I am blown away.
No countertransference. that is the claim.
He says so himself.
Fine. I even would have agreed with that at one point, because he had worded it in a way that was implied but neither confirmed nor denied
I gave them that out even, realizing I could have misinterpreted because I had gone manic
but now they want to deny that.
They claim I was not manic
so if it wasn't my manic misinterpretation than what was it?
You even state, transference and countertransference were discussed in your own documentation. so you cannot deny this conversation but you do and you cannot deny the evidence of out of character, irrational mania in my emails but you do.
When it all became cover your ass conversations
and I became the scarlet liability
it was apparent
it was something.
They said, "not grooming, not countertransference"
but completely unwilling to talk with me and explain?
When I was trying to understand my own brain.
Dabbling in the dark arts of psychology
your cover is blown
so now it is gaslighting
they are working to break me
A power struggle?
Yes
But obviously you are the one in power
do you just need me to recognize that?
I don't want your power
and yes you have power over me
. Is that what you need, is that what you want?
Is your ego satisfied?
This is very very wrong.
Wednesday, April 10, 2019
Tuesday, April 9, 2019
Carl D Coye
Once when I was in elementary school, about 4th grade, I noticed something written on the back of school bus seat in front of me. It was a code of some sort. I don't remember the code exactly but based on what I had figured out it said something about liking me. I don't remember if I dared look around or not. It was very strange to me that someone had written this on the bus seat and I don't think I believed it.
Later, much later, like high school or a chance meeting as adults, the writer of the message confessed to me that they were they writer, they had planted it there intentionally, and that they had been surprised I had broken their code so easily.
In high school I received two letters -no, one poem and a letter, in the mail. The poem was well written, and flatteringly beautiful but also cheesy by my cheesy romance averse high school standard:
"your luminescence is by far are the brightest star in this moonlight sky" was my favorite line (and the only line I remember now)
The letter asked me to respond. Begged me to. But I had no idea what I was responding to and I would not be made a mockery of. So I simply hand delivered to the requested mailbox a note that said it it was for real I was flattered and if it was a joke I was amused but I simply could not respond to someone or something I knew nothing about. I did not heard from them again... I assumed it had been a joke, but I kept the writings because you don't just throw out that kind of flattery, even if it is a joke, that took time, so even as a joke it is flattery, especially since I had foiled the prankster.
So I heard nothing, that is until facebook came about and (years later) this dear admirer in his facebook confessions he posted to entertain his own high school students made a confession that I recognized and called him out on. He was someone I had suspected, in fact the one I suspected most, because of some little subtleties around the time of the events, but I would not have asked, nor confronted him directly about it. So finally, after so many years my admirer finally revealed himself. Turned out it was not intended to be a joke, but rather it ended something like I deflated his ego/confidence in implying it may be a joke. I was one of a few (or maybe two) he had written letters to and he claimed he did not think through his fb confession and had not intended it to be for me. But coincidence [or maybe an internal subconscious determination to solve all mysteries] resulted in my seeing that particular confession and the mystery was solved easily after at least a decade. You can imagine the conversations we had via email after that.
...I eventually blew that up. I had to, it was spiraling out of control quickly. I suppose I was too hot a fire and far too vulnerable for that kind of flattery. But we stayed fb friends.
Maybe still I don't handle the flattery of attraction from men well...
But I am really good at solving the mystery even if I don't believe it
or don't want to.
... my guess this time; I am not the first or only, much like I was not the first or only girl to be flattered by previous cryptically composed admirers.
Later, much later, like high school or a chance meeting as adults, the writer of the message confessed to me that they were they writer, they had planted it there intentionally, and that they had been surprised I had broken their code so easily.
In high school I received two letters -no, one poem and a letter, in the mail. The poem was well written, and flatteringly beautiful but also cheesy by my cheesy romance averse high school standard:
"your luminescence is by far are the brightest star in this moonlight sky" was my favorite line (and the only line I remember now)
The letter asked me to respond. Begged me to. But I had no idea what I was responding to and I would not be made a mockery of. So I simply hand delivered to the requested mailbox a note that said it it was for real I was flattered and if it was a joke I was amused but I simply could not respond to someone or something I knew nothing about. I did not heard from them again... I assumed it had been a joke, but I kept the writings because you don't just throw out that kind of flattery, even if it is a joke, that took time, so even as a joke it is flattery, especially since I had foiled the prankster.
So I heard nothing, that is until facebook came about and (years later) this dear admirer in his facebook confessions he posted to entertain his own high school students made a confession that I recognized and called him out on. He was someone I had suspected, in fact the one I suspected most, because of some little subtleties around the time of the events, but I would not have asked, nor confronted him directly about it. So finally, after so many years my admirer finally revealed himself. Turned out it was not intended to be a joke, but rather it ended something like I deflated his ego/confidence in implying it may be a joke. I was one of a few (or maybe two) he had written letters to and he claimed he did not think through his fb confession and had not intended it to be for me. But coincidence [or maybe an internal subconscious determination to solve all mysteries] resulted in my seeing that particular confession and the mystery was solved easily after at least a decade. You can imagine the conversations we had via email after that.
