I am happy to say that I have finally started to get better sleep.
It is amazing what good sleep will do for a person.
With TBI sleep is especially important as "you are more susceptible to that"
But when you are being groomed that lack of sleep due to precisely timed isolation is the turning point.
The mastermind will know to either catch or release.
Catch, I don't know what that looks like. I was released. Why, because he got spooked. On paper I may look like the perfect target but statistics fail to take into account individuals and I am far too intuitive.
"Don't try to solve this" "I told you not to try and solve this"
"You don't understand, that is what I have been doing since I was 12, I can't just stop trying to solve things. It's a matter of how I try to solve, what direction I take."
It became clear that I was going to be extra trouble. It's my talent.
So shift blame, play on vulnerabilities, take advantage of the manic state and pleadings for help, plant ideas and feed her crazy and then write it off as, treatments done, she's a crazy delusional patient who is obsessed with or pursuing the practitioner. It was all in her head.
He's been covering his tracks.
The shaming from 3rd (2nd try at new) therapist confirmed that.
Sadly, despite my belief in humanity and this man, I know from previous experiences that the best liars hide their lies in the truth and though I am naive and trusting, I am not naive enough to believe that I am special and that I am the only one.
I sincerely hope this is not the case, but as I wake up to my reality and apply what I know, (ironically form caring for others and putting their needs first) to the situation I am finding a lot of evidence of this and I am not exactly sure what to do about it. I have no malice, I do not feel vindictive. Yet I know better than to think I am "special" so I do want him scared if this is the case. If this is a game he plays I want him to know that his cover is blown. I don't want to hurt him, but I also don't want him hurting other people. In that regard, I am special so the dilemma is what to do now. What direction do I take?
Maybe all the directions, that is my strength.
I may just write a book about it (I already have a very good start) and let the reader decide.
...or do I have a responsibility to take it to the "authorities."
I don't like that idea... and I am still clinging to hope in humanity.
...and maybe some of the fantasy of a deeper connection that he implied but neither confirmed nor denied.
And if it were merely an emotionally compromised practitioner who was spooked by policies against the forbidden emotions that humans, including human psychologists, will feel on rare occasions, then there is an unethical problem within the institution that needs to be addressed.
Thursday, January 24, 2019
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
Yes, I have brain damage
I don't like that so much of the information I find about brain injuries and personality problems after the brain injury come from the family members or "caretakers." Very little comes from the person themselves unless it is a dramatic success story usually from someone with immense emotional support and that obtained their injury after they had established themselves as a successful adult. There also seems to be a lack of information on less dramatic events that leave people with brain damage but not so severe that is immediately visible. My intelligence is both a blessing and curse in that regard. The fact that I was 12 and in school means that some cognitive rehabilitation was automatically happening but with out the appropriate guidance and understanding. No one seemed to question my mood instability since I was a teenager and "that just happens with teens, especially teen girls."
Though the injury happened in January and track was in spring I was not allowed to run that year. I had been looking forward to joining the track team since the previous year when I had run at the track with my older sister who was on her high school track team so I expressed anger and annoyance about it. But at the same time I was secretly relieved because I was still so tired and really didn't have the mental energy for it.
That summer I don't remember feeling so much mental fatigue anymore but that is when I started to have fallouts with friends. or maybe it was the next year. I am not entirely sure and I don't remember much of 8th grade. It was rough. Ninth was better but still friendships were always a struggle. It wasn't that I fought or was angry, though at times I was, I just seemed to take things very personally. I don't really want to reanalyze all that as I don't feel that reliving the pain of those years is all that beneficial and it is so difficult to understand because teens years are just rough anyway. I watch my kids going through their teen years and I am sure I am making overcompensation mistakes so I suppose it is good to be aware of what was really happening
...and this what has lead me to reanalyze my life with a more full acceptance of the fact that I have brain damage.
I have never fully accepted that and it is something that is very hard to admit. It is shameful and the stigmas attached are... undefinable. I have not been able to accept diagnoses of mental illness either, because I am not that but I also do not like feeling like I am the burden of a TBI caregiver which seems to be the vast majority of the information out there.
I want to understand what is wrong with my brain, how to adapt and how to mover forward. Only this time I'd rather it not take a lifetime like it did before.
There is so much more to me and, yes, there are many other variables that have led to my current state of ...interesting, but I need to reframe my life with the understanding of how that traumatic brain altering occasion effected it.
It is not an easy task. I've already burned down one therapist and after 3 appointments know that this 3rd therapist in not quite equipped to handle me. I still have a 3rd appointment to attend to with the 2nd therapist and he may just work since he can relate to the brain injury component... But then there is the part of me that just wants to step away from all of their crazy and just breath for a moment. Just breath and allow myself to recenter in my own thoughts and see where I end up as I write this all out.
It is funny, I found a college level psychology text book on our living room floor this morning and as I picked it up I wondered which child of mine took it off the shelf and why. I wondered if this had been my text book from college, my husbands, or just a random book I had picked up somewhere years ago because I am kind of a nerd like that. It has no highlighter marks or notes on pages so it is not likely my book from college. It is a curious time to find it.
