Oh blessed sleep, please return.

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

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

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

Eddy Swirls with Silly Girls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the end.

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

so the end

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

...Oh new captain, my captain?

Angry with Intermountain Health Care

Right now I feel mad.
He is in my head. I am trying to get him out. I thought of yet another possible solution... and wanted to see his face, to see if that is really what I felt. It was a nice solution. A maybe-I-don't-need-to-file-that-complaint solution.
I found a blog. About head injury. He is doing this thing..., is active in that community. And it made me hurt and angry. And I don't even know why... I wanted to throw my phone at the door. I decided to let myself. I have not indulged in the anger I have felt. I have suppressed that a lot. I have kept that in check. I have not even felt it a lot, but I am angry. Maybe increasingly so as I am still stuck in this shitty hell hole of fucked up. And I didn't even get to indulge in the immoral pleasure of literally.  I only got the brain fuck. -Now that's warped and angry me coming out unexpectedly-
But I'll let it be.
Back to angry, throw-my-phone kind of angry, which by-the-way I have never done before just now...
Why does this make me angry?
Of course he is actively involved in that community, it is his job, his specialty.
That is why! because I am not allowed. I am banished and exiled. It is now dually painful to be involved and if I did show up at an event he was attending, I would absolutely confront him. I want him to face me. And, do you know what would most likely happen, do you know the reality of what he would do? He'd try to turn it into me pursuing him. Slap me with a retraining order. I know how these things work and he has already shown he will protect himself and cover his ass, hide his mistakes no matter the cost to me. That is what I suspect. And is it worth it? to force him to face me?
Maybe I really wouldn't. Maybe I would just vomit and leave, in reality. That is not super likely though, because I hardly ever puke.
Mostly I am angry because his life goes on. He gets to enjoy his career and his stability while I am an unemployable mess. I am lost in what to do with myself and I am reminded of the hope that was so selfishly pulled out from under me.
the lost hope of; I had found my place in the world, my life was starting to make sense and I trusted them so completely. I was finding my strength... Only to be ostracized and then exiled without even the follow through on the promised help of finding another team to fall back on. Nothing.
Oh, no wait, not nothing. I still have the bills to pay.
and my broken heart and the map of gold to remind me that all the good things I learned now hurt like hell so even taking care of myself in the researched most productive of ways will wreck havoc on my psyche.
Yes. I am angry
Angry and fighting
-this IHC bullshit fertilized battle in my head
**and when I have to fill out paperwork for my new providers, -the psychiatry they felt I should seek (and I should) -but they did not want to help me find- I have to explain past traumas. HOW THE HELL DO I EXPLAIN THIS? "he lost objectivity, and I lost my support and my mind" I guess that about summarizes this...

the evolving catastrophe of the Big Bang

Painting you become the god of your own world.

Mine are messy and disorderly but interesting.

I imagine if the Big Bang theory is correct worlds started something like the painted worlds that I am god to.

I am certain I will loose interest before my paintings ever evolve into beautiful orderly forms that make sense to others and work in a systematic, esthetically pleasing, anthropomorphic ways.

...Which is why I am not a god

and might not wish to be

big bang messy me, organized chaos, primitive personality

I am okay being human today.


**and just like my title, somethings I write really aren't meant to be that deep, but rather are funny to me and that is all. 

Cat- ass-trophy. Why is that so funny to me?

My daughter wanted me to paint with cat on my mind. I tried.
then I cried because cat is not what is in my brain.
I try to paint cat but it's turning into just that
me trying to paint a cat
but this is not how it works for me
because I am not a painter, an artist, or skilled.
I am form free
painting just for me
letting myself play with paint
and sometimes something comes out that is beautiful or interesting
even if it is that only to my daughter and me.
But even though she has loved my "raw" (her words) art
I cannot paint it for her. I can only paint what I feel. or what I play.
And I feel...
He
Sad
because he is gone.
and mad
because he played
and used me.
and mad at me
because I screw everything up
even if it is not really my fault
I know that it is
labels
they will give me and then use against me.
I am sad and mad and angry
hurt and messy
I want so badly for this to be over; this to be gone
but it is not
 and the reality
is tragedy
a magic eraser cased in metal would clear it
but that is stupidity
and not me
at all
I want to be alive again
and the free
I had so close to me.
I want to be the free to be me
the illusion
he was selling me
...so
sad bad mad
and even strangely glad
but mostly
repressed
and not allowed to let things be what they needed to be
to see what they were
to know what I was and what was happening.
Suppressed
repressed
digressed
and now
bullshit depressed
so this is a fun weird post...

...and my painting is "merely abandoned"
and I am tired but feeling more rational again.
I have this luxury
and it is a luxury
so why not indulge?
I keep chasing my tail, trying to be so many things. For others? or for me?
constantly failing. while not enjoying the luxuries I have.
Right now I have time. I have support. I have paint. I have love.
It is broken.
But I have it. so indulge, I will, and see what catastrophe awaits me.
and maybe, just maybe, it might be that None I may see
as I am putting together the pieces of me
...or maybe an eternity of
catastrophe?
but that is my luxury
so I'll let it be
silly little poetry

not a cat, not a masterpiece but a messy little catastrophe
just like me.

Dear Dr. Perri Cheri

Who am I?
You don’t know
I am your life’s work
That you gave up

Because you might love me?
Too much
I know who I am
But you do not
Don’t pretend to
You will break yourself.
Because you planted yourself in me
And left
The fire to attend to itself.

Breaking Walls

Only one wall left
held up by a thread
if it should break
I have nothing
my whole life's work
shattered.
My box broken
alone and exposed
where do I turn?
all my energy is facing the wall
trying to hold it
to balance it
to keep it standing
for my protection.
while all around
and especially behind me,
where I can't see at all
I am already exposed.
But my wall is all I can see
my safety
that is breaking me
pushing me into the ground
while all around
I don't know what is happening.
Is this me
or is this you?

drop it
let it fall
Let it crumble to the ground.

Look around
Your life's work abound
-all around on the ground.

And now it can be found

These new little pieces,
surrounding me and you,
can now be used to build something new

Something we can walk through.

pretty little disaster or maybe rather Pretty Little helping the Disaster

I got permission to come in 3 hours late to work. so that I could sleep.
But at 11:30 I still wasn't sleepy, even though my brain was kind of strained and hurting. I considered just going to work and being on time. But I knew better.
My sweet daughter was concerned, so she told me to drink some chamomile tea and read something boring. "I know Shakespeare. That is usually pretty exhausting," she says. She is so funny.
I followed her instructions and started to read Shakespeare as I sipped tea at the table. She sent me to bed.
I am so glad I have her.
Prior to her care I also figured enough was enough and feeling as wired as I was I knew the clonazpam was probably not going to screw me up and make me too sleepy for the whole day, so I took 1/2 of one. With my sweet daughters help I did get another two hours of sleep out of the concoction.
I do think and hope this concoction and effort may stop another push into the extremes.
Currently I am still at work, with a not bad attitude but also not great. Loving people is not what I do right now. Right now. I don't care and even though I am not feeling overly tired I still just want to go home and go to bed.
Oh the joys of having a messy human head.

