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Saturday, May 15, 2021

Half a Glass

 "I don't want you to see the glass as half empty."

Half full, half empty. I don't really care

Sometimes a cup of water is just a cup of water. Maybe it is holding 4 of the 8oz it is capable of holding. Then it is simply half a glass of water. 

Maybe it has more. Maybe less. Is it enough to meet your needs? Can it be refilled? Is it old water? good water? Is it water at all? Has it been polluted by various people washing their hands with or of it? Is it being drained and never refilled? Or left to sit alone because it's neither full nor empty? There are so many variable to consider that might be more important.

"but I am broken." Why is that a "bad" thing? Why do people insist that saying so is looking at my reality as a glass half full or empty? I'm not. It's simply a cup of water and I will use the water inside for whatever I need it for then fill it again and use it again. It's just a cup of water. Half empty or full doesn't matter, it's what I do with the water inside and it's how I use the cup.

And maybe, sometimes, the cup is broken. 

Then what good does it do to debate on whether it is half empty or half full? Because while we are debating, the water is draining because the cup is broken. 

Maybe the real fear is: what to do with a broken cup? Am I to be discarded? It seems so. When your cup breaks then you do get discarded by many, because you are broken and that is what we do with broken things. 

But my broken cup can still hold water

It just can't hold quite as much so if it is filled to full then it will inevitably lead to a leaky mess. A better analogy than you know.

Half empty, half full, broken all the way or just more than you care to accept? 

I don't really care. To me it just is what it is and I need and want to be okay with that. It would also help if others would learn this and be okay with that too. 

kintsugi 


Friday, May 14, 2021

messages received

 I wrote this little poem at some point between 1/1/2019- 7/1/2019 When I was still being misdiagnosed and very inaccurately and mis- treated. 

Sit at home and watch TV 

Being what I am supposed to be

Brainless reflector of mass

media fed personality.


Think for yourself

You are crazy- "you're crazy" - no credit

"I love you but do not want you"


Can't get a job @ Walmart - Too confident

"You need to be humbled"

Stop dreaming

Be happy with mediocrity

 

Tuesday, May 11, 2021

Out

 I am so tired of fighting to get the help I need....

should know better by now. Stop asking. It just makes me feels worse.

and then...

image stronger than it has been in awhile... gun to head. 

But out, not dead, I push this image out. It is not welcome.

"In the trenches," they say they'll be right there with you

until they see you cry

or until they see just how scary your trenches are. 

then they disappear

 but not without first letting you know that 

It's you, not them

maybe it is time to sleep again.

Cry and sleep.

I had to fight too hard today for help that may or may not happen

and to explain exactly what happened. 

You are supposed to stand up for what is right. Unless, of course, everybody else is sitting down. 

Stand up for what is right... few people, very few people actually do. They'll just disappoint 

them Blame

you, of course

We have bought into the delusion of majority rule equating to what is "right" 

If it is common and happening all the time then it is right? 

Mad dad. mad me. 

fight it out. push through, 

but did we resolve or did I just drive a bigger wedge...?

Gun to head

"be dead" 

it says.

But still no. I won't go.

Sorry to disappoint


Thursday, April 29, 2021

 Breaks from writing to write. That's what my life looks like right now. And this:

Which I am very grateful for.

Now, leading up journal entries transferred into my book, I am digging into the ever deepening abyss of madness. The mania as it is unfolding in my "self-discovery report"

"This is heavy shit" keeps slipping from my lips as I try to sort and choose what to include and what not to ... Dear reader of this here blog, get excited, get real excited because I think I am not going to try to rewrite this story that has already written itself and just share it how it is, as real, raw and embarrassing as it is, in my book about... all of this. 

The shit in these writings (coupled with the stress of the shit going on with USU and the Good ol'boys of the Logan courts) has my filters broken again so please excuse my cursing. 

Side note of TBI. Today during the Office of Equities interview, my brain injury and deficits decided it a good time to show just how fun they can be to have and to have to work with (sarcasm implied). Stress, and especially the very emotional kind this has been, is very hard on the brain and even harder on the broken brain. It was so weird to feel things stop working and get lost before I could get them out. He said things and I could not process them. I repeat, I ask questions, I forget, I don't ask, and today I had to make them wait, for my thoughts and my words to find their paths again so that I could explain what I know and what needs to be considered, documented etc. It's weird because it feels and my brain was behaving more similarly to how it behaves in the earlier phases of brain injury. Words are confusing. Instructions hard to follow. Jumbled. Hard to keep straight, remember, and even how to access the important things that need to be addressed. It really is weird when it happens like this. I think, maybe, it is called distress.

Heavy shit all around. But still I'm up and off the ground.

I will not stay down. 

...And for the record, after reading my emails alone, no way in hell -or heaven or here on earth for that matter- that Jon Pertab didn't know I was manic. Or I really am all that! (and he simply didn't want to believe it).  As I read I want to scream at past me who loved him, trusted him, and kept trying to protect him, "he's not protecting you he's breaking you! He's not defending you, he's abusing you!"...and "he is not trying to help you, he is using you..." Truths, so many times revealed, that I still don't want to believe. 

And the Neuroscience Institute, their patient advocates, No way in heaven, hell, or earth, that they didn't know I was manic or at least that I was broken more severely than had been diagnosed and just trying to get the help I needed. 26 pages, that is how long my side of the story was to them, that they told me the director didn't look at because it was not going to change his decision....

AARGHH remembering. All that I have to write about... aargh realizing all that I have been through and just how bad it was... Again. 

And how pointless. Absolutely pointless suffering and reckless endangerment. 

Heavy shit. But I won't stay down. I won't let it bring me to the ground. Or under it. 

I will keep speaking, keep writing, and keep fighting.

Especially since I know there are others who, they keep telling me, are "not as strong."


 


Monday, April 26, 2021

Set Backs

So the USU police officer that did NOT investigate the phone call my son made, but rather did what he could to make it appear that I was behind the phone call -the officer that intemperately and ravenously ate up Cristopher Johnson's lies and story's about me, has decided he will NOT agree to an informal resolution...
This hurts my heart and it is a setback. I don't want to fight to the next and escalated levels this situation should and needs to be fought to, but now I have to. 
Why?
Partially because I am not okay with being dehumanized and treated with no respect or equality. Partially because I have to fight to stand up for both myself and my family. Our civil rights were violated, period. And, although this is not a final reason and there are many more it is the final I will list here -for now, because of how this wears on my body and psyche. 
Now I am fighting suicidal thoughts again and it is both annoying and angering. They are, once again, a symptom, but this time they are a symptom of external problems that I have no control over. This can be more scary because these externally fed and encouraged symptoms starts to alter my internal chemistry and functioning. Then, with the reinforcement of the external validations of my worthlessness and rejections, and as escape from the problems start to seem more and more impossible, my mind starts looking for ways to escape and the path of least resistance that will save my broken brain from the demanding draws on its energies and reserves that this crap takes... Alternatives to fighting this external fight that I know needs to be fought for more that just me... But that is depleting me and hurting me... For all of these reasons, and maybe more, my tired, broken brain starts reminding me, I could always just move onto the next realm, the paradoxical next phase of existence and the solution of non-existence, thus appeasing and becoming what they are all encouraging me to be; less then human and gone. 
The external insanity of our world and people like those I have had to deal with at USU is bringing me down, making it hard to get up in the morning to face each day, and reminding my brain that there is really only one way to escape...
But I refuse to succumb and thus I fight those people in their positions of power and influence who think it is fun to play games with our -their perceived inferiors- lives. 
BUT wait, it gets better!
I expressed my frustration to the Office of Equities girl that is the one who presented the offer for an informal resolution to the police officer and asked her to give him another chance to agree to an informal resolution. I told her, if he really does not agree to an informal resolution then I would be escalating this to the degree it should be escalated to. Now keep in mind, an informal resolution is the thing that should be least difficult, punitive and consequential to him, and the route that would be most easy on myself and my family even though governing bodies would not be notified and alerted to this officer's bad practices the way they should be. Guess what the Office of Equities girl says about this? She tells me I am coercing and retaliating now if I file those complaints, and in violation of university policy 503 and she has to report that.
WHAT THE HELL?
Stupidest part, even though this angers me, I try to understand, put myself in her shoes, and I respond with empathy for her. Then I turn to friends and family to express my pain, set back and frustration. They are angry and annoyed, and confused with how I could be sympathetic at all to this obviously out of line lady who is now accusing me of coercion and retaliation for: refusing to allow myself to be bullied and mistreated, giving second chances for the perpetrator of harm to have some human decency and treat me with some form of equatable regard, and for letting them know my intentions instead of go straight to the actions that should result in the most consequential and punitive repercussions for this officer.
... Now I am being accused of bullying for not allowing myself (and my family) to be bullied and mistreated. And coercing a man I have never even talked to, but should have, because that was HIS job in the first place. 
This is victim blaming and shaming at its finest. It's heartbreaking again and very literally exhausting. My body does not want to wake up and my mind wants to escape.
So with no further ado I will allow the justifiable anger to escape to the degree that is merited as I bid farewell to these thoughts and offer the officer, professor, and Alison, there well earned regards of fuck you!