As I look through it I find information about"Neuroscience and encoding," the processes of encoding, and of memory storage. This snippet is interesting to me: "The processes of encoding are also affected by preconceived biases people have; humans tend to notice and encode information that confirms beliefs that they already hold-a tendency called confirmation bias. This tendency to 'see what you expect to see' is a powerful force in allowing people to retain inaccurate beliefs."
It is also interesting that the left frontal cortex is said to be used more in the encoding of new information. This was an area I exhibited problems on the neuropsychological test taken this last year. It also happens to be where my brain bleed was when I was 12. I can analyze my thinking and see how I have used different parts of my brain and different strategies to help me with this function. I do have a hard time paying attention to new information and I find that writing it down helps encode it even if I never look at the written down information again. I also repeat. Parrot. I try to connect new information with something I already know and often I will respond with comments that make it seem like I understand the new information better than I do. Sometimes the act of allowing an off the cuff or intuitive response is what starts the processing of information. It is an interesting phenomena to me as I am just now becoming aware of these tendencies that may be or have been the sources of some relationship troubles for me. It also explains the reprocessing that, to others, may seem counter-productive. At times it very much is and I do need to be careful of that but it is a way that I believe my brain learned to compensate for a missing piece. It can also lead me to pick up on deeper level understanding and connections that are often missed.
I am finding my brain to be a fascinating place and I am enjoying learning more about it.
People will not easily understand what they perceive as me being "stuck" on my old therapist, but I get that he is only one component of a very complicated puzzle and he was the one who woke me up to how I was "stuck" in my reality.
So in our out, it seems I am or have been "stuck."
Trying to figure out the way out is tricky
But I am and I will.
Though the injury happened in January and track was in spring I was not allowed to run that year. I had been looking forward to joining the track team since the previous year when I had run at the track with my older sister who was on her high school track team so I expressed anger and annoyance about it. But at the same time I was secretly relieved because I was still so tired and really didn't have the mental energy for it.
That summer I don't remember feeling so much mental fatigue anymore but that is when I started to have fallouts with friends. or maybe it was the next year. I am not entirely sure and I don't remember much of 8th grade. It was rough. Ninth was better but still friendships were always a struggle. It wasn't that I fought or was angry, though at times I was, I just seemed to take things very personally. I don't really want to reanalyze all that as I don't feel that reliving the pain of those years is all that beneficial and it is so difficult to understand because teens years are just rough anyway. I watch my kids going through their teen years and I am sure I am making overcompensation mistakes so I suppose it is good to be aware of what was really happening
...and this what has lead me to reanalyze my life with a more full acceptance of the fact that I have brain damage.
I have never fully accepted that and it is something that is very hard to admit. It is shameful and the stigmas attached are... undefinable. I have not been able to accept diagnoses of mental illness either, because I am not that but I also do not like feeling like I am the burden of a TBI caregiver which seems to be the vast majority of the information out there.
I want to understand what is wrong with my brain, how to adapt and how to mover forward. Only this time I'd rather it not take a lifetime like it did before.
There is so much more to me and, yes, there are many other variables that have led to my current state of ...interesting, but I need to reframe my life with the understanding of how that traumatic brain altering occasion effected it.
It is not an easy task. I've already burned down one therapist and after 3 appointments know that this 3rd therapist in not quite equipped to handle me. I still have a 3rd appointment to attend to with the 2nd therapist and he may just work since he can relate to the brain injury component... But then there is the part of me that just wants to step away from all of their crazy and just breath for a moment. Just breath and allow myself to recenter in my own thoughts and see where I end up as I write this all out.
It is funny, I found a college level psychology text book on our living room floor this morning and as I picked it up I wondered which child of mine took it off the shelf and why. I wondered if this had been my text book from college, my husbands, or just a random book I had picked up somewhere years ago because I am kind of a nerd like that. It has no highlighter marks or notes on pages so it is not likely my book from college. It is a curious time to find it.
As I look through it I find information about"Neuroscience and encoding," the processes of encoding, and of memory storage. This snippet is interesting to me: "The processes of encoding are also affected by preconceived biases people have; humans tend to notice and encode information that confirms beliefs that they already hold-a tendency called confirmation bias. This tendency to 'see what you expect to see' is a powerful force in allowing people to retain inaccurate beliefs."
It is also interesting that the left frontal cortex is said to be used more in the encoding of new information. This was an area I exhibited problems on the neuropsychological test taken this last year. It also happens to be where my brain bleed was when I was 12. I can analyze my thinking and see how I have used different parts of my brain and different strategies to help me with this function. I do have a hard time paying attention to new information and I find that writing it down helps encode it even if I never look at the written down information again. I also repeat. Parrot. I try to connect new information with something I already know and often I will respond with comments that make it seem like I understand the new information better than I do. Sometimes the act of allowing an off the cuff or intuitive response is what starts the processing of information. It is an interesting phenomena to me as I am just now becoming aware of these tendencies that may be or have been the sources of some relationship troubles for me. It also explains the reprocessing that, to others, may seem counter-productive. At times it very much is and I do need to be careful of that but it is a way that I believe my brain learned to compensate for a missing piece. It can also lead me to pick up on deeper level understanding and connections that are often missed.
I am finding my brain to be a fascinating place and I am enjoying learning more about it.
People will not easily understand what they perceive as me being "stuck" on my old therapist, but I get that he is only one component of a very complicated puzzle and he was the one who woke me up to how I was "stuck" in my reality.
