I need to write this out, before we leave.
On Sept. 21st 2017, I was in a car accident. The timing was interesting, the scenario was interesting. But the most interesting part was being hit in the head by an airbag.
I remember seeing the lady that was about to crash into me much too late to do anything about it because my attention had been on a car that was moving faster than the others. That is where I felt a threat was coming from. but then oh, where the heck did that car come from. I still don't recall. I don't recall seeing her at the intersection. At least not communicating to me that she intended to go in a direction that threatened the safety of my crossing. But mostly I don't remember. As I saw her I knew "this is going to be bad" because I was gunning it in an Acura TL (they have awesome get up and go) and barely had time to get my foot halfway onto the break and I was fearing a side impact from the car that was coming at me faster then expected. Then every thing went black. Then I am stopped, by the other car and my face and arm hurt so bad and I am trying to understand where I am and what just happened. I see the other car I see my airbag, I hurt really bad, but I am okay. I am miraculously okay. I am shaking as I instinctively check to make sure we are out of harms way and I find my phone and dial 911. I am crying. Not a historical cry but a confused and disoriented crying. As I open the broken door and step out I feel so weird. Everything feels off and my right side feels taller than my left. I am limping but I don't know why because they only thing that really hurts is my face and my arm, and they hurt so bad I am sure that something is broken, I will lose teeth from it, and that I will be black and blue and look terrible for days. "Everything went black, but I did not go unconscious" I repeat to the police officer. I am an emotional mess. Disoriented and confused. the thread that had been holding my mental health together pulled out right down to the end.
I wish to report this beautifully and crafted with artistry but I lack time so I may skip and jump but there are important things here. I don't feel I have fully processed what happen and my Dr. Perri Cherrie (name changed to protect privacy) who understands this from the professional and psychological side, who could give me answers, is no longer available for me. We talked about this a little but I was slow to process and share and I likely have forgotten some of what I had shared.
But so many things I felt and experienced in the coming months were familiar. "I've been here before" "I've gone through this before" It made me realize how much the head injury from my youth had impacted me through my formidable teen years.
I remember feeling my brain rerouting as the sports medicine Dr. who works with concussions asked me questions. I remember black when he asked me to recall the words. I couldn't. With clues, I was able to retrieve them, but only because I had experience with this, I already knew tricks and there were times that my thoughts were even more clear, like how a person can walk on a broken leg or lift a car when there is danger and they must protect. I asked the first doctor I went to the day of the accident about concussion, I was confused disoriented and pathetic, and my head was my biggest concern I didn't want to lose any more brain power and stability. He pretty much blew me off and was more interested in my husbands thumb he had fixed the month before. He x-rayed my arm and shoulder and gave me eye drops, and said every thing looked good and that was they end of that. But even still my left wrist is weaker and will begin to shake if I hold it in certain positions or use it too much. It never did that before.
But my head was my biggest concern. The next day my husband texted his sister a picture of the car. She made comments back that hurt my feelings a bit but triggered an immature emotional reaction and feelings that I had worked through long ago. I had been brought back to an emotional place with my-sister-in-law that neither of us were in anymore. It took me a bit to realize it, and not before I am sure I did a bit of unintentional damage to the relationship first. "I've been here before."
I wrote as so much flooded back when Dr. Cherie caught me off guard with his expectation that I come in no more or at least not for a long time and only if I get "hung up" on something. In that writing I wrote about my 12 year old head injury and the mistakes that were made in my care and as I wrote I faced the feeling I have had but have not been able to express, the feeling that tells me that I didn't go completely unconscious in the car accident, because I had been there before, my body had learned and my instinct knew that I had to wake up quick because deep down inside I knew the only one looking out for me, the only one that could protect me, was me. I had to wake up, I had to be okay. That may have not been the best thing to do in terms of getting the help I need, but it is what is it and I may never know.
I will end here because I have to fly... Literally to Italy. No time to even edit but I'll do that later.

Where to Begin... Again and Again

Published elsewhere on 10/10/18

So I find myself going in some silly circles or something like that... actually it is more like starting down paths then shying away and ducking into the trees or an ally way to avoid seeing the people I have been walking with turn and walk away. ...And yet I am aware that for every person that has turned [their] back there is (likely), at least, one other that figured I had; and they gave up waiting for me as I hid in the trees or ally way fearful that their rest or deviation meant they were turning their back. It's silly, I know, but it is.