Saturday, April 24, 2021

the troublesome task of telling telling tales

 Chapters 9- infinity

thats where I am at in my book. I am taking a break now. Taking a break from writing by writing... Silly. 

I'm to the point in my story where I am literally breaking. It is the start of mania, triggered by the perfect storm of misdiagnosed TBI, ankle injury and bad timing and testing of a questionable therapist. This is the point that is very difficult to explain and even harder to know how to write. Especially because I already have so much of it written down in my embarrassingly titled "Self Discovery Report" that dear JP would not partake of from me. The forbidden fruit of his labors. 

Sigh...

oh why?

liberating am I

to tell the truths of so many lies

that kept me trapped 

in the insanity

of institutions 

that dictate ethics 

by paychecks and titles

and all of their mistakes they don't want to be held liable. 

Thursday, April 22, 2021

Please Excuse my New Zealand French

 As I read and review what I was going through at that point in time when I was breaking and becoming more and more manic, I can't help but think, "what the hell was he thinking?" And, "how in the hell could he think and act like it was all normal? Like I was normal and fine" because I was not normal. I was weird. I was saying weird things and behaving in weird ways. I was not okay. But I sure as hell was fighting hard to be. 

How the hell did I have people convinced that I was okay? Or did I? Why the hell weren't people more concerned than they were?  ...and it kind of hurts. But I am not letting it... because

I was so freaking weird.

Damn, Pertab, what the hell were you thinking? And what the hell was wrong with you

He had to have been pretty damn broken himself. Or bad. Or weird himself. Or did he genuinely get lost and caught up in me and the superpowers I possessed when I was manic?

...or is he diabolical?



Monday, April 19, 2021

Love is not all you need.

 I am away. I have run away. 

Kind of.

I am at my friend's house, in some of the smaller mountains of Idaho. Really, for Idaho, they are not mountains, rather pine covered hills that peak high enough to retain snow just a little more and a little longer than the areas surrounding. They are beautiful and peaceful hills with a nicely moderate climate and scattered homesteads. My friend and her family, that includes a daughter with my namesake, moved here just last year and it is my first time here. It's a nice place to run away to for the purpose of writing a book.

It is also a safe place. 

And I have been pleasantly surprised to find that the lack of association with anything related to my experiences of the past few years has been helpful. It is making the writing of this story (into a book form) easier. 

At least so far. 

Right now I am taking a break to write out a bit of pain that is resurfacing. I have been reading some of my writings from the time of my breaking. This morning I wanted to see how what I was writing in my personal journaling, that, at the time, I referred to as "my self discovery report," compared to what I actually said to Dr. Pertab in email...

It's heartbreakingly devastating again. 

And I can easily see, looking back, why it broke me so completely and dangerously. I was so obviously manic and in a highly vulnerable place. The devastation is because of how it was ignored, dismissed and twisted. 

It hurts my heart and I once again feel so very confused by how He could deny it and do nothing to make sure I got the appropriate help I needed. 

It was so obvious. 

And I want to write to him about it. I want to ask him: Why? 

Which I have already done, every way I can, and have had that used against me. So I know better. Which is why I am on here again. Exposing my burdens, my pain, and my shame and asking him Why? 

Why?

I say I am lucky to be alive and to have made it through that. It's not an exaggeration. I am lucky to have navigated, endured, and survived that level of psychological breaking, and of psychosis, that was also associated with an injury to the impulse control and mood stability control center of the brain. 

I am lucky. 

He? Disappointed? 

It genuinely hurts and probably will every time. 

And I am especially saddened to know that Jon Pertab is no better than the very bad professor Christopher Johnson, who is willing to take harming a student (and her kids) to any level he can simply to protect himself from legitimate complaints that might be filed against him...

That makes me the saddest. 

Because I loved Jon

but I never loved professor Johnson. 

Friday, April 16, 2021

slow processor

It's funny that even still things will pop into my mind and I will say "oh, now I understand."
It's been 3 months and I'm still just figuring things out. This should not come as a surprise, given the neuropsych tests performed showed I was much slower at processing new information. I am intelligent enough but admittedly it can take some time and use of neuroplasticity to process and fully understand new information. And though I will admit I enjoy added cryptic challenges, it can make the deciphering of new information take even longer, especially under emotional stress.
"I don't believe in forever anymore" he said and I didn't know what he meant. It has replayed in my head but made little sense to me.
But I think I get it now.
It was a fleeting moment. Fleeting chemistry? Not a forever feeling. What I was feeling was real but wouldn't last? what he was feeling was real but wouldn't last? He also expressed a contradiction with the latter, that added to confusion.
We humans are so often walking contradictions.
And I am certain I have killed any "fatal attraction" that may or may not have existed (your welcome)
But for me I suppose I didn't really care if it lasted forever or not. I believe in forever and forever is altered by what we do with right now. My forever is forever altered
... and that is okay. It will take time to figure this out and to heal, or maybe I never will heal completely but I have eternity to work it out so that makes it okay.
For him it was a compromise of too much for feelings he does not believe in. I see why and he may just be right but he may also be wrong.
forever is a long time to wait though and with the promise of never I suppose that is why I'm burning it to the ground. At least for him, I'm sure.
"that'll never happen" people keep assuring me when I explain that I just want a real conversation, when I am not in manic survival mode, fighting to keep what I most needed; and I want to understand what happened without their being fears of repercussions for him. But he is the one who has so much to lose by being honest.
I have already lost it all. My safe place where I finally had some answers and understanding. The profession and the professional who actually could help me understand and figure out what I was and am from a psychological, biological, and scientific perspective. The guidance, confidence and appreciation of my uniqueness that was building my confidence in myself, helping me learn to love, appreciate and care for myself. A person I connected easily with and had complete faith in. A person who seemed to genuinely care for me, was patient and kind and who was also interesting and beautiful to me. ...and so much more, but only for a fleeting moment.
I've already lost everything I wished to gain... I have nothing left to loose there, but he does... I wish I didn't care so much. I wish I didn't feel so much.
I am feeling less and less but if I am not careful that fades me into the lost and broken me that is worthless and easily discarded. the part of me that I actually did open up about...
If I don't turn this into something, this ultimate of rejections, I am completely broken and unrepairable. It is a make or break me moment and I have to at least try to stand up for my value as a person, and as a client. I can not be so easily discarded by the people who I am paying to help me believe that I am of worth.
It is not easy to explain...

Monday, April 12, 2021

The Run Away Bunny

"I just need a moment to write this out," I think to myself as my throat tightens and my eyesight begins to blur from the fluid that is welling up in my eyes. 

I am trying to gather the things I think I should take with me on my book writing journey. I am looking through the journal I was writing at the time that Dr. He broke me. I find some entries from 12/1/2018, 12/2/2018 and 12/3/2018. On the 1st I am new person, peaceful, resolved, cool and collective, as well as completely confident with the "new me" that Dr. He helped me to find. On the 2nd I am not sure what is happening and as I write anger emerges. By the 3rd I am exhausted and confused. It can be difficult to read. This time those are not so difficult to read rather they are quite fascinating and intriguing. 

I decide to rewind my story as I flip pages back. I am curious about the lead up and how I documented that. I read from some dates in August of the same year (2018). These entries read more like a typical journal entry and are not nearly as... exciting?... as the the previously mentioned. As I read them I find these entries -that are more reminiscent of normal me- more difficult to read. This is when I start to feel the knot in my throat and the tears starting to well as I realize how much more simple my life was and how much more simple, basic, and naive I was. 

I am so much more complex now. My life is complex. My brain is complex. Everything feels so much more complex and I am burdened with knowledge of just how naive I was about the systems and institutions that are supposed to and were set up to "help" and "protect." 

As I read I find, stirring in me, a longing for that blissful ignorance... an ignorance and innocence that I will never be able to return to. 

What a strange thing. And in tao honesty, I would not actually want to go back 

because it was not really all that blissful. I know this, because if it had actually been blissful I would have been much more immune to and less effected by Dr. He's careless and/or careful plantings of romantic transference and his implications of romantic countertransference

So as I prepare to run away to tackle these profoundly life altering phenomenons I am again hit with the realization that it will be difficult. Which is precisely why I am running away to focus on this. 

It is the story that circumstances continue to channel me back to. The culminating event, the yin and yang, the greatest mysteries and discoveries of my life. 

Stories are interesting in the way they seem to take on their own life. Some stories want to buried. Some stories want to be told. But some stories have to be told and they will not rest nor will they allow you to alter your course until you give them the attention they need. You have to tell them. That is how this story is, it will not allow me to redirect, move on, or bury it. It has to be told. So I might as well honor that by allowing it to be written into the book I keep promising it I'll write. 

...and one more thing. I am so very grateful to have the medical-psychiatric-psychological team I have now. 