So in our out, it seems I am or have been "stuck."
Trying to figure out the way out is tricky
But I am and I will.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
The Jesus Man
At 18 I spent the night in the waiting room of a mental health facility in Florida. I was living with my sister at the time. A friend, who also happened to be a boy, came out for a visit. I invited every friend to visit. He actually took me up on the offer, but then acted like an ass while he was there. I was hurt. Florida was a hard place for me to make friends. I didn't party and I was not interested in sugar daddies or being a trophy so it probably stung a little more than it would have anywhere else.
I had gotten a speeding ticket while he was there and then a day or two after he left I got pulled over again. As the police officer proceeded to give me a ticket, I made an off the cuff comment about wanting to borrow his gun so I could take care of the problem.
That was a really stupid thing to say.
It took me a bit and some "discussion" with the officer to realize he wasn't sure if I had just made a threat on his life or mine.
When he realized I had made a threat on my life he insisted that I give him a family members phone number as he felt the responsible thing to do was to release me to one of them.
I was late for work and I did not want to bother, worry, or embarrass my sister or anyone so I was not very cooperative.
I simply refused and tried to convince him to let me go because I really had no intention of doing any harm to myself. Yet I would not deny that I might like to... not be alive.
Damned honest core.
It took him putting me in hand cuffs before I realized he intended to make good on his threat and take me in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist if I would not cooperate. I finally decided to give him my sisters #.
But alas, it was too late.
So off I went; hand cuffed in the back of his police car to the 45th Street Mental Health something or other in Rivera Beach maybe, Florida. I was being "Baker acted." It was some law in Florida that said you could be detained against your will if somebody felt you were a threat to yourself. Too bad I didn't know about that law beforehand. High school and drivers ed had taught me nothing about that.
I only had to wait until the next morning for the psychiatrist that would evaluate me. It was a late Saturday afternoon, evaluating staff had gone for the day, and the next day was Easter. Thus those of us being "Baker acted" had to wait an extra hour or two in the morning so the psychiatrist could attend her Easter services.
Fortunately my sister brought me a change of clothes because I was appropriately dressed -for my job at Wet Seal in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall- in a very short shiny blue skirt and a Sheera print t-shirt with cute white go-go boots. I was not allowed to wear my belt or have shoe laces.
I don't remember how the blankets and pillows worked but I was given somethings to sleep with. Problem was there was only one room with two stretcher like beds and the benches in the waiting room. The two beds had already been claimed but I didn't really care because I would not have wanted to sleep in the closed room with some strange person when the night watch was at the desk on the other side of that door. Didn't matter to me that it was a flap door (I can't remember what those are really called).
There was also a padded room in the hall on the way to the bathroom. I wished that I could sleep in there but they would only have let me if I also needed to be restrained in a straight jacket... I kind of longed for it, but I would not admit that to them.
There were 3 men, one other woman (who was very strange), and the night guard there. Two of the men were approachable. One was there because his mom had called the cops on him for trying to break into his house to get his stuff, or because he had nowhere to stay, or something like that. He claimed she did it out of malice. The other had been in jail and they were trying to put him in a cell with a man that he knew would kill him so he threatened to kill himself. Both were actually surprisingly pleasant company and we had funny conversations. I was glad they were there too because the lady and the other man did not seem to be entirely all there and I will admit, at 18 and 125 lbs, I was kind of scared of them. I don't remember much about the night watchman/guard. So amidst my company I claimed a hard wooden bench and settled in for the night.
About 3 am I woke up to the talking of a police officer who was bringing in yet another of us psychos. He checked him in and left. The man made his bed on the bench across from me and began to tell his story, though I am not entirely sure who he was telling it to; me, the night guard, just anyone or no-one at all. But I was very awake and listened carefully to how he landed himself in my present company.
At some point that night Jesus had started talking to him. At first it may have been a more generic voice but somewhere along the line it turned into Jesus and Jesus was asking the man to do things.
I had gotten a speeding ticket while he was there and then a day or two after he left I got pulled over again. As the police officer proceeded to give me a ticket, I made an off the cuff comment about wanting to borrow his gun so I could take care of the problem.
That was a really stupid thing to say.
It took me a bit and some "discussion" with the officer to realize he wasn't sure if I had just made a threat on his life or mine.
When he realized I had made a threat on my life he insisted that I give him a family members phone number as he felt the responsible thing to do was to release me to one of them.
I was late for work and I did not want to bother, worry, or embarrass my sister or anyone so I was not very cooperative.
I simply refused and tried to convince him to let me go because I really had no intention of doing any harm to myself. Yet I would not deny that I might like to... not be alive.
Damned honest core.
It took him putting me in hand cuffs before I realized he intended to make good on his threat and take me in to be evaluated by a psychiatrist if I would not cooperate. I finally decided to give him my sisters #.
But alas, it was too late.
So off I went; hand cuffed in the back of his police car to the 45th Street Mental Health something or other in Rivera Beach maybe, Florida. I was being "Baker acted." It was some law in Florida that said you could be detained against your will if somebody felt you were a threat to yourself. Too bad I didn't know about that law beforehand. High school and drivers ed had taught me nothing about that.
