I Walk Alone

I’m at the Out of the Darkness Suicide Prevention walk. I came alone. “How pathetic” I think. But no, I am not pathetic at all. How many people do you know that ultimately have the courage to show up at an event like this alone?
I collect my beads. 1st Orange for my brother. Next blue, for supporting, teal for any other friend or family member, and green for my own struggles. I put the orange, blue and teal around my neck and then I placed the green into my pocket.
I am here alone in my struggle and I don’t want to advertise that. I don’t want to be noticed for it AND I don’t want to not be noticed for it. In my pocket is fine.
I walk away from the beads, see two awkward adolescents also wearing orange, ask if they also lost a sibling. The girl answers yes, their brother. I say "it sucks" and ask if I can give her a hug. Her brother, looks younger, shies away behind her. I ask him if I can give him a hug also. “Yes” awkward side hug, but I don't care, he said yes so he probably needed it too.
I head toward the center of this massive event and I see their posters with the notes people posted.This is the first and only one I see. And I need to turn away because now I am crying. And alone. so I want a little quite place of my very own where I can disappear into a tree and be present from the sidelines.

 What a beautiful anomaly this tree is. I decide to join it. This is where I start this very bog entry. Sitting on the root arch of that tree. As my emotions settle again and the eye flooding subsides I realize, with this very unique tree, perched on the arch, I am hardly invisible. So I laugh inside and hop down. I listen to a well known radio DJ tell the story of loosing his own brother.
I see IHC's booth and I feel my anger but also know the people there are not who I am angry with. However, I am here to stand as a witness, if only to my self, that even when you think you are alone you are not and to show that I can keep fighting and I am worth standing up for. So I go to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention organization's booth (they are the facilitators of this event) and I collect their information. I write "Neuroscience Institute, across the top along with the name of the facility/office director whom I had told "I am just trying to understand what is going on with my head" and "I am not sure what it looks like but I know I need to stand up for myself" and then later yelled at me for wanting to be kept in-house, thinking they should talk to me and address the issues that happened there I was trying to address instead of sending me away, alone, to try and find an entirely new team when I was such a mess and not even sure what help I needed and for what since I was allowed no clarifying conversation.
I go to IHC's booth and ask who works for them. I tell her they need some training. I show her the green beads from my pocket and say "They are feeding this" and then I walk away shaking.
But I think, and return. Talk a little more to the lady but explain very little, just that they played games with me and feed the suicidal, instead of treating me fairly. I write down Concussion doctor's name, Neuropsychologist's name, and Patient Advocate's name. I ask that they all get trained or at very least they get this reading material.
I talk to a few people. Get some hugs and love from one lady and I am glad I am here.

I am so impressed at the amount of people present. I notice beautiful people being honored on t-shirts and I am so happy to see that they are honored and loved still in spite of how they passed. I see my brother in one particularly fun looking brother of a beautiful lady who is there alone with her 3 young children. I admire her. I appreciate the picture of her brother. I let her know. 

Then I am then drawn to these shirts. I loved the design and saying. As I got close I found some of my own coincidental humor in them also. If you zoom in to read and you have been following my blog I think you may also find it ever so coincidentally comical. I have to ask, "who is Jon?" I am then introduced to the mom of Jon. She is a beautiful and significant person. She designed the shirts. She tells me some about Jon. He was 18. I tell her a bit about my brother and the military's flawed policies. He was 28 or 29, it's been 10 years and I can't remember exact age and don't really care to fixate on that detail, he was too young and that is what matters most. As this beautiful mom tells me about her son I am sad for them and proud of them. They were trying. Her son was sensitive and intelligent. He felt things deeply and that made life a challenge at times. I can relate to what she is telling me. I tell her things that surprise her a bit. She asks "how do you know so much about all of this?" I have been living it for a very long time. "I'll write you a book," I say and she likes this idea. 

