In my Head

I am having such a hard time sleeping again. Tonight I cannot even get to sleep. There is so much going on in my head again.
Neuroscience Institute Facility Director, who I'd asked not be allowed to interact with patients, has sent me a letter terminating me from any of the doctors or providers there. Her reason: they cannot accommodate my behavioral health needs. What is that supposed to mean? what and why?
It feels like she is trying to turn me into a behavioral problem. It feels like gaslighting. I do not know who is behind it.
I think it may just be her but she, or someone, most certainly has been playing games with me and very likely my confidentiality rights were breached since the office staff started treating me very strange. I even had to check in at a different desk on my final appointment. They personally called me the day before to make sure I knew to check in at this other desk. Too bad their cover was blown [in that they were not doing this for everyone] when the new lady who: first; left me waiting by the "wait here" sign for like 10 minutes while she finished with whatever it was she was doing for the previous patient, which was not checking in, and second; she didn't recognize me personally and almost accidentally sent me to their actual check in desk but was quickly stopped by the girl I recognized from previous visits with a "wait! who are you here to see?" When I told here who, she said, "oh you check in over here," cutting new lady off when she started with the, "I thought check in..." response. When she asked my name I replied, "I bet you can guess" to which she nice-save-style stated, "uh, only because there isn't anyone else checking in right now." If she had been just a bit confused by my comment the facade would have been more believable.
Over the years, being the odd man out often, comfortable with the boys and not so much with the girls, and a misfit, I have developed that keen sense of knowing when people have been talking about someone behind their back, and of knowing when I am the hot topic for gossip.
And my checkin nurse, Dr. Concussion's assistant, who used to be friendly and fun to talk to, has zero to say to me, is cold and unfriendly.
I've been the topic of conversation no doubt, I'd put $ on it.
It's not right. And Dr. Concussion, not even providing a name or recommendation on a facility, when she assured me she would help me find a new team... heartbreaking dishonesty.
It is so hard to find, as she herself put it, "the right fit" and now I am going in blind. I'm in the same boat, worse in some ways, now as I was when I was looking for them in the first place. I feel like I'm throwing money at doctors that don't know what they are doing. They will "help you" and treat you as long as it is convenient for them, as long as you are easy to treat and diagnose but when you are a challenge, they say, "too bad, we are now taking back our diagnosis, prognosis and treatment plan, there's the door, here's a band aid to cover the gushing wound from opening you up, because we are not going to finish with the procedures we started."
If my ankle surgeon were following their example, once he saw the panic in my eyes just before going under, he would have thought about wheeling me out. When he cut in and realized it was worse than he was expecting he would have stopped there, wheeled me out, then had his staff send me on my way, claiming that not only had I not been asleep but that he hadn't really even cut me open, I must have been making that up and they support it when he says he is done with treating a patient. "Further more" they would say "when he actually got to look inside he found that you had not disclosed the extent of your injury so, too bad, the facility will not treat you and we cannot be held accountable for any of it. Goodbye and good luck finding a new surgeon; check with your insurance."
That is what the equivalent would look like if the surgeon did the same. If it doesn't make sense or sounds crazy, you are right. IT IS CRAZY. Not me, the institution. This makes no sense for so many reasons but they know they can get away with it.
That is on my mind. keeping me up.
And it is even strange to me how it is keeping me up. I don't feel the heavy burden feelings that used to be so familiar, I am not manic, (hopefully it stays that way, hopefully lack of sleep won't be a trigger) and I don't feel anxious, overly worried or even all that angry. I don't understand very well what I am feeling now. I feel rather calm and determined. Yet tears come so frequently and raw emotions are easily exposed. Determined yet calm about it and not entirely sure where and why that determination lies or what direction it needs to be directed in.