I only had to wait until the next morning for the psychiatrist that would evaluate me. It was a late Saturday afternoon, evaluating staff had gone for the day, and the next day was Easter. Thus those of us being "Baker acted" had to wait an extra hour or two in the morning so the psychiatrist could attend her Easter services.
Fortunately my sister brought me a change of clothes because I was appropriately dressed -for my job at Wet Seal in the Palm Beach Gardens Mall- in a very short shiny blue skirt and a Sheera print t-shirt with cute white go-go boots. I was not allowed to wear my belt or have shoe laces.
I don't remember how the blankets and pillows worked but I was given somethings to sleep with. Problem was there was only one room with two stretcher like beds and the benches in the waiting room. The two beds had already been claimed but I didn't really care because I would not have wanted to sleep in the closed room with some strange person when the night watch was at the desk on the other side of that door. Didn't matter to me that it was a flap door (I can't remember what those are really called).
There was also a padded room in the hall on the way to the bathroom. I wished that I could sleep in there but they would only have let me if I also needed to be restrained in a straight jacket... I kind of longed for it, but I would not admit that to them.
There were 3 men, one other woman (who was very strange), and the night guard there. Two of the men were approachable. One was there because his mom had called the cops on him for trying to break into his house to get his stuff, or because he had nowhere to stay, or something like that. He claimed she did it out of malice. The other had been in jail and they were trying to put him in a cell with a man that he knew would kill him so he threatened to kill himself. Both were actually surprisingly pleasant company and we had funny conversations. I was glad they were there too because the lady and the other man did not seem to be entirely all there and I will admit, at 18 and 125 lbs, I was kind of scared of them. I don't remember much about the night watchman/guard. So amidst my company I claimed a hard wooden bench and settled in for the night.
About 3 am I woke up to the talking of a police officer who was bringing in yet another of us psychos. He checked him in and left. The man made his bed on the bench across from me and began to tell his story, though I am not entirely sure who he was telling it to; me, the night guard, just anyone or no-one at all. But I was very awake and listened carefully to how he landed himself in my present company.
At some point that night Jesus had started talking to him. At first it may have been a more generic voice but somewhere along the line it turned into Jesus and Jesus was asking the man to do things.
In the beginning of his hallucinations, the man seemed to have had been entertaining conversations with the Jesus voice. However, as the "Jesus" started to get more demanding the man started to wish for him to leave him alone. The "Jesus" voice started to tell him to do bad things and was getting increasingly persistent and angry with my companion as he argued that he would not. The man decided to tell his friends to take him to the hospital. At first they didn't listen but as Jesus got more insistent this man got more assertive with his friends as he explained that they needed to take him to the hospital before he hurt somebody. They obliged and then the hospital called the police and they brought him to our fine little facility.
It was an interesting situation I was in and I wondered if I should feel more scared then I did.
This man was fascinating to me and I would reflect on his story for years to come. It bewildered me how he could think this voice was Jesus, but to him it was, and I admired the man for being able to discern right from wrong even when he believed it was Jesus himself telling him to do the "bad" things. I was impressed that he had learned how to keep himself in check. Because of that self control he became a source of inspiration for me and valuable educator. I knew if this man, who walked and talked with a very bad Jesus, could keep himself in check, with one foot firmly planted in reality, and knowing when to get help, then I could too.
And I have.
He really is a personal hero of mine and I wish I could thank him for it, but he was the first one to be taken from the waiting room the next morning and I never saw him again. I am not certain if I ever saw his face at all as I can only vaguely remember watching the back of him as he followed his escort, while trying to keep his baggy belt-less pants up, from the waiting room and into the unknown quarters beyond.
This man was fascinating to me and I would reflect on his story for years to come. It bewildered me how he could think this voice was Jesus, but to him it was, and I admired the man for being able to discern right from wrong even when he believed it was Jesus himself telling him to do the "bad" things. I was impressed that he had learned how to keep himself in check. Because of that self control he became a source of inspiration for me and valuable educator. I knew if this man, who walked and talked with a very bad Jesus, could keep himself in check, with one foot firmly planted in reality, and knowing when to get help, then I could too.
And I have.
He really is a personal hero of mine and I wish I could thank him for it, but he was the first one to be taken from the waiting room the next morning and I never saw him again. I am not certain if I ever saw his face at all as I can only vaguely remember watching the back of him as he followed his escort, while trying to keep his baggy belt-less pants up, from the waiting room and into the unknown quarters beyond.
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Lovely Little Lab Rat
When I struggled with friends in high school my mom used to tell me that I was a very intense person that I had a very intense personality and that not everyone could handle that kind of intensity.
She said this to help me understand and to comfort me.
A couple of years later this came up in conversation with a boyfriend. He thought it was a terrible thing to say. I thought about this from his perspective.
Maybe.
Maybe it was not as helpful as I thought. Maybe it justified intensities that didn't need to be. Or maybe it planted the idea and fed that. Maybe it was a genuine put down.
I don't know.
But I do not think of it as good or bad but rather just a thing. I used it for what I needed it to be when I needed it.
Is that good or bad?
Labels are interesting. "Good" and "bad" are labels and both judgements.
It is funny how we often consider someone judgmental if we disapprove of or disagree with their judgment, or if we feel it is a negative judgement. Yet we do not call the "good" judging. But it is/can be. If you say "that is a good person," you have just judged them. And, well, who are you to judge?