I have been fighting similar battles as her son for a very long time. I explain my belief that suicidal tendencies are a symptom. They are neither the problem nor solution, they are a symptom and we need to listen to them as that. They were doing that, and from what she has told me, I am so impressed at how they were. But she had never heard it put the way I just did and wishes it would be. She thinks it is a helpful and more productive way to approach this. She thinks it could have helped her son.... Because her son got caught in that trap of not understanding that it was a symptom and after being on medication for short period, when they were just starting to see the improvements, is when he passed. He did not realize or understand what he was fighting. He swung too fast before his thinking was able to correct. He likely did not have the tools or even know he needed them. One thing his mom told me was that he had said things about not wanting to be a burden. My own voice echoed in my head at this. I thought of my brother, others who I know that have gone this way, and more I know that I still fear we will lose to mental illness. I believe that many of the most likely to succeed in their attempt are also very likely to be in a mindset of not wanting to be a burden or tired of feeling like a burden. In their mind they are taking care of the problem themselves and doing their part to relieve the burden on others. 

I am going off in a direction I did not intend to, but as I have so many times before and to stay true to my own healing and processing process I will let it be. Though I know it is getting lengthy, today was significant so I suppose a significant post is appropriate. 

I'm going to jump now to another significant part of this event. At one point  I was walking and fingering the green beads in my pocket when I noticed that the necklace had come apart. It was broken. I could not even wear it now if I wanted to. This made me so happy. I even pulled it out and showed the beautiful mom.  I loved that the suicidal struggles of my own are broken. This is a good thing to have broken. I'm taking this as a sign and an omen and I'm going to run with it. I will keep holding on to that, -the breaking of my brokenness- because I have beat this before. And now that these beads are broken I can officially say that I have beat it once again (at least the suicidal part of it) and I will do it again and again if I have to. 

This is what I thought as I walked back to my truck and noticed this beautiful green tree with it's amazing and peculiar long green beans and then it was followed by the tree covered in so many tiny loving hearts. 

My heart has been broken so many times for so many reasons but still there are amazing people worth loving for any amount of time and this world holds so very many special and magical treasures all around. I love that. And I love living which is why I will keep fighting not just to survive but also to live and be a alive. I will keep working to thrive. 

  You'll Never Walk Alone

This is also a fun one You'll Never Walk Alone

Push back and history. Please listen

My dang head has been in this stupid mess for too long. I had no idea I needed Dr. She's simple words as much as I still do.
"Keep fighting"
Psychiatric PA let me know the double dose was not going to be a time release pill.
I think I am noticing that.
My brain seems to be pushing back. It wants to return to it's homeostatic chaos...
Maybe I just need to be busy. Maybe I just need a real job.
I kind of dislike the identity crises of this whole process.
I dislike that, though this is significantly different than any other time, I have been through this stuff before. The unstable and stabilizing.
I am remembering more again.
I once rolled my car as a result of an up. Sometimes I like to blame the worn out shocks on the little Jetta with over 300k, but the truth is, I was in a "spiritual high" and taking high stake risks that my more level brain knows are not wise. My toddler, who was directly behind me, was falling asleep with the sun blazing on him, so I turned back to position his blanket in the window. The windows were manual, I was driving. This is very stupid and not something I would normally consider doing while driving, especially on a freeway at freeway speeds (at least it was uncrowded and rural). When I turned back I found I was drifting off the road. I steered us back on, maybe over corrected a bit. That coupled with the 300+k worn suspension, made my overcorrection an impossible come back, and it resulted in a fluid floating rollover that landed us top side down facing the wrong way in the dip just off the side of the freeway.
God was watching over us, I know, and I experienced true faith knowing, as we floated over, that everything was going to be okay.
It was.
My babies strapped in their carseats in the back were okay, only babygirl, who was around the age of 4, had a slight red mark on her shoulder from hanging upside down in her carseat a bit longer.
We were very lucky. And I am so grateful.
And while I know God was protecting us, that was also the moment in time when I made a conscious decision to start shutting that part of me off. I was choosing to close the curtains into the realm of the spiritual. That would present it's own new struggles, especially in my family and culture, but I would rather keep my family safe in this human mortal realm.
This is a reminder that my perfectly imperfect may not actually be acceptable. I know this. It is my buried story that needs to stay buried and contained. It is what I struggle to understand, control, and manage. It can at times be what both attracts and detracts people to and from me.
When people say things like "everyone is like that" or "everyone has feelings like that," or "everyone experiences those things," sometimes I think "Well than EVERYONE needs to be medicated."
So the push back to the medication, is unwelcome.
Push back,
please go away,
please don't come again some other day.
I used to think a person is likely better off not having a major break or a major episode. It was a theory of mine; That if we could catch mental illness early enough and prevent major episodes, the person would be much better off. I think I am feeling this breaking of me to the higher degree is proving my theory to be accurate.
I can't go back, I can only move forward, but man it has sure been much more challenging moving forward this time around, and now I'm finding my body pushing back, likely not as responsive to the medication as it would have been had I not broken quite as big and been enduring without the medication and without honest help for so long.
...
...They could learn a lot from me
If only they would listen.