Fine lines

I fell asleep for like 30 minutes and then woke up again. And I am still awake, not feeling very sleepy which concerns me because I am supposed to work from noon to 10:30 pm tonight. Considering how I have been, I'll be an emotional disaster by this afternoon, especially if I don't get some sleep.
But then there is this other thing...
I have more energy.... I went running thinking that would do the trick. I took the dog because he is still not great on a leash and terrible on a leash if he crosses paths with other dogs so I took him to the park where I knew we would likely run into people with dogs and then that would also drain me, so I'd be tired when I got home. I thought these things (and more) very quickly by the way.
Damn it, still not tired
And even worse, I feel happy and hopeful. I am excited about my new therapist and I am finding this psychological thriller I have been living for the past year to be fun again.
And there is this:
It wasn't really about me. It was about him. He made it about him when I so desperately needed it to be about me. When I was paying for it to be about me. When I begged him to keep me.
It wasn't about me.
and how pathetic that is.
I was such a pathetic whisper of a human that even under those circumstances I was invisible or  nothing more than a mirror. Which right now I think is pretty freaking funny. In fact I literally just lol'ed.
I don't know why I think it is so funny. Probably because it is, and probably because it is such a beautiful tragedy. A pretty little disaster. Maybe because I have figured all of this out and solved it so many damn times and yet I am still figuring it out and reaching new understandings. It might also be funny because I am so tired of feeling shitty and worthless when I am really not.
Every freaking house has multiple mirrors and if you break one it is bad luck so even if I am nothing more than a mirror, or the invisible piece of glass in front of the mirror, I have some value.
Now I am going to apply for a new job... and then maybe, hopefully, I will sleep
...and hopefully not be on the verge of another joyful manic fiasco.

New Hope

I can't sleep
again.
I have been awake, laying in bed since probably 2 am. The clock said 3 last I'd checked and I had been awake for awhile before that.
I didn't actually get to the sleeping part of going to bed until about midnight.
...and I did not fall asleep right away.
Which, now looking at the time line, I may not have slept at all; "at all" being less than 2 hours.
sigh
this is not good.
What is good
(or might be)
Is my new neuropsychologist.
I like her (naturally)
and of course I do because that is what I do. I decided not to at first -just in case. But after the 3rd appointment I can't help it. I like her.
That's better than previous female therapist (from January). Therapist Rainbow Sticks is the name I shall bestow on her. I'll be honest, I only liked her because I like pretty much everybody, but really, I did not like her (Therapist Rainbow Sticks).
And I don't even mind if she reads this
because
she was interested in protecting her profession and what she most likely mistakenly thought was a referral to her. She was not so interested in my best interest. She made me feel like a chastised child. She read my email to dear Dr. Cheri and was appalled at my reaction to him, not controlling her own knee-jerk reaction, not seeing the red flags for what they were, and not asking why I said the things I said that she found offensive. The one she labeled as threatening was me referencing something he had said, she did not know this and I was too shaken by her reaction to point that out. I also felt bad, I did not feel the tone she had read it in so I felt really bad. Later that day I sent an apology to him. And in that the apology I am pretty sure I said I did not mean to be threatening, so this may have been what he used against me in the "investigation" to justify his avoidance of me. The patient advocate had told me that he felt threatened by me or that I had threatened him. I had not. The only "threat" I made was that I would file a complaint if that is what I had to do, even though I did not want to. And that comment was made in response to him telling me that is what I had to do if I wanted to discuss any issues about his treatment with me because he was no longer going to respond to me, which was also silly because I had not talked with him or emailed him since my last appointment with him. This was in January, the last appointment had been Dec. 3.
And I don't know why this is what is coming out here right now.
I have so much in my head right now, because I seem to have found a therapist that really gets the deep psychological impact of this, knows her stuff, and can keep up with me.
It might help that I am not in quite the crazy place that I was, so for that I will give the other therapists' that benefit of the doubt.
So there is that, but I am still not written-out, ready-to-sleep-tired.
but I may be done with the blog
maybe I'll write somewhere else, see what comes out.
goodnight
or rather good day

Dual Nature vs Dual Nurture

Our bodies are so bizarre and amazing. They betray one part to preserve another. Like how my husband pointed out; if you are freezing your body will keep the heat to the organs to protect them, to keep you alive, allowing appendages to freeze and even die first. But if you have no arms and no legs to use, how on earth can your body feed those organs to keep them alive? Oh the hypocrisy and treachery of our own bodies.

When I was a teen my brain was very broken. It wanted to die. Or it could not figure out how to live so death seemed like a responsible option. I worked hard to be alive and be all that I was supposed to be, but my mind felt it was being crushed by an anvil with all the choices and possibilities. And the emotions, I was so burdened down with so much emotion and intensity of feeling I often longed for death. "What is one less pathetic sad lonely person in this world" my mind would say to me. It seemed noble and responsible.  Even though I held multiple jobs, was mostly kind, and tried to be helpful, I felt I was a worthless leach. 

A social lively creature who felt compelled to strive for complete independence and/or death. It didn't make much sense. 

I didn't make much sense. 

So I suppose it's not surprising that my planned mode of death would be jumping when I have such a self preserving fear and respect of heights. 

I can't even get myself to get close to the edge of venues high enough to do the job. Physically I'd get too shaky or dizzy and couldn't physically get to that point. Had I ever gotten to that point and pushed through that self-preserving mechanism, I would have fallen off for sure by passing out or shaking off the edge. 

It's a funny thing our bodies do.

But sometimes it's not so funny and it feeds the very thing we are trying to fight. Why are we so lemming like and incapable of standing up for humanity when it is what we claim to believe in?

The other day I sat by as a family member lashed out at her son. I tried to ignore at first but it became obvious this drunken lady was out of line. She is the one in the position of power. I am also an adult and an aunt to the 12 year old with whom my son was sitting right by and so therefore I am in a position of power also. And I just waited, not intervening, because I was self preserving. She was even directing some of her harshness at my son. 

Yes I also knew their was the potential for making it worse for the kid, but there were so many simple ways I could have intervened and let him know he is being noticed and protected. I could have drawn her line of fire from him, but I didn't until much later. Too late. He and then his sister had already taken quite the verbal lashings, a drunken "tap" to the head with a hotdog stick, and some other physical aggression I did not see as I was trying to avoid and ignore. 

When I finally did intervene I did take a little beating. And I am not in good shape for that. I did find myself getting a bit defensive when she was completely irrational and I knew it. But the beating I took was nothing compared to the impact the crap she was saying can have on a kid. Especially when others sit by and watch. That reinforces the negative messages he is receiving and I know this and I know better. 

I was angry with myself that night. Angry and disappointed. Disappointed at how week and how big of a coward I was. I sat by and let a vulnerable and impressionable child take a berating style beating because I was afraid she'd turn on me and yet I am angry about something similar having recently happened to me and I am stupid suicidal 50% of the time. Why not sacrifice myself for this child cause? I have claimed I automatically do that for others. I so very often do. So why not then?

Was it simply because I knew it wouldn't kill me or him? Or is it the self-preserving nature of our physical selves?

Stupid dual nature, self preserving bodies. 

At least I know with a certainty (although I already did 50% of the time) that I really don't want to die if I can't even take a little verbal lashing for a child.