Monday, March 29, 2021

Learned Helplessness and PTSD

 Afraid.

Learned helplessness and PTSD. They are real deals. 

I am trying to keep a silver-lining outlook and stay positive and upbeat about all of these lessons I have learned these last few years, but sometimes, it's just hard.

A lot of times it's hard.

I have so many things I need to do but I am afraid. I feel safe in this spot on the couch but that safety seems to end when I try to face what I need to do. Like working on the insurance settlement. My attorney friend allowed me to fire him so I could try on my own to get as much as I could out of the uninsured policy. Money that I need considering the deficits I now have and the chronic medical and psychological care that at times feels and/or seems to be terminal. Money I need because working full-time now is proving to be impossible especially within my chosen field and for which I am licensed as an elementary school teacher. The amount it would cost to have my attorney do this job is equivalent to a years teaching salary and the maximum I could get is only enough to cover three years wages and no benefits. So I feel like I at least have to try to get the settlement myself if my attorney friend is okay with that. He is a very good person and said he was. He understands. I am grateful to him. 

...but now I am sitting here trying to muster the courage to even send the records along that my attorney friend sent me. I am so afraid that I will screw it up and end up in worse shape... 

It is not hard to see why I would be feeling theses things. My recent past makes it very obvious why. I keep thinking that my ability to recognize it will help give me the strength and courage to move past it more easily. But it is not easy. And I am afraid... Then I feel pathetic... But really, I am not. I would never think that of a different person if I knew they had been through what I have been through so I probably should not think that of myself either. 

I am trying. But damn this is so much harder than one would expect. Learned helplessness and PTSD now added to my repertoire. 

Repertoire of mental health issues to face and overcome. 

I am very grateful I am in a place and have a husband that allows me to take my time, but maybe that too is a double edged sword. It is much easier to hide and avoid if you do not have to face it... Weird how I feel myself relating to demographics I never thought I would ever relate to, like basement boys who resort to gaming for gratification and fulfillment. -or is it safety and security? 

Anyway, here I am again, blogging it out... so that I can avoid what really scares me right now, which is interacting with people and especially with people that have power over me and could help me significantly but that I know are more likely going to be trying to help me as little as they can and do what they can to get out of their obligation to help in the way they are supposed to. 

this is when I just want to curl up -like my dog- and go back to sleep... Gotta fight that. Any suggestions? 

Of course not. You are a silent, invisible and mostly nonexistent audience. Hmmm we have something in common. Not that I am those things, rather that is what I am expected to be. ...and the conditioning just might be working... which is why it is called learned helplessness. 

Sunday, March 28, 2021

Set the recored straight

Sometimes I get brave and share this blog with people. Occasionally I even share it on social media. Overall, just like in realtime life, I am overlooked and/or ignored. Which does hurt a little. When I reflect on why that is, I do understand many reasons why. I have done it and been that person myself and it really is not great for people to dwell too much on the topics I bring up. So I get it. But there is one concern I have that I would like to set the record straight on. It is one of the main reasons I speak and why I wish people would not ignore me. It's the subject of suicide. 

I am very qualified to talk about that, and I understand it from many perspectives. Remember, I have a brother who died this way. But I also know the stereotype that may be why people ignore me and that is the record I would like to set straight. 

It is true that there are people in this world who threaten and even make half assed attempts at suicide for attention. For some it may be a legitimate cry for help but for others it really is a form of manipulation. I dare say those of the latter are not nearly as common as people might believe. Kind of like sue happy people who are looking to cash in on medical malpractice. The vast majority of us do not fit those molds and yet within the worlds that these two atypical stereotypes exist the concepts seem to be regarded as the norm rather than the exceptions that they are. This practice is very dangerous for those majorities that don't fit into those overly exaggerated "stereotypes." 

Anyway, my point here and now, is that I have never attempted suicide. I will admit that once, when I was 19, I took a few more of my Paxils (medication) than I should have and maybe had a slight hope that I would not wake up from it, but mostly I just wanted to feel it. I wanted to quiet what was going on inside of me and I wanted to really feel what this drug was doing. I don't really count it as an attempt. Especially since I called poison control (or something like that) almost immediately after when I realized that was a stupid thing to do. I called from a payphone so they could not track me. Basically if it was not too big of a deal, I did not want this impulsive mishap to be brought to the attention of any person I knew. 

Since then I have never done anything that can even be considered an attempt. And I want this to be clear because of how difficult it can be to handle suicidal thoughts and impulses when your chemistry is out of whack. People really have no idea how easy it would be to commit suicide just to quiet what is going on in your broken brain and even to appease what society and people I knew, loved and trusted seemed to want me to be. Suicidal impulses to often are glutinously fed by the way you are so often treated for even discussing them. 

I still feel some fear that the more impulsive suicidal symptoms might someday overcome my rational brain. So I listen to that fear but don't let it dictate. I pay attention to the suicidal thoughts, feelings, impulsive and voices and I treat them as the symptoms they are. 

I do not and have not attempted. 

And I assure you, if I had, or if I do, that is one thing I would be successful at. This is something that people who have never experienced true out of balance chemistry really don't understand. This is why I talk about it and hope that others will share and talk about too. 

Because for those who are truly at risk, you likely have no idea, until it is too late. 

If people dare talk about it, Please listen. And if someone is struggling with a mental illness, please don't ignore. Treat them with compassion, dignity and respect. Help them recognize and get the help they need. Stand up for them when they need it and be willing to intervene when they are falling prey/victim to negative perceptions, stereo-types and mistreatment. They are so much more vulnerable than you know. 



Thursday, March 25, 2021

Only time will tell

 Sometimes very small things can be quite surprising. 

I am writing. Working on "the book" that I keep promising random strangers and many people I know that I will write for them.  The story of how my therapist broke me ...and how I may have broken him. A story of forbidden love ...or was it grooming? Regardless, when coupled with an actual, misdiagnosed brain injury, it nearly cost my life. 

Obviously I will need to change names. From this blog you will see that I clearly have trouble committing to substitute names and sometimes I have felt it is too overwhelming a burden to come up with appropriate and fitting replacement names. Especially for Dr. He, JP, Perri Cheri, the master marionette that broke me. I am not feeling that so much anymore. So today as I am reading and revising some of what I have already written I am changing his actual name to what I have decided is an acceptable replacement name. 

And it is rather surprising how satisfying it feels to erase his actual name and put in its place a replacement name. It takes the edge off and redirects my attached emotions that still want me to believe in the illusion created. As I write about it now he is becoming a story and the fictitious person he really was. A fictional character that I am not actually attached to. 

This is a happy and liberating moment for me and I am savoring it. Which is also why I came on here to share. 

Rewriting the story is now taking the edge off. Maybe that is when you are finally ready to take on a previously insurmountable task undertaking. Maybe this how you know it is safe for you to proceed and it is time. 

Time to tell your story. 

and 

Time to write the book. 

Tiny Victories will eventually add up if you keep on fighting, trying, working, practicing. 

and Living. 


Sunday, March 21, 2021

Life's Lots

 A cousin who, to me, is absolutely amazing, recently vented on Instagram that she is tired of hearing people complain about their lot in life. Very few people can get away with saying something like this, however she can because she has had to rise above, again and again, very devastating, heartbreaking and unbelievably unfair circumstances. But still I was hesitant to offer a "like" to her post because I think it highly likely I can be perceived as one of those whom she is complaining about... 

Silly, really, why that would keep me from encouraging a post like this, but I guess that is precisely where my conflict lies: Do I want to encourage a post like this? Coming from this particular person it is more meaningful and not condemning and I know that, but do others? My main concern is that there are people whose lot in life needs to be talked about and brought to light in order to change some very bad policies, practices, and societal norms that are creating bad lots for other people too. 

I have been reflecting on my lot in life and my complaints about it and this is the conclusion I have come to: I am not all that bothered by my lot in life. Would I rather have a different lot? If I could hand pick my lot in life, you bet I would choose something different. However, that does not mean I feel sorry for myself for my lot in life. On the contrary I think my lot in life has been pretty incredible in so many ways and I feel very fortunate that I have my particular lot. What I am most "dissatisfied" with or maybe, rather, what really bothers me most about my lot in life is how other people treat and even perceive me because of it, as is so plainly evidenced by so many aspects of my recent circumstances. 

This harsh reality of my misfit and even misunderstood status to people who do not know me was countered the other day when I was hanging out with my 17 year old daughter. She was sharing with me a game she likes to play on her phone that is all about making outfits for beautiful anime style characters.  As she was looking through some of the designs she shared with me one that she said reminds her of me. She pointed out the features and explained why they reminded her of me. Here she is:

It is very meaningful to me that my daughter, somebody who lives with me everyday and has seen me at my best, my worst and everything in between, and somebody that knows me better than anyone else, perceives me to be angelic, beautiful, and so many others things that this picture embodies. 
And that is what really mattes. As long as my kids see me as something beautiful and, as my son demonstrated, someone worth standing up for, than I know I am still okay. It is nice to know that those who actually know me, know that I am not what our cultural and societal biases want to make me out to be. I hope that others may someday see and understand that better and not condemn and discriminate against people so easily for the unfortunate and/or unchosen aspects of their lot in life.

