I fell asleep for like 30 minutes and then woke up again. And I am still awake, not feeling very sleepy which concerns me because I am supposed to work from noon to 10:30 pm tonight. Considering how I have been, I'll be an emotional disaster by this afternoon, especially if I don't get some sleep.
But then there is this other thing...
I have more energy.... I went running thinking that would do the trick. I took the dog because he is still not great on a leash and terrible on a leash if he crosses paths with other dogs so I took him to the park where I knew we would likely run into people with dogs and then that would also drain me, so I'd be tired when I got home. I thought these things (and more) very quickly by the way.
Damn it, still not tired
And even worse, I feel happy and hopeful. I am excited about my new therapist and I am finding this psychological thriller I have been living for the past year to be fun again.
And there is this:
It wasn't really about me. It was about him. He made it about him when I so desperately needed it to be about me. When I was paying for it to be about me. When I begged him to keep me.
It wasn't about me.
and how pathetic that is.
I was such a pathetic whisper of a human that even under those circumstances I was invisible or nothing more than a mirror. Which right now I think is pretty freaking funny. In fact I literally just lol'ed.
I don't know why I think it is so funny. Probably because it is, and probably because it is such a beautiful tragedy. A pretty little disaster. Maybe because I have figured all of this out and solved it so many damn times and yet I am still figuring it out and reaching new understandings. It might also be funny because I am so tired of feeling shitty and worthless when I am really not.
Every freaking house has multiple mirrors and if you break one it is bad luck so even if I am nothing more than a mirror, or the invisible piece of glass in front of the mirror, I have some value.
Now I am going to apply for a new job... and then maybe, hopefully, I will sleep
...and hopefully not be on the verge of another joyful manic fiasco.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
New Hope
I can't sleep
again.
I have been awake, laying in bed since probably 2 am. The clock said 3 last I'd checked and I had been awake for awhile before that.
I didn't actually get to the sleeping part of going to bed until about midnight.
...and I did not fall asleep right away.
Which, now looking at the time line, I may not have slept at all; "at all" being less than 2 hours.
sigh
this is not good.
What is good
(or might be)
Is my new neuropsychologist.
I like her (naturally)
and of course I do because that is what I do. I decided not to at first -just in case. But after the 3rd appointment I can't help it. I like her.
That's better than previous female therapist (from January). Therapist Rainbow Sticks is the name I shall bestow on her. I'll be honest, I only liked her because I like pretty much everybody, but really, I did not like her (Therapist Rainbow Sticks).
And I don't even mind if she reads this
because
she was interested in protecting her profession and what she most likely mistakenly thought was a referral to her. She was not so interested in my best interest. She made me feel like a chastised child. She read my email to dear Dr. Cheri and was appalled at my reaction to him, not controlling her own knee-jerk reaction, not seeing the red flags for what they were, and not asking why I said the things I said that she found offensive. The one she labeled as threatening was me referencing something he had said, she did not know this and I was too shaken by her reaction to point that out. I also felt bad, I did not feel the tone she had read it in so I felt really bad. Later that day I sent an apology to him. And in that the apology I am pretty sure I said I did not mean to be threatening, so this may have been what he used against me in the "investigation" to justify his avoidance of me. The patient advocate had told me that he felt threatened by me or that I had threatened him. I had not. The only "threat" I made was that I would file a complaint if that is what I had to do, even though I did not want to. And that comment was made in response to him telling me that is what I had to do if I wanted to discuss any issues about his treatment with me because he was no longer going to respond to me, which was also silly because I had not talked with him or emailed him since my last appointment with him. This was in January, the last appointment had been Dec. 3.
And I don't know why this is what is coming out here right now.
I have so much in my head right now, because I seem to have found a therapist that really gets the deep psychological impact of this, knows her stuff, and can keep up with me.
It might help that I am not in quite the crazy place that I was, so for that I will give the other therapists' that benefit of the doubt.
So there is that, but I am still not written-out, ready-to-sleep-tired.
but I may be done with the blog
maybe I'll write somewhere else, see what comes out.
goodnight
or rather good day
again.
I have been awake, laying in bed since probably 2 am. The clock said 3 last I'd checked and I had been awake for awhile before that.
I didn't actually get to the sleeping part of going to bed until about midnight.
...and I did not fall asleep right away.
Which, now looking at the time line, I may not have slept at all; "at all" being less than 2 hours.
sigh
this is not good.