And I'll leave it at that, mind you, you do not know the whole story or the story at all, rather the intensity of my feelings and emotions, that is all. I likely behaved better than you are thinking and the abuse of this child is quite debatable to some especially considering the mental and emotional state of his mother and the abuses she herself has been through over the years. It is all so complicated. 

Mostly it is so sad to me how the abused so often become the abusers. 

I do not want to repeat those patterns myself, but I know sometimes I fall short.  

Now what do I do about that?

inkling of hope? nope

The police officer that I talked to on the phone -intercepted before he came to my work- wanted me to follow up the next day.
That was my understanding of the agreement to appease. He said there are resources.
I had some hope.
So, even though it was hard, I called back as directed, the next day.
He was busy with an event. They had 911 call me back. I had not called 911, I had called the non-emergency dispatch, as directed. 911 lady explained he was busy and she could send someone else. I explained that I was just following up as per our discussion the previous day, it was not an emergency and I did not need that.
That was fine.
But no follow up phone call from the sergeant, no discussion of the resources. No discussion about why the patient advocate called in the first place.
Left alone again, with no follow up on their end
and now somehow the other they, the they who called, have the cops on their side and playing their ass-covering-patient-sacrificing game.
That is how this feels.
Compiling their evidence against me?
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Writing from rational

Sometimes I remember silly little things, like a spelling error I made that I forgot to fix on one of my blog entries, which was the real reason I came on here just now.
I don't need to process
I am in my healthy "normal" place. But feeling a bit tired so thought a break and doing something little like that may be a good way to keep me below the 80% spent...
[side note- Can you see how, even in my good healthy space, the past of my messed up therapist experience will haunt me? That 80% is a reference to his teaching]

I could not find the spelling error and I did not feel like reading thoroughly to find it. I am happy in my heathy mind but a bit tired so if I read too much I run the risk of cycling back.
But a thought occurred to me; I don't often write from this place, this mental space of stable sane and fine even though I am here most of the time. (follow up: 10/26 -medicated now I can say I was not there most of the time. I was trying to be and stay positive. I was fading but trying hard to hold on and appreciating the "normal" times that were also fading.)
So this is me,
normal,
and free to be me.
But if you are like me -in my normal rational place- you will see that recently it seems I may be loosing touch with reality.
And I have.
It's so tricky but I am really pretty good at knowing when I am a bit ridiculous. I suppose I also believe there must be something to that ridiculousness, because I don't entirely discredit it anymore and I don't beat myself up for it anymore. In fact as I have learned to pay attention to it, where it is coming from, and why, I have gotten better at managing.
Right now I think previous me who wrote some of those things is really weird and I don't know why I keep trying to be heard and trying to get things changed when I know it is of no use and especially when I am loosing touch, they will just use it against me and practical me knows this. Knows I am just causing more problems for myself.
Yet, it keeps happening, and at times, it is the what-I-can-do-to-make-it-through. And I do. Make it through.
I think I have gotten better over the years at managing those crazy emotions that sometimes just need to be heard.
But anyway, I don't really want to delve any deeper because I am fine and boring and happy to be here.
Probably I'll close my eyes for a bit, just to try and stay here, then energy returning, I'll get more done. Tackle the day, have fun and play.

**and as I wake from my nap, I remember how hard it is to speak up when you are broken or breaking, when you are loosing touch but not entirely gone, and yet that is exactly when a person needs to say something, needs to start treating. It is much more effective than waiting until they are entirely gone, entirely broken, or entirely dead.
Which is exactly why it is so very wrong that I was treated the way have been by a facility that is supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me. **

I deserve to live

I took another beating today from an adolescent at work, because I was calm and I did not get caught up in his drama.
I am not emotionally strong enough for this position. I can handle it, in the moment, but it takes too big a toll and if you are week, if they smell blood, they will eat you alive. I know, because it has happened a few times. I am sure it is confusing to them because they smell the blood but it's unclear where it is coming from. They think I am week and they think I am clueless. I am week but not how they think, and far from clueless I just don't have the energy to care.
... and this was probably a really bad choice for an occupation right now...
bad choices, off judgement, thinking I am stronger and more balanced than I am... the damn cycles continue
and I am hurting and fading. Questioning who I am and why I am here....
Then the nagging.
And tonight I find myself thinking: Do I deserve to be helped? Should I keep fighting to survive?
...
And I think...

 I do.

I deserve to live.
I am not a bad person.
I deserve to be treated with respect
and I deserve to be heard.
I deserve to keep trying and fighting the crushing messages that tell me I am not worth saving, not worth helping and that I should be sacrificed.
I am kind. I am honest. I work hard to solve my own problems, I try to address them at the root. I care about others and I am thoughtful and considerate. I try to be a good person. I do make mistakes but I am also teachable and will accept responsibility for my mistakes. I am forgiving, sometimes too forgiving I am told.
I am not a bad person and I deserve to live. I deserve to be heard.
and I deserve to have investigations about me benefit me, not just future patients [at my expense].
I deserve to have the red flags noticed on my behalf.  I do not deserve be treated as nothing more than a burden and liability. I do not deserve people talking about me and making up stories, claiming I am things that I am not. I do not deserve to be yelled at and exiled. I deserve to have a conversation with all those people making judgements and decisions about me that would effect me. I deserve to have follow through on treatments, on referrals. I deserved a termination phase. I deserved to have my manic symptoms acknowledged, not denied and humiliated for them at the same time.
I am tired and rambling
but my point,
I deserve to live.
And I will.
Not because they were right in their denials but because I deal with what they have denied and I am not what they have made me out to be. They are wrong. I am worth loving, I am worth listening to, and I worth fighting for.
That is why I will live.
My blood may be on their hands from crushing my heart and back stabbing by the light off gaslit patterns, but I will survive!
And I am going to be okay
because I choose to be
Every Damn Day
(sometimes multiple times a day)

*But I am still quitting my job
...And choosing to be okay

When the therapists can't handle you...