I like work and that is good. I have been so much better at compartmentalizing and I like the focus I can put there but when I am home I mostly put it away, and this is a good change for me and my family.
... and so many other things keeping me up. like the blog post I started about lovely Janice, the post that I need to finish because it turns out, she touched on some very sensitive area's and basically summarized all I need to still face.
which brings me to the last thing I wish to mention that is keeping me up, and that is dear Perri. I still am back and forth on whether I should use his name or not, so it has come out now and again. Here it just feels better to call him dear Perri.
She and wise trusted friend from winter work (the ski resort) both pointed out some of the good he has done for me. (Interesting this happened 2 days in a row and timed now.) They both are attempting to help me find peace, I think. I actually do have peace already though and I even recognize that dear Perri has played a part in that.
So in my head are thoughts again of how do I protect him while helping myself? Standing up for myself? Do I need to stand up for myself?
Can I finally let it go? let it die?
Problems with that are: He gifted himself to my heart "you can keep me in your heart" so the psychology of undoing that is tricky... I have reclaimed my heart but separating him out does not seem wise or practical.
So how do I psychologically let it die without killing my heart?  He has found a safe home there. In my head is probably not so safe for him, but I still like him there too. He is still my drug of choice in many ways. I enjoy the story. I love his face, his glasses that make his eyes seem just a little smaller than they really are. I love his creases and dimples when he smiles and I love how his eyes would light up when I saw him. I also loved that occasionally I could sense the most subtle or at least remarkably controlled frustrations with me. I love that he was cryptic at times. I love how he could find my words for me and with little effort he could land on what I was trying to express. Or at least seemed to. I loved how knowledgable he was. I loved his soft soothing voice. I love how he wore his shirts; always a long sleeve button up, with the sleeves folded to just below his elbows. I think it is funny that he rubbed his right eye with his right middle finger. I think it is funny that he said, with a hint of surprise, "you really have been listening to me." I think it is funny that I confused him so much. I loved "Unfortunately there is still a human element to all of this." He was breaking my heart and yet I savor it. I loved how he'd talk about his kids. And, even if at times I wish he were, I love that he is not reading this, he has let me burn out. I love that he collects rocks and taught me about tokens (or was it totems). I love how he taught me so much in such a short amount of time. I love that he screwed up so bad with me, and didn't know how to fix it. Maybe I don't love that one, but I kind of do because I had him so high on a pedestal that it speaks loudly of just how complex I really am. It lets me know what I previously had not; I have been doing well all these years attempting to navigate some very difficult stuff with not much support. If I could screw a neuropsychologist up that bad without even trying; if he could miss that I was manic and straddling both worlds, I must be something special. It also teaches me that I really do need help if I'd like to be part of a team.
Sadly, though,
and this is where my love starts to fade
the problem of how this all has been handled reaffirms those "you aren't good enough for a team" messages. They are affirmations I have accepted time and time again "you don't fit in and you don't belong" as I have been abandoned and I abandon.
Janice, who has worked with my kind (TBI) knew it all too well. She was telling me how I was before I told her. When I told her where my brain had bled when I was 12 she knew a lot about what my teens years would have looked like and she explained how I can see the picture of the words or what I am trying to say, but I'd have trouble verbally recalling the words I needed. She understood why I felt frustration with not being able to articulate to my level of intelligence. She did not find this comment offensive or arrogant. (I think some people might simply because the comment itself is over their head or outside of their understanding) Janice worded for me, before I even attempted to explain that in my transference situation, since I was unable to and not allowed to work through my transference, dear Perri rejecting me became me rejecting me.
complex. but someone, seasoned and experienced, understood.