...I eventually blew that up. I had to, it was spiraling out of control quickly. I suppose I was too hot a fire and far too vulnerable for that kind of flattery. But we stayed fb friends.
Maybe still I don't handle the flattery of attraction from men well...
But I am really good at solving the mystery even if I don't believe it
or don't want to.
... my guess this time; I am not the first or only, much like I was not the first or only girl to be flattered by previous cryptically composed admirers.
Monday, April 8, 2019
The Valleys
I had a job interview today for a job I feel very excited about. I am not sure how the interview went though because it was at 2:00 pm. That seems to consistently be about my max out point on optimum cognitive functioning these days and that is very frustrating.
I felt I was doing better than this before the set back of my therapist dumping me.... not up to pre-accident but better than this. I am not sure what set me back more, that or the ankle and 7 weeks of not being able to get much movement in, trying to allow one part of my body to heal at the expense of the other (again).
As far as my mood stability I have been doing immensely better this last week.
Taking the time to stand up for myself, writing it out, even though it was ignored, misconstrued, or misinterpreted, yet again, still helped me. It helped me know that I am worth it to myself to stand up for and to keep trying for myself even when I know the odds are against me. I feel good and positive about trying and making the effort to say what I felt I needed to and what was right to me even knowing that it most likely would not matter to them and knowing that they don't care and see no value to me or what I have to say.
I suppose it is empowering how hard they are working to restore the "imbalance of power" he is supposed to have over me...but that I apparently have over him or them.
It is very silly really.
Their attempts to restore and maintain the imbalance of power is the unethical issue here.
Good thing I am so powerful
or at least smart enough to see what the ethical issues are.
I feel bad for them, they feel so threatened and insecure, and they are not even sure what the threat is.
It is their own misconception of power and their fear of others who do not conform to their mold.
They are stuck in the king of the hill game that I feel hurts our society and culture. They may feel it too, but they feel forced to play, not realizing that the only way we will ever stop the perpetuation of this damaging game is to either a. stop playing or b. play differently.
I still like the idea of helping each other up and sharing the hill instead of constantly knocking everyone one down, perceiving them as a threat.
This hill in particular is important to me personally and I don't like that I know people who are vulnerable and there for help are going to get knocked down by misinterpretations of power struggles or rigid rules on treatment terms that are only in place to capitalize financially; not to help them to the individual extent they need.
...So in my game I will help you up, hoping this time you don't knock me down. We can discuss our rules and maybe we can negotiate but if you insist on knocking me down again and again, and in playing that way, I'll walk away from you as well.
Maybe someday I'll find a hill that is a good fit and has room for me. But even if I don't I think I'm pretty okay with walking these valleys and loving the souls I find down here.
Down in these valleys you find all sorts; but mostly we are not weak, we are kind by choice.
I felt I was doing better than this before the set back of my therapist dumping me.... not up to pre-accident but better than this. I am not sure what set me back more, that or the ankle and 7 weeks of not being able to get much movement in, trying to allow one part of my body to heal at the expense of the other (again).
As far as my mood stability I have been doing immensely better this last week.
Taking the time to stand up for myself, writing it out, even though it was ignored, misconstrued, or misinterpreted, yet again, still helped me. It helped me know that I am worth it to myself to stand up for and to keep trying for myself even when I know the odds are against me. I feel good and positive about trying and making the effort to say what I felt I needed to and what was right to me even knowing that it most likely would not matter to them and knowing that they don't care and see no value to me or what I have to say.
I suppose it is empowering how hard they are working to restore the "imbalance of power" he is supposed to have over me...but that I apparently have over him or them.
It is very silly really.
Their attempts to restore and maintain the imbalance of power is the unethical issue here.
Good thing I am so powerful
or at least smart enough to see what the ethical issues are.
I feel bad for them, they feel so threatened and insecure, and they are not even sure what the threat is.
It is their own misconception of power and their fear of others who do not conform to their mold.
They are stuck in the king of the hill game that I feel hurts our society and culture. They may feel it too, but they feel forced to play, not realizing that the only way we will ever stop the perpetuation of this damaging game is to either a. stop playing or b. play differently.
I still like the idea of helping each other up and sharing the hill instead of constantly knocking everyone one down, perceiving them as a threat.
This hill in particular is important to me personally and I don't like that I know people who are vulnerable and there for help are going to get knocked down by misinterpretations of power struggles or rigid rules on treatment terms that are only in place to capitalize financially; not to help them to the individual extent they need.