The other day I posted but then took it down, because it was too whiney, too complainy. And I am not wanting to be that, but maybe I am that.
On here, I come to sort things out. This writing offers me quick relief and helps me process and move on when I am feeling stuck in my messed up head.
That is what the post I took down was about.
How I just can't seem to shake the feelings of worthlessness that the Neuroscience Institute instilled in me.
I'll be fine. I'll be doing well. Thinking I am turning around. Thinking "I've got this." Or not thinking anything at all about any of it. I feel normal. Happy. Fine.
"Oh so quite and so peaceful until...." (Bjork)
something goes wrong or I am reminded of one of the many failings of my past... and then, there it is "You can't even work things out with a neuropsychologist, and the professionals who handle head injuries" or "how can you expect to figure this one out, the people who are specialized in handling your kind can't even handle you. or don't want to." or "others needed him more, you must be a fake" or "you made such a mess of that, how can anyone trust you? how can you trust yourself?"
My head tells me these things and I have to debate that before I can even get to addressing whatever it is that is the real problem in the moment.
I shake them. Get those voices to go away. Leave me a lone. I argue that it was other things playing out, things that were not in my control. But then that is a bad place too, part of this because then "he loved you" and I feel that again. And it hurts again, even though I now understand that was not real or true ...and I don't know what the truth is at all and who I can trust but I know I cannot trust me, because I felt things too intensely and I made such a mess of things by being crazy.
And that is so embarrassing. Being "crazy."
That is why "I can't loose you right now"
I needed to work through my "crazy" in the safe place that knows how, or is at least supposed to know how, to handle that. The place that is supposed to help me turn it around, stop the cyclical patterns that have so long haunted me -that I was then realizing were very likely related to head injury, because the new mTBI was offering enough PTSD and flashback-ish memories to help me see this. I had hope. A hope that was new and so exhilarating. I maybe was worth something, more than I had previously realized.
But the rug, pulled so quickly and so strongly when I was experiencing such powerful emotions....
... and... broken and more crazy, but not allowed to talk about it, to process, with those who would know... so maybe it's not TBI... character flaw... and I'm back, to so much of what I was before, the me I didn't want to go back too. ...and the cycle continues sometimes worse than others.
...and I was triggered. I feel so much closer the edge these days. I am scarred. I don't want to be triggered again and I don't know what that may look like. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping, back into insanity, into mania, a mental mess where I thought I was more balanced than I was. In my euphoric phase I thought it could last if only I would start sleeping, but it doesn't.  Other times I feel myself slipping into the deep recesses of depression. The kind that sucks your life, pleasure and joy... I stay clear. But I think I need help figuring this out and managing this, because sometimes it is exhausting and sometimes it is just plain embarrassing/humiliating.
No -or less- stigma, my ass.

Sometimes I feel I am winning
but sometimes I feel I am loosing
in this battle with myself.

the new Scientology

They called the cops on me. Sent a fleet to my house.  Not because I was there threatening them, but because I let them know how their decisions and treatment is effecting me....

When I was under their care their concern was not heightened. I let them know what I was struggling with. The reality of how things were effecting me. The message received and my concern. I let them know I was struggling to believe I was of any value at all. I let them know I had to stand up for myself to try and counter the destructive psychology of the messages they were sending. I let them know I was not trying to fight against them but that I was fighting for me, fighting for my life. I told them I knew how to handle the suicidal thoughts, but I was needing their help figuring out what this new crap was that was going on with my head.

Their concerns were not heightened then. Instead they did all they could to avoid dealing with me and to reinforce the messages received that I was not worth helping, nor was there any other place that they knew of that could help me, and the messages received and confirmed that I am a liability and should be disposed of.

These messages received from a place you trusted so completely and that has the authority, training, and education are not easily countered. They do not simply go away or burn out. And every time you take another hit, or hit another roadblock, your are reminded of this. As you analyze and work to address the issues that might be contributing, like sleep, diet exercise, like the balancing act of keeping your particularly fragile brain level and functioning you are reminded of this; this idea that you need to be disposed of.

And you have to battle that reminder and those feelings of worthlessness before you can even address the problem you know the solutions to -the solutions that will remind you of the treatment you were receiving when it seemed to be going well, the reasons you trusted them so completely.

"It will get easier" I keep telling myself

as I am wearing down.

"you are going to have to let this go" I am told

and I know

and it kind of pisses me of, because I am trying ...and I am not trying... and it still keeps me up at night, even though my brain is functioning so differently, even when I feel I have let it go or had a great day.

I am tired and sad

and I have to grieve so many losses right now.

I am struggling still; growing tired of the image of a bullet clearing my head of this. I do not invite it but it is comes so quickly as I try to turn off any thoughts of this situation, I try to burn out the memories and the feelings.

Yesterday I was struggling a little, I wrote it out and felt better. But then I had an argument with my son. He complains we have nothing to eat. But what he is really complaining about is that we don't have exactly what he wants to eat. I feel concern because he has been sick and tired a lot and he does not eat well. He was fighting with me, refusing to eat the healthy option I made for him. This argument triggered me and I was so angry. I felt like a terrible mom because I have not done better about feeding my kids healthy and they are suffering for it. Mind went all over the place, the fight went all over the place and I felt like a dark cloud hanging over my family.

Maybe they would be better off without me too.

I was fighting to survive and angry.

Angry that I am not worth helping and maybe not healable.

I was angry that they (the facility of IHC) reinforced again and again my feelings of worthlessness and only listened with their ass covering ears.

I wanted them to know that my blood is on their hands if I eventually succumb to the bullet that wishes to shoot them out of their diagnosis for me: sacrificed, discredited, of no value, and liability. They made mistakes and did not want to address it. They made it my mistakes and denied what I was telling them all along only to turn around and use it against me as their rationale for blacklisting and banishing me from the entire facility.

and I was angry. I wanted them to understand how their actions effect people. How this has effected me. They claim they will use my experience to help them with other patients, my concern was that they would use it to reinforce bad policies because they were ignoring, avoiding all the red flags with me or trying to preemptively protect themselves from any liability without concern for me and my wellbeing. They needed to understand the reality of the their power and how it effects people.

Yesterday, in the thick of it, I  needed to do something to turn myself around

The patient advocate had said if I ever needed/wanted to talk I could reach out to her. I sent an email and tried to communicate this, but in a much shorter, straightforward way. So I spoke up, I spoke out and I took quarter of a clonazepam.

This is what I said:

 "I am so very angry with all of you. If my body eventually succumbs to the feedback you all so solidly confirmed, my blood is on all of your hands. Do I sacrifice myself for the better good? One less unacceptable- leach of a life. Not worth the time and effort to save even by those who are being paid to
I am angry enough to stay alive... for now.
...but I feel like the harder I try the more I am fading
One just can't simply undo the negative feedback confirmed at such a high level.
and I have to say something
because the down side is winning"

A little while later I got a phone call from the city that only ever shows up on my caller id if it is from them. I didn't want to answer, but instinctively I knew to because I know what these people do if you tell them you are struggling with suicidal thoughts and they can't reach you. They send cops to your house. 

The lady calling asked if I was okay

"no, I am not okay".. The rest I said included these parts "I am angry and struggling. I had an appointment with a psychiatrist I have been waiting months already for only to have it canceled. Other people have suggested I go to you, that you are the "right place" for me and my needs. Dr. Concussion said she would help me find a new team only to have her assistant tell me she couldn't find anyone, they had no referrals, no recommendations. You all should have been concerned about these things all along but it was ignored along with all of the red flags, and things I said were ignored only to used against me..."

I was getting angry. My heart was elevated and I needed to be at work in 30 minutes. I needed to get my head straight before then. I told her I was not in immediate danger, I told her that I needed to be to work in 30 minutes and I needed to get my head straight before that. I told her they need to be aware of how this is effecting me, how they perpetuated harm. But mostly I needed to get my self straightened out for work and talking to her was not helping me with that, I told her if they wanted to revisit things and admit their mistakes if they wanted to try and do something there then great, after all we are still paying for their mistakes, but talking to her right now wasn't helping so goodbye. 

Remember, I told her I was not in immediate danger, but getting tired of fighting and it was wearing on me ...and I know well enough that people eventually wear down. 

So lets think of what she could do...

She could have sent an email. 

She could have referred to this blog that I referred the patient advocates to multiple times during the "investigation."

She could have called my husband. 

She or they could have had one of their many trained and licensed professionals call me and asses the situation.

But that is not how they work.
It feels like they have ulterior motives

They went straight for public humiliation and risking my job. They hit and they hit hard. 