Out of the Darkness!

Tomorrow there is an Out the Darkness community walk. It is about fighting suicide, supporting families and people who are affected by it and trying to change stigma's around mental illness and mental health.
I want to attend and I also don't.
I want to invite my family and friends to come with me... but, I am afraid to.
I am afraid because I don't want to feel the lack of support if they say no. I am afraid to because I know some people will look at me differently, for whatever reason, no matter how I present it.
I am afraid because I don't want them to think things about my brother that may not be true because I know there will be people there that are nothing like him and nothing like how he was. I am afraid to because I am not sure I want to explain that is not just because of him that I want to attend. I am afraid to go because I may find myself in an angry tirade at IHC because they are one of the sponsors and I think that is very hypocritical considering how they have handled me.
...But mostly I am afraid to ask family and friends because I fear the rejection and how that might actually feed those fading thoughts and that core beleif that thinks I might be worthless.
Isn't that silly?
I can't attend the suicide prevention walk because I fear it might fuel it?... But then again, I think that is a pretty normally occurring phenomena. We don't want to be around sick people because we fear catching it. We don't want to accept mental illness because we fear it will increase it. We don't want to hang out with people who are different than we are because we fear we might become too similar to them.
The thing is these fears are not entirely irrational or ungrounded. Some can be, especially in the extreme, but there is some accuracy to those fears. Which is why people listen to their fears. I think when we can identify our fear we can then address it constructively and make a wise and rational decision that can benefit ourselves and others. But that fear is also a nudging into something we need to address.
So as I think of my fear and identify where it is coming from and then objectively look at it and how and why I might be feeling it, the realities of if and the extremes that are not so real or may be inaccurate, and I realize, I am pretty normal for feeling those things.
Which is why I'll go, with or without support from friends or family. They have their stuff and I have safely waited until the last minute to mention it to anyone so I can't really take it personally if they don't go anyway.
So I will go because I am normal and normal people, even good, kind, and intelligent people can struggle with this and be affected by it. I will go because even when I feel alone I am not alone and if simply being there can communicate that to someone else and offer some form of hope, I'll go.

"Keep fighting," she says; and How to change your negative core beliefs

It's not that I don't value myself. I do. But deep inside I am insecure and Dr. She says I "fear being worthless" or having no value to anyone.  She says I have a core belief about this that is in my heart. And when anything happens that will take a hit to my self esteem or sense of self worth that core is going to come out and tell me I am worthless and that what ever is happening is happening because I am worthless and/or unlovable or whatever that negative core belief is.