,,,and now I am tired. I want to sleep. My head, I hope, has enough out, that I might be able to.
I'll look to edit later.

Gravity

Shoot,
 the brain is really going again.
Rapid releases for relief
What goes up must come down
delaying down won't stop it
thought I'd made it through. Hope I did, but tears they keep coming, hitting unexpectedly. Not sad just coping and embracing and allowing
btw: on lexapro again, half of a half, not the dose or refill they prescribed uninvited with termination from Concussion Dr.
Tired
 but brain is busy, writing and re-writing stories
more than one way to skin a cat
time to compartmentalize. set it aside and get done what we were distracted from. But welcome distraction. A God send

Free from pain or fighting for the underdogs?

Stories. So many stories. and I get to write my own.
take care of you they all say
Janice,
she's right.
concern all my life, taking care of others
focus on your strengths
-that is-
stand up for the underdog
but our strengths can be our greatest weaknesses
so do I take on Goliath?
Who is the real underdog
me
or he, owned by the industry?
Or they, the others whom the bureaucracy, is claiming to help?
he can't practice according to his conscience.
I do know that much.
they want him to do more testing and less therapy.
But he is amazing and very good at therapy
and testing, but he has the power to change people in healthy happy ways through therapy
Like Janice said
and she is correct
"he has changed you for the better." Hold onto that, be careful where my focus goes
I bet, that even changed, that can still be a slippery slop
best to be aware.
don't head down the slop
the one I was afraid of slipping down when I said "I can't loose you right now"
I knew I wasn't on solid ground
So slow I crept along the edge of that slippery slop so I wouldn't fall back into the same traps and ruts.
I am not the same but I am also still not in the clear
and it was good to be reminded.
 Life is so very very interesting and God really does put people in our paths at times.
"I don't know what it looks like yet" I said to the Facility Director the first time I talked with her, "but I know I need to stand up for myself"
Stories, where will this one go? Where will I take it?
It does not die here
that much I know.
I let myself die and I'm on the other side
how will the story go from here?
A few rough drafts I'll try
I like to work that way anyway.
Input welcome

his eyes are just sweaty, that's all

**another interesting (probably fact): the sex drive is likely the reason husband is not complaining. He says this has been the hardest thing on our marriage, he complains about the bills, and truthfully he doesn't like to fight this kind of fight, but he would have either left or Neuroscience Institute  would have had a few more angry phone calls and heard more from him if it weren't for that (sex).
... it is very surprising and fascinating to me that he feels this has been the hardest thing on our marriage. For me it has not because we have dealt with some really hard shit things, that have about ended us many times. Deaths, dysfunctional families, parents and siblings loosing all financial stability, health problems, mental health issues, ADHD (him), OCD (him), PTSD (me), CEN (both), depression (both), anxiety, what some label as bipolar but what we have come to realize is TBI (both) coupled with the stresses of life, poverty, welfare, separation, corrupt jobs... Lots of fun stuff in 20 years. No wonder I buried so many of my stories, and so much of me.
But
 there has also been a lot of good and fun
and after making that sidetracked, slightly derailed, list
I am pretty proud of us and how we have handled such adversity.
No turning to affairs, drinking, or drugs and we know we can trust each other.
That is refreshing and nice.

Not sleeping well again

A new goal of mine is to really work on my executive functioning skills. Time management, space management, and memory management, the main components of executive functioning are all things I've wanted to do better at for a very long time. Not surprising, those 3 things are a common increased struggle after TBI; so for me it has been pretty much a lifetime struggle.