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

No Complaint

 Decision. 

It has been so hard for me to do. 

"That is why I have not encouraged you one way or another," says Dr. She. Because she knows, as history has shown, that it is not likely to go anywhere that will benefit me in any way. She is also a bit concerned that this reality would be another hit to my self worth, esteem, and faith in humanity. 

Faith in humanity -I'll be tangential for a moment- is not something I currently have. Faith in God and higher powers is where I am choosing to put my trust, because humans, I have learned, cannot be trusted and all with turn depending on the circumstances, some more easily than others. So that does not seem to matter, the faith in humanity component, except that for some strange Taoist reason it still does. 

So what is the "it" I speak of?

The complaints I feel need to be filed against the Intermountain Neuroscience Institute, the mysterious "director" who shall not be named (they would not name him/her to me, which is rather suspicious when you consider that he/she was the supposed judge of the "investigation" they had me do through their "patient experiences team" ), the office director Melissa Minton, my multiple times misdiagnosing and then negligent ex-medical doctor Dr. Cara Camiolo Reddy, my misdiagnosing and possibly grooming ex-neuropsychologist Dr. Jon Pertab, the deceptive and dishonest patient advocate Jodi Allen, and the rest of the obviously gossipy staff there. Complaints that should be filed with licensing boards, legal authorities, etc. 

I feel as though this is coming out in a rather kersplat-splat form, so please bear with me... Maybe I will simply list the points I'd like to make here; the confession I am confessing (in no particular order, or maybe precisely in order, I don't quite know as kersplat-splat I go):

  • I am naming names on this blog entry, my freedom of speech needing to be honored and protected in order to hold accountable, in someway, those who caused harm to me and are very likely to have caused and are currently causing harm to others as well. A person is rarely the only one in such situations and considering how it was handled, it is very obvious I am not the only one being harmed by IHC and/or the Intermountain Neuroscience Institutes policies, practices and providers. I have vacillated on naming names and currently names have been replaced throughout my blog, to protect myself, but on this entry they stay. 
  • They stay, because I will not be reporting to all of those places. I know I have said I will and it should all be reported, but I have tested those waters by reporting the attorney that misrepresented himself as a malpractice attorney and for $1500 wrote a response to the letter from the bullying lawyer who claimed to be representing Jon Pertab, Jodi Allen and the Intermountain Neuroscience Institute, and then acted for months as if he were collecting records and gathering reports from expert witnesses. With the exception of the initial contract and the letter that simply stated we will not cease and desist and that he was investigating, nothing ever materialized. When it became obvious he was not ever going to follow through with anything he said he was going to do we fired him. Neither records nor refund have ever materialized even though we requested both several times. So, I decided to test the waters on this lesser but clear, obvious and straightforward offense. Nothing. Why bother reporting if nothing comes of it? 
  • That just causes more harm to me. 
  • And it also has the potential to feed the beastly IHC practices of dishonesty and deception. If they can get away with it, they will continue. 
  • Even if they were "honest mistakes" (which many clearly were not) they will feel as if they are the victim and further stigmatize and distrust their patients who are not what they mistakenly and egregiously think they are. In other words, they will feel/believe the Magnificent Masterminds of the Medical Malpractice Model, their unnecessary attorneys, and continue in those thinking and perception errors that cause so much harm to their patients. 
  • In regards to the possibly not-so-honest mistakes, for example, if Jon Pertab really is a mischievous manipulative mastermind who grooms patients for his own pleasures, then his ego, sense of power and confidence in what he can get away with may be stroked to the next level by knowing just how easily he can and does get away with it. His power over his clients and sense of superiority greatly increased as my value and worth, power and voice is repeatedly invalidated, ignored, and decreased.  Yang devouring Yin as it so often does in this world of masculine favoring disproportions. 
  • I know it is ridiculous and completely unrealistic but I still would rather work things out with that Institution and those named above than be their enemy. I would happily revise this, I would happily revise my google reviews, I would love for them to be what I originally believed them to be, and I would rather help them to become it. I want them to help people in ways they have potential to, so I suppose I also don't report because I still have a shred of hope for that. I hope they are honest but misguided. I hope they can be better than they have been. I hope they will choose to correct their mistakes instead of digging their heels in and perpetuating harm... as I right it I know how unrealistic that is, they have proven so solidly that they really just don't care.... but I would rather cling to a thread of hope then have that thread severed by the last possible level of "accountability" also disregarding the problems that cost me too much and nearly my life. 
So, my confession? I will not be reporting. It seems rather pointless to put my energies there and to hope that any good will come of it. Instead I have done what I can by publishing reviews on google and writing on this here blog. That is more likely to help other patients and potential patients than going through their motions and trying to report to the other powers and egos that they pay licensing fees to. 
IHC sadly solidly maintains their position of "absolute power corrupts absolutely," and a person as small as me holds no sway. It is sad and heartbreaking the lack of honesty and accountability by so many involved, and I hope they are better than they have proven to be with me, but it is time for me to move past this idea of reporting so my mind can be free to work on the things that I can do that actually might go somewhere and benefit others. 
...And this idea makes me feel happy and lighter.  
So no complaint, but rather I will rely on my constitutional right to Freedom of Speech. 

Saturday, March 13, 2021

annoyed

 Tired but not sleeping.

 I have been doing so well. Especially since upping my dose of quetiapine another 100mg. So why am I not sleeping. Lying in bed, tired, but sleep is eluding me... My mind, although it is not racing it still won't sleep.

Prior to, going to bed, I was feeling those feelings a bit again. Annoying. And baffling. Why on earth does my mind play that way, even still, at certain times and for no seeming reason at all? Perplexing. And even a bit fascinating. The trap. 

Annoyed also by the media's portrayal again and again of "bipolar" and the "mentally ill." At least this time, in the reference watched, they included a quote from a judge, the court, or some knowledgeable professional who pointed out that many people have the same diagnosis and mental illnesses but that they do not do things so egregious as the person in this show - the person that those narrating keep reminding us is "mentally ill" in so many ways that suggest that is the reason for this persons wretchedness. It is not. So I am glad for the statement, but one statement does little to counter the previous and following slew of biased and bigoted statements against the bipolar demographics of our societies. 

I am so tired of this. 

Bipolar does not make one bad, evil, or criminal and many many bad, evil, and criminal people are not at all bipolar. 

It's very misunderstood. 

And very likely there are various kinds, more than just I and II. I'd even be willing to wager my insurance settlement (that is a fraction of what it should be) that there are ways to measure true manic episodes with brain imaging, hormone levels and/or some other physiological means. I bet, if those 0h-so-brilliant doctors and scientist would start consistently testing they would find more significant and common patterns emerging. Patterns that they could then use to predict, measure, and even diagnose. I bet they'd then find that they can better and more accurately treat the varieties and conditions of bipolar in ways that are much more effective and efficient and that would benefit everyone greatly. 

Annoyed. 

I am annoyed that so much science, reason, and common decency is lacking for those with this burden to bare. 

"Is this why I am not sleeping?" I wonder. But alas, it is not. Such annoyances no longer cause sleepless nights. A bit sad is the reality of what that means, which is that it is TOO DAMN COMMON. 

But still, this is not why I am still tired but wired wide awake. 

"Damn drugs," I growl as I remember the side-track that kept me from taking them tonight.

"Stupid, dumb Seroquel..." I curse as I roll out of bed and sulk down the stairs to my cocktail cabinet to find my begrudged drug of choice. 

begrudged and beloved... I am both sad and glad to have it. 

It is still very strange to me just how much I need it and how much of a miracle it has been and continues to be...

I am knotting and tearing now as I reflect on this journey but only enough to keep me safely in check. I am so sad that I need it as much as I do and both surprised and disappointed that my brain is still so fragile that even forgetting one night I won't sleep and cycles return...

So sad that this is my new norm. And that I have to keep facing it with so much oppression and so many oppressive misunderstandings and misrepresentations. So sad and mad at the injustices that I am not allowed a fair fight or representation in. 

Cache County prosecution; the new oppressive regime. They attempted to criminalize me for nothing I did, the harsh punishment and trials of their "honest mistake" falling solely on me (and my family). Yet, even with admission from the horses mouth of the horses who acted criminally against me, they say the evidence is "too subjective" to file charges or even to investigate for the crimes against me and my family that actually in reality happened and have caused us significant harm. Their transgressions are not subjectively interpreted misdeeds made by a child or stories made up and then attempted to prove; they are actually committed and documented violations of my, and possibly my son's, civil and legal rights. So why aren't they criminally charging now?

It is enough to drive a person insane. Gaslighting their fun little game. (and actually the most likely culprit for the needed upping of doses.)

Freaking jack asses and puppets of masses. Good ole boys club, each others ego's to rub. and whatever else they demand from each other. I'd rather stay out of that perverted matrix of misogyny anyway. 

