Someone requested an answer from me on Quora,com while on the website I visited a lady I follow's page.
I am concerned about this beautiful lady. I became aquatinted with her because she was struggling with a similar transference counter-transference issue. I think that policies need to be changed. I am angry. https://qr.ae/TWsa9N
I am surprised by how significantly more read my answers and the questions and answers I have read about transience and countertransference related issues are compared to other psychological issues. There is a problem here. There is a problem in the industry. It is not okay.
I am angry that therapists drop clients because they have feelings for them and that is supposed to be "in the best interest"
It is not. It merely protects the therapist from what is unlikely to happen anyway.
We are not murders. We are not stalkers. We are not worthless. We are not disposable. We are not forbidden and we are not taboo! We are not unreasonable.
But we are also not so strong that we can carry the weight of your debatable transgression alone, misunderstood, and misrepresented.
We are worth listening to.
We are worth fighting for.
We are worth loving and following through with to reach the other side.
We can manage.
We can handle so much
but the cold turn and rejection
in the place that we feel the safest, we trust, we love
because we might actually be lovable?
that is bullshit
and APA you need to reconsider the policies and practices you are feeding, encouraging and the very one-sided protection you are offering.
Please C S, Keep Fighting!
and Dr. He, if you ever read this, please don't play these games. Please hear me. And please try a different approach.
It is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Don't ask for permission to help us, ask for forgiveness. ... really, I can give that and help you receive that much more easily than the consequences that might befall you otherwise.
I cannot simply let this go.
I have to fight and I am sorry if that is against you because I really do care about you and think you are a beautiful person... you are human, you make mistakes, I can work with that, I can fight for you too, but I cannot sacrifice me for you and I have to stand up for myself and others.
I am scared for this beautiful lady. I am scared for others. I know how profoundly and deeply this shit cuts.
This is not an anticipated blog post but right now I feel a sense of urgency...
And I am so scared that this beautiful lady may have already lost the battle. It is a real battle and I know it...
Monday, September 30, 2019
Unique, just like everyone else
I like how "level" and "normal" this new medication helps me feel. I'll be driving along and be like, "wow, I'm like, not thinking about anything really and not really feeling anything other than human and normal." And I like it. I savor it. Which I am sure is not "normal" but really is there such a thing as "normal?"
Actually, I know there is because sometimes I feel it.
In those times I am fairly certain I am just like the rest of the people traveling through life mostly oblivious to just how abnormal they really are because they are mostly the same and they have places they fit and they don't really question their conformity all that much.
It's a nice experience -"normal"- though I am fairly certain I appreciate these feelings more than most.
When I feel this, which I am feeling more and more as I "stabilize" with the medication and therapy, I want to forget that I am actually not normal. I want to forget how far off the spectrum I can and have gone. I want to loose touch with the abnormals of myself... And I have. And I sometimes do.
But is that a good idea? Right now I am not sure that it is. Probably because I still have stuff to work through and I can't pretend completely because I now have to take 3 separate medications regularly to be here.
I also occasionally feel kind of dizzy and medicine head-ish, not often but it happens. I also still have a bit of push back with the medication and I am still kind of fragile. Plus I have the identity crises that comes along with it. I am not sure what to do and when I look at jobs and/or returning to previous projects and goals I feel incredibly gun-shy and small. My confidence has taken a pretty big hit when it was already shaky at best. It is why I am touting how proud of myself I can and should be, because I can and should but I am not totally there yet... I'm working on it.
I am often not sure what direction to take.
Today at new physical therapists office I met a lovely 19 year old who was home from college because she had a "mental health crises" over the summer. I was so impressed and proud of her for how casually she said it.
When I had my "mental health crises" at 19 I could not own it nor talk about it so easily and openly. Of course, as it so often is, my crises had been going on for quite some time completely overlooked, ignored, brushed under the rug, not talked about, and hidden (by me mostly). It was kind of the first time in my family's history that they were forced to face the reality of "mental health issues." A turning point for my family, but still we were all too stigmatized and self stigmatizing to more productively deal with and fully accept our individual fates; thus it turned out to be too little too late when it came to my brother who years later died at his own hand.
So I wonder if I can own so easily and comfortably my "stuff?"
But I still feel the way people withdraw and proceed with caution when I mention anything of the sort and I am not sure if it is reflective of how they feel or if it is more reflective of my own insecurities in accepting and embracing that part of me....
That's the hard stuff.
Which is why when I am normal
I start to believe that, and I back away and forget that I am not. Then get confused again by how people are responding to me, the not-so-normal deep thinker, big idea haver, and over analyzer that I am...
So
the balance.
Normal is nice
but really
mania can be fun
depression can be tragically beautiful in it's depth and complexity
embarrassing is hard but I'm over it (mostly) because
what's the point? I'd have to hide too much and too much of the time
and really my mind and body are pretty fascinating
my life stories are pretty fantastic
so
maybe I am too
and that is pretty cool
because I can live a thousand lives in a day
and I can stand up to giants
maybe I won't win and maybe I'll take a beating
but In the end I'll make a difference
to someone, somewhere
And I will survive
because I have super powers
and I can read minds
I can see the future and hear the gods when they speak through their many different dialects
I can ride the waves and the clouds
and feel every molecule of it.