Yesterday, in thinking on prioritizing all the things I need to do, the psychiatrist and neurologist appointments I needed to pursue came into question. Do I even want to?
Neurologist: probably nothing-so this one might just be an added expense and I don't want or need that, plus the reasons I have been told I might want to go really scare me so naturally I am avoiding. And doctors have not pressed this, are not terribly concerned, like Concussion Dr who was even trying to pawn me off on someone else, so why bother?
...but then my left hand got shaky again... and weakness... and not feeling pain the same.
Avoidance, my old treacherous friend, I suppose I might need to ignore your advice this time.
I tried to schedule. They needed the referral faxed. I am not sure if this doctor is the best choice. I don't really trust doctors anyway and especially now...
I get referral sent from my family care, they are nice and helpful still, but they have never been overly nice the way Neuroscience Institute used to be. I have been with them for some time. I hope this means I can trust them.
...But I forget to call neurologist back to schedule the appointment.
Psychiatrist: Dr. Concussion has wanted me to go to one since January, I have been somewhat resistant and scared of this idea as well, but also I have wanted to understand from ex-neuropsyche his prognosis, diagnosis and explanation of what happened and why before going down this path because I don't want to keep going through the unnecessary process of reliving the experience I had with him the way I have been every time I try a new place or see a new provider, or need to explain what is going on with me. I don't know. He does, but he won't have that necessary conversation with me. Even with others present, he will not. Even though my patient rights, as documented per their corporation, guarantee/promise it. So added pain and added expense and now Dr. Concussion, who seemed to care and promised to help me find a new medical team won't even give me a recommendation on who to see. They state, I need to go through my insurance. legal cover-your-ass jargon?
Do I really even need to see one? I have managed this crazy amazingly well, all things considered, and my chemistry has most certainly changed for the better in ways. [not-so-random side note: there goes left hand again]
...aaargh, and sigh...
damn chemistry.
It has changed and for better or worse I really don't know since those are judgment words, but I do know that my base, in-other-words me not on medication, is not better. I was often short, sometimes with angry outburst -like I had not had for a very long time. This time though I hardly even cared and the lack of guilt or empathy was a bit foreign, at least there was enough to recognize this was not who I wanted to be and not good for me or my family so back on Lexapro, and I am really glad it's working as well as it is ...so maybe I don't need that psychiatrist again...
But... and here is a painful, embarrassing (?), weird chemistry change confession  -that has me a bit concerned at times; Sex drive. I feel a bit sex crazed at times and the increase has been very enjoyable but if I am being honest with myself a tad alarming. Really only alarming when I start feeling things like I did in the post where I mentioned IKEA... The manic sex has settled but the sex crazed does not seem to be subsiding, in spite of the fact that I thoroughly enjoy sex with my husband and I have no complaints there and in spite of the fact that our relationship now is better than it has ever been.
sigh... damn chemistry.
and I wish it were the only issue. I am 80% fine but I would like the tears to come less frequently.
Which is why ultimately I decided to follow through with scheduling (or attempting) that appointment. Which... included tears, even when I felt strong and confident going in. I was not worried, just choosing to focus on getting the stuff done that I need to in order to help me the best I can in improving my executive functioning skills.
The tears came when the lady on the phone said I cannot schedule an appointment because they had to have the referral. That referral would state specifically what it was I needed and then with that referral they would match me to the best and appropriate provided. This is when the tears came.
Because that is the conversation I have been trying to have with ex-neuropsychologist for all these months but he won't. And because they could have set that up, it is what Dr. Concussion said she would do for me and then would not. It could have easily saved me this pain and reliving.
...and that is all I want to say for now
**interesting fact: they (the ostracizing Neuroscience Institute) have neurologists in their office but not a psychiatrist-hmm, why is it she insisted I need to get the neurologist referral from the wrist doctor? Family practice thought it a bit odd also.

Art Therapy

During therapy, Dr. Cheri encouraged me to do things that were just plain relaxing. The goal was to help my tired, push-crash-cycling, and concussed brain slow down and get the breaks it needed so it may recover more fully. One of the activities I chose to do occasionally was to paint.

Full disclosure: I am not a painter nor an artist. I do, however, like to play with paint and after a lesson from my beautiful artist sister-in-law on how to do that I have found allowing myself the freedom to explore that medium without pressure or judgement from myself or anyone else to be very therapeutic and satisfying. 

Here I will share:

The Puzzle of my Broken Brain

This first painting I painted was while early in therapy with Dr. Cheri. It may have been the first painting where I really let myself explore and be free, without much thought or care on what I was painting or the finished product. It was messy and relaxing, and I enjoyed the process. Upon completion as I looked at my painting from afar, I felt as if I had just achieved my teen and adolescent desire to open my head, dump out the mess that was inside and sort it out like a puzzle so I could understand what was happening in there. 

