money, right? It's such bullshit.
"do
Yep, I'd rather be my kind of crazy.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Opioids?
It was a good reset and I am still feeling strength from it.
But last night -hard time sleeping.
Because I didn't feel like I needed it
Oh no
...and new thoughts
not that this is bad, but remember
I am a bit fragile in my stability.
Opioids-hydrocodone
These things kill pain. They make you feel good, that is why people get addicted. Oh yeah... hmm could this be the real reason why I felt "normal" and so happy about it?
Should I just enjoy that and go with it?
Since it was about 1:00 am and I had not overly slept that day after really not sleeping before getting up at 5 am for surgery... although I had a great nap going under...
-I do, at times, think it would be nice to just not even worry about such things.
But alas for me that is not always the wise option and that is okay. I am okay with thinking it through and planning ahead to keep me "stable." I find my mind to be a fascinating place at times and this is one of those. I am fascinating to study when I am "crazy" and to truly figure it out sometimes I need to test and research but now does not seem like a good time to test with a new drug.
So opioids: what might be the potential risks there for me?
My husband was surprised they weren't knocking me out. Of course I was only taking one. My pain has been tiny, I am more trying to "stay ahead of the pain" and control swelling.
But this new drug is definitely not knocking me out and... crap, this is odd, that sex drive is feeling... stronger...
So I took to my phone for a moment, to research a bit, to make sure I am staying in a reasonably safe place.
okay phone "can opioids trigger mania?" I am pretty sure, as fun as that can be, I do not want that while I am trying to heal an ankle that requires 6 weeks of no weight bearing. And it is 6 weeks, believe me, I tried to get the doctor to negotiate on that, but, nope six weeks is the minimum on this one to be sure it heals correctly and if I am going to go through the hassle I want it to heal correctly. so mania... probably not a good time to test that.
What does my search turn up? ncbi.nln.nih.gov "Mood-elevating effects of opioid analgesics in patients with bipolar disorder"
disclaimer: I do not claim bipolar. I struggle with mood stability but this could be more head injury related than anything else. I still don't recall if I have formally been diagnosed. I refuse those (formal diagnosis's). I do not feel they are helpful when there is so much stigma attached and I do not want to be defined by that label. Also I have (or at least believe I have) been able to figure out and monitor myself reasonably well to stay level. At times I go on medication but I do not always need medication. However, that is the label that turns up again and again when I search for answers and solutions to help me stay safely and reasonably grounded. (it is times like this that I feel very cheated by the neuropsychiatrist that dropped me and now refuses to talk to me, but I digress) but in this information I find that opioids have been found to be helpful in "refractory depression" -refractory; that is a new word, it just means stubborn. Which I do not have, but the fact that it helps in with depression is interesting. I also find that "analgesic opioids" have been found to trigger mania in one study. There is not a ton of information immediately so it is not likely a well studied or common knowledge "problem." But it is enough for me to rethink the use of the opioids. The pleasant mood is nice but at 3:45 am I decided on ibuprofen and melatonin... I need to keep a decent sleep cycle and I suppose if there is a risk of mania I will opt out for now. I've got things to do that would be best to stay level through.
It is fascinating though that our pain receiving part of the brain does not distinguish between physical and psychological pain. It is no wonder that yesterday I felt so much more free of that burden... maybe I will end up carefully using these opioids but not to kill the ankle pain and more research is needed before I make that decision. (to be clear, I am referring to the potential of carefully using a low dose to pull through the heartache and psychological pain of my recent loss. I am not implying anything illegal, irresponsible or suicidal)
But last night -hard time sleeping.
Because I didn't feel like I needed it
Oh no
...and new thoughts
not that this is bad, but remember
I am a bit fragile in my stability.
Opioids-hydrocodone
These things kill pain. They make you feel good, that is why people get addicted. Oh yeah... hmm could this be the real reason why I felt "normal" and so happy about it?
Should I just enjoy that and go with it?
Since it was about 1:00 am and I had not overly slept that day after really not sleeping before getting up at 5 am for surgery... although I had a great nap going under...
-I do, at times, think it would be nice to just not even worry about such things.
But alas for me that is not always the wise option and that is okay. I am okay with thinking it through and planning ahead to keep me "stable." I find my mind to be a fascinating place at times and this is one of those. I am fascinating to study when I am "crazy" and to truly figure it out sometimes I need to test and research but now does not seem like a good time to test with a new drug.
So opioids: what might be the potential risks there for me?