...So in my game I will help you up, hoping this time you don't knock me down. We can discuss our rules and maybe we can negotiate but if you insist on knocking me down again and again, and in playing that way, I'll walk away from you as well.
Maybe someday I'll find a hill that is a good fit and has room for me. But even if I don't I think I'm pretty okay with walking these valleys and loving the souls I find down here.
Down in these valleys you find all sorts; but mostly we are not weak, we are kind by choice.
Saturday, March 30, 2019
Transference in A Thousand Years
I want to make my own music video to this song. Christina Perri: A thousand years
About transference. The kind where you need to learn to love yourself.
I listen to this song and visualize the good of what was happening in therapy. The part that I needed [maybe] most.
Christina Perri: A thousand years
I see myself sitting in the waiting room.
My therapists comes out where he usually does, sometimes looking a little ragged and worn down sometimes looking just normal. I am happy to see him, always. I smile at him standing there alone. He returns the smiles with the light in his eyes that I love to see.
As I walk toward him it becomes apparent that he is holding a mirror the mirror that then turns into a full length mirror and I am there alone staring at myself.
My smile disappears as I realize he has disappeared. I look behind the mirror and then back into the mirror.
He is there, in the mirror with his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me through the mirror. He turns me around to face myself again, this time I'm looking at myself from the other side of the mirror. I turn back to my therapist but he points me once again to face myself.
I then see myself the way my therapist has been trying to help me see me.
I see that I am worth loving and I am beautiful in my own way. I see that it is okay to love my perfectly imperfect self and even that I have and can continue to.
I walk out the front side of the mirror rejoining myself and my therapist walks out the back.
I think this is how the story is supposed to end.
...But in my story I noticed the pain in my therapists eyes as I looked back. I trusted his strength but I also felt his hesitation to turn me around and his vulnerability as he leaned just slightly on me. I felt his fear and his pain as he then carefully pushed me away to regain his own footing. I realized how hard his job is. Unfortunately he didn't notice that my concern for him had distracted me and I had not fully rejoined the me that was walking away strong. But as he left the mirror fell and shattered and the now split me is left facing the closed door he escaped through while strong me doesn't make it too far before the unaddressed brain damage and reality of the split takes me down and I am left split and alone wondering what I did wrong and how to fix it.
"you can listen to it while you cry yourself to sleep tonight" I say but it's not about him at all, I am speaking of myself; evidence of how enmeshed and entangled I am in this complex psychological web.
... I don't think about that part when I listen to this song. Rather I try to see the whole me and leave with that me fully intact loving myself for a thousand years and loving my therapist as my past therapist and simply that.
Maybe I need to listen to it more.
Or maybe less.
But mostly I need to accept and love the me that I am, broken or not.
About transference. The kind where you need to learn to love yourself.
I listen to this song and visualize the good of what was happening in therapy. The part that I needed [maybe] most.
Christina Perri: A thousand years
I see myself sitting in the waiting room.
My therapists comes out where he usually does, sometimes looking a little ragged and worn down sometimes looking just normal. I am happy to see him, always. I smile at him standing there alone. He returns the smiles with the light in his eyes that I love to see.
As I walk toward him it becomes apparent that he is holding a mirror the mirror that then turns into a full length mirror and I am there alone staring at myself.
My smile disappears as I realize he has disappeared. I look behind the mirror and then back into the mirror.
He is there, in the mirror with his hand outstretched. I take his hand and he pulls me through the mirror. He turns me around to face myself again, this time I'm looking at myself from the other side of the mirror. I turn back to my therapist but he points me once again to face myself.
I then see myself the way my therapist has been trying to help me see me.
I see that I am worth loving and I am beautiful in my own way. I see that it is okay to love my perfectly imperfect self and even that I have and can continue to.
I walk out the front side of the mirror rejoining myself and my therapist walks out the back.
I think this is how the story is supposed to end.
...But in my story I noticed the pain in my therapists eyes as I looked back. I trusted his strength but I also felt his hesitation to turn me around and his vulnerability as he leaned just slightly on me. I felt his fear and his pain as he then carefully pushed me away to regain his own footing. I realized how hard his job is. Unfortunately he didn't notice that my concern for him had distracted me and I had not fully rejoined the me that was walking away strong. But as he left the mirror fell and shattered and the now split me is left facing the closed door he escaped through while strong me doesn't make it too far before the unaddressed brain damage and reality of the split takes me down and I am left split and alone wondering what I did wrong and how to fix it.
"you can listen to it while you cry yourself to sleep tonight" I say but it's not about him at all, I am speaking of myself; evidence of how enmeshed and entangled I am in this complex psychological web.
... I don't think about that part when I listen to this song. Rather I try to see the whole me and leave with that me fully intact loving myself for a thousand years and loving my therapist as my past therapist and simply that.