Remember, I told her I was not in immediate danger and I was not a threat to myself right now. 

That is all a police officer needs to hear and they will leave you alone, that was the only reason I answered the phone, I knew there was a chance they'd send them if I didn't confirm that I was not in immediate danger. 

When 3 or 4 cop trucks show up at your house, your son -that is home alone and just had fights with his mom- is going to be freaked out. The neighbors are going to talk. Then, when they find you are not home, they will have your son call your husband, not you, to find out where you work.  Then your husband will call you to make sure you are okay.

Not knowing the police involvement at this point you, at first, will think the IHC facility called your husband; You will think for a moment that maybe they actually do care about you and your wellbeing. But then you will find out, that no, they did not contact him at all, the police did. Police that are at your house, with your son, and soon to be on their way to your place of employment. Certain to cost you your job and reputation. 

They went straight for the jugular. 

This does not feel like they were concerned about me, this feels like it was a lesson, and more attempts to cover their ass and tracks. 

Fortunately my boss told me how to intercept the police, and, with a simple confirmation over the phone (to the police officer) that I was not a threat to myself, the trauma it would have caused to the kids I work with was averted.  Fortunately I have already given my notice of quitting because I am not handling the emotional/psychological aspects of the therapeutic adolescent program environment. (gee, I can't possibly understand why?) But it just may cost me the arrangement we had made for me to stay on very part time as a fill in and the academic advisor to a few students. 

This, to me, is a new low blow. 

And I have realized the other part of why it has been so hard to file that complaint with the state and licensing board, aside from not wanting to hurt others, deep inside I know they will likely do more to damage and hurt me. They will avoid any responsibility at any cost to me and I am not sure I can handle another hit, another -and to the next level- confirmation that I am unimportant and of no value and that I am to blame for this imbalance and I am not worth listening to because of it. 

I know we are not supposed to base our personal intrinsic value on how others perceive us, but lets be honest, that is partially bullshit and this world really is better off without some people in it. 

Am I one of those?

They think so. Otherwise, they'd have cared when I was in their care, they would have listened then. They would have paid attention to the red flags and listened when I told the facility director that I knew I needed to stand up for myself, I didn't know what that looked like yet, but I knew I needed to. They would have realized it was about me and I needed it to be about me, not about him, or me going after him. They would not have turned it into or let him turn it into being about him. 

I am angry.

And you know what else, I am also intelligent, and I am worth saving because I can see through the bullshit and I'll call it out, even when no one else will. 

I suppose no one really wants that, but for this moment I am going to be proud of me and I am going to love me for it, because I don't call it out to cause harm and I try to be careful and conscientious about how I call it out. 

And I care about people even when they don't deserve to be cared about. 

So sacrifice me you shit heads! I'll keep fighting because I also care about me, even if you don't and even if you don't think I deserve to be. 

And I see through the bullshit of your degrees and prestige, your Scientology. 

secrecy vs confession

It's funny how just admitting something out loud can correct us.
There are very few things I won't admit out loud about myself to just about anyone. There are a some things on this blog that fall into that category. And as I think about it, I find myself fairly certain that I have not got anything in me that I have not admitted to at least one person at some point.
I try not to have secrets. They seem to feed themselves.
So I suppose it's not surprising that my previous entry and the conversation with the friend may have lead to a correction.
When the friend said to me "f* him" I was actually quick to respond with "there in lies the problem, I still kind of want to"
She laughed loudly and said, "this is why we are friends."
She is one of very few people in the world I would dare say that to. And I hope she knows that wanting to does not mean that I would. I think she does know that, or I likely would not have said that to her.
And that thread of desire that was still hanging on seems to have been cut with the confession.
The interesting thing about this is: in the beginning I remember feeling quite the opposite, I only ever wanted to have sex with my husband. The thought of doing that with someone else was terrifying and I was far too conservative for that kind of thinking.
I love people for who they are, not for what they might be in bed.
The chemistry of the situation with ex-therapist was very real but also confusing. And it is not fair that he could not see what I needed him to see. Even if there was a sexual chemistry, and maybe one that I did need to recognize and admit to myself, it was not fair of him to make it about him, when it was supposed to be about me.
It was a mistake on his part. One that I stupidly tried to protect him from. But he turned it on me. ...And in someways that strangely fed that chemistry. Probably because I trusted him so much and I valued his education, knowledge and training more than my own. I continued to have faith in the system and the people who were in power, believing that they knew what was best and would ultimately be true to their hippocratic oaths.
I don't believe that happened. I think first he made it about him and then they followed. They forgot their obligation to me.
And then as far as screwed up chemistry, it is not terribly hard to see how the actions fed the tragedy.
What is it they say "play hard to get" and what is it about forbidden romance that we find so intriguing?
It's all been planted...for people to react that way. Which is why I think the APA rules are an abuse to the patients/clients that fall into the countertransference trap of a therapist. Easy self-protecting tools for a therapist to use to abuse. Coverups that feed corruptions.

Here's a thought: If the therapist could and would confess maybe we could all better correct.

Wild and free... Can't catch me

I'm going to let my imagination run wild and free for a moment.
Because I feel like it.
Because I keep finding myself stuck in meaningless mind numbing activities like word games on my phone.
Because they offer some strange sense of accomplishment when I am actually doing nothing at all. ...but not nothing at all at the same time.
I am suppressing.
So I'll counter that for a moment by allowing my mind to wander free.