So I ramble into my next thoughts of my conspiracy theory.
"he may have been playing with fire" says the new therapist of the old therapist. I was still in my protect him frame of mind.
That broke and I awoke when it was implied that I have been stalking.
Why had I been so concerned about protecting him from getting into trouble on my account when I had done nothing wrong?
The power of suggestion?
What is it that this is and what does it need to be?
Was it simply that emotions caught him off guard and he panicked? Was it that he genuinely had developed feelings for me and he panicked due to inappropriate protocols and or stigmas attached? Was it misunderstandings and misconceptions of me or something I said because he was emotionally vulnerable, and I crazy? Was it counter-transference in some form he did not want to talk about? Was it a power struggle to him? Was it an "oh shit, she's one of those" moments but then failed to tell what he thought I was?
Or was it something more diabolical?
Experimenting
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
And I was his test subject
his unsuspecting victim?
On paper, I am the perfect target.
...and sadly there is evidence that points to that.
But is that what it is or am I still just trying to understand the what-it-is-that-it-was or how to let it be what it needs to be.
I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is that his expectations of me to just walk away from everything and forget were so completely unrealistic and really unfair, even if he did not want to treat me, someone there should have been looking out for me. It is actually their obligation.
So why the manipulation? Why the games of neither confirming nor denying? And why did no one stop and say "this girl is not in a safe mental place and this is harming or will harm her?" That is, after all, their profession.
So withdrawal then looks like a red-zone defense mechanism.
She said this to help me understand and to comfort me.
A couple of years later this came up in conversation with a boyfriend. He thought it was a terrible thing to say. I thought about this from his perspective.
Maybe.
Maybe it was not as helpful as I thought. Maybe it justified intensities that didn't need to be. Or maybe it planted the idea and fed that. Maybe it was a genuine put down.
I don't know.
But I do not think of it as good or bad but rather just a thing. I used it for what I needed it to be when I needed it.
Is that good or bad?
Labels are interesting. "Good" and "bad" are labels and both judgements.
It is funny how we often consider someone judgmental if we disapprove of or disagree with their judgment, or if we feel it is a negative judgement. Yet we do not call the "good" judging. But it is/can be. If you say "that is a good person," you have just judged them. And, well, who are you to judge?
So I ramble into my next thoughts of my conspiracy theory.
"he may have been playing with fire" says the new therapist of the old therapist. I was still in my protect him frame of mind.
That broke and I awoke when it was implied that I have been stalking.
Why had I been so concerned about protecting him from getting into trouble on my account when I had done nothing wrong?
The power of suggestion?
What is it that this is and what does it need to be?
Was it simply that emotions caught him off guard and he panicked? Was it that he genuinely had developed feelings for me and he panicked due to inappropriate protocols and or stigmas attached? Was it misunderstandings and misconceptions of me or something I said because he was emotionally vulnerable, and I crazy? Was it counter-transference in some form he did not want to talk about? Was it a power struggle to him? Was it an "oh shit, she's one of those" moments but then failed to tell what he thought I was?
Or was it something more diabolical?
Experimenting
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
And I was his test subject
his unsuspecting victim?
On paper, I am the perfect target.
...and sadly there is evidence that points to that.
But is that what it is or am I still just trying to understand the what-it-is-that-it-was or how to let it be what it needs to be.
I am not sure.
But one thing I am sure of, is that his expectations of me to just walk away from everything and forget were so completely unrealistic and really unfair, even if he did not want to treat me, someone there should have been looking out for me. It is actually their obligation.
So why the manipulation? Why the games of neither confirming nor denying? And why did no one stop and say "this girl is not in a safe mental place and this is harming or will harm her?" That is, after all, their profession.
So withdrawal then looks like a red-zone defense mechanism.
the straight jacket
I don't know how I am going to explain all of this. I don't know how I am going to "file a complaint" yet. I am not sure what direction to take, who to take this up with, and yet I know I need to in order to resolve this for me. My life has in some ways come to a halt because of it and I want to move past this.
I was foolishly hoping that I could talk to my captor outside of his professional restraints. I believed if I could he would not be as tempted to use his Jedi mind tricks and that they would not work so well outside of his palace of power. Snowboarding could have freed his mind as it is a place of friendship and fun where safety is always the first priority, so I hoped he might come take a lesson from me or at least be willing to meet up in an environment like that. I hoped that I could help him see better what I was trying to explain about still needing him. I hoped it could be a place where he could safely explore the "human" element that was effecting him so profoundly. I was not afraid of this because I know my boundaries and I know that I am not a threat. I also really did understand the transference and counter-transference and some of the parallels that were taking place. I also wanted him out of his office and professional place because something or someone there had him convinced that I was a liability, which I was not. He believed (and still does) that I was a liability to himself, I was not and am not a liability, danger or threat. He was so afraid of loosing his license because of me, which I knew was irrational. It was frustrating.
...or diabolical. I can't be certain there because I don't truly know his intentions and what he was so fearful of (although he did say it was not me "I am not scared of you," he said when I was talking about how people are afraid of me).
It is a deeply unsettling situation and event that transpired at a time when I was already unsettled.