Yes. She is probably correct. And my brain, being the analyzer it is will often quickly agree: "Yes, that must be true because it is a basic law of economics. Supply and demand. It doesn't matter how amazing or awesome the product is, if no one is calling for it, there is no demand, it has no value." And I am so keenly aware of so many things. It is not just one thing that suggest this to my logical brain there are many. Including, but not limited to, how our flawed primary educational systems feed it. Remember all those dumb work sheets? "Good, better, best." All the sorting and categorizing? "Cut and paste all the picture that start with P, throw out the ones that don't belong"

Then I have to rationalize with things like: "I built that shed" to which the core will reply, "with your dad who was impatient and mad at you most of the time, despite how patient he has become with everyone else over the years."
So I'll try: "I biked 2 countries in 2 months with my 2 kids" to which my core will reply "and lost many friends because you tagged along and they didn't actually want you there, but you were too stupid to respond to the red flags."
"But I have at least walked a mile in the shoes of an elementary school teacher"
"And they did not offer to hold your job while you were in Brazil, plus the two teachers that shot down 100% (wish I were exaggerating there) of your ideas."

..."I am tired of fighting." I tell Dr. She today
 She said I have to keep fighting and fight harder again.
She meant it.
And while I am tired of fighting that was really all I needed to hear.
And she is correct.
So to my thoughts I say:
"now wait a minute, I didn't claim anything more than walking a mile in teacher shoes, and I fully admit that about did me in. My back gave out twice and I had more colds and lost my voice with those more times than I think I have in the rest of my life combined. And I was putting in 14 hour days, did you really want to go back to that? I did not ask them to hold the job either. Plus, those two teachers, that did, in fact, shoot down 100% (I also wish I were exaggerating) of my ideas also snagged many of those ideas out from under me and even pulled them out meetings with the big guys to make themselves look good. There is something to that which actually says a lot of good things about me."

"And I love my shed. I designed it and did a lot of the inside myself. Also it's probably good my dad feels safe enough with me to be ornery and impatient with me. He doesn't have that safety other places."

"As far as the friends, good riddance. You were there, you saw their true colors and you only biked with them for 1 out of the 2.5 months. You did this with your kids, by yourself, and you and I both know (or rather I and I know) they kind of hated you for that because it overshadowed them a bit and stole some of there glory, even though you weren't trying to."
"So core belief, you are wrong again and I am not okay with you being wrong about this so you will have to keep working on changing or be gone."
"You are right myself" and my core is softening, remembering why it has been so determined to change for me, and agreeing with Dr. She, to fight harder.
Because I am worth it.

Yes, others help determine my value

I need to feel loved.
I have felt so easily discarded and disregarded so many times by so many people that I am logically drawn to the conclusion that I am of little value.
How do we become what we are not?

Doubled up

11:45 pm
I can't sleep again.
The haunting images are coming back. My sons pocket knife left on the couch is harmless yet it begs to join the madness in my head. be physically present. And it is showing me (in visions) how it can be.
I HATE these thoughts. They are not welcome and I don't let them stay.
I force them away with whatever I've got. But sometimes they are persistent. If I change my thinking direction they will find someway to remind me of my worthlessness and advocate for killing me off in my own story. Like Antigone, not even the main character in her own play, I must die for the Creons' sake, pride and/or ego because he/they is/are the one/s in power.
Of course I will not, or at least I hope I will not, ...at very least I can say I will keep fighting for my life and resist the urge to hang myself in my forsaken tomb of abandonment- because I currently have a spoon to dig with and a few others that are hoping to help free me.
What a silly analogy.
I am already starting to feel a bit tired. Tired like my husband's patience is wearing with me.
I took 2. doubled my dose. I need to call the psychiatric PAC to get that officially prescribed. I think that may be wise.
Why the change?
Is it simply, like I already know, the medication does not change you and your thinking it just makes it possible for you to make the changes you need to.
At least that is my hope. Is that hope real?
Or is the timeline the culprit?
New neuropsychologist suggested I write one with all the things that happened, that they said or did that may have caused harm, and all the times I tried to tell them what was going one with me and it was ignored or avoided... All the times I tried to tell them that I was being haunted by suicidal thoughts followed by "I know what handle those" to keep me out of a lockup?  And all the times I tried to tell them "I just want to know what is going on with my head"
This is hard... HARD!
As I tried to write the timeline I realize and remember; it is too much. Too many times I tried to explain, to ask for help, hoping they saw what was really going on with me and believing them every time they took a different approach, decided it was something else or that I should go somewhere else.