I can help free you from your box if you let me. If you are willing to put in the work. But I will warn you; outside of the box comes with it's own set of challenges, risks and even danger. But you know that, which is why you stay safely tucked inside.
...And sometimes we free ourselves from the box only to find that box is boxed inside another box. Then it becomes something like peeling away the layers of the onion
from the inside out.
boxes, onions, bunions
who cares?
Now I wonder why? and they all say, you will never get the answers you seek. But why not? And really, I think that is simply not good enough for me.
If I seek the answer I will find it.
I will find something anyway.
I will gain understanding.
It may be me that answers the question or figures out the answer, it may come from some place unexpected.
But when people tell me, you'll never get your questions answered I find myself challenged more than appeased. "It's about acceptance" they might say. Fine, then I search until I accept. ;)
I am fine with that.
They may not be.
But I am.
I am not unhappy,
because I admit my faults and my vulnerabilities, because I will answer honestly how I am doing in that moment and over all.
That does not mean I am unhappy, unsatisfied or in a negative place.
Because I admit that I am struggling, to find my balance, and to understand who and what I am and where I fit, that does not mean I am in a bad place.
On the contrary,
I know and understand my struggles and what I am working for which puts me in a very good place. By admitting that I am not entirely sure who I am I become confident in who I am. It is Tao-ish I suppose.
And struggle is neither good nor bad. Struggle is a necessary part of life, development, and growth.
A baby will never learn to walk if they do not struggle.
So
I want to know why he, Dr. Cheri, and his shitty facility, don't want to talk to me. Why he denies mania, why he won't allow for a conversation and clarification. I want to know what he knows and why he has chosen the direction he has. I want to know how they can justify the alienating instead of helping. They clearly made mistakes. We all do. But they deny mania, deny misdiagnosis or missed diagnosis, they will not listen when I am trying to tell them what is going on. Until they decide to use what I said was going on as their reason to banish me.
Why? It is so irrational and illogical. A definite form of gaslighting. Use and abuse of their positions and authority.
A harsh hypocrisy of the industry, the facility.
A glaring hole in the APA rules.
Why won't he explain? Is he stuck inside a box? not so intelligent and openminded as I thought? as he thinks?
Is he protecting himself from his own corrupt industry, trying to preserve what he has invested so much of his life in?
Why is he avoiding responsibility? Why is he denying he has made mistakes?
Is he simply a coward? Is he a narcissist? Is he a manipulative mastermind with diabolical intentions, guilty of serious offense and keeping himself from being caught? Or is he a runner?
He did leave his country of origin. His family, his home. He is divorced. Or claimed to be.
And there is something potentially diabolical; his supposed ex-wife, still has herself listed as married -with the same last name- on FB. She has changed her profile picture, but not her marital status. It has been a year from the month Dr. Cheri claimed he had divorced her; longer from separation.
I know this about his ex or [not ex] wife's FB status because, many times, I have considered contacting her, asking exactly what kind of man I was dealing with; asking if it is possible he is a diabolical mastermind who needs to be caught.
But he is pretty brilliant and tricky, and even safeguarded himself from this, by dropping subtle hints that she was making his life difficult. So of course I won't contact her, she'd absolutely use it against him, use it to hurt him and spite him if she is similar to so many women I distrust. A fact about me that he knew.
And it is silly that I still think to protect him at all. That I worry about his interest at all, when he clearly has no concern for me and mine, is willing to do harm to me, even though he was paid and morally, legally and ethically obligated to be concerned and protect my interest...
Aaahh stupid me
and oh stupid he.
What a freaking Jackass
"Fuck him" says my friend thinking I am more messed up than I really am.
But there in lies the problem.
The way he screwed with me, the way it messed with my chemistry, the taboo, the things he did that were helpful and that I was drawn to...
...the problem with "Fuck him"... I still kind of wish I could, literally in the For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge kind of way.
WHAT THE HELL?
Remember, wild and free, that is me.
But also I know, in reality, I likely wound not if I were given the chance. And he may know that too. so he is punishing me? I don't know.
But reality kills fantasy rather quickly, that much I know. And it would have been nice if he could have returned the favor.
The reality of my insanity, I am certain, killed his fantasy but he won't allow me the same.
What an ass.
Which is how I know I wouldn't really fuck him if I could
and then I see that he may just be sticking to the box he was trained in, because that double edge sword will cut it all down, even if it cuts me down with it.
And in that I find an inkling of liking for him again, but, not really because he is still inside the box and he took it too far.

...And yet there lies another interesting possibility;
It was grooming and countertransference.
Caught in his own trap
by broken little me.

He is not out of my league, I am way too far out of his.
Broken as can be
but
Wild and free,
you can't catch me

1/4 of clonazepam

1/4 of a clonazepam and quitting
A weight is lifting.

But I am not entirely quitting
and that is nice.
They want to keep me on
just as the academic advisor for the kids that are and will utilize it
and as a fill in if on occasions they need it.
If I am up to it.
I am.
And I am so glad to be valued
to not have to walk away completely from all the positives of the job.
I am glad I caught myself in time, in my shutting down, to quite them, or at least come to a workable place, before they quite me.

That would likely break me again even if I had shut down completely.
Instead, life is good in this moment.
Tired but good
and I am subtly happy

Shutting Down

The psychiatrist I found, and had I an appointment with, but not until the end of September, is moving to "something like New Zealand" says the lady on the phone, so we need to reschedule with the PA who does not have TBI experience.
Of all places to "something like" mention... This is where my ex-Pandora's-box-breaking neuropsychologist is from.
She says [lady on the phone] she will look into their other location and see what she can find, then call me back. She'll help me find the right person.
This sounds familiar...
Concussion doctor said she would help me find a new team only to: initially ignore my attempt to follow up and then -on the second attempt and after my husband called- have her assistant tell me she couldn't find anyone. But it doesn't end there. It was next followed by a termination letter letting me know I would no longer be treated at their facility for "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues."

...I have not heard back from the lady from the psychiatrist office.
So I am left trying to follow Concussion Doctors advice but with no resources to do so and no help from them.
I have actually had them suggested as the place to go.
daggers to my heart and do I really deserve this?
It'd be so much easier had I not been trying to manage mania, if I were symptom free currently.

But I am shutting down.
And with my job the writing is on the wall;
I need to quite ...before I get fired.
But this time the writing on the wall, I believe, is mainly coming from me.
I am not balanced and the insecurities that I currently have, the fragile place I am in, -that I thought I was coming out of, that I thought I was managing well and would improve with a consistent work schedule and a good job at a good place with good people- is too fragile still and I am not managing well.
My heart is broken and I feel so disappointed in myself.
...
Got to pull out, and I will.
but I'm pretty sure I need to quite before they quite me.

the mess of me and processing

I meant to go running. I'm in the clothes and ready to go, all the way down to the shoes.
But I started painting instead. And as I paint I am thinking of all I have learned about myself and life through my recent painting practices and how it has helped me process and let go of things...
Then suddenly I have the pressing urge to write about it.
So the canvas and paint, and even the container of water, all still sit on the floor while I come on here to type it out.
I am embracing my crazy and accepting me for who or what I am in this moment. I have the time and the space to do that right now. In this moment and I am in a safe and comfortable space. so why fight it?
It is nice to have this space.
I am glad that I am safe and comfortable in this moment.
In the picture I am painting I see texture and color that is interesting to me, engaging, but still a bit uncomfortable in it's current form.
My paintings are messy
colorful and blended
rarely are their harsh bold straight lines
there are clear lines and boundaries but so often they are blended and integrated.
Integrating and combining so many colors and textures. I love the colors and textures.
So very often I paint sideways, at an angle.
So much of it doesn't make sense.
I blend colors that are not meant to be blended and I very often don't clean my brush before switching colors.
I am rarely trying to paint something specific. I just let what ever come out.
The brush may speak to me, and the colors. But nothing is very intentional. just playful, learning, exploring and curious.
I don't like a lot of what I am painting or I find it uncomfortable. I look at my creations often and think "that is really ugly" or "that was a mistake"
so I keep going.
Until it no longer looks like a mistake
or until it makes sense to me
or until I just feel done for the time being.
Occasionally something comes out rather quickly and the picture tells me it is done.
I am not always done at that point so then I paint something else or revisit a previously abandoned piece.
I am not a skilled or talented artist but I love and enjoy this process. I love and enjoy my work. I have even hung some on the walls.
and even though others may think I am odd or may not care for my art I am happy with it and
they make sense to me.

A picture that told me when it was complete. The harsh straight lines are not my work but rather cracks in the wood  that is its canvas. 

The problem is Italy

December 3, 2018 7:45am. The appointment was scheduled for 7:30.
"I'm surprised to see you" he says
"The problem is Italy" I say "I am supposed to take my kids in a week and I need to make sure that I am stable. I need to make sure I am okay."
"I meant everything that I said" he said.
"We agreed to a clean break" he says
"There is no such thing as a clean break from my side of this" I say and I know that so many of the things he said were neither confirmed nor denied but rather implied, so how do I know what he really meant? It was open to interpretation and I was not in my right mind. That much I knew. Which meant that my interpretation was not likely accurate.