Flashback to the year 1991:
"I remember the feeling of that," I exclaimed to my mom when we were talking about the events that transpired between the time I took the blow to my head while sledding and I awoke in the hospital the next day; the events that I had no memory of. It had been a year or more since the accident but the whole story had still not been fully told to me. I did not know the details of my story.
They had put me in a straight jacket at one point because I was thrashing, crazy, fighting and out of control and, though I had not and would not regain any other memories from that day and a half, I remembered the feeling of the heavy canvas swaddling me tightly into myself. It was soothing. It helped me feel safe and comforted as something else was able to take control of my out-of-control body and my broken brain. It was the straight jacket that calmed me. I remembered the feeling and I still remember it in a very endearing way. Sometimes I long for it. Irony or paradox?
Present:
That is how my therapist felt to me. He was soothing and comforting as he took control and at times held me tight with his methods, teaching me how to take care of myself while restraining something that felt out of control. He was my straight jacket when my emotions were out of control and my mind was so broken.
I knew I was going to loose him eventually but I did not see it coming when and how it did. I was not as physically broken as I was when I was a child and he was not a straight jacket but when I lost that comfort, at that moment it broke me in a new way. It broke me in ways that were familiar but also in a way I have never experienced before.
It was and still is confusing.
And I have, at times, longed for a straight jacket
I was foolishly hoping that I could talk to my captor outside of his professional restraints. I believed if I could he would not be as tempted to use his Jedi mind tricks and that they would not work so well outside of his palace of power. Snowboarding could have freed his mind as it is a place of friendship and fun where safety is always the first priority, so I hoped he might come take a lesson from me or at least be willing to meet up in an environment like that. I hoped that I could help him see better what I was trying to explain about still needing him. I hoped it could be a place where he could safely explore the "human" element that was effecting him so profoundly. I was not afraid of this because I know my boundaries and I know that I am not a threat. I also really did understand the transference and counter-transference and some of the parallels that were taking place. I also wanted him out of his office and professional place because something or someone there had him convinced that I was a liability, which I was not. He believed (and still does) that I was a liability to himself, I was not and am not a liability, danger or threat. He was so afraid of loosing his license because of me, which I knew was irrational. It was frustrating.
...or diabolical. I can't be certain there because I don't truly know his intentions and what he was so fearful of (although he did say it was not me "I am not scared of you," he said when I was talking about how people are afraid of me).
It is a deeply unsettling situation and event that transpired at a time when I was already unsettled.
Flashback to the year 1991:
"I remember the feeling of that," I exclaimed to my mom when we were talking about the events that transpired between the time I took the blow to my head while sledding and I awoke in the hospital the next day; the events that I had no memory of. It had been a year or more since the accident but the whole story had still not been fully told to me. I did not know the details of my story.
They had put me in a straight jacket at one point because I was thrashing, crazy, fighting and out of control and, though I had not and would not regain any other memories from that day and a half, I remembered the feeling of the heavy canvas swaddling me tightly into myself. It was soothing. It helped me feel safe and comforted as something else was able to take control of my out-of-control body and my broken brain. It was the straight jacket that calmed me. I remembered the feeling and I still remember it in a very endearing way. Sometimes I long for it. Irony or paradox?
Present:
That is how my therapist felt to me. He was soothing and comforting as he took control and at times held me tight with his methods, teaching me how to take care of myself while restraining something that felt out of control. He was my straight jacket when my emotions were out of control and my mind was so broken.
I knew I was going to loose him eventually but I did not see it coming when and how it did. I was not as physically broken as I was when I was a child and he was not a straight jacket but when I lost that comfort, at that moment it broke me in a new way. It broke me in ways that were familiar but also in a way I have never experienced before.
It was and still is confusing.
And I have, at times, longed for a straight jacket
Saturday, January 19, 2019
writing because I'm bored
Nobodies home.
I'm to tired to write and send the emails that I really need to get done. If I try I am likely to make some silly mistakes which are fine here but not there.
So I am lazily watching television
andonly feeling a tiny bit not at all guilty about it.
But I must admit I feel a little bored.
Funny thing is awakenings
those happen for me from time to time. And it not really a funny thing at all. Often it is very embarrassing. It confuses me how I got so turned around. And yet it is not confusing at the same time. The boring now is my mind resting. It is resting because it has been so busy trying to get straight again.
Boring can also happen after highs. Highs can be fun but when they are over the world is not so exciting and you kind of wonder what you are supposed to do with yourself now.
I wonder, sometimes how "normal" this is.
So many things are so much more common than we realize... But somehow I am not common. I really do confuse people.
I can tell you why. At least some possible reasons. And I can tell you why I scare people. I scare people because I figure things out. Sometimes before I even know that I have figured anything out at all. That or I have not attached the same meaning and/or judgement and they don't realize that. I also will call it out, but likely again, not with the same meaning and judgement they are expecting so that is confusing and confusing can be scary to people. Also it can be scary if a person knows they are doing something wrong.
Their interpretations and actions associated take me time to figure out and I may not always be right or correct but I am open to explanations and discussion. Problem is often others are not, but if you are doing something wrong I will eventually figure it out.
So this may seem like directionless disjointed ramblings, but it is not.
It is how my brain works at times. It is how I figure things out.