My husband was surprised they weren't knocking me out. Of course I was only taking one. My pain has been tiny, I am more trying to "stay ahead of the pain" and control swelling.
But this new drug is definitely not knocking me out and... crap, this is odd, that sex drive is feeling... stronger...
So I took to my phone for a moment, to research a bit, to make sure I am staying in a reasonably safe place.
okay phone "can opioids trigger mania?" I am pretty sure, as fun as that can be, I do not want that while I am trying to heal an ankle that requires 6 weeks of no weight bearing. And it is 6 weeks, believe me, I tried to get the doctor to negotiate on that, but, nope six weeks is the minimum on this one to be sure it heals correctly and if I am going to go through the hassle I want it to heal correctly. so mania... probably not a good time to test that.
What does my search turn up? ncbi.nln.nih.gov "Mood-elevating effects of opioid analgesics in patients with bipolar disorder"
disclaimer: I do not claim bipolar. I struggle with mood stability but this could be more head injury related than anything else. I still don't recall if I have formally been diagnosed. I refuse those (formal diagnosis's). I do not feel they are helpful when there is so much stigma attached and I do not want to be defined by that label. Also I have (or at least believe I have) been able to figure out and monitor myself reasonably well to stay level. At times I go on medication but I do not always need medication. However, that is the label that turns up again and again when I search for answers and solutions to help me stay safely and reasonably grounded. (it is times like this that I feel very cheated by the neuropsychiatrist that dropped me and now refuses to talk to me, but I digress) but in this information I find that opioids have been found to be helpful in "refractory depression" -refractory; that is a new word, it just means stubborn. Which I do not have, but the fact that it helps in with depression is interesting. I also find that "analgesic opioids" have been found to trigger mania in one study. There is not a ton of information immediately so it is not likely a well studied or common knowledge "problem." But it is enough for me to rethink the use of the opioids. The pleasant mood is nice but at 3:45 am I decided on ibuprofen and melatonin... I need to keep a decent sleep cycle and I suppose if there is a risk of mania I will opt out for now. I've got things to do that would be best to stay level through.
It is fascinating though that our pain receiving part of the brain does not distinguish between physical and psychological pain. It is no wonder that yesterday I felt so much more free of that burden... maybe I will end up carefully using these opioids but not to kill the ankle pain and more research is needed before I make that decision. (to be clear, I am referring to the potential of carefully using a low dose to pull through the heartache and psychological pain of my recent loss. I am not implying anything illegal, irresponsible or suicidal)
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Pleasantries and Surgeries
YAY! Ankle surgery done and I'm going to be okay.
I am seriously so happy right now that my surgeon is now my new boyfriend.
I am totally kidding about the boyfriend (he's not, it's only funny in light of recent events -that weren't actually even like that)
But I am seriously happy because surgery went well and I came out of anesthesia just fine.
No weird freaky emotions that I was fearing. Nothing like coming out of anesthesia 12 years ago when I had my wisdom teeth removed.
It means I am not so broken after all. I am really truly going to be just fine.
Going in I was sooo scared. Toughing it out and pleasantry with the nurse that set the iv and all that but nervous.
Then the operation nurse came in... and, oh no, not another bizarre emotional coincidence. It was my brother's ex-mother-in-law. Not someone I feel too fondly of for a few good reasons. And I had to trust her? I have not seen her for a couple of years and we don't know each other in person all that well so she either didn't recognize me or acted as though she did not recognize me but I definitely recognized her. A conundrum. What to do? Request a new nurse? Not really anytime. So when she came back I reminded her of who I was. She was kind and polite, she even gave me a hug. That was good and she introduced me as the aunty to her grand babies, great direction to take it. It made me feel a little better about it. She wheeled me to the operating room. "I thought I was supposed to be asleep before I came into this scary place" I nervously joked with my doctor.
...But still those histories are hard to erase so quickly and with the nerves already wearing thin and so much to take in in this new room with the familiar and unfamiliar faces I started feeling really funny before they started to drug me. I had to remind myself to breath which really made me cry and it started to feel like a melt down. Fortunately the surgeon and the anesthesiologist and both nurses were so kind and quick to get me to sleep. The anesthesiologist was so sweet and he laughed with me but reassured me when it turned to tears, still carefully holding onto some of my humor as he put me out. Even the nurses/tech, including bro's ex-ma-in-law were sweet as they busily prepped.