The rest of that day, that conversation was me fighting for me and trying to understand but also be okay enough to take my kids to Italy in a week. It would be just me and them for the first 10 days, I needed to be okay, which meant I couldn't hear the things that started to hurt too much... and maybe I was protecting him, fighting for him too. I couldn't let him say and/or I couldn't hear what could get him most in trouble.

But Dr. Cheri was not interested in my best interest; he was most concerned about himself. Protecting himself, no matter the cost to me. At least that is how I feel now. It was obvious then that he had lost objectivity and that something had gone amiss but I did not realize just how unconcerned he was with my wellbeing and how willing he was to sacrifice me to protect himself; a false assumption on his part, likely fed and/or guided by ill founded rules, policies and procedures that he felt obligated to follow or that he knew he could utilize to cover his ass.
In waking up, these realizations are hard hitting and difficult to maneuver. Yet I am supposed to, alone and branded. That is one thing. And I think I can, think I am, just to be hit again and again, by symptoms, by realizations, by psychology, by relationships, and by reality.

And now these are coming in the mail. A reminder that I was not okay. I was not as responsible and my mind was... something else... while in Italy. I had forgotten about their driving rules and the typical time that would have been spent preparing and researching was spent trying to stabilize and understand what was happening to my head and my heart and why I was behaving like I was manic.
I needed help.
and I asked for it.
I begged for it.
I was turned away
in the most heartfelt and yet heartless way.
How is that even possible?
I don't know, but it sure as hell hurts again.
And the gold that he left me came at far too high a price. Maybe I would opt to give it back if I could.

...I want you out of my heart.
You are costing me so much
and you are tearing it apart,
even still.

Indulgence

I have many thoughts. a lot of the time. and my old therapist, who broke me, and then was a total jerk about it, and even had me exiled from the very place and help I needed, who may have been manipulating me, who definitely took advantage of my caring, and who let me know in the most solid way I am not worth his time or energy, but whom I oddly still care about and strangely trust on some level told me to balance my thinking with doing. That is not exactly how he said it and in fact a friend that I briefly had, may deserve to be credited more, so in this silly over processing moment I hope I can see a way to redirect my thoughts from terrible beloved old therapist to other places and other sources so that my heart can more completely heal from the hole that he left in it when he said I could keep him there and then took himself away before finishing the work I had paid him for.
Which actually transitions right into the real reason I came to write today.
Indulgence
I am learning a lot still about therapy and therapeutic relationships and I am sure it is not terribly surprising that I am skeptical and not too trusting of the whole industry right now. As part of training for my job the therapist that I now work for had me listen to some podcasts. As I am listening, trying to learn for the sake of doing my job I am so bitterly reminded of the mess I am coming from and it is a bit of a challenge. They were good and informative podcasts, but I also see some problems.
One of the issues I have is this sense of safety, security, acceptance, non judgment etc, that a person is supposed to get from therapy. It is supposed to be there safe place where they can confess all of themselves and become their true self, with the loving nurturing acceptance of the therapist. The crap their parents screwed up on and their parents parents screwed up on, that they all didn't really screw up on because they also need this divine therapeutic acceptance... So nobody is really at fault as long as we are working to achieve self and get in touch with our own truth... with a therapist of course. That part is crucial, you know. we need their acceptance.
and there is something to this
yet there is some crossover her and even some hypocrisy
and lets not forget
$
It all comes at a price. You get the acceptance and non judgement, but only for a price.
Are you following?
It is beginning to feel something like the indulgences of the Middle Ages
Yet I am going still, to therapists. Is this an indulgence for penance? Will I break another therapist?
Will I ruin more relationships with my questioning of this industry and it's integrity?
You tell me.
I think the balance is tricky
Am I paying for healing
or is this indulgence?

...If I keep you in the shards of my broken heart you are not likely to come out unscathed.

keeping my head above...

Very occasionally this blog gets read. I don't really know by who or why, But I will say it is just enough to keep me going at times.
I am struggling.
The only thing keeping me here, physically here, today is my kids.
 I don't want to screw them up
I don't want them to believe that they weren't enough.

and I don't really feel like writing anything else. Which is why I am. I don't think my feelings can be especially trusted right now. so I'll write and see what comes out
Sleep is my safe place.
and that is what I want to do again
I am mad at my family.
 I am hurt and I feel isolated and alone.
I feel like the more I try the worse I make things
I give up
too much
I try to numb with tv and stupid games on phones
Kids do that to
too much.
Control is an illusion
we have none.
And yet so very much
I think I'll go run now because that is at least something I can do that will help me in some way.
While it also breaks me apart at the knees.
Building bones while breaking me down.
But I learned, I think from my physical therapist, that hard core female athletes have the bones of 70 year olds because their bones are reabsorbing the calcium, but exercise and weight bearing exercises also build bones.
Balance can be so tricky.
good night again

Black holes and accountability

I feel angry with a lot of people today. I feel angry and hurt. I feel alone, even though I am not. I feel so many things and  I try to let myself feel them sometimes. Sometimes I try to avoid or ignore. Sometimes I try to distract and often I try to redirect.
I even try to numb occasionally. But it seems to me that numbing too often leads to some of the most unhealthy and destructive behaviors. Yet that statement includes a judgement and judging is bad, even though that label itself is also a judgement and down the rabbit hole of thinking I go.
Or is it a black hole?
Black holes are fascinating.
They are so powerful they suck everything in. They are literally pulling everything into themselves  turning them into absolutely nothing.
I think people who are truly "open minded" can turn into black holes. Open to everything, turning themselves into literally nothing.
But then again, we don't actually know what is on the other side of a black hole.
So away I go into my black hole.
Then I think it is time to sleep
again
too much sleeping
because that is a safe escape.
My safe place.
But something else I came here to mention, remember and process
My friend, who is a therapist, and works at a similar facility mentioned the kids he worked with complaining about him not trusting them. His story went something like this:
a kid will complain, "you don't even trust me" to which my friend (the therapist) will reply "of course I don't trust you. I don't even know if I can trust myself. I make mistakes too. And when I do you hold me accountable, which is what I am doing with you. So maybe that's what we do, hold each other accountable."
A "we are all in this together" kind of approach.
It's the gist of the conversation. Friend did a much better job at the story, but this is what I have to offer right now and my processing is slow and interrupted by my self pity and self deprecation I suppose...
still reinforced by the confirmations of abandonment from people who were supposed to be in this together with me.
I have to get over them
all of them.
But I am admittedly a bit stuck.
so redirect. attempt again. try to see the good in me.
Try to see what surrounds me. and try to find peace and beauty in every little moment.
try to believe I am worth my time.
Try to still have relationships and somehow figure out how to do that with out sabotaging. Without doing whatever it is I do to contribute to the reinforcing I suspect is always just around the corner.
Are somethings just too broken?
Not worth fixing
not worth holding accountable?
am I?
Judgement
time to stop
not productive
not helpful
good bye

A Void; the Treachery

Avoidance;
my treacherous friend
you lull me into a comfortable secure place
 but it is false
a lie.
I am not secure and you will come back to bite
harder and much more viciously
than if I had I faced the discomfort early on.