... there is so much more going into our actions then we ever fully know. It is so easy to make assumptions about other peoples actions but those assumptions are based on our own interpretations which our based on our experiences, not theirs. And it goes both ways.

Sometimes being aware can be difficult. I suppose that is why they say "ignorance is bliss."

Yet, while I could philosophically ramble on for ever -I'm sure-, I would like this rambling to help me work through, what seems to be, some mental blocks so I can get back on the track I feel so compelled to be on.

Writing often helps. and strangely enough, publishing these pointless ramblings also tends to help me. I think it is something like talking through your feelings, only I am talking them through with myself in a place that feels safe, people can take or leave it without me seeing their reactions and I can speak with that hope of actually hitting a cord with someone; reaching another person that relates and/or feels helped, inspired or enlightened in someway. The internet is interesting in that way, it connects us while taking us away from people. I think that is why we need to be especially careful with it... but that is a rambling for someone else or some other time.

Today I'd like to focus my work-through-it rambles on why it is so hard to start something that has so much potential, is needed, has been well received in conversations and could really help so many people? Why is it so difficult to get myself organized and my thoughts put down on paper? again, there are so many reasons for that... but one thing I feel that continues to trip me up is not my lack of confidence in myself but others lack of confidence in me. As I try to write, put things together, move forward, etc. I think of how I can prove what I am doing how I can help those people see that it is not me they need to have confidence in but the idea that they had very warmly and excitedly received. I think how I can change what I need to change about the idea, myself or whatever it is to improve both myself and the project I am passionate about. Because I value other people I have to acknowledge that there is a reason for their lack of confidence in me but the irony of this is this often leads me to hide in those trees or duck in those ally ways as I subconsciously try to protect the scars I feel are not fully healed ...and thus justify their lack of confidence further perpetuating my short comings. And I get stuck.

Partly because I don't actually know -and I know that I don't really know- where I, or the idea's of the project, went wrong. Then communication looks something like this: I am afraid to ask and in the event that I do people are often afraid to answer honestly and they either say "it's not you, it's me" or in one such event "it's all you." Obviously neither are entirely true, neither are very helpful from a professional stand point, and, I suppose, I am still short on professionalism because I am not entirely sure how to handle these situations and I do take it somewhat personally, even when I think I don't.

If I take me and my shortcomings out of the equation, or if I were my friend and not myself I might point out that we live in a culture where you are largely expected to be "self-made." Also people have been conditioned to stick with what is safe and avoid taking risks. I might also point out that people are so busy and they have so much going on, [which is part of/contributors to problems I am trying to solve] so I need to keep going and know that it is not personal. I might also point out to my friend self that some of the exact problems I am facing are part of why there is such a need for what I am trying to do.

So maybe it is okay to step back. to take a new approach and to start again knowing that this may be the time I get it right or it may not. but what matters most is that I know, in myself, what I am trying to do is true to what I value.

And I value people, whether or not I feel they value me, because, at least from my stuck, I have learned that my feelings may just be my perception of the truth

​...and even if it is someone else's truth (that I am of little value), that matters very little because, quite frankly, they are wrong. :)

Fires and flowers.

This is hard... I forgot to leave myself the 20% reserve today... I forgot or just had too much to do.

Over all it was an amazing day. I got to teach my daughters friend how to snowboard. I got to comfort her through a tear-filled melt down when she got frustrated with how hard it was and was putting too much pressure on herself to live up to her dad's percieved expectations. Then I even had the privilege of opening the door for a bonding moment with her dad by having a talk with him about what were realistic expectations in this new learning experience. Her dad was great. I was pleased with the outcome and that I had the privilege of being involved.

Then on my way out I somehow got talking with a coworker who opened up about some similar issues. She was intrigued by how I had embraced my insanity. I admitted to her that up until very recently I thought I didn't really have a laugh. My laugh had been missing for so long I thought I genuinely didn't have one. Not that I never laughed but it was just a silent inside kind of laugh that was easily missed. We talked about anxiety and we bonded and though I had plenty to get home for it was a very good place to be and it felt good to have that bonding moment and once again be thanked for my insight. There was plenty more in the day, but those were major highlights.