...Kicking in. I'm tired again. And this time in the form that will actually allow me to sleep. Good night. 


Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Civil Rights and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

 Dr. Martin Luther King Junior is one of my all time greatest heroes. I have so much admiration for him and he offers so much insight and inspiration. 

I love that man.

Right now I am trying to help my daughter with her IB IAs, EEs, HL's, cc's eps or whatever the heck they are... what I know is it is a ton of research and writing and, with all she has been doing and the the stupid ways Covid has effected her education, it is an awful big load for her. So one way she asked me to help is to read some of Dr. Kings works so I could discuss with her the topic she is presenting for one those previously referenced acronym labeled papers. This is a way I am happy and excited to help. 

I am now reading MLK's Letter From Birmingham Jail. I have read this letter before and was absolutely blown away by it and by Dr. King and that is happening again as I read it this time. 

His tenacity and commitment to his cause is so impressive. This is a black man who managed to obtain a Phd at a time when that was virtually impossible and there were even laws in place to make this even more difficult. Yet he did. But this is significant for many more reasons then most will initially recognize and one of those reasons is because it means that Dr. King was in a significantly better position then the people he was standing up for and standing with. He could have easily enjoyed certain levels of privilege and freedom that other racial minorities seldom did, and he even could have benefitted all the more for it in numerous ways if he wanted to. But he did not place himself above his "colored" kin nor was he willing to capitalize on their tragedies. He was held and high esteem and regard by many people from both black and white demographics, but he would not bask in this glory for his own gain, rather he used it to help his repressed and underprivileged peers. 

And he did it with so much strength of character, vigor, and commitment that I am awe inspired every time I read about him or from him. 

He served jail time for such unjust reasons, yet it did not deter him. He was threatened, his house was bombed, and abused, yet he kept going and kept fighting. (https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/peace/1964/king/biographical/ He endured so much.

So, for many reasons, I am brought to tears as I read and think about this great man. One of those reasons is because of how I can relate. It has shocked me at time's how well he describes some of the exact things I -a white female so many years later- am enduring. In his Letter From Birmingham Jail he says:

"I MUST make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."
Now lets substitute a few words:

"I MUST make two honest confessions to you, my [fellow public service sector workers]. First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the [TBI and/or psychological industry professionals]. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the [TBI survivor and/or "mentally ill" person's] great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom [, healing, recovery, and fair treatment]  is not the [average ignorant and discriminating people we face everyday] but the [TBI and/or psychological industry professionals and law enforcement officials] who [are] more devoted to order than to justice; who prefer a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises the [TBI survivor and/or "mentally ill person"] to wait until a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will [and who are supposed to be the professionals on your condition] is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection." 

...and now I need sleep because this can be a lot for my brain to handle... the disadvantage that I have that Dr. King did not have and one of the main reasons I cry and am crying now as I read his great works. I physically cannot fight the way he did... the very disadvantage that has me fighting and wanting to be as strong as MLK are what keeps me from being able to AND what keeps my people stuck in the ignorant stigma's and biases that keep us underserved, underprivileged, disadvantaged, misunderstood, taken advantage of, abused, and repressed...

time to step away. I am exploding out of my eyes again...

Injustices are tolerated, accepted and even expected for my kind and the biggest resent-able difference between my plight and that of Dr. King's is that we (my people) are not really told to "wait until a 'more convenient time,'" rather we are told, "that's just how it is." My civil rights are an easy century behind the civil rights of women in general and minority races....

So I fight, as week as it is, and I hope someday civil rights of all people will be protected and I wonder if it would have been better to have let my criminal charges go to court; if by doing that I may have found some protection in the upset of the judge at his prosecuting attorney's being up to no good. But who knows who is really part of the Cache County good'ol'boys club.. 



Thursday, February 25, 2021

Modern day crusader, reframer, or is it PTS?

 Reframing your thinking is a really great skill to have. ... and I think this entry is going to be, as Renée would put it, a kersplat-splat kind of entry.

Crusader. 

More than once I have been labeled as such. But I don't really think of myself as that. I struggle to get out of bed too much to be a crusader. And I struggle to find the energy and will to keep trying and keep fighting.  I lose my steam and hide away far too much to be a crusader. 

Two days ago my attorney friend called me this, a crusader. Then I met with my dear sweet friend Renée who has called me a Joan of Arc. So I found myself reflecting on this idea and, as you see from the previous paragraph, that today's conclusion is that I am not really a crusader. But these thoughts are my thoughts today as I try to find in me the strength to make certain phone calls and write to certain people. 

Kersplat and rewind to the day before yesterday, when I tell my husband that my attorney friend says I am a crusader. He says, "I've told you that before."  This feeds the epiphany of that moment which was, "Well, if I am crusader then let me be a crusader." Not that my husband was discouraging it, rather, I was speaking to myself. 

Earlier that day, with Renée, she reminded me and helped me to reframe my thinking. She did not mean to, she just has that kind of positive influence when she shares her story and shows me how she is handling it. Her story is so tragic and her tiny female frame has endured far more than any person should ever have to go through, yet she is still so kind and generous. She keeps trying and keeps working on herself and what she can do. She has to choose everyday to wake up and be a warrior in ways that few will ever understand or appreciate. Renée is choosing to fight by trying to speak out in ways that highlight the positive of the victims. She has very righteous indignation and has suffered injustices that are beyond appalling from individuals and the systems that are supposed to protect her. Yet she is reframing in order to handle it in ways that keep rage and anger from over-powering her and turning her into a similar creature of destruction. I am so impressed by how massively amazing this tiny little lady is. 

And this is how she helped to me reframe two days ago: I do not need to keep fighting, I just need to keep speaking. 

So I couple that with the crusader comments and that is what led to the epiphany of: I might as well crusade if I am a crusader....

But crusading these days and in this country looks very different than it did in Joan of Arc's days. 

And today, as I struggle -as I mentioned earlier-, as I fight to overcome the "learned helplessness" and the beat-downs of the injustices, I am certain, that I am not a crusader... I am only a tired old lady who won't shut up and is haunted by PTS (post-traumatic-stress) when I try to.  -PTS, that is what Dr. She pointed out to me yesterday. That is what it she says the haunting is, and this makes sense.  

damned if I do and damned if I don't

2:06 pm and I still haven't gone for a walk. I made 1 phone call, left a message. I took a nap before that. And I look at my front door... too scared to leave. A new sort of homebody that I have never been before. This is not me. I not really scared... and yet it is and I am. 

too scared to leave, too scared to follow through with the many projects I have started. I am not a crusader... I am just a victim.

It's not what I want to be, but right now that is all that I am. No voice, no one listening, and no fights being won. A crusader is only a crusader if they are heard and if they have some power of influence. 

Furthermore, I don't think that standing up for oneself really makes one a crusader. Being a victim who won't shut up about it, is not at all the same as a crusader... It's just a person trying to not be a victim anymore. That is very different.

I am not a crusader. I am scared and scarred and today I give up and I give in. 

Sunday, February 21, 2021

Did Bipolar Kill Elisa Lam?

 Bipolar.

It's a life threatening illness that people don't dare talk about. Or maybe just I don't dare talk about it in regards to me... I have learned, it brings trouble and people will use it against you. But it needs to be talked about. 

Elisa Lam. 

You can read about her here: https://people.com/crime/what-to-know-about-elisa-lams-death-featured-in-netflixs-the-vanishing-at-the-cecil-hotel/

here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Elisa_Lam

you can watch the mysterious elevator video of her here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rfLSVIA0L0

And the criticism of the Netflix documentary -that I agree with, although I am not so sure the criticism goes far enough- you can read here: https://www.cnet.com/news/netflixs-cecil-hotel-documentary-an-irresponsible-bloated-mess/

My husband was watching the Netflix documentary about Elisa Lam and the Cecil Hotel in LA and her mysterious disappearance and death that were never satisfactorily explained. After enduring some of the second episode I was bored with it and a bit annoyed in ways similar to those mentioned in the aforementioned article on cnet.com. So I did a little research on my own.

Apparently Elisa Lam had bipolar. That same life-threatening condition that I have and that I have learned is not safe to talk about since I will, more often than not, be discriminated against for it and/or treated differently in ways that tend to feed the negative side of normal human duality and the more abnormal duality of bipolar. This is a contributing factor to why so many people with bipolar stop taking medication. Something that the autopsy reports of Elisa Lam suggested she may have done. It is reported that trace amounts of the medications used to treat bipolar suggest that she was either "under-medicated" or had stopped taking her medication. The number of pills they found support that finding. So does her behavior. 

So many interesting things to note about this girl and her story. Like the hotels location and connections to Skid Row and the drug culture that heavily infiltrated the area. Elisa Lam was decreasing her mind altering drugs when she was in the midst of heavy mind altering drug using demographic. Having been manic, I might suggest that the same highs that others needed drugs for, Elisa Lam may have been able to achieve by avoiding her drugs. I wonder how her location and associations there effected her decisions in regards to taking her mind-altering medications. Personally, when I have felt there is a comparison of me to a Skid-Row kind of crowd, I find I want to distance myself from any association with the my "mental illness" and any mind altering drug use, even though they are prescribed by a doctor.  