Today: The previous was all written just before midnight last night and that last statement was exhausting enough (probably coupled with that double dose of quetiapine) to put me to sleep.
Trying to write out the timeline started the whole thing replaying again. "he loves me, he loves me not" flower petals trying to determine my fate kind of bullshit coupled with "You crazy!" and "They be crazy" and what the hell do I do about this?
I am so tired of this cycle, this damn cycle of mediocre crazy. And yet I am also immensely grateful that my crazy is so benign and understood (if only by me) because I know I am nowhere near the crazy of all the crap I hear and see all me and all around the world.
...Which can at times add to the burden I carry, because "where much is given, much is expected"
So I think it is time to walk away from all this today and enjoy my day. And I will.
But I'd like to share this funny story that was playing on the truck radio this morning: The nurse who loved me. ...( revised 9/10: Wait this isn't funny, it's the nurse that is saying hello to the rugs topography... I din't initially understand the violent attack part of it... Thankfully my crazy is much less violent towards others, an embarrassing mistake to think this song is beautiful and funny but at least evidence to suggest my own naive innocence, at least that)
Also I'm happy to say the knife is just a knife that got left laying around again; not a threat to my safety.

Superman takes Kryptonite for his sanity.

There have been many memories returned or revisited these last almost two years.
First the auto accident made everything feel off and unbalanced. My emotions were an instant mess, I felt disoriented and confused,  and even one side of my body felt taller than the other.
Then I started having feelings  and thoughts of "I have been here before, I have experienced this before" in relation to ways my brain was rerouting and functioning.
The chiropractor who suspected a concussion I was seeing did a little test. First he told me some words to remember; they were something like: apple, bubble, and ladder and I immediately recognized the visual pp, dd, bb pattern of the words so I was able to recall them later. I am not sure if he was conscious of this pattern or not, but for me, normally I don't visualize things like that so quickly and hardly care about remembering or making an effort to remember such things. However, it was an instinctive reaction, that was not how I normally function, but that felt familiar. Before he asked me to repeat those words the chiropractor had me track his finger. I was thinking it was silly and wondering why until he stopped. Then all of the sudden my head was swimming and the world was physically and visually throbbing or shaking. "What did you just do to my head," I eked  out as tears started to fall uncontrollably. I had to sit for sometime before the world stopped moving and I was able to drive myself home again.
I didn't know what magic he possessed and how he had done that to my head but I had experienced the world moving like that before, but I couldn't quite place it at that moment.
One of the more interesting things about that concussion was how my brain seemed to know how to accommodate, and even hide symptoms. I could feel the black dead ends that used to be well traveled routes and then I could feel it rerouting; doing something different to arrive at the same place. It was fascinating, confusing, exciting and scary all at the same time. It made me emotional and quiet.
Many strange moments, memories, and realizations have occurred since including the intriguing beard that suddenly spoke my name, and the names and faces that abandoned my recollection as they spoke in familiar tones; including the sensitivities to light and motion that I could not pinpoint as my internal surroundings danced around until my vestibular therapist pointed them out and we put them into controlled contexts. So many strange things I suspect related to TBI/mTBI... So many reoccurrences.
In this last week I had yet another deja vu memory. I feel as though I have been feeling pain more "normally" again since starting this mood stabilizer and I am actually happy for that because I was concerned about how I had not been feeling pain equivalent to the levels of injuries sustained (my ankle and lower back specifically). I laughed as I remembered how I had once before thought of how medication seemed to turn me into a mortal being. I used to claim an iron stomach and rarely ever got sick until I started taking nortriptyline. It worked well but eventually killed my immune system, the culprit for the ongoing flare up of cystic acne, and I was getting sick all the time. It was severe enough I had to stop taking it and my immune system came back. I don't remember what medication came after or if I was able to stop everything for awhile... I think it was lamictal next, but I am not certain. Eventually I went off all of them and was fine for sometime. Though maybe never really as well as I thought. It is hard to tell because so many things can simply be situational. I did go on adderall in 2015 and that has been a God send because so many things would pull too much energy from my brain, that I'd struggle to stay focused and keep up, which caused mild depression.
But since that dang airbag punch the head, my brain and emotions have been all over the place; functioning so differently that I have once again experienced crosses into the immortal realms. Even bigger and "better" cross overs. And as fun and/or fascinating as that may sound, if you have never experienced it, I can assure you, it is not maintainable and a sacrifice worth making so I join the realm of the mortals again (finally)  with the help of quetiapine.
Really, if you think about it: could you imagine how lonely it would be to be Superman? Yet when I take my kryptonite I find I may be more capable.