And then to top it all off we got to go to my parents for dinner...

But I had spent over 80% of my energy... well over,

and I started to unravel a bit, far too early into the evening and I found myself awkwardly fighting back tears for no apparent reason at all while passively participating in pleasantries with my husband and my parents.

How do I phase out what is reminding me to take care of myself? It is so hard sometimes. And it hurts. I am sure I will cycle through this a few times before I make it out okay

but tonight I am wondering why I reacted so extremely to the breakup my therapist said I should have seen coming. Why do I feel he was careless with me? I am so sad that I have to let him go and that I am no longer allowed to utilize him when I know he has answers and knowledge I am missing. When I know he can help if he would. I am so sad that he will not be my... anything.

I feel sorry for "overreacting" or what ever I did wrong to mess this up.

I am sure it is for the best if he says so and truly I don't want to be a complication or liability to him... ...but maybe I do. and maybe he is wrong.

It just doesn't feel fair.

and I don't feel up to grieving this lose right now.

But as my thoughts try to turn to my old ways of tough love and negative self take for being so pathetic, I am now consciously making the decision "ta not ta;" not to put myself down for feeling down and once again confused by this. So I will keep my pathetic self pity here in print and embrace that for what it is too... a sadness and grieving that I have every right to feel and even to express. I won't wallow in it and I'll get some sleep and get it turned around again, but I believe it is okay to feel the sad and to allow myself to hurt. And I think it is okay for me to be patient with myself. It is not easy to separate the fires... and it hurts, which is not terribly surprising since fire is hot and separating them will inevitably lead to a few burn scars.

"Your mind is a garden

Where you decide which ideas to grow

and which thoughts to weed out."

What to do when your therapist dumps you

This a snippet from my report of my own self discovery, I wrote it as an outward reflection in hopes of someday helping others if they ever find themselves in a similar situation.

I read a few articles that were extremely helpful for me, but there were very few, so I decided to publish this here as a way to pay it forward, to connect with my values today, and to honor both myself and my therapist I'd like to pass this info on sooner rather that later ...because I know how painful it can be and if I can help to relieve any suffering I am happy to. I'd like no one to go through these feelings alone, because you are not alone and you are loved more than you know.

6:56am
If your therapist dumps you and you liked them at all, even the smallest at all, then you need to realize that means they are at least good at wearing their mirrored therapist mask and it was you that you were seeing and liking. I hope that you can feel empowered by that. Now no sugar coating but; Yep, your screwed up, and yes, you have things to work on, But you have also seen a version of you that you can connect with, that you liked and that you can even love.

You liked you, not just your therapist.

You are worth liking and even loving. By accepting that part of you and all parts of you and then by choosing to be teachable, you can reach the best version of you; that version of you that you have hope of obtaining (I know you have that hope, and even the ability, or you would not have gone to therapy in the first place -and you would not be reading this at all).

No matter what reason he/she abandoned, rejected, or dumbed you it doesn’t really matter and no matter what he/she tells you, you will never be satisfied with their answer if you did not feel prepared for it, or if it caught you off guard.

But you can find comfort in knowing and trusting -if you liked them at all, even in the tiniest way- that:

1. you do like/love yourself and you can, - your even allowed to,

2. the therapist is good at their job even if they make mistakes, and

3. it proves two things;

a. you are worth loving and

b. your therapist has more faith in you than you know and they know you will be okay.

So choose to be okay and find a new therapist going in with an open heart and an open mind, agreeing to be teachable and knowing that you can change and you are on the right track, or that you can succeed, become a better you, be happy, manage your symptoms or whatever it is you are looking to get out of therapy. You can do it and you are worth it.

The crash... or a weakened battery to grieve?