What is good
(or might be)
Is my new neuropsychologist.
I like her (naturally)
and of course I do because that is what I do. I decided not to at first -just in case. But after the 3rd appointment I can't help it. I like her.
That's better than previous female therapist (from January). Therapist Rainbow Sticks is the name I shall bestow on her. I'll be honest, I only liked her because I like pretty much everybody, but really, I did not like her (Therapist Rainbow Sticks).
And I don't even mind if she reads this
because
she was interested in protecting her profession and what she most likely mistakenly thought was a referral to her. She was not so interested in my best interest. She made me feel like a chastised child. She read my email to dear Dr. Cheri and was appalled at my reaction to him, not controlling her own knee-jerk reaction, not seeing the red flags for what they were, and not asking why I said the things I said that she found offensive. The one she labeled as threatening was me referencing something he had said, she did not know this and I was too shaken by her reaction to point that out. I also felt bad, I did not feel the tone she had read it in so I felt really bad. Later that day I sent an apology to him. And in that the apology I am pretty sure I said I did not mean to be threatening, so this may have been what he used against me in the "investigation" to justify his avoidance of me. The patient advocate had told me that he felt threatened by me or that I had threatened him. I had not. The only "threat" I made was that I would file a complaint if that is what I had to do, even though I did not want to. And that comment was made in response to him telling me that is what I had to do if I wanted to discuss any issues about his treatment with me because he was no longer going to respond to me, which was also silly because I had not talked with him or emailed him since my last appointment with him. This was in January, the last appointment had been Dec. 3.
And I don't know why this is what is coming out here right now.
I have so much in my head right now, because I seem to have found a therapist that really gets the deep psychological impact of this, knows her stuff, and can keep up with me.
It might help that I am not in quite the crazy place that I was, so for that I will give the other therapists' that benefit of the doubt.
So there is that, but I am still not written-out, ready-to-sleep-tired.
but I may be done with the blog
maybe I'll write somewhere else, see what comes out.
goodnight
or rather good day
Friday, August 9, 2019
Dual Nature vs Dual Nurture
Our bodies are so bizarre and amazing. They betray one part to preserve another. Like how my husband pointed out; if you are freezing your body will keep the heat to the organs to protect them, to keep you alive, allowing appendages to freeze and even die first. But if you have no arms and no legs to use, how on earth can your body feed those organs to keep them alive? Oh the hypocrisy and treachery of our own bodies.
When I was a teen my brain was very broken. It wanted to die. Or it could not figure out how to live so death seemed like a responsible option. I worked hard to be alive and be all that I was supposed to be, but my mind felt it was being crushed by an anvil with all the choices and possibilities. And the emotions, I was so burdened down with so much emotion and intensity of feeling I often longed for death. "What is one less pathetic sad lonely person in this world" my mind would say to me. It seemed noble and responsible. Even though I held multiple jobs, was mostly kind, and tried to be helpful, I felt I was a worthless leach.
A social lively creature who felt compelled to strive for complete independence and/or death. It didn't make much sense.
I didn't make much sense.
So I suppose it's not surprising that my planned mode of death would be jumping when I have such a self preserving fear and respect of heights.
I can't even get myself to get close to the edge of venues high enough to do the job. Physically I'd get too shaky or dizzy and couldn't physically get to that point. Had I ever gotten to that point and pushed through that self-preserving mechanism, I would have fallen off for sure by passing out or shaking off the edge.
It's a funny thing our bodies do.
But sometimes it's not so funny and it feeds the very thing we are trying to fight. Why are we so lemming like and incapable of standing up for humanity when it is what we claim to believe in?
The other day I sat by as a family member lashed out at her son. I tried to ignore at first but it became obvious this drunken lady was out of line. She is the one in the position of power. I am also an adult and an aunt to the 12 year old with whom my son was sitting right by and so therefore I am in a position of power also. And I just waited, not intervening, because I was self preserving. She was even directing some of her harshness at my son.
Yes I also knew their was the potential for making it worse for the kid, but there were so many simple ways I could have intervened and let him know he is being noticed and protected. I could have drawn her line of fire from him, but I didn't until much later. Too late. He and then his sister had already taken quite the verbal lashings, a drunken "tap" to the head with a hotdog stick, and some other physical aggression I did not see as I was trying to avoid and ignore.