I shared this picture and experience with Dr. Cheri to which he replied with a comment I will not share here because, out of context, it sounds and feels very wrong. I will say this much, I figured he was testing the intimacy and my security of sharing something like this, deep inside I knew he was also testing my feelings about him; testing me for transference. My reply then, "No, that'd be way more terrifying." Later I referenced his comment in my frustrated rebuttal to what felt like his accusations of stalking when I was seeking clarification. This was the comment that female therapist I tried found so offensive but failed to ask why I had said it. 

Letting it Burn Out

 This second picture was painted when I was trying so hard to recover from the mania and the massive melt down of whatever it was that transpired in therapy. Initially I had started painting a water drop, something I had wanted to do after noticing the beauty in the shape and reflections of water drops on glass. I had started that and left it. Days later I decided to use the canvas for another therapeutic free play session. My thoughts were on "letting it burn out;" something dear Perri had shared with me on how he had resolved or would resolve himself to move on from me. (More words that hurt me deeply and have been denied in this whole ridiculous ordeal, but that he assuredly has stuck to, and I have likely helped him with, as I was burning up inside). The picture very much created itself, and though it is messy and unskilled, I love it because of all the images that seemed to come out in this very unintentional piece. In the end I did slightly enhance two figures I saw in it and somehow the water droplet remained but aside from that there were no intentional images created. I love this one. It is deep and intense to me as I achieved some artistic texture and complexity that I have no experience with.

The Scarlet Letter

This last canvas started out as a completely different mess of artistic expression and creation that I did not love. It was another exercise. Even a second attempt to let it burn out more completely. I was hoping the second attempt, a more intentional attempt to let this whole deal die out, would kill it completely. Not surprisingly, it did not work, and as I confess my thoughts I realize how silly they were; how silly it was to attempt to structure a burning out that really was about me burning out. No wonder it looked very much like an attempt at an underwater scene. Since I didn't like it much I decided to paint over it the other day. I needed the the therapeutic activity to help me relax after the two damning letters from the IHC corporation.
This final product was also very unintentional -at first. Until it became the perfect backdrop, so I added my scarlet letter L [for Liability] to see what would happen next.
In the end it was fascinating what came out in this picture. I listed it on the back and truly, if I was not accused of being a stalker and concerned that this is part of his cover-his-legal-ass plot to prevent me from winning any kind of lawsuit (something that I am now seriously considering), I would send it to dear Perri Cheri with this list of what came out:
- a box (he broke mine, or Pandora's, I can't be sure)
- the scarlet letter L, for liability, what I became to the Neuroscience Institute and Dr. Perri specifically. (Yes I am aware of how I change his name in my writing, I don't know why it happens but I don't care about this mistake so I will leave it)
- the lovely little lost "l" from the misspelled word "should." This was from his golden instructions he wrote out for me, at our last actual therapy appointment (Nov. 12th NOT the 26th)
- a buried story- covered
- lot's of covering up. the cover up and cover up and cover up. Probably why it felt like the perfect backdrop for my scarlet letter.
- a touch of gold
- a mask, only seen from afar, though it shows well in the photo.
- a totem, something he told me about, a potential tool I could use.
- and maybe some restrictive bars behind the letter L
Art therapy.
What do you see?

IHC Office of Patient Experiences Review

The Patient Experiences team with IHC , the patient advocates, their investigation process, is simply a ploy to give them a running head start with their legal team; to gather and and start compiling their case against you. A way for them to know ahead of time exactly what they need to do, and to try to  preemptively create a manipulated trail of evidence they can use against you, so that any case they plead, in defense against your complaints, is airtight.
If Dr. He, Perri Cheri, is a manipulative mastermind he is a genius who likely pursued working for this Goliath of a corporation for this very reason.