Elisa Lam was only twenty-one and the documentary mentions that she had been acting a bit strange. Strange enough that it was making her roommates uncomfortable enough to have her moved to a different room. When we are in hypomanic ups sometimes it makes people uncomfortable. But there are also things that people love about it and in so doing they encourage it. Unfortunately, when authentic bipolar is the reason for it, those lovable attributes are too easily overlooked by the annoying and/or uncomfortable ones that people who live with you or who have closer associations are more inclined to notice. Those are the signs and symptoms that indicate you are becoming increasingly less stable and increasingly more vulnerable. Yet, just as it seems in Elisa Lam's case, people tend to ostracize and punish the vulnerable sick person more than they think to intervene and get them help. 

The video. 

There are so many comments and speculations about the video. It is commonly expressed that she was acting strange. But I don't see it that way. I see the creative playful or paranoid imagination seeping out of a person with bipolar. I speculate, in the video, she is in a more playful phase. Her body language, movements, etc. seem much more relaxed and playful then tense and scared. As we are watching the elevator video and listening to the speculating commentary on her hand movements and abnormal behavior, I see nothing particularly abnormal... But I also have bipolar, so what is not-so-abnormal to me can be seen as very abnormal to others and I will confess and explain, though I have behaved in similar ways and could see myself behaving very similar at age 21, I was not and am not all that likely to behave that way when I am appropriately medicated and stable. From what I see, though it is strange that the doors don't close Elisa Lam could easily be in a hypo-manic phase. It may have progressed to full-blown mania. Either way, I can easily see how she could end up in the water tank on top of the roof. 

Here is what my manic comprehending mind would suggest:

The elevator was not working. Elisa opted to take the stairs. At some point, either for the purpose of getting to a different level, or just for the sake of having an exploratory adventure (which she was obvious attracted to or she would not have been in LA in the first place) she decides to take the fire-escape route. Why not go all the way to the roof? So up she goes. One report says certain areas were locked, which would be all the more exciting to explore; the locks presenting a puzzle and/or a mystery begging to be solved.  Once on the roof, she sees the tanks and decides to check them out. One report says there was not a ladder, I do not know if that is accurate, but if there was not and I was in Elisa's some-level-of-manic shoes, I might wedge myself between two of the tanks and spider-crawl up to the top. Being in her shoes I might feel rather proud of my developing super powers and reveling in my height achieving victories might arouse my appetite for even more adventure. 

The heavy lid that one report says was not on the tank when the man found Elisa Lam's body, may have already been off when she got to the top. but it did not need to be. At that point, assuming she is in the magical-manic-wonderland, she would have had added strength and removing that lid would have presented another exciting challenge. Super strength proven once again, there are several plausible manic minded rationales as to how or why she ended up in the water tank. I suggest three. 

1.  Elisa decided it would be fun and exciting to go for a swim and she dove in without thought on how to get back out. No need to think about that, she had super-powers. She'd figure it out. Or she already did but since I don't know the layout of the tank I cannot offer explanations to that one. ...Except, that maybe she tied her clothes together and then tied them to something on the exterior and her make-ship rope failed to hold when she tried to exit. 

2. She was with someone else who dared or encouraged her to go in the tank and she did. It can be very easy to talk a manic or hypo-manic person into that. Then the other person could not help her out so they left dropped her clothes in and left. 

3. This next scenario I am suggesting only a true manic-mind can fully understand: There has been some fascination with how her death is similar to a movie plot, Dark Water, and while it is possible foul play could have been involved and someone else was behind a plot mimic, it is also very possible she had seen the movie and in her manic mind the movie became her story and she became the movie. In this scenario, her demise was imminent without someone there to intervene. 

4. It is possible she actually dropped something and tried to retrieve it. Once in, she removed her clothes to keep her from sinking. This is similar to the Dark Water plot mentioned in the previous, the difference being, it was truly unrelated. Or she saw something in the tank and dove in to find out what it was.

5. Depending on her level of psychosis there could have been some other form of a manic-manifestation that coaxed her into the tank.  

When manic or even just hypo-manic, a person's rational thinking abilities are compromised. The level of mania, the level of psychosis, the amount of time they have been struggling with the imbalance, the experience, exposure, training, etc a person has with recognizing and handling those symptoms and the phases they can come in all can effect their reasoning. A girl of 21 who has only recently been diagnosed is at high risk. Especially if she has little prior knowledge of the illness and aspects of her upbringing, culture, and exposure unknowingly feed mania. There are a lot of things in our culture that feed mania in dangerous ways. Take all this into account and a bipolar 21 year old could very easily decide to take that fatal plunge. 

Bipolar is a serious illness. It can be fatal. https://www.psychcongress.com/article/bipolar-disorder-deadly-disease-dangerous-comorbidities When I a read articles like this and find more information about physiological problems that have some "correlation" with bipolar I am not surprised by them. I feel so many of them. My heart has been my biggest concern lately and the endocrine system is clearly a mess. 

This is where I a think the criticizing article does not take it's criticism far enough. It states, "It's irresponsible and dishonest, indulging conspiracy theories that put already vulnerable victims at further risk." (cnet.com article link) But this article fails to mention the bipolar  and how people with it are extremely vulnerable, at high risk, and are often victims because of it. The documentary glossed over it. This article does not even mention it. This story could help bring awareness to this illness and the realities of it. It is very possible that the bipolar is exactly what killed Elisa Lam. 

But people don't want to talk about that. 

Prevention is worth a pound of cure, but prevention cannot happen without any discussion of it. 


Saturday, February 20, 2021

the hauntings of dreams

 I am struggling today. 

Learned helplessness maybe?

I am tired of fighting but I cannot allow what has transpired to simply be ignored and I am so very angry by how numerous the recent injustices have been. ...actually not angry, just beat down. I am fighting depression from it. And I want to win, but I need a win.

I am so tired of fighting these battles just to stand up for myself and NOTHING happening except further harm to me.... 

So people think I should just give up and move past it. BUT THIS SHIT HAUNTS. 

AND I really cannot move past the realities of my "disabilities" 

And the shittiest part about that previous statement is just how much I have 

...and I am tired and worn of fighting the professor who chose to cause me as much harm as he possibly could just to discredit any complaint I might file... What is wrong with people? If I was in the wrong than you had nothing to worry about, so why keep trying to cause harm to me? and my family? You, I will not waste my time hating since you are nothing more than an unscrupulous worm who feasts on decay and feces. 

....

my heart will eventually fail me

 I know this much

and I am writing it out hoping to find strength but I am just not finding it. 

Only ANGER

which will have to be my strength right now. 

Maybe it is because I have been trying harder to accomplish my goals... but that I keep facing so much rejection for...

Maybe it is because my teeth hurt and that jackass, *ex-neuropsych,* is haunting my dreams now.

Why do you have to be a jackass? Why are you my enemy? Why do you hate me and wish so much harm to me? 

Why do you still haunt me???

But I know why. and I am so tired of it. It's also the reason I went back to school.... Which ended worse then I ever could have imagined - me being criminally charged for my son being concerned and scared... that I might break again. 

I hate you *JP. I hate you. 

I would so much rather be part of your team but you are a coward and maybe far worse... "I could lose my license because of you." I have lost too much of my life because of you, you freaking jackass. and would have lost it completely if it wasn't for the tenacity of my broken brain that knew it was broken and just kept fighting in spite of me...

fighting to find the answers and fighting to learn the truth. 

..."what we had was a beautiful thing..." what they hell are you saying and why?!

... please... stop haunting my brain. 

amends. stop never having anything to do with me outside of therapy... the solution is so simple... but you just keep proving to be a coward, bias, prejudice, malicious, and ignorant... or you were grooming, playing, manipulating. 

I wish you were not. and will you ever read this? No. "nothing to do with you outside of therapy." that you have honored quite well... just like every good groomer does when they are done with the run. done with their toy. 

stop. stop head to gun. please stop. 

I hate you. now please let me know that you hate me too. That is really all you have to do. Not your puppets or your pons, but you. 


Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Anomaly, that's me

 There is a lot in my head right now. So much that I might start crying with overwhelm... yep, here it comes. 

On Friday I had my 6 month monitor/follow up with my neurologist. She went over the MRI that was done the end of last year, one year after the others. This MRI was done to check pituitary and because she wanted one done at her facility that has a better machine and that has a neuro-radiologist (or something like that) to review the results. It's a good thing we did it there and I am learning, once again, just how accurate that whole "practice of medicine" cliche is. The pituitary tumor that was diagnosed by the previous two MRI's/radiologists is actually not a tumor at all, rather it is an enlarged pituitary. 