Warning: Racing Thoughts May Cause Dizziness

It is not surprising that a medication like Seroquel (Quetiapine) can have the perceived side effect of dizziness. On the label is say "may cause dizziness" but I wonder if that is a misconception?
I remember when I was a kid; we used to spin and spin each other in circles until we were dizzy. But the thing about that is you don't really start to feel the dizziness until you stop, or start to slow down. Yet the slowing and stopping are not what caused the dizziness, rather the spinning caused it. The slowing and stopping only enabled one to feel it.
It is like amusement park rides; one usually is just experiencing the thrill, exhilaration or horror of the spinning when they are spinning on a ride, it is not until after that they feel dizzy, maybe a bit light headed and a bit funny in the brain.

Maybe this explains these pictures that escaped me through paint a couple of months back.

So I think it may be the same with medications like Seroquel and I wonder if a more accurate warning might be "may experience dizziness" to which I would personally add: "as your mind finally stops or slows in its spinning and racing."

Happy Stories

The roads less traveled:
Last week I had a Friday morning appointment with Dr. She (new Neuropsychologist) and since apparently Friday morning traffic isn't as bad, I found myself arriving in the city with extra time. I really don't like how crowded the main streets can get in the city so I decided to see if I could find an alternate route on the less used and unknown backstreets.
As I explored these less used roads I enjoyed the peacefulness of it and seeing places I had never seen before. I don't think it was any faster but I enjoyed it. Then it occurred to me what I had chosen to do with my extra time.
I laughed at myself as I realized how very reflective this was of my patterns of thinking. Always looking for other options and taking different routes. I shared it with Dr. She, she also found it amusing.
Awhile back I made a meme about something like this, it has a picture of 2 kids working on academic tasks and reads "Not all who wander are lost." I will not share the meme because it has pictures of children and I do not wish to tie them to this blog, but you get the idea.
It is funny how our thinking and behavior patterns can manifest themselves in so many ways.

Omens:
Even though I know it can make me seem crazy and truthfully I can, at times, struggle with finding the right balance here, I believe in omens, signs and symbols. At certain times there seems to be more appearing than at other times. Maybe I am just paying attention, or maybe my mind feels it needs them so I subconsciously find them. I don't really know and I don't really care all that much because I think omens are fun and they make life so much more interesting.

Yesterday this little guy showed up. I was already in the house before I noticed him crossing from my shorts to my leg. It is a ladybug. I don't remember where this superstition came from but I think it is a common belief that when one lands on you it is good luck.
I like this omen. And I especially like that it came the day after my "Lucky" blog entry.
A little glimmer of hope I carefully passed along to our aphid infested roses.

More Lessons from Art Therapy:
Sessions with Dr. She are so helpful, and I feel so level and clear minded when I am talking with her these days, but is is still very tiring work for me. So yesterday I decided to paint to help relax my tired brain.
I have been wanting to paint more structured and intentional paintings. Like maybe learn to become a "real" artist, with some skill... I got this far:

Then got tired of it. Bored or too insecure to continue, I am really not to sure which. But I decided to abandon that for a bit and ended up painting this:

 Which eventually turned into this:

And it is so silly but I really like this weird picture. I enjoyed painting it. I enjoyed the process. It makes so much more sense to me and it feels comfortable.
So am I a bit stuck in my own unstructured box - a child's messy toy box? Or am I learning to embrace and appreciate the me that I am?
Maybe both, since I am likely to return to the Tiber and see how I can distort that world.
And so my lesson in art therapy yesterday... Well, I am not entirely sure yet, other than I seem to have a specific style that suites me for my sake and maybe that is okay.
Or maybe the lesson is that I am too ADD to be a lot of things
-including a stalker. And I think that is funny because I think Dr. He wanted and tried to paint me out to be one in order to save his own ass. Only asses need to save theirs by-the-way.
And I do wish the level of light hearted humor I say shit stuff like this would come across better in my writing and communication. Maybe it is a TBI or "prior undisclosed behavioral health" sense of humor that normal people just can't understand.
But, just so you know, I am not crying, I am laughing.
So, dear world, you are welcome to laugh with me.

Self Esteem boost:
My daughter has been really great for my self esteem lately. Today  she told me this is my theme song:
Dark Horse
I am the Perfect Storm
and she is Fabulous.

controlled re-entry?

I think sometimes when I see a glimmer of hope I grab it so quickly and tightly that I crush in an instant. Other times I watch and admire the little glimmer with adoration yet too insecure to catch it and keep it for myself; letting it float buy to find a more worthy recipient.
I would like to take those glimmers of hope and carefully plant them deep in my chest and then nurture them until they grow into a bright and lasting ray and a beacon of hope for others trying to navigate the waters of their own rocky shorelines.
So I am trying to both take it slow and pay attention to the glimmers of hope floating all around. I am trying to listen to each one to hear their story so I might know how to handle them carefully before I reach too quickly and carelessly.
So today as I debate staying awake or allowing sleep to overtake again and again, I find the desire to ramble down another dusty scenic byway of my brain and share stories about the journey.
...sleep keeps winning by the way. Maybe because I am trying discuss-and-compromise while it is straight up fighting to over take. I say, "okay, I'll just shut my eyes for a moment" and then sleep has me. again.
I suppose I'll fight back now with Aderall and then return to my ramblings because today that is feeling more important than once again jumping too quickly back into the world of the living and crushing my glimmers of hope.

Dear Dr. Creon

My daughter had to read the Ancient Greek play "Antigone" for school. She really liked it and insisted I read it too. I think she a had bit of ulterior motive in having me read it. She can be a bit like that, communicating her feelings through sharing indirectly related items or themes.
It was easy to see, especially as she explained to me who the main character really was, who she connected Creon with.
She may be right.
And that is the lead in and slightly vague backstory to this letter of mine:

Dear Dr. Creon,

Please stop. Please don't sacrifice Antigone for the sake of your ego. It does not have to be that way. She means no harm to you or the kingdom.
It is all madness, hers and yours. You are the one in power and you have the power to stop this madness. Please stop the madness and the perpetuation of the damage and harm already caused by these wars that were born from misunderstanding then fueled by egos, passion, and power.
Listen and be open to discussion and negotiation.
You are not on opposing sides.
Please see that, before it is too late.

Sincerely,
Your Once Loyal Subject

Whose to blame? and how to change?