Maybe I need to listen to it more.
Or maybe less.
But mostly I need to accept and love the me that I am, broken or not.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Suicidal Explained
Too many hits too close together.
compounded by the big hit that left permanent damage
Yesterday I thought I'd not visit you (blog) for awhile
today, as the gun to the head persists in its nagging I decided to come back to you
I know the stigma all to well
almost impossible to escape
and it starts to feel hopeless so you start to look for a way out. you try hard but when you keep coming back to the same place of rejection, misunderstanding, and "not a chance" your brain may naturally start looking for a way out.
It can be a symptom.
A symptom of something physical
something mental or something emotional
or it could even be a symptom of a screwed up society
But you got to catch it and do something with it or it will do something with you.
You start to plan.
Very naturally. because it makes sense. One less pathetic, burdensome, non contributor to our world is not a bad thing. I can help with that at least... at very least I can do that.
Yep those are the natural thoughts. Haven't been haunted by to this degree for like 20 years.
But I am now.
The thing is; I don't really want to die. It is just what my body is starting to think it is supposed to do. Maybe because I haven't been able to walk for 5 weeks now. I'm in the final stretch. This is a norm I am not accustomed to and my body and mind love movement. They are wearing down. And there goes that left hand again. shaking. Do I need to see a neurologist? But why? so I can feel like even more of a burden and be told nothing anyway.
off on a tangent lets get back to my death. How my body is dying through my brain.
How do people do it when they have the diseases that count and you are allowed to die from; even given credit for dying from?
They often still fight to live, even when they are dying from nobly accepted ailments.
So the question I find myself asking -the chemo to my cancer- is "How do I not die today?"
Today I will not die by blogging.
Today I will not die by sleeping.
Today I will not die by smiling.
Today I will not die by petting my dog.
Today I will pet my dog
and smile
today I will breath
and get a coke with a friend
Today I will talk about it. the hard stuff with the patient advocate.
She was patient, even when I was hard. She kept asking if there was anything else
...and I needed that.
I needed her to keep asking. and I needed to open up and talk, like a human, not a liability who is frustrated with the hurt she cannot change.
Today I will appreciate that. and I will love her for it.
And the friend who gave me the benefit of the doubt and dared to talk openly with me.
Today I will live
and I will again tomorrow
and the next day
and just like it has before
it will get better and the uninvited images of fast ways out will disappear
because life is an adventure
no matter what it looks like
and my goal
is to keep living it
...and loving it.
**Update, After finally being heard by the new team, that I had to find myself, and finally put me on a mood stabilizer that is working surprising well and surprisingly quickly: Unfortunately the patient advocate did not help me get the help I needed and eventually turned on me as well, calling the police to do the job they would not do, and the police, they can do nothing, because I was not in immediate danger, as I had told the other "patient advocate" lady on the phone. I was just fading as I was trying to start over trying to find a new team with no help from the old one, whose jurisdiction I was under and who had the responsibility and obligation to help me but was simply doing what they could to appease but avoid treating, trying to subtly coax me to go elsewhere with all of their games, denying what had happened and what was going on with me, refusing to talk to me about it and refusing treatment.
Ultimately this conversation and others were used against me as justification for exile in there claim of "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues" and at this time, not cops were called, but they did maintain the no actual concern for me as evidenced in no follow through or actual concern about these very serious issues I was experiencing.
Friday, March 22, 2019
cryptic
was it he or was it me?
cryptic
I liked the game but
was it only my game?
maybe I don't know so much as I think
maybe I was farther gone then I knew
but if so, fooled I you
so that means something
My super powers
I don't yet know how to control
or the extent of them
In the meantime
I'm learning to be okay again
learning to be better than before
because, even if they all want to deny it,
I confused them
I at least know
my new reality is my old reality
that I didn't understand.
my new reality is new again
but this time I know it is head injury
and knowing my reality I can adjust
and learn how to live accordingly
It is confusing
but at least I know what I am and why
and that doesn't mean I deserve to die
or that I am the bad guy
cryptic is your game
and I played along
TBI is my reality
broken, I play wrong
cryptic
I liked the game but
was it only my game?
maybe I don't know so much as I think
maybe I was farther gone then I knew
but if so, fooled I you
so that means something
My super powers
I don't yet know how to control
or the extent of them
In the meantime
I'm learning to be okay again
learning to be better than before
because, even if they all want to deny it,
I confused them
I at least know
my new reality is my old reality
that I didn't understand.
my new reality is new again
but this time I know it is head injury
and knowing my reality I can adjust
and learn how to live accordingly
It is confusing
but at least I know what I am and why
and that doesn't mean I deserve to die
or that I am the bad guy
cryptic is your game
and I played along
TBI is my reality
broken, I play wrong
Wednesday, March 20, 2019
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