That makes the third misdiagnosis in 2 years. I suppose it is not surprising that it was an IHC facility that misdiagnosed yet again. At least this misdiagnosis was not a dangerous under-diagnosis ...yet I'd still be willing to forgive IHC and their providers if they would do anything at all to make amends for their mistakes, but my experience has only been that they would rather increase and perpetuate harm and then discriminate against me in everyway they can. -Have I mentioned that I applied for a job at the local hospital? It was a job working as a tutor/academic support person for sick, injured, hospitalized, etc., kids. It is a job that I am highly qualified for and they would be lucky to have me, but alas, not even an interview. They simply sent me a letter saying "thanks, but no-thanks we don't want you." It hurt. And broke my heart. Considering my qualifications and availability, I suspect it is my record with them and maybe how many times I mention them on this here blog that hurt my chances. I also was given the same sort of reply for even volunteering with the Primary Children's guy I met at the Brain Injury Alliance that was initially very excited about my offer. Both are IHC facilities, the very dominate medical provider here, and once again, it hurts my heart as my potential continues to be disregarded and wasted. 

Which brings me back to my appointment with my neurologist. "You are right, you are discriminated against... and you are not given the same opportunities," says Dr. Neurologist (I think I have referred to her as Dr. Sweetie before). She understands my hurt and frustration. She is sad and disappointed for me because she thinks I am doing "amazing." She is so impressed with how well I am doing considering my "conditions"that she reminds me includes two TBI's and the bipolar issues. -It is both funny and sad how the word bipolar is so rarely said and when it is, it is said with such extreme caution it's as if the word itself might catch fire and burn the person saying it at any moment. We are all very leery of using that word and it is the condition that I admit to very least because it seems to carry the most heavy prejudices and misconceptions... but I don't really know if that is accurate or if I, myself, am a bit prejudice since I really don't like the category people will lump me into and the very inaccurate and unfair assumptions they will make about me.- 

Now lets rewind a bit further: I had to share with Dr. Sweetie the story of the last few months because it has effected my brain functioning. I had only gotten to the part where the professor sent me his accusing text when she exclaimed, "That is the last thing you needed," and expressed concern because I was so "young" in my recoveries from both the TBI and the malpractice. 

"Oh, wait, it gets better," I tell her. 

She is not all that shocked because, as I led with, she knows the realities of the stigmas and discriminations her patients face, but she is sad concerned for me. 

She verifies and validates the PTSD response; she almost expected it. "Oh yes," she said, "considering what you have been through," referring to events associated with the Institute owned by my other lead in. She was also concerned, just as I and my son had been, that this trigger and the events that followed could have triggered worse and/or led to a complete collapse of my stability.

She asks some specific questions about how I am handling and functioning as her empathetic concern mixes with a sort of giddy-impressed-excitement and an extreme sense of pride. It is a pride that she insists I should have too. She is extremely proud of how I am and how I have been handling and functioning through all of this. "You recognize and you adapt," she praises. "It's a lot to keep straight and to manage." She repeats a few questions and exclamations. She is particularly proud of me for being able to manage the legal side of things. She is so glad and relieved that I my brain has not collapsed under the stress and pressure of it. She compares me to "all" of her other patients and once again I am an anomaly and an outlier. She wishes others were doing so well. I sense a bit of discouragement that they can't seem to accomplish and reach the levels I have especially considering the three strikes I have against me in addition the continuing series of unfortunate events. 

I am sure she was not meaning to put pressure on me but it is clear from our conversation that she really wishes I would have gotten into graduate school and she hopes I find some way to accomplish that. She feels eye-narrowing, teeth-gritting, face-flushing annoyance with the professors claim to the police officer that I was not likely to pass his class. She sees no reason for that and I pick up on her refrain from expressing the extent of her anger.

... Now I have a tendency to downplay and sometimes I am too self-deprecating in my attempts to appease others and accept responsibility for any mistakes I may have made. I did this to some degree with that bias professor. It is a mistake I need to stop making because people will, far too often, jump right on that, glad to use it against you and/or to use you as the scapegoat for ALL the mistakes made regardless of who actually made them. So I am trying to be better about focusing on my strengths and the praises I receive but I will admit it can make me feel a bit shy. So when I say her praises were high, know that they were HIGH. In fact so high, I felt a bit like a superhero... a confession that should scare anyone who follows this blog, but I will reassure you, it was not the manic superhero experience, this was the figurative, normal-person-pride kind of feeling. In mania, you don't just feel like a superhero, you pretty much are.  Anyway, I digress. I did feel proud and I was very glad to have my strengths and successes acknowledged. I also felt a bitter-sweet pride because I understand what Dr. Sweetie was saying about her other patients, what they experience, and their very common struggles. I teared up as she explained this, because I get it. I told her this and admitted that sometimes I want to give in to those struggles...and sometimes I do. Sometimes I have to. 

But... I have something in me, she says, and she is right. I tell her that I am an anomaly because I don't want to be... which, in-hind-sight, I realize does not sound the way I mean and I'll explain to you the same way I explained to Dr. Sweetie. When I say "I don't want to be an anomaly," what I mean is that I want to help others have similar success in handling, adjusting, coping, and healing. I want to help bring people with similar "disabilities"/"conditions" to my level (or higher) so that I am no longer an anomaly. I want to  help others be anomalies in positive ways too, and to the degree that my successes no longer make me such an anomaly.  

... and I could easily forgive IHC of all the wrongs they have done to me for this very reason. I would rather help others then fight them. I don't want to fight them at all...

and my head is so full of all these stupid problems to work out and work through that I want to give up on and I want to ignore but that I cannot because, alone as I am in this battle, I am not just fighting for me. 

Maybe I should change the name of this blog to "areyouananomaly2" so that manipulated police officers and other ignorant, arrogant, and bias people won't use the title of it against me.

regardless...

 High ho, high ho, its off to work I go 

and I live to fight another day as I fight to live a better day. 

This is the way. 

Good Day. 


Friday, February 5, 2021

A fighting chance.

 13 people have taken the time to read the entry I have recently shared... only 3 have taken the time to comment and show support... 

I got an email back in response to letting the grad school people know the charges that were filed against me had been dismissed. The charges that I had to disclose when I applied for grad because they were still "pending." Contact has already been made for interviews, the replier tell me. None have been extended to me for the PHD or the MEd...

so my heart is broken once again... and again... 

The numbers hurt and it cuts deep that I am, once again, not wanted where I know I belong and where know I could do the most good. It cuts deep even though I knew it was a long shot, even though I knew what I was up against, and even though I know I am in good company in my rejection. Albeit, good company I will never know the company of. 

So what do I do? After another crushing blow? 

Automatically my mind sees that image I keep thinking I have shaken completely but lights back up in an instant whenever I feel the crushing blow of rejection. The image that offers relief from the world that does not want me and does not value me.

Fortunately it is fainter this time and much easier to turn off or turn away. Level and appropriately treated, I can transform it into a redirection as I acknowledge and allow myself to feel the pain and the sorrow this rejection brings. 

It hurts. and it hurts deeply. 

But I also know that 13 people read what I shared about the most recent injustice that represents injustices too common in our systems and 3 took the time to comment. How grateful I am for the show of support from those 3. 

So I now try to focus and stay focused on the appreciation I received just this week from a friend in my own neighborhood who expressed to me how my openness and this blog have helped her in her life; a victory I am so glad she shared with me. 

"It is not a small victory," she tells me, "it is huge." And that is really what this is about. She tells me that her self esteem has increased and relationships improved because I dared to share the difficulties I have endured and the lessons I have learned from them. I have noticed some changes but had no idea just how much a part I had played...

... Which is precisely why it is so very heartbreaking that the people who could best help so many people who so desperately need a resource like me will not even give me a chance. 

"You will help so many people," once again fades indto "you might help one or two due to the limitations of your position and status." 

"people are afraid of me" still ringing rather true... 

Oh well. I it is sad and too bad, but at least I have helped one or two and I hope that much I may continue to do. To them and to those I have already helped I say thank you for keeping me going. I love you, I know the value of you, you are completely worth it and I am glad when you see that too :).  

To my neighbor and friend, thank you. And even though I cannot make the bigger difference I had hoped to I'll keep fighting and taking the punches to protect those in the shadows or who are down in the trenches alone. I'll keep fighting and keep speaking however and whenever I can. Please know I'll take any blow for you and for others until my body finally gives out. 


Monday, January 18, 2021

A privilege and an honor

I am walking with my dog when I cross paths with a neighbor who is doing the same thing. We stop and chat for a moment. She asks me how I am. A simple question but one that is rarely asked in sincerity. Even so, I usually reflect on the question to some degree and I try to answer honestly. [One of the reasons I try to answer honestly is because it opens the door for the other person to talk and answer honestly should the need that time, space, conversation and/or concern from another person. If you are one who only ever answers with the expected "fine" or "good" then you would likely be surprised by how often others are grateful for and really need someone to listen to how they are actually doing]  

"Good," I say... "Well... at least, mostly good." 