It all started with an injury that left my brain damaged. It left a void in my processing and the bumping, bruising and rattling that triggered firings and misfirings of epic proportions needed to settle and then work themselves out. I have been thinking about brains a lot this last 15 or 16 months because mine was shaken again and it woke up familiar feelings and experiences. I remember being able to actually feel my brain rerouting as a sports medicine concussion doctor asked me questions to test my level of concussion or something like that. I could tell my brain was not taking the same paths or that those paths had been disrupted and yet I knew how to compensate; though it was slower I instinctively knew how to relax and let it work through the process. I felt that with the chiropractor who first realized I had a concussion that needed to be addressed. He had me remember some words that I would not have otherwise remembered except I automatically recognized a pattern that helped them stick. The pattern had to do with the shapes of the letters and how they matched if turned certain ways. The funny thing is prior to the concussion I would not have immediately recognized that pattern. There were other things that I picked up on with heightened senses as well. Almost like super powers. And yet I couldn't remember peoples named or faces and many other annoying things.
I saw an fMRI picture of a brain after concussion and it has stuck in my head. The brains efficiency is less effective as the whole brain is lit up. Normally our brain fires in very specific areas according to the task that is being preformed but the concussion or injured brain (if I am remembering correctly) right after injury is firing all over the place which is part of why it is so tired. But I have this theory that as the brain fires all over and begins to reroute it becomes aware of those parts that have been forgotten or unused. It learns that there are more places to go and more ways to do things. It realizes it has other resources to access. It has made connections and knows how to make connections that the undamaged brain doesn't even know exists; which is hard for the undamaged brain to understand.
Its boundaries truly are different.
Bipolar- they say
depression
anxiety
these are places the brain can go or can get stuck. Had I not a damaged brain I may have never experienced these places at all, whose to say? (I was 12) but in my damaged brain they are more manageable because I can reroute. I know how, even when I am not cognizant of it.
That is what happened when I hurt so bad from the feelings of rejection and like I had done something wrong -at the moment my buried self started to reveal itself in what was supposed to be a safe place with a person who I trusted, admired, and cared deeply for. It was an unbearable pain. It was far more than I could handle.
My brain accessed mania. Intense happy and too much dopamine. It was a fun place, but, as this article https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/dark-side-of-happiness-why-too-much-good-thing-is-not-a-good-thing/ points out too much happiness can be... dangerous. And mania can most certainly be dangerous. If for no other reason than your body is going to eventually get sick if you keep running on so little sleep (which it did).
It accessed this place to fight the pain. To hold onto the good. And to get me over a hurdle that would have otherwise destroyed me. My brain has that ability. and not because I am any mental illness label but because it knows how to use those parts and come back from it when it is safe again.
Not without solving. Not without fixing. I am constantly collecting and analyzing, categorizing and sorting information, trying to make sense of where it belongs, if it belongs, and how it belongs. I need to know how and where this information fits so I can figure out how and where I fit.
Fixing has become such an innate part of me that I automatically do it without even trying. I need to fix to survive. I need to fix to find value and meaning to myself. I need to fix to fight depression that comes from many sources.
I need to fix to convince myself I belong in this place that doesn't understand me and very often rejects me in very harsh ways.
So that is my bored explanation of the crazy that embarrasses me from time to time, (though it has been a long time and to date and I do not remember a mania so intense) and the depression and other places I sometimes find myself waking up from.
It sounds much more intense than it usually is but maybe it is much more intense, but it is my normal. That is why very little scares me.
And there are so many stories to tell
but now it is time for sleep
so I can teach life lessons through snowboarding tomorrow. "your intellect has to override your instinct" I tell my students to help them learn how to ride in control by leaning down hill into their turns.
I'm to tired to write and send the emails that I really need to get done. If I try I am likely to make some silly mistakes which are fine here but not there.
So I am lazily watching television
and
But I must admit I feel a little bored.
Funny thing is awakenings
those happen for me from time to time. And it not really a funny thing at all. Often it is very embarrassing. It confuses me how I got so turned around. And yet it is not confusing at the same time. The boring now is my mind resting. It is resting because it has been so busy trying to get straight again.
Boring can also happen after highs. Highs can be fun but when they are over the world is not so exciting and you kind of wonder what you are supposed to do with yourself now.
I wonder, sometimes how "normal" this is.
So many things are so much more common than we realize... But somehow I am not common. I really do confuse people.
I can tell you why. At least some possible reasons. And I can tell you why I scare people. I scare people because I figure things out. Sometimes before I even know that I have figured anything out at all. That or I have not attached the same meaning and/or judgement and they don't realize that. I also will call it out, but likely again, not with the same meaning and judgement they are expecting so that is confusing and confusing can be scary to people. Also it can be scary if a person knows they are doing something wrong.
Their interpretations and actions associated take me time to figure out and I may not always be right or correct but I am open to explanations and discussion. Problem is often others are not, but if you are doing something wrong I will eventually figure it out.
So this may seem like directionless disjointed ramblings, but it is not.
It is how my brain works at times. It is how I figure things out.