When I finally did intervene I did take a little beating. And I am not in good shape for that. I did find myself getting a bit defensive when she was completely irrational and I knew it. But the beating I took was nothing compared to the impact the crap she was saying can have on a kid. Especially when others sit by and watch. That reinforces the negative messages he is receiving and I know this and I know better.
I was angry with myself that night. Angry and disappointed. Disappointed at how week and how big of a coward I was. I sat by and let a vulnerable and impressionable child take a berating style beating because I was afraid she'd turn on me and yet I am angry about something similar having recently happened to me and I am stupid suicidal 50% of the time. Why not sacrifice myself for this child cause? I have claimed I automatically do that for others. I so very often do. So why not then?
Was it simply because I knew it wouldn't kill me or him? Or is it the self-preserving nature of our physical selves?
Stupid dual nature, self preserving bodies.
At least I know with a certainty (although I already did 50% of the time) that I really don't want to die if I can't even take a little verbal lashing for a child.
And I'll leave it at that, mind you, you do not know the whole story or the story at all, rather the intensity of my feelings and emotions, that is all. I likely behaved better than you are thinking and the abuse of this child is quite debatable to some especially considering the mental and emotional state of his mother and the abuses she herself has been through over the years. It is all so complicated.
Mostly it is so sad to me how the abused so often become the abusers.
I do not want to repeat those patterns myself, but I know sometimes I fall short.
Now what do I do about that?
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
inkling of hope? nope
The police officer that I talked to on the phone -intercepted before he came to my work- wanted me to follow up the next day.
That was my understanding of the agreement to appease. He said there are resources.
I had some hope.
So, even though it was hard, I called back as directed, the next day.
He was busy with an event. They had 911 call me back. I had not called 911, I had called the non-emergency dispatch, as directed. 911 lady explained he was busy and she could send someone else. I explained that I was just following up as per our discussion the previous day, it was not an emergency and I did not need that.
That was fine.
But no follow up phone call from the sergeant, no discussion of the resources. No discussion about why the patient advocate called in the first place.
Left alone again, with no follow up on their end
and now somehow the other they, the they who called, have the cops on their side and playing their ass-covering-patient-sacrificing game.
That is how this feels.
Compiling their evidence against me?
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
That was my understanding of the agreement to appease. He said there are resources.
I had some hope.
So, even though it was hard, I called back as directed, the next day.
He was busy with an event. They had 911 call me back. I had not called 911, I had called the non-emergency dispatch, as directed. 911 lady explained he was busy and she could send someone else. I explained that I was just following up as per our discussion the previous day, it was not an emergency and I did not need that.
That was fine.
But no follow up phone call from the sergeant, no discussion of the resources. No discussion about why the patient advocate called in the first place.
Left alone again, with no follow up on their end
and now somehow the other they, the they who called, have the cops on their side and playing their ass-covering-patient-sacrificing game.
That is how this feels.
Compiling their evidence against me?
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Tuesday, August 6, 2019
Writing from rational
Sometimes I remember silly little things, like a spelling error I made that I forgot to fix on one of my blog entries, which was the real reason I came on here just now.
I don't need to process
I am in my healthy "normal" place. But feeling a bit tired so thought a break and doing something little like that may be a good way to keep me below the 80% spent...
[side note- Can you see how, even in my good healthy space, the past of my messed up therapist experience will haunt me? That 80% is a reference to his teaching]
I could not find the spelling error and I did not feel like reading thoroughly to find it. I am happy in my heathy mind but a bit tired so if I read too much I run the risk of cycling back.
But a thought occurred to me; I don't often write from this place, this mental space of stable sane and fine even though I am here most of the time. (follow up: 10/26 -medicated now I can say I was not there most of the time. I was trying to be and stay positive. I was fading but trying hard to hold on and appreciating the "normal" times that were also fading.)
So this is me,
normal,
and free to be me.
But if you are like me -in my normal rational place- you will see that recently it seems I may be loosing touch with reality.
And I have.
It's so tricky but I am really pretty good at knowing when I am a bit ridiculous. I suppose I also believe there must be something to that ridiculousness, because I don't entirely discredit it anymore and I don't beat myself up for it anymore. In fact as I have learned to pay attention to it, where it is coming from, and why, I have gotten better at managing.
Right now I think previous me who wrote some of those things is really weird and I don't know why I keep trying to be heard and trying to get things changed when I know it is of no use and especially when I am loosing touch, they will just use it against me and practical me knows this. Knows I am just causing more problems for myself.