The next thing I knew I was waking up and feeling very normal. A little funny but normal and that made me so happy that the new nurses thought I was happy delirious. I was a little but really much more coherent than any of them understood. I'm sure they thought it was strange that I was so happy about my blood pressure and heart rate 114/69 with 54 bpm before and 109/sixty-something with bpm ranging from 45-55 after. That is more like it. That is what my heart likes to be at. I was so relieved to feel so level and happy that it was quite a pleasant experience.
Yay. I needed that.
Surgery was fun and relaxing compared to the crazy that has been going on with me these past few months.
Who'd have thought?
I am confident I can handle this now. I have some faith restored in the medical industry again and I have some faith restored in myself again.
I am seriously so happy right now that my surgeon is now my new boyfriend.
I am totally kidding about the boyfriend (he's not, it's only funny in light of recent events -that weren't actually even like that)
But I am seriously happy because surgery went well and I came out of anesthesia just fine.
No weird freaky emotions that I was fearing. Nothing like coming out of anesthesia 12 years ago when I had my wisdom teeth removed.
It means I am not so broken after all. I am really truly going to be just fine.
Going in I was sooo scared. Toughing it out and pleasantry with the nurse that set the iv and all that but nervous.
Then the operation nurse came in... and, oh no, not another bizarre emotional coincidence. It was my brother's ex-mother-in-law. Not someone I feel too fondly of for a few good reasons. And I had to trust her? I have not seen her for a couple of years and we don't know each other in person all that well so she either didn't recognize me or acted as though she did not recognize me but I definitely recognized her. A conundrum. What to do? Request a new nurse? Not really anytime. So when she came back I reminded her of who I was. She was kind and polite, she even gave me a hug. That was good and she introduced me as the aunty to her grand babies, great direction to take it. It made me feel a little better about it. She wheeled me to the operating room. "I thought I was supposed to be asleep before I came into this scary place" I nervously joked with my doctor.
...But still those histories are hard to erase so quickly and with the nerves already wearing thin and so much to take in in this new room with the familiar and unfamiliar faces I started feeling really funny before they started to drug me. I had to remind myself to breath which really made me cry and it started to feel like a melt down. Fortunately the surgeon and the anesthesiologist and both nurses were so kind and quick to get me to sleep. The anesthesiologist was so sweet and he laughed with me but reassured me when it turned to tears, still carefully holding onto some of my humor as he put me out. Even the nurses/tech, including bro's ex-ma-in-law were sweet as they busily prepped.
The next thing I knew I was waking up and feeling very normal. A little funny but normal and that made me so happy that the new nurses thought I was happy delirious. I was a little but really much more coherent than any of them understood. I'm sure they thought it was strange that I was so happy about my blood pressure and heart rate 114/69 with 54 bpm before and 109/sixty-something with bpm ranging from 45-55 after. That is more like it. That is what my heart likes to be at. I was so relieved to feel so level and happy that it was quite a pleasant experience.
Yay. I needed that.
Surgery was fun and relaxing compared to the crazy that has been going on with me these past few months.
Who'd have thought?
I am confident I can handle this now. I have some faith restored in the medical industry again and I have some faith restored in myself again.
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Avoidance: my treacherous friend
but in the end I wouldn't even let him open up to me. I kept cutting him off before he could say things that I knew would either get him into trouble or hurt me. I would not let him finish. I would not listen... because I was still protecting
...how does that even work...
I suppose I am safe again. in my sameness
and so is he.
what a miserable place to be.
Even though it is not;
it's ever so interesting
always
and I'll turn it around again... I suppose. maybe I'll do a better job this time.
Maybe I won't
I think I'll go for a walk now
I'll have more time tomorrow for all these stupid haunting head games -tomorrow
bare my sole and get over it completely
You know reality is the best way to kill fantasy. I should have let him be the real I was asking for when I had the chance even though it was hurting more than I could stand...
I didn't avoid anything.
avoidance
you are not a true friend
even though I love you dearly
You hurt me.
again and again
and my family
...how does that even work...
I suppose I am safe again. in my sameness
and so is he.
what a miserable place to be.
Even though it is not;
it's ever so interesting
always
and I'll turn it around again... I suppose. maybe I'll do a better job this time.
Maybe I won't
I think I'll go for a walk now
I'll have more time tomorrow for all these stupid haunting head games -tomorrow
bare my sole and get over it completely
You know reality is the best way to kill fantasy. I should have let him be the real I was asking for when I had the chance even though it was hurting more than I could stand...
I didn't avoid anything.
avoidance
you are not a true friend
even though I love you dearly
You hurt me.
again and again
and my family
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