It all started with an injury that left my brain damaged. It left a void in my processing and the bumping, bruising and rattling that triggered firings and misfirings of epic proportions needed to settle and then work themselves out. I have been thinking about brains a lot this last 15 or 16 months because mine was shaken again and it woke up familiar feelings and experiences. I remember being able to actually feel my brain rerouting as a sports medicine concussion doctor asked me questions to test my level of concussion or something like that. I could tell my brain was not taking the same paths or that those paths had been disrupted and yet I knew how to compensate; though it was slower I instinctively knew how to relax and let it work through the process. I felt that with the chiropractor who first realized I had a concussion that needed to be addressed. He had me remember some words that I would not have otherwise remembered except I automatically recognized a pattern that helped them stick. The pattern had to do with the shapes of the letters and how they matched if turned certain ways. The funny thing is prior to the concussion I would not have immediately recognized that pattern. There were other things that I picked up on with heightened senses as well. Almost like super powers. And yet I couldn't remember peoples named or faces and many other annoying things.
I saw an fMRI picture of a brain after concussion and it has stuck in my head. The brains efficiency is less effective as the whole brain is lit up. Normally our brain fires in very specific areas according to the task that is being preformed but the concussion or injured brain (if I am remembering correctly) right after injury is firing all over the place which is part of why it is so tired. But I have this theory that as the brain fires all over and begins to reroute it becomes aware of those parts that have been forgotten or unused. It learns that there are more places to go and more ways to do things. It realizes it has other resources to access. It has made connections and knows how to make connections that the undamaged brain doesn't even know exists; which is hard for the undamaged brain to understand.
Its boundaries truly are different.
Bipolar- they say
depression
anxiety
these are places the brain can go or can get stuck. Had I not a damaged brain I may have never experienced these places at all, whose to say? (I was 12) but in my damaged brain they are more manageable because I can reroute. I know how, even when I am not cognizant of it.
That is what happened when I hurt so bad from the feelings of rejection and like I had done something wrong -at the moment my buried self started to reveal itself in what was supposed to be a safe place with a person who I trusted, admired, and cared deeply for. It was an unbearable pain. It was far more than I could handle.
My brain accessed mania. Intense happy and too much dopamine. It was a fun place, but, as this article https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/dark-side-of-happiness-why-too-much-good-thing-is-not-a-good-thing/ points out too much happiness can be... dangerous. And mania can most certainly be dangerous. If for no other reason than your body is going to eventually get sick if you keep running on so little sleep (which it did).
It accessed this place to fight the pain. To hold onto the good. And to get me over a hurdle that would have otherwise destroyed me. My brain has that ability. and not because I am any mental illness label but because it knows how to use those parts and come back from it when it is safe again.
Not without solving. Not without fixing. I am constantly collecting and analyzing, categorizing and sorting information, trying to make sense of where it belongs, if it belongs, and how it belongs. I need to know how and where this information fits so I can figure out how and where I fit.
Fixing has become such an innate part of me that I automatically do it without even trying. I need to fix to survive. I need to fix to find value and meaning to myself. I need to fix to fight depression that comes from many sources.
I need to fix to convince myself I belong in this place that doesn't understand me and very often rejects me in very harsh ways.
So that is my bored explanation of the crazy that embarrasses me from time to time, (though it has been a long time and to date and I do not remember a mania so intense) and the depression and other places I sometimes find myself waking up from.
It sounds much more intense than it usually is but maybe it is much more intense, but it is my normal. That is why very little scares me.
And there are so many stories to tell
but now it is time for sleep
so I can teach life lessons through snowboarding tomorrow. "your intellect has to override your instinct" I tell my students to help them learn how to ride in control by leaning down hill into their turns.
12 again
At age 12 when I returned home form the hospital after the sledding accident that damaged my brain, my parents thought it would be a good idea and good use of my time, since I could not return to school for sometime still (2 weeks or more, I don't remember), to write thank you cards to all the people who had given me gifts while I was in the hospital.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.
I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.
I cried when I remembered this.
I could not even do my homework or remember what the teacher who had come to my house had told me. I remember being back at school later and my mom being angry with the school for my failing grades. I remember the teacher asking me about all the work and assignments she had left with me and had taken the time to explain. I remember her disappointed look as I couldn't really remember it or what she had left me with.
I felt responsible for my moms anger.
I felt responsible for my teachers disappointment and the schools troubles.
I felt bad about the thank you cards I had not written...by myself with no help.
I felt bad for my family since they were the ones who remembered all the traumatic stuff but I got all the gifts.
They were glad that I was fine. That I had "fully" recovered. It was miraculous, I am sure.
But it was not.
I was not okay. I was not healed. My brain and who I was, was not the same and that didn't matter.
I learned that my needs were secondary. That my healing was less important. I learned that I needed to protect others from my injuries.
I vaguely remember the follow up with the neurologist. I vaguely remember him saying something about therapies, I was looking forward to it. But they never happened, because I was "fine."
It has been a cycle that has continued throughout my life. "your needs are more important than mine, so I will be fine for you, try to help and try not to be a burden, then maybe you will value me, maybe then I really will be okay."
It doesn't work.
It has broken me again and again.
It is time to change that I think.
...and yet the place that was supposed to be able to see that, to define it, to help me see it for what it is, made the same decision about me, even when I was trying so hard to explain that I needed their help. I'm that good at playing the part now I suppose. It breaks my heart again and again.
And currently I am tired. I did not leave 20% and this processing that feels important and needed is maybe not going to work as well or read as well as I'd like but I'll leave it, because it is my reality and part of this sometimes very slow process.
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