She understands. We chat about a few things, mostly about the dogs, and then part ways. After that, as I walk, I reflect more on how I am. 

Truthfully, and in real time, I feel very fortunate and grateful that I have such a good life. I am grateful for my family and my husband who works so hard to support us, his family, and who contributes to and allows me to pursue the adventures I do. I am so grateful that I have a house, two amazing kids, and my health is as good as it is. I am so grateful and happy about so many things and I feel privileged and honored to have had so many of the experiences I have had. 

Privileged and honored. 

As I walk, I reflect on these two words because that is really how I feel about (and maybe especially about) some of the more bizarre experiences I have had. I feel privileged and honored to have had a glimpse into what it is like to experience some of the hardships others have experienced. I am grateful that I have only experienced them to the degree that I have. I feel it is a privilege to understand so many things TBI has helped me to understand. I feel it is an honor to be able to relate to some of the hardships certain classes and races of people experience due to the ignorant perceptions of others who are either ignorantly bias or deliberately bias. I could continue but the important point is that I don't want to view my burdens and struggles as just that and nothing more. I can and have changed my perceptions to see them as opportunities and education. I find it much more productive and helpful to embrace them and learn to work with them than to constantly be fighting them and wishing they weren't there. And I really do feel privileged and honored to have been given a glimpse into a variety of very real and very challenging struggles for so many different people from so many different demographics. 

Yet, this is also why I am only "mostly good."

 I want to use these experiences and insights to help others but I am severely restricted in my ability to so as I experience the reality of those ignorant biases when I try to help or when even I try to get my own needs met. The cycles of bias and discrimination are so much worse then I understood when I had my story buried so well before the car accident of 2017. I knew, which is why I buried my story, but I suppose I had hope that these things really had improved over time. At very least I hoped that the industry and those in charge of treating and educating others about the issues had learned to recognize and end their own biases and prejudices. I am sure that some have and I have had good experiences with some, but overall the responses and reactions to me, by those in those power positions, have been surprisingly negative and very heavily bias. 

Sadly, it seems, a large portion of providers and educators are all still surprisingly ignorant and often outright rude in spite of their extensive education of the issues. However, the worst part is how they use their education and titles to assist themselves in using the very conditions they are supposed to be helping to treat and/or address against the people who have them. They use conditions, labels, diagnosis's etc. to justify their unjustifiable and unethical treatment of the person who carries not only the label but the reality of the condition. It is very basic bigotry so you would think they would realize it and that it would not be so easy to get away with. However that is where we are as a society at this point in time; they use misconceptions, stigmas, stereotypes, biases and prejudice to their advantage and they get away with it. 

As I reflect on this I remember the girls I worked with, at Wet Seal, in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall when I was 18. I think of their cultural expectations and biases as I remember the story they told me of a girl they went to high school with who was raped multiple times by multiple people, to the point of requiring hospitalization, after she got drunk and passed out at a party. Disgusting and egregious offenses by multiple boys and all those who turned a blind eye to it. BUT the Florida girls I worked with blamed the girl for it. "She knows better then to get drunk at a party," the would say. Some even went so far as to say "it was her own fault." I could not believe my ears. The culture I was living in was so bias and warped in their views that they faulted the victim of horrific abuse for the abuses.  

Now I am not the victim of anything nearly as horrific but I wonder how often people have thought of me, "you brought it on yourself," because I now choose to talk about and be honest about my conditions that people so commonly discriminate against? I think of the investigating officer believing that I am guilty of a crime that did not actually happen and of the only offense that could even be perceived as criminal that I had no part in and no knowledge of simply because I write honestly here on this blog about the conditions I have had [the privilege and the honor] to struggle with. I think of the police and prosecuting attorneys who assumed I was guilty of the alleged crimes and how they filed charges without ever even talking to me because TBI was noted by those reporting, they found this blog, and because the alleged victim, a professor of psychology, made statements about me and specifically about mania that were intended to defame and discredit me, my efforts to heal and progress, and even my efforts to help others. The sad thing is: it worked and it worked so easily. What was obvious bias and prejudice, from a person who made it pretty clear they had ulterior motives, was easily accepted because it was from someone with perceived authority on my conditions and because I am a member of a class of people that are currently viewed as inferior. 

I shutter to think how many people failed to do their due diligence due to their prejudices and/or ignorance. It is disheartening to know how easily the actual problem could have been addressed, solved and resolved if those involved and those who knew about it had been operating objectively and fairly.

So, "mostly good" is really how I am because my heart is too broken by how impossible it seems to be for me to reach my full potential and to fulfill the "you will help so many people" hopes of those who understand that potential. I worry that those who have expressed that confidence will also loose hope and confidence in me as I suffer another set back from the exact human misconceptions, ignorance, and ego's I am trying to help correct for the benefit of those who are suffering so unfairly and so unnecessarily because of them.

And this is where I am at today as I hope and pray I will be given a chance by the next group of educators I am asking to give me a chance and to help me reach that potential. To me, my experiences in the Wonderland's of psychology, TBI and mental health have been a privilege and an honor. One that I have managed and mastered well and I would like to use that knowledge, those skills and that mastery to help others. I hope I will be given that chance. 

Sunday, January 17, 2021

 What is left in me anymore? 

Ringing in my ear.

I think to come on here, see if I can blog it out... but I keep freezing. Nothing left inside. 

used against me this very blog and my writing to survive

meant to hopefully help others 

.it is hard even to type. and my heart literally hurt as I typed the previous line.

a shell.

so many people

so much pain 

and suffering 

at the hands of each other

yet when I step out and try to help 

try to be the change I wish to see in the world

I am quickly reminded that I am not the change the world cares to see.

instead the change needs to happen to me?

Bury my story again? 

burn it up deep inside 

until all that I hide 

is cancer

or other illnesses that are acceptable outside, no need to hide, fight with pride through a miserable ride.

"I'll die of a heart attack" I say today 

because it cannot possibly keep holding up

. Surviving 

Not thriving

But safe in my space... never ever thought I would be the one who wants to stay home. who struggles to leave the house. Never ever thought that was even possible for me...

changing to be

what they want me to be

hidden

absent

quietly tucked away

out of sight out of mind

mind

you 

not my mind

tucked away

not for another day

simply just tucked away

hollow, sad, empty, hurting...

how many others are there like me?

and yet I am stuck, unable to help, because those in positions of power don't want me to... 

going for a walk.

legs are frozen.

they won't move me and my fingers keep stopping not wanting to move either. many frozen pauses. 

I am not a game. I am not your toy.  I am not a pawn on your board...

and yet

somehow

that is all that I am

and nothing more

disposable and replaceable 

and easily forgotten. 

turned away 

again and again.

...

...

...

no more pretty stories. no more fairytales. please quit feeding us your nonsense of fairness and fair play. Truth and justice, integrity and rights. they still just apply to those good'ol rich white guys. 

no spark.

will it come back?

 

Friday, January 15, 2021

The System

 The system

And The Man.

Now I understand

the frustrations and complaints people have about them. It's not just cliches and it's not just freeloaders, nitpickers, fault finders or chronic complainers complaining; there are very real and very serious problems with so many of our systems and institutions. 

The Man- stick it to The Man has a whole new meaning to me now and I have new empathy, that I never could have understood before, for people who are abused by the system and The Man. It is so much more mental and emotionally challenging to handle then I ever would have thought. I struggle to get out of bed and to even try knowing how in vain my efforts have been, knowing how impossible it is to battle alone and how difficult it is to find any kind of honest advocate for you. Advocates and sphere of influence being the only real power you hold in fighting the systems and The Man. Two items the most vulnerable and least among us have very little of. Meek and lowly of heart have new meaning to me and I am not sure if I should fight or retreat and just survive... These hits are taking a toll on me. I am becoming increasingly socially awkward and my confidence in trying is diminishing. I see how messed up things are and I know how much potential I have to help, but as discrimination from The Systems continues doors shut even harder and tighter and I become even more and more reluctant to approach any doors at all...

I have new sympathy for other kinds of abuse as well. I cannot even imagine how much it would have screwed me up if I had been through some of the horrific abusive situations some of my friends and acquaintances have been through and to have those abuses ignored by parents, law enforcement, medical providers and others who are supposed to be in positions to help you. Yet, I am powerless to do anything about the abuses I have suffered or that others are suffering.  

Which is what makes the frustration and anger so deep and intense against The Man and The System. Powerful and prestigious ego's that will never understand because they have the power and the backing. And in their pretentious small minds they earned it while you did not. For cowards it is easy to believe that people are "innately fair" and that we get what we deserve when you are on the benefiting side of injustice and unfair.  

...I try to keep moving. I try to keep going. I try to keep fighting... but I just want to go back to sleep.  $4000 now we have had to pay in attorney's fee's just to stop the false accusations of unscrupulous people from getting any farther within our judicial system. Jobs and opportunities lost, added medical bills, lost productivity and ability to focus,... these problems and expenses become very and unjustifiably significant for the insignificant when The Man and the System decide to make them so.