So avoidance
how do I avoid you?

-Assessing-:
Wisdom in waiting
letting it play out -Seeing how things play out
patience
ignoring bad behavior

Or is it the treacherous familiar friend Avoidance?

Ever analyzing
never sleeping
(not entirely true -though sometimes it feels that way.
and feelings are funny, because they can seem so real even though they are not always entirely true... or is it real?
Feelings, you funny fantastic fantasy...
that dictates so much of me)

the bottom

I am blogging from work.
a thorn in the side
of the girls who want a pecking order.

Low man on the totem pole, is holding you up
peck too hard and he'll let you go
you'll blame him for failing to hold you up
though it was you that chopped him out

Title

I'm tired of the tired and I'm tired of the headache
and I am losing hope that this may change.
Is this my new norm? Is this the fantasy?
Easy come easy go
Galileo Figuro
Nonsense
that is what I am thank you very much
and you are too.
This realm of the unknown that I post to
for no real reason
just to appease the voices in my head that are now telling me it would be wise to go to bed
Good night world
good night mystery of the internet
and me

My Boxing Boy

My son started boxing yesterday. He was excited to get to hit the bag today. He admitted that he'd imagine whom he referred to as "he who shall not be named" when he started getting tired and then he'd hit harder and "it felt good" he said. I asked who exactly that was. He said, "you know, the man who has caused our family so much pain recently." (Dr. Cheri)
I'm fighting back tears now. I am sad this is what he has become. The doctor of psychology who could have and should have been a name that represented healing and a new me discovered through the understanding of the old me that for years had been broken and re-broken by TBI. His name, I once thought, would be held in high regard by myself and my family... But the healing was disrupted by the blindside that led to the downslide and feelings confide that couldn't hide but then being denied to abide
with the system that is upside
down
... at least that little rhyming game was fun in my head as I hid the tears and let my kids express their anger and dislike. They don't want me to defend him or to blame myself. It's not me, they say, it's he, and the system.
They were supposed to help but instead they shut out and hurt, to protect themselves at my expense
which was not just my expense
but my kids' as well.
These two teens notice me and they value me.
That is what they need me to hear. That is what I need to respect ...so I don't defend. I listen and I fight the tears well this time, just for them.

Procrastinating the Passing of the Burden

Today, this song means a lot: "Tiny Victories" Christina Perri
but mostly
I'm procrastinating.
Why?
I think "wait to talk with knew neuropsychologist," "sitting with it"
Listening to others is wise and respectful. Especially when they have the professional experience, education and training.
...Yet, it's also why I'm in this psychological thriller of a mess.
Balance can be very difficult at times.
-My right leg is not very balanced still. I feel it when I try to balance on it for exercises at physical therapy. Apparently that is the peroneal tendon's main job, so it makes sense.-
Emotionally, am I balanced?
I am procrastinating, deviating and avoiding.
But it still wakes me up at night and makes me tearful and tired in the day.
It hurts my heart. Figuratively now, not physically, but it hurts enough to make me cry.
Why?
Because I love that guy
I'll be honest.
and also I love the guy who kisses me and tells me he loves me every morning before he goes to work. Even when I am still in bed. Even when I am still sleeping.
I love this man who I live with, that has neglected me plenty, but is here, when I need someone most. When I need love most. He is trying. More than he ever has.
Yet I procrastinate the final and complete severing of the fantasy of the other man, the one who loved me but used me, the one who couldn't be what I needed him to be, my neuropsychologist and therapist or, at very least, real and honest.
And I hurt for my husband, but I still procrastinate...
What I felt was so very real and powerful to me, and that part is fed by refusal to confront the reality of what it may have been: simply fantasy, a perfect storm, mistakes, and/or a manic and broken mind fed.
I do well with talking things out. I do well with honesty. I do not do well with coverups and I am maybe tired of sacrificing my needs to protect others. In this situation, I was not given a choice. At first it felt as though I was, but it was manipulation and their self preservation. I was not given a compromise. It was his way AND the highway.
You would think that would be enough, to kill what I feel, but it adds to me the confusion of pity for him and for me.
And it's effecting me, in all aspects, even though I don't let it, it still is.
I'm tied to this.
I say "this would be so much easier to forget and get over if I had no lingering TBI symptoms. If I didn't still need their medical experience and expertise." I say this because it is the sad truth and my reality ...that I wish to deny and avoid often.
It breaks my heart and I don't know who to turn to because they have been managing this for me, they are supposed to be the ones I can turn to for answers. They were supposed to be my safe place, my care.
Lost faith in the medical industry, faith that was already shaky at best, but I was at least willing to trust, those in power, those in authority. ...
God.
That is the only place left to turn
but He was talking to me in the midst of this, so now, what do I do with that?
It's a predicament to be in
and I am struggling to keep my head above water... I know this because the water is still bailing out through my eyes so regularly and so frequently.
And he, who may have caused this or at least abandoned me in this, he is immune.
And strangely that brings me some comfort. There can be comfort in that, if I really do care for him. I suppose that is okay.
But is it? If he is employed to be the cure?
Or am I sacrificing my needs for what I don't understand and for what may actually be hurting others as well? Cyclical thinking.
A trap.
And how do I get out now?
pass the burden on to those whose job it is to handle that.
...I see my husbands face kissing me in the morning. I hear the echo of his voice from months ago, sweetly and sincerely telling me he knows there might be someone better suited for me and he would love to see me have that... yet, as he sits with it for a moment, he follows his comment with "but I think I might be too selfish." He doesn't want to loose me. I am worth his time and investment.
And he is worth mine.
...And this realization may have been the very thing that broke my neuropsychologist. Maybe that is the basic truth to all of this.
So -full of gratitude and sorrow- I procrastinate the passing of this burden on to those whose job it is to decipher.

Possible alternative solutions

I do not have time at this moment to fully address this the way I'd like but after a friend mentioned the potential harm of relationships that don't follow that two year rule I'd like to address that. I do not condone the pursuing of relationships, especially sexual, outside of therapy when the relationship started there. But I do not think the black and white rule is the best, only or most healthy alternative. I  agree that barrier can and may be a safeguard in many situations, however the standard policy of instantly dropping the client with no communication about this, no admitting of attraction, and the taboo of it all is NOT good practice and may safeguard the grooming therapists, but they may be the only people those policies really help and protect.

I'll be back to say more later.
added 7/31/19
First alternative solution: basically the quickest way to kill fantasy is through reality. A conversation away from his place of practice, bringing him into my elements, like if he had taken me up on my offer to teach him snowboarding, would have broken the perceptions of perfection that I had when I was there trusting him so completely as my healing practitioner.
A conversation when I was not amidst the manic managing prior to taking my kids out of the country by myself was absolutely needed for me. But there was no negotiating it was his way, which was no way at all.
Second alternative solution: We both meet with a third party to clarify.
Third: He write a letter explaining his position and understanding of my condition. He kind of did this in email, but in the midst of covering his ass and protecting himself. He did not acknowledge the symptoms that suggested mania and more significant problems, even though they could not be denied by every other person in the industry I have talked to or been treated for about it -even if I was trying to convince them otherwise, thinking myself it must not be if Dr. He had missed it.

a few quick ideas... just to get back here and follow through.