Yet, it keeps happening, and at times, it is the what-I-can-do-to-make-it-through. And I do. Make it through.
I think I have gotten better over the years at managing those crazy emotions that sometimes just need to be heard.
But anyway, I don't really want to delve any deeper because I am fine and boring and happy to be here.
Probably I'll close my eyes for a bit, just to try and stay here, then energy returning, I'll get more done. Tackle the day, have fun and play.
**and as I wake from my nap, I remember how hard it is to speak up when you are broken or breaking, when you are loosing touch but not entirely gone, and yet that is exactly when a person needs to say something, needs to start treating. It is much more effective than waiting until they are entirely gone, entirely broken, or entirely dead.
Which is exactly why it is so very wrong that I was treated the way have been by a facility that is supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me. **
I don't need to process
I am in my healthy "normal" place. But feeling a bit tired so thought a break and doing something little like that may be a good way to keep me below the 80% spent...
[side note- Can you see how, even in my good healthy space, the past of my messed up therapist experience will haunt me? That 80% is a reference to his teaching]
I could not find the spelling error and I did not feel like reading thoroughly to find it. I am happy in my heathy mind but a bit tired so if I read too much I run the risk of cycling back.
But a thought occurred to me; I don't often write from this place, this mental space of stable sane and fine even though I am here most of the time. (follow up: 10/26 -medicated now I can say I was not there most of the time. I was trying to be and stay positive. I was fading but trying hard to hold on and appreciating the "normal" times that were also fading.)
So this is me,
normal,
and free to be me.
But if you are like me -in my normal rational place- you will see that recently it seems I may be loosing touch with reality.
And I have.
It's so tricky but I am really pretty good at knowing when I am a bit ridiculous. I suppose I also believe there must be something to that ridiculousness, because I don't entirely discredit it anymore and I don't beat myself up for it anymore. In fact as I have learned to pay attention to it, where it is coming from, and why, I have gotten better at managing.
Right now I think previous me who wrote some of those things is really weird and I don't know why I keep trying to be heard and trying to get things changed when I know it is of no use and especially when I am loosing touch, they will just use it against me and practical me knows this. Knows I am just causing more problems for myself.
Yet, it keeps happening, and at times, it is the what-I-can-do-to-make-it-through. And I do. Make it through.
I think I have gotten better over the years at managing those crazy emotions that sometimes just need to be heard.
But anyway, I don't really want to delve any deeper because I am fine and boring and happy to be here.
Probably I'll close my eyes for a bit, just to try and stay here, then energy returning, I'll get more done. Tackle the day, have fun and play.
**and as I wake from my nap, I remember how hard it is to speak up when you are broken or breaking, when you are loosing touch but not entirely gone, and yet that is exactly when a person needs to say something, needs to start treating. It is much more effective than waiting until they are entirely gone, entirely broken, or entirely dead.
Which is exactly why it is so very wrong that I was treated the way have been by a facility that is supposed to be on my side, supposed to be helping me. **
I deserve to live
I took another beating today from an adolescent at work, because I was calm and I did not get caught up in his drama.
I am not emotionally strong enough for this position. I can handle it, in the moment, but it takes too big a toll and if you are week, if they smell blood, they will eat you alive. I know, because it has happened a few times. I am sure it is confusing to them because they smell the blood but it's unclear where it is coming from. They think I am week and they think I am clueless. I am week but not how they think, and far from clueless I just don't have the energy to care.
... and this was probably a really bad choice for an occupation right now...
bad choices, off judgement, thinking I am stronger and more balanced than I am... the damn cycles continue
and I am hurting and fading. Questioning who I am and why I am here....
Then the nagging.
And tonight I find myself thinking: Do I deserve to be helped? Should I keep fighting to survive?
...
And I think...
I do.
I deserve to live.
I am not a bad person.
I deserve to be treated with respect
and I deserve to be heard.
I deserve to keep trying and fighting the crushing messages that tell me I am not worth saving, not worth helping and that I should be sacrificed.
I am kind. I am honest. I work hard to solve my own problems, I try to address them at the root. I care about others and I am thoughtful and considerate. I try to be a good person. I do make mistakes but I am also teachable and will accept responsibility for my mistakes. I am forgiving, sometimes too forgiving I am told.
I am not a bad person and I deserve to live. I deserve to be heard.
and I deserve to have investigations about me benefit me, not just future patients [at my expense].