Circles.
It is time to get out of this loop. And I think I can now. I have not wanted to file that report with DOPL because without help from someone I would have likely filed in an incoherent illogical way. Just ask Patient Advocate, of course that should have been sufficient evidence that a missed or misdiagnosis had certainly transpired but they choose not to see it that way. The gods that they are.
Here is the thing that really REALLY BOTHERS ME, doctors and nurses are told by their superiors and the facilities they work for to never admit fault. Never admit a mistake. I do not know if this is just a local common practice or if it is nationwide. However, I do know it is ethically and terribly wrong.
If the mistakes had been addressed early on I could have avoided a whole lot of problems, but instead they perpetuated, fueled and fed the problems in there denials and acting fake treating, constantly trying to pass the buck so that I would go away.
So the real problem, as I see it, -the much bigger and more disturbing issue- are the industry standards of not accepting responsibility, denying, ignoring, and passing the buck. It is malevolent and abusive.
They claim to do this because of "all the sue happy people" so basically they are retaliating. But their retaliation is not targeting those who have "hurt" the industry, they are retaliating against me and people like me. People who accept that doctors are human, flawed and make mistakes, and are willing to forgive them easily in exchange for the correction. But they will not admit fault, thus, especially in a situation like this, they cannot correct their actions and further perpetuate harm.
It is stubborn and asinine but they get away with it, time and time again. Who knows the reality of lives and livelihoods lost due to these apathetic practices.
We preach honesty and yet repeatedly punish the honest.
And the thing that gets me, that keeps me from moving forward, is that I know that in order to be heard the massive organization is likely to pick a scapegoat and punish one while reinforcing bad policies. I do not doubt this because it is exactly what they did with me. They even told me so when I questioned the investigation (I really did not understand it, a huge problem for an intelligent, brain damaged, PTSD-style memory returning, manic altered mess of a person). "It is not likely going to help you but it will help other patients." they told me.
Not true, not fair. If they refuse to even apologize and are claiming others and themselves will benefit from my misfortune but I will be expected to take all the fall, blame, pain, bills, expense than I do not trust them at all. Not a bit. It is a farce and fraud.
Yet, what can I do?  Just to be heard I am going to have to make my voice big. I will have to start advertising and soliciting the whole thing, basically marketing my mental deficiencies to the world in an effort to win enough support so they will listen. I have to prove to the world I am worth saving... Those are big shoes to fill and I have had to fight so damn hard just to believe it myself.
And To go after them, the multiple mistakes that doctors I cared about made could jeopardize their careers.
Yet they absolutely deserve it. But if they were following protocol then this either, again, reinforces bad policies or they will become the scapegoats. I am not okay with either. They need to learn, but they should not be too harshly punished as individuals. And yet, maybe they should be, because this has been a ridiculous journey, insane in so many ways, and them being the insane.
For example: I have talked with the police officer who responded to the call. He felt they should not have called, he's explanation to me is that they were trying to pass the buck. He is sorry to have traumatized my son.
My new psychiatric PA was surprised they called also. She said if I told them I was not in danger and not an immediate threat to myself their was no reason to call. I also know this rule and I had definitely told her that. The conversation ended with me explaining that I only had 20 minutes before work and I needed to get my head straight and talking to her was not helping. Obviously I had every intention of going to work, not harming myself.
And still, I can tell you, of this HUGE company that has many providers all over, I have not heard a thing from anyone as a follow up to that call. To me that suggests ulterior motives which do not include my or my families wellbeing. They do not wish to help but they will not hesitate to further traumatize.
The whole thing is corrupt, and who is to blame?  I won't have any say on who takes the fall and how hard they choose to throw them down, if they do in fact decide that.
So circles...
frustrating bullshit harm
I did not want to hire a lawyer. Still don't, but I am begining to see, I may just need to live up to their expectation... When in Rome...
What a messed up system.

Lucky

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

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

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

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

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

Wars and Rumors of Wars

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

A Fighting Chance

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

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

Jack Ass in Neuropsychology

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oingo Boingo "Insantiy"

"I'm not scared of you" REALLY?

my rational anger is increasing rapidly.

Freaking JACK ASSES!!!

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

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

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

....breath

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

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

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

Vulnerable

broken

"you isolate yourself"

limited family and social support

slow processor

caring

rejected

hypnotic voice

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

so many things...

BUT I KNEW

broken, vulnerable, fragile, desperate

I still knew

BECAUSE

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

I am the other side of what you do

and 

I KNOW WHAT YOU DO!

The energy to be angry

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

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


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

TBI patients = Malpractice insurance

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

To be or not to be?

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

This Little Bluebird -thank you Christina

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

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

and wants to be free...

Like a Bird -thank you Nelly

The Road Less Traveled

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

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

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

and further still into this analogy
another possibility

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

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

the Kintsugi Artist

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

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

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

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

An intentionalish  painting of an open mind. 

Therapist= The-rapist: penetrating and impregnating the mind

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

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

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

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