Wild and free... Can't catch me

I'm going to let my imagination run wild and free for a moment.
Because I feel like it.
Because I keep finding myself stuck in meaningless mind numbing activities like word games on my phone.
Because they offer some strange sense of accomplishment when I am actually doing nothing at all. ...but not nothing at all at the same time.
I am suppressing.
So I'll counter that for a moment by allowing my mind to wander free.

I can help free you from your box if you let me. If you are willing to put in the work. But I will warn you; outside of the box comes with it's own set of challenges, risks and even danger. But you know that, which is why you stay safely tucked inside.
...And sometimes we free ourselves from the box only to find that box is boxed inside another box. Then it becomes something like peeling away the layers of the onion
from the inside out.
boxes, onions, bunions
who cares?
Now I wonder why? and they all say, you will never get the answers you seek. But why not? And really, I think that is simply not good enough for me.
If I seek the answer I will find it.
I will find something anyway.
I will gain understanding.
It may be me that answers the question or figures out the answer, it may come from some place unexpected.
But when people tell me, you'll never get your questions answered I find myself challenged more than appeased. "It's about acceptance" they might say. Fine, then I search until I accept. ;)
I am fine with that.
They may not be.
But I am.
I am not unhappy,
because I admit my faults and my vulnerabilities, because I will answer honestly how I am doing in that moment and over all.
That does not mean I am unhappy, unsatisfied or in a negative place.
Because I admit that I am struggling, to find my balance, and to understand who and what I am and where I fit, that does not mean I am in a bad place.
On the contrary,
I know and understand my struggles and what I am working for which puts me in a very good place. By admitting that I am not entirely sure who I am I become confident in who I am. It is Tao-ish I suppose.
And struggle is neither good nor bad. Struggle is a necessary part of life, development, and growth.
A baby will never learn to walk if they do not struggle.
So
I want to know why he, Dr. Cheri, and his shitty facility, don't want to talk to me. Why he denies mania, why he won't allow for a conversation and clarification. I want to know what he knows and why he has chosen the direction he has. I want to know how they can justify the alienating instead of helping. They clearly made mistakes. We all do. But they deny mania, deny misdiagnosis or missed diagnosis, they will not listen when I am trying to tell them what is going on. Until they decide to use what I said was going on as their reason to banish me.
Why? It is so irrational and illogical. A definite form of gaslighting. Use and abuse of their positions and authority.
A harsh hypocrisy of the industry, the facility.
A glaring hole in the APA rules.
Why won't he explain? Is he stuck inside a box? not so intelligent and openminded as I thought? as he thinks?
Is he protecting himself from his own corrupt industry, trying to preserve what he has invested so much of his life in?
Why is he avoiding responsibility? Why is he denying he has made mistakes?
Is he simply a coward? Is he a narcissist? Is he a manipulative mastermind with diabolical intentions, guilty of serious offense and keeping himself from being caught? Or is he a runner?
He did leave his country of origin. His family, his home. He is divorced. Or claimed to be.
And there is something potentially diabolical; his supposed ex-wife, still has herself listed as married -with the same last name- on FB. She has changed her profile picture, but not her marital status. It has been a year from the month Dr. Cheri claimed he had divorced her; longer from separation.
I know this about his ex or [not ex] wife's FB status because, many times, I have considered contacting her, asking exactly what kind of man I was dealing with; asking if it is possible he is a diabolical mastermind who needs to be caught.
But he is pretty brilliant and tricky, and even safeguarded himself from this, by dropping subtle hints that she was making his life difficult. So of course I won't contact her, she'd absolutely use it against him, use it to hurt him and spite him if she is similar to so many women I distrust. A fact about me that he knew.
And it is silly that I still think to protect him at all. That I worry about his interest at all, when he clearly has no concern for me and mine, is willing to do harm to me, even though he was paid and morally, legally and ethically obligated to be concerned and protect my interest...
Aaahh stupid me
and oh stupid he.
What a freaking Jackass
"Fuck him" says my friend thinking I am more messed up than I really am.
But there in lies the problem.
The way he screwed with me, the way it messed with my chemistry, the taboo, the things he did that were helpful and that I was drawn to...
...the problem with "Fuck him"... I still kind of wish I could, literally in the For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge kind of way.
WHAT THE HELL?
Remember, wild and free, that is me.
But also I know, in reality, I likely wound not if I were given the chance. And he may know that too. so he is punishing me? I don't know.
But reality kills fantasy rather quickly, that much I know. And it would have been nice if he could have returned the favor.
The reality of my insanity, I am certain, killed his fantasy but he won't allow me the same.
What an ass.
Which is how I know I wouldn't really fuck him if I could
and then I see that he may just be sticking to the box he was trained in, because that double edge sword will cut it all down, even if it cuts me down with it.
And in that I find an inkling of liking for him again, but, not really because he is still inside the box and he took it too far.