I deserve to have the red flags noticed on my behalf. I do not deserve be treated as nothing more than a burden and liability. I do not deserve people talking about me and making up stories, claiming I am things that I am not. I do not deserve to be yelled at and exiled. I deserve to have a conversation with all those people making judgements and decisions about me that would effect me. I deserve to have follow through on treatments, on referrals. I deserved a termination phase. I deserved to have my manic symptoms acknowledged, not denied and humiliated for them at the same time.
I am tired and rambling
but my point,
I deserve to live.
And I will.
Not because they were right in their denials but because I deal with what they have denied and I am not what they have made me out to be. They are wrong. I am worth loving, I am worth listening to, and I worth fighting for.
That is why I will live.
My blood may be on their hands from crushing my heart and back stabbing by the light off gaslit patterns, but I will survive!
And I am going to be okay
because I choose to be
Every Damn Day
(sometimes multiple times a day)
*But I am still quitting my job
...And choosing to be okay
I am not emotionally strong enough for this position. I can handle it, in the moment, but it takes too big a toll and if you are week, if they smell blood, they will eat you alive. I know, because it has happened a few times. I am sure it is confusing to them because they smell the blood but it's unclear where it is coming from. They think I am week and they think I am clueless. I am week but not how they think, and far from clueless I just don't have the energy to care.
... and this was probably a really bad choice for an occupation right now...
bad choices, off judgement, thinking I am stronger and more balanced than I am... the damn cycles continue
and I am hurting and fading. Questioning who I am and why I am here....
Then the nagging.
And tonight I find myself thinking: Do I deserve to be helped? Should I keep fighting to survive?
...
And I think...
I do.
I deserve to live.
I am not a bad person.
I deserve to be treated with respect
and I deserve to be heard.
I deserve to keep trying and fighting the crushing messages that tell me I am not worth saving, not worth helping and that I should be sacrificed.
I am kind. I am honest. I work hard to solve my own problems, I try to address them at the root. I care about others and I am thoughtful and considerate. I try to be a good person. I do make mistakes but I am also teachable and will accept responsibility for my mistakes. I am forgiving, sometimes too forgiving I am told.
I am not a bad person and I deserve to live. I deserve to be heard.
and I deserve to have investigations about me benefit me, not just future patients [at my expense].
I deserve to have the red flags noticed on my behalf. I do not deserve be treated as nothing more than a burden and liability. I do not deserve people talking about me and making up stories, claiming I am things that I am not. I do not deserve to be yelled at and exiled. I deserve to have a conversation with all those people making judgements and decisions about me that would effect me. I deserve to have follow through on treatments, on referrals. I deserved a termination phase. I deserved to have my manic symptoms acknowledged, not denied and humiliated for them at the same time.
I am tired and rambling
but my point,
I deserve to live.
And I will.
Not because they were right in their denials but because I deal with what they have denied and I am not what they have made me out to be. They are wrong. I am worth loving, I am worth listening to, and I worth fighting for.
That is why I will live.
My blood may be on their hands from crushing my heart and back stabbing by the light off gaslit patterns, but I will survive!
And I am going to be okay
because I choose to be
Every Damn Day
(sometimes multiple times a day)
*But I am still quitting my job
...And choosing to be okay
Sunday, August 4, 2019
When the therapists can't handle you...
The other day I posted but then took it down, because it was too whiney, too complainy. And I am not wanting to be that, but maybe I am that.
On here, I come to sort things out. This writing offers me quick relief and helps me process and move on when I am feeling stuck in my messed up head.
That is what the post I took down was about.
How I just can't seem to shake the feelings of worthlessness that the Neuroscience Institute instilled in me.
I'll be fine. I'll be doing well. Thinking I am turning around. Thinking "I've got this." Or not thinking anything at all about any of it. I feel normal. Happy. Fine.
"Oh so quite and so peaceful until...." (Bjork)
something goes wrong or I am reminded of one of the many failings of my past... and then, there it is "You can't even work things out with a neuropsychologist, and the professionals who handle head injuries" or "how can you expect to figure this one out, the people who are specialized in handling your kind can't even handle you. or don't want to." or "others needed him more, you must be a fake" or "you made such a mess of that, how can anyone trust you? how can you trust yourself?"
My head tells me these things and I have to debate that before I can even get to addressing whatever it is that is the real problem in the moment.