If you cross a crow with a toad and a mouse it would sound something like I did today. As my body has worn thin from lack of sleep I have developed some sort of cold or sinus infection that is now attempting to steal my voice. You'd think I'd talk less because of it but I find it so funny sounding I may be talking far too much.
Fortunately for me they do not care to have toad-crow-mouse crosses teaching snowboard lessons at my Neverland (the resort I teach snowboard lessons at) so I got to back line. Which means you are the first one let off for the day if they don't need all of the instructors staffed.
So I didn't have to teach but since one of my favorite supervisors to clinic with was working  I asked if we could do a short clinic before I returned home to rest my body and prep for Italy. (* clinic meaning they take you on runs to work on teaching skills and technique)
Said clinician is very technical and his teaching style encourages you to think and solve.
We only got one run in but it was jam backed with review and technique work and reflection. I thought to do another run on my own, just for fun, but since mortality has returned to me in the form of this sickness I thought I best save my strength and return home.
I was feeling it. I was tired. And to be honest I was a bit relieved to finally be feeling tired. My heart isn't hurting anymore and I am no longer worried that I am going to morph into some alternative existences as I fight to stay okay. I am okay again just the expected tired. Still improved but tired. So I started to head home
And man was the tired starting to get to me.
I was so tired that before I even got out of the canyon I had to pull over just to close my eyes for a minute or two. I pulled over and turned the car off but it was cold so I turned the key back to the on position to keep the seat warmer working. I was asleep almost instantly.
In a little bit, not fully awake, I thought I better turn the car back on so I don't kill the battery so I turned the key... "What? it's already dead?"
How could that be? Over 45 minutes had passed. I thought it had been about 5 maybe 10. Holy crap I was tired. Much as I am now so I am going to sleep and will finish this in the morning.
It is now the next morning, after sleeping with only the aid of melatonin this time. I woke 3 times but was able to gently redirect my thoughts to places that would allow me to fall back asleep within a reasonable amount of time, since they were not full-blown-lights-all-on-(in the head) and heart-pushing-me-out wakings.
But 45 minutes I slept and while my car battery slowly died. I have so much to get done that I could have been mad about this but anger is not my emotions these days, what good does that do anyway. Besides it was funny and rather poetic that my crash would start in a car.
It may not be the crash, but I will let it be if it will let me.
However one thing had me wondering: is it the more cognitively demanding task coupled with body fatigue that brought me to a tired that was so intense I had to pull over and sleep only 5 miles from home?
Am I really going to have to grieve a loss of mental stamina?

Mourning the Loss of your Insanity

When normal starts to return it is a little sad.
Losing your insanity is a bit sad.
Yes you read that correct if you read "losing your insanity"-let me explain:
When you start to return to normalcy you miss the sensations and the fun and excitement of it all, it is really quite intense. There can be a lot of pain and anxiety and maybe the mania I experience is just coping with those feelings with equivalent force.
I tell you, I would be fascinating to study... maybe that is why I have been studying my thoughts and analyzing myself so much through this... I bet there is some sort of disorder associated with that to (that makes me laugh)
which is probably why I have always avoided diagnosis... I'd get too many or not enough but mostly because I don't like the stigma's and discriminations attached to them.
And because I don't like how people use them as excuses.
And probably a whole lot of other reasons to that I don't really care about right now
so back to my point.
Coming back to reality is a bit sad. Maybe even -wait for it- depressing. Maybe that is why "depression always follows mania" according to Am I Bipolar on webbed.com.
It feels a bit silly that I find myself here again.
...The box he opened contained so much more than I remembered...
But anyway
Reality kind of sucks compared to spirit animals and omens; to feeling so full of energy and life that you might burst; to snowboarding being an almost orgasmic experience and floating in a pool at night is so other worldly that you never want to leave. I wish I were a better writer when I try to explain the intensity of joy, passion and pleasure my seemingly simple experiences bring when I am ... well.. I suppose I should call it what it is, manic.
Is that acceptance on my part? Am I allowed to say that? I do wish that I had my best therapist to help me answer these questions... But alas he is gone from me...I'll have to mourn that loss again and again and that really sucks but I have to put as many mournful realizations as I can off for now and because he promised not to close the door on me completely I can. ..."just don't look back to check" I tell myself. But there is a new sad to that loss with this new remembering/realizing/considering. It is sad to think that this may very well be what scared him away and that it is also very likely a contributing factor to the intensity of my feelings for him these past few weeks... It's another thing to mourn and to process. and it is sad and it can be embarrassing.
...But fortunately a great guru I once knew taught me that it is okay to make mistakes and that I am allowed to be human... to bad that guru is the same guy, do you see how there can be no clean break... pull the fuel, redirect, don't isolate and don't over think- so I move on again- as it slowly morphs into just my heart speaking and my mind is a garden where I choose which thoughts to grow and which to weed out...