...And yet there lies another interesting possibility;
It was grooming and countertransference.
Caught in his own trap
by broken little me.

He is not out of my league, I am way too far out of his.
Broken as can be
but
Wild and free,
you can't catch me

1/4 of clonazepam

1/4 of a clonazepam and quitting
A weight is lifting.

But I am not entirely quitting
and that is nice.
They want to keep me on
just as the academic advisor for the kids that are and will utilize it
and as a fill in if on occasions they need it.
If I am up to it.
I am.
And I am so glad to be valued
to not have to walk away completely from all the positives of the job.
I am glad I caught myself in time, in my shutting down, to quite them, or at least come to a workable place, before they quite me.

That would likely break me again even if I had shut down completely.
Instead, life is good in this moment.
Tired but good
and I am subtly happy

Shutting Down

The psychiatrist I found, and had I an appointment with, but not until the end of September, is moving to "something like New Zealand" says the lady on the phone, so we need to reschedule with the PA who does not have TBI experience.
Of all places to "something like" mention... This is where my ex-Pandora's-box-breaking neuropsychologist is from.
She says [lady on the phone] she will look into their other location and see what she can find, then call me back. She'll help me find the right person.
This sounds familiar...
Concussion doctor said she would help me find a new team only to: initially ignore my attempt to follow up and then -on the second attempt and after my husband called- have her assistant tell me she couldn't find anyone. But it doesn't end there. It was next followed by a termination letter letting me know I would no longer be treated at their facility for "prior undisclosed behavioral health issues."

...I have not heard back from the lady from the psychiatrist office.
So I am left trying to follow Concussion Doctors advice but with no resources to do so and no help from them.
I have actually had them suggested as the place to go.
daggers to my heart and do I really deserve this?
It'd be so much easier had I not been trying to manage mania, if I were symptom free currently.

But I am shutting down.
And with my job the writing is on the wall;
I need to quite ...before I get fired.
But this time the writing on the wall, I believe, is mainly coming from me.
I am not balanced and the insecurities that I currently have, the fragile place I am in, -that I thought I was coming out of, that I thought I was managing well and would improve with a consistent work schedule and a good job at a good place with good people- is too fragile still and I am not managing well.
My heart is broken and I feel so disappointed in myself.
...
Got to pull out, and I will.
but I'm pretty sure I need to quite before they quite me.

the mess of me and processing

I meant to go running. I'm in the clothes and ready to go, all the way down to the shoes.
But I started painting instead. And as I paint I am thinking of all I have learned about myself and life through my recent painting practices and how it has helped me process and let go of things...
Then suddenly I have the pressing urge to write about it.
So the canvas and paint, and even the container of water, all still sit on the floor while I come on here to type it out.
I am embracing my crazy and accepting me for who or what I am in this moment. I have the time and the space to do that right now. In this moment and I am in a safe and comfortable space. so why fight it?
It is nice to have this space.
I am glad that I am safe and comfortable in this moment.
In the picture I am painting I see texture and color that is interesting to me, engaging, but still a bit uncomfortable in it's current form.
My paintings are messy
colorful and blended
rarely are their harsh bold straight lines
there are clear lines and boundaries but so often they are blended and integrated.
Integrating and combining so many colors and textures. I love the colors and textures.
So very often I paint sideways, at an angle.
So much of it doesn't make sense.
I blend colors that are not meant to be blended and I very often don't clean my brush before switching colors.
I am rarely trying to paint something specific. I just let what ever come out.
The brush may speak to me, and the colors. But nothing is very intentional. just playful, learning, exploring and curious.
I don't like a lot of what I am painting or I find it uncomfortable. I look at my creations often and think "that is really ugly" or "that was a mistake"
so I keep going.
Until it no longer looks like a mistake
or until it makes sense to me
or until I just feel done for the time being.
Occasionally something comes out rather quickly and the picture tells me it is done.
I am not always done at that point so then I paint something else or revisit a previously abandoned piece.
I am not a skilled or talented artist but I love and enjoy this process. I love and enjoy my work. I have even hung some on the walls.
and even though others may think I am odd or may not care for my art I am happy with it and
they make sense to me.

A picture that told me when it was complete. The harsh straight lines are not my work but rather cracks in the wood  that is its canvas. 

The problem is Italy

December 3, 2018 7:45am. The appointment was scheduled for 7:30.
"I'm surprised to see you" he says
"The problem is Italy" I say "I am supposed to take my kids in a week and I need to make sure that I am stable. I need to make sure I am okay."
"I meant everything that I said" he said.
"We agreed to a clean break" he says
"There is no such thing as a clean break from my side of this" I say and I know that so many of the things he said were neither confirmed nor denied but rather implied, so how do I know what he really meant? It was open to interpretation and I was not in my right mind. That much I knew. Which meant that my interpretation was not likely accurate.