I shake them. Get those voices to go away. Leave me a lone. I argue that it was other things playing out, things that were not in my control. But then that is a bad place too, part of this because then "he loved you" and I feel that again. And it hurts again, even though I now understand that was not real or true ...and I don't know what the truth is at all and who I can trust but I know I cannot trust me, because I felt things too intensely and I made such a mess of things by being crazy.
And that is so embarrassing. Being "crazy."
That is why "I can't loose you right now"
I needed to work through my "crazy" in the safe place that knows how, or is at least supposed to know how, to handle that. The place that is supposed to help me turn it around, stop the cyclical patterns that have so long haunted me -that I was then realizing were very likely related to head injury, because the new mTBI was offering enough PTSD and flashback-ish memories to help me see this. I had hope. A hope that was new and so exhilarating. I maybe was worth something, more than I had previously realized.
But the rug, pulled so quickly and so strongly when I was experiencing such powerful emotions....
... and... broken and more crazy, but not allowed to talk about it, to process, with those who would know... so maybe it's not TBI... character flaw... and I'm back, to so much of what I was before, the me I didn't want to go back too. ...and the cycle continues sometimes worse than others.
...and I was triggered. I feel so much closer the edge these days. I am scarred. I don't want to be triggered again and I don't know what that may look like. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping, back into insanity, into mania, a mental mess where I thought I was more balanced than I was. In my euphoric phase I thought it could last if only I would start sleeping, but it doesn't. Other times I feel myself slipping into the deep recesses of depression. The kind that sucks your life, pleasure and joy... I stay clear. But I think I need help figuring this out and managing this, because sometimes it is exhausting and sometimes it is just plain embarrassing/humiliating.
No -or less- stigma, my ass.
Sometimes I feel I am winning
but sometimes I feel I am loosing
in this battle with myself.
On here, I come to sort things out. This writing offers me quick relief and helps me process and move on when I am feeling stuck in my messed up head.
That is what the post I took down was about.
How I just can't seem to shake the feelings of worthlessness that the Neuroscience Institute instilled in me.
I'll be fine. I'll be doing well. Thinking I am turning around. Thinking "I've got this." Or not thinking anything at all about any of it. I feel normal. Happy. Fine.
"Oh so quite and so peaceful until...." (Bjork)
something goes wrong or I am reminded of one of the many failings of my past... and then, there it is "You can't even work things out with a neuropsychologist, and the professionals who handle head injuries" or "how can you expect to figure this one out, the people who are specialized in handling your kind can't even handle you. or don't want to." or "others needed him more, you must be a fake" or "you made such a mess of that, how can anyone trust you? how can you trust yourself?"
My head tells me these things and I have to debate that before I can even get to addressing whatever it is that is the real problem in the moment.
I shake them. Get those voices to go away. Leave me a lone. I argue that it was other things playing out, things that were not in my control. But then that is a bad place too, part of this because then "he loved you" and I feel that again. And it hurts again, even though I now understand that was not real or true ...and I don't know what the truth is at all and who I can trust but I know I cannot trust me, because I felt things too intensely and I made such a mess of things by being crazy.
And that is so embarrassing. Being "crazy."
That is why "I can't loose you right now"
I needed to work through my "crazy" in the safe place that knows how, or is at least supposed to know how, to handle that. The place that is supposed to help me turn it around, stop the cyclical patterns that have so long haunted me -that I was then realizing were very likely related to head injury, because the new mTBI was offering enough PTSD and flashback-ish memories to help me see this. I had hope. A hope that was new and so exhilarating. I maybe was worth something, more than I had previously realized.
But the rug, pulled so quickly and so strongly when I was experiencing such powerful emotions....
... and... broken and more crazy, but not allowed to talk about it, to process, with those who would know... so maybe it's not TBI... character flaw... and I'm back, to so much of what I was before, the me I didn't want to go back too. ...and the cycle continues sometimes worse than others.
...and I was triggered. I feel so much closer the edge these days. I am scarred. I don't want to be triggered again and I don't know what that may look like. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping, back into insanity, into mania, a mental mess where I thought I was more balanced than I was. In my euphoric phase I thought it could last if only I would start sleeping, but it doesn't. Other times I feel myself slipping into the deep recesses of depression. The kind that sucks your life, pleasure and joy... I stay clear. But I think I need help figuring this out and managing this, because sometimes it is exhausting and sometimes it is just plain embarrassing/humiliating.
No -or less- stigma, my ass.
Sometimes I feel I am winning
but sometimes I feel I am loosing
in this battle with myself.
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