Back again to the mania.
I can see how people can get addicted to drugs. I'd love to go back to mania -only without the equivalent level heartbreaking. Good thing I am smart and know what lies on the other side of drugs and I am not at all interested in that place.
Fortunately for me, during those pivotal years when people usually experiment with those things, I wouldn't touch it because I knew I was already screwed up enough; I didn't need help with that.
And I still think that is funny.
Right now I am not sure I am completely back to normal, I kind of hope I never am, but I am not crashed yet and I find myself thinking that maybe, just maybe, I will be able to curb the effects of the crash the way I was able to curb the effects of the mania. I hope so. And I think so and at least one person believes in me and that is enough for me.

*So it seems I am moving my book of thoughts, processing and reprocessing to my blog.
It feels like a worthwhile endeavor for me. And as I earlier read through some old comments I was glad that I had helped a couple of people along the way -by sharing. I do not advertise this blog and don't do anything to promote it so it is buried pretty deep, I'm sure, but on one occasion someone randomly came across it and thanked me for it. That is enough for me. They are worth it for me. and I am also worth it so I've already got one person I'm helping here :) Your welcome self.

A page from my book: waking from death

12/2/18 10:28 pm


He doesn’t seem to notice that I am in some sort of trance. I see the rice crispy treats and see him and somehow instinctively know that I need to eat one and give up on the new me, give up on the me staying sane and safe.

This feels important

Important to add to my story even in spite of the internet not working.

I am not sure why it is but I am awake now. I feel a little funny. Still a little detached but here and present.

I woke up about 10:18pm.

I woke up from the abyss of nothingness. From death or nonexistence. I have been here before. I used to wake up from death in depression and it is a very unpleasant feeling. This time is different, “I am dying” My body is fighting to hold on. To wake me up. I don’t understand it as I come to but I keep fighting to wake up. My throat is dry and scratchy feeling. It wants to keep me from breathing. I notice that Kelby is still not in bed and that I hear noises. I am pushing hard to come back to life. I don’t want to give up. As I wake I somehow instinctively start to check on things. I feel so strange as I leave my bed and walk into the hall. I am still hearing the voice saying that I am dying, except I am not; I can’t be because I am walking and seeing and hearing again even if It is the sound of the blood pumping through my head. I go down stairs to the sameness. I ask Kelby about the kids being in bed. As he is watching television he doesn’t seem to notice that Joe is not and that I am asking from a different state of existence.

This is proving a bit more challenging to write and explain and I may still be waking as I hear the white background noises inside my head. But I am mostly wide awake.

I took 2 nighttime Ibuprofen pm tablets before bed and I may have forgot my escitalopram because I was so tired and my throat was starting to hurt so bad thus I was merely focused on getting a good night's sleep. This alone may account for whatever happened, the death waking

As I looked up and down the stairs feeling so weird and out of it, knowing that I needed sleep but also afraid to die, I had to make a decision. I decided I had to return to “normal” so I took a rice crispy treat then went and curled up next to Kelby with my head on his shoulder to watch the show “Schitt’s Creek” It was funny but I was lost so I asked a few questions from the other side. Much like usual Kelby barely noticed me and I started to wax and wane comfortably in and out of sleep. I then knew I needed to write about this although I wasn’t sure why. Add it to my story and with that I fully woke and I left.

Now I am sitting in bed wondering what it all means. Wondering if I will be okay leaving in one week and a day. I will because I have to be… But is that enough to keep me there? I need sleep so badly that my body is starting to get sick and yet I still can’t seem to sleep and to do so now offers death?

I have cold water and Ricola’s with me now and yet I question taking the Lexapro (generic)

A little unsure if I had already taken one.

43 lexapro left after I just took one, or one more, but at least now if I forget again, I have it written down.