The rest of that day, that conversation was me fighting for me and trying to understand but also be okay enough to take my kids to Italy in a week. It would be just me and them for the first 10 days, I needed to be okay, which meant I couldn't hear the things that started to hurt too much... and maybe I was protecting him, fighting for him too. I couldn't let him say and/or I couldn't hear what could get him most in trouble.

But Dr. Cheri was not interested in my best interest; he was most concerned about himself. Protecting himself, no matter the cost to me. At least that is how I feel now. It was obvious then that he had lost objectivity and that something had gone amiss but I did not realize just how unconcerned he was with my wellbeing and how willing he was to sacrifice me to protect himself; a false assumption on his part, likely fed and/or guided by ill founded rules, policies and procedures that he felt obligated to follow or that he knew he could utilize to cover his ass.
In waking up, these realizations are hard hitting and difficult to maneuver. Yet I am supposed to, alone and branded. That is one thing. And I think I can, think I am, just to be hit again and again, by symptoms, by realizations, by psychology, by relationships, and by reality.

And now these are coming in the mail. A reminder that I was not okay. I was not as responsible and my mind was... something else... while in Italy. I had forgotten about their driving rules and the typical time that would have been spent preparing and researching was spent trying to stabilize and understand what was happening to my head and my heart and why I was behaving like I was manic.
I needed help.
and I asked for it.
I begged for it.
I was turned away
in the most heartfelt and yet heartless way.
How is that even possible?
I don't know, but it sure as hell hurts again.
And the gold that he left me came at far too high a price. Maybe I would opt to give it back if I could.

...I want you out of my heart.
You are costing me so much
and you are tearing it apart,
even still.

Indulgence

I have many thoughts. a lot of the time. and my old therapist, who broke me, and then was a total jerk about it, and even had me exiled from the very place and help I needed, who may have been manipulating me, who definitely took advantage of my caring, and who let me know in the most solid way I am not worth his time or energy, but whom I oddly still care about and strangely trust on some level told me to balance my thinking with doing. That is not exactly how he said it and in fact a friend that I briefly had, may deserve to be credited more, so in this silly over processing moment I hope I can see a way to redirect my thoughts from terrible beloved old therapist to other places and other sources so that my heart can more completely heal from the hole that he left in it when he said I could keep him there and then took himself away before finishing the work I had paid him for.
Which actually transitions right into the real reason I came to write today.
Indulgence
I am learning a lot still about therapy and therapeutic relationships and I am sure it is not terribly surprising that I am skeptical and not too trusting of the whole industry right now. As part of training for my job the therapist that I now work for had me listen to some podcasts. As I am listening, trying to learn for the sake of doing my job I am so bitterly reminded of the mess I am coming from and it is a bit of a challenge. They were good and informative podcasts, but I also see some problems.
One of the issues I have is this sense of safety, security, acceptance, non judgment etc, that a person is supposed to get from therapy. It is supposed to be there safe place where they can confess all of themselves and become their true self, with the loving nurturing acceptance of the therapist. The crap their parents screwed up on and their parents parents screwed up on, that they all didn't really screw up on because they also need this divine therapeutic acceptance... So nobody is really at fault as long as we are working to achieve self and get in touch with our own truth... with a therapist of course. That part is crucial, you know. we need their acceptance.
and there is something to this
yet there is some crossover her and even some hypocrisy
and lets not forget
$
It all comes at a price. You get the acceptance and non judgement, but only for a price.
Are you following?
It is beginning to feel something like the indulgences of the Middle Ages
Yet I am going still, to therapists. Is this an indulgence for penance? Will I break another therapist?
Will I ruin more relationships with my questioning of this industry and it's integrity?
You tell me.
I think the balance is tricky
Am I paying for healing
or is this indulgence?

...If I keep you in the shards of my broken heart you are not likely to come out unscathed.

keeping my head above...

Very occasionally this blog gets read. I don't really know by who or why, But I will say it is just enough to keep me going at times.
I am struggling.
The only thing keeping me here, physically here, today is my kids.
 I don't want to screw them up
I don't want them to believe that they weren't enough.

and I don't really feel like writing anything else. Which is why I am. I don't think my feelings can be especially trusted right now. so I'll write and see what comes out
Sleep is my safe place.
and that is what I want to do again
I am mad at my family.
 I am hurt and I feel isolated and alone.
I feel like the more I try the worse I make things
I give up
too much
I try to numb with tv and stupid games on phones
Kids do that to
too much.
Control is an illusion
we have none.
And yet so very much
I think I'll go run now because that is at least something I can do that will help me in some way.
While it also breaks me apart at the knees.
Building bones while breaking me down.
But I learned, I think from my physical therapist, that hard core female athletes have the bones of 70 year olds because their bones are reabsorbing the calcium, but exercise and weight bearing exercises also build bones.
Balance can be so tricky.
good night again