I can withstands months of chemicals surging through my system to a palpable level.
I can solve all the worlds problems if only they would listen
And all of this I can do while keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground of reality. Can you?
Thus I am often more sane than the sane because I see and know my insanity.
So finding happy in my normal, I hope I really can embrace all parts of me
...because
I am unique, just like everyone else.
:)
Actually, I know there is because sometimes I feel it.
In those times I am fairly certain I am just like the rest of the people traveling through life mostly oblivious to just how abnormal they really are because they are mostly the same and they have places they fit and they don't really question their conformity all that much.
It's a nice experience -"normal"- though I am fairly certain I appreciate these feelings more than most.
When I feel this, which I am feeling more and more as I "stabilize" with the medication and therapy, I want to forget that I am actually not normal. I want to forget how far off the spectrum I can and have gone. I want to loose touch with the abnormals of myself... And I have. And I sometimes do.
But is that a good idea? Right now I am not sure that it is. Probably because I still have stuff to work through and I can't pretend completely because I now have to take 3 separate medications regularly to be here.
I also occasionally feel kind of dizzy and medicine head-ish, not often but it happens. I also still have a bit of push back with the medication and I am still kind of fragile. Plus I have the identity crises that comes along with it. I am not sure what to do and when I look at jobs and/or returning to previous projects and goals I feel incredibly gun-shy and small. My confidence has taken a pretty big hit when it was already shaky at best. It is why I am touting how proud of myself I can and should be, because I can and should but I am not totally there yet... I'm working on it.
I am often not sure what direction to take.
Today at new physical therapists office I met a lovely 19 year old who was home from college because she had a "mental health crises" over the summer. I was so impressed and proud of her for how casually she said it.
When I had my "mental health crises" at 19 I could not own it nor talk about it so easily and openly. Of course, as it so often is, my crises had been going on for quite some time completely overlooked, ignored, brushed under the rug, not talked about, and hidden (by me mostly). It was kind of the first time in my family's history that they were forced to face the reality of "mental health issues." A turning point for my family, but still we were all too stigmatized and self stigmatizing to more productively deal with and fully accept our individual fates; thus it turned out to be too little too late when it came to my brother who years later died at his own hand.
So I wonder if I can own so easily and comfortably my "stuff?"
But I still feel the way people withdraw and proceed with caution when I mention anything of the sort and I am not sure if it is reflective of how they feel or if it is more reflective of my own insecurities in accepting and embracing that part of me....
That's the hard stuff.
Which is why when I am normal
I start to believe that, and I back away and forget that I am not. Then get confused again by how people are responding to me, the not-so-normal deep thinker, big idea haver, and over analyzer that I am...
So
the balance.
Normal is nice
but really
mania can be fun
depression can be tragically beautiful in it's depth and complexity
embarrassing is hard but I'm over it (mostly) because
what's the point? I'd have to hide too much and too much of the time
and really my mind and body are pretty fascinating
my life stories are pretty fantastic
so
maybe I am too
and that is pretty cool
because I can live a thousand lives in a day
and I can stand up to giants
maybe I won't win and maybe I'll take a beating
but In the end I'll make a difference
to someone, somewhere
And I will survive
because I have super powersand I can read minds
I can see the future and hear the gods when they speak through their many different dialects
I can ride the waves and the clouds
and feel every molecule of it.
I can withstands months of chemicals surging through my system to a palpable level.
I can solve all the worlds problems if only they would listen
And all of this I can do while keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground of reality. Can you?
Thus I am often more sane than the sane because I see and know my insanity.
So finding happy in my normal, I hope I really can embrace all parts of me
...because
I am unique, just like everyone else.
:)
Sunday, September 29, 2019
Therapeutic relationships are not your everyday story
Time to write it out, I think.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.
My mind is thinking on something my lovely neighbor friend said. She was talking about going through a hard time and how she was addicted to her story. Naturally I think she is suggesting that I might be addicted to my story....
and I am trying to understand this idea.
Where does it start, where does it end and am I addicted or am I simply trying to figure out how to write the chapters still? How to write the ending to this story?
Should I right/write an ending to this story?
And how addicted am I?
I will own that I am addicted to something in my story. But I am not totally sure what. I have been trying not to think about it and redirect my thinking to other things. I have plenty to think about and do, and I do think about and do plenty of other things. Yet somehow I am still stuck in this story. This Perri Cheri character still holds a place in my story, the tragic hero that I just can't quite place or has been placed and I can't quite write out of my story. I don't know how to let him stay in my heart without it breaking it and I can't quite let him go completely because I like the me he brought out and was bringing out. Yet the me he brought out is the me that was turned away and rejected. The me that was not worth helping. The me that was not heard or noticed when it so desperately needed to be. Even that me was invisible and unloveable... So I need to let him go I suppose but at the same time... sigh.
...I am not so sure it is my story I am addicted to... I wonder if I am addicted to the sensation I felt in those moments. I wonder if I am addicted to the beautiful tragedy, the comedy of errors. And I also wonder if I am not addicted at all but rather I was left in a cliffhanger of unresolved reality.
I don't know. My mind can take this so many ways and it does. So I am allowing myself a bit of space to I ponder this idea of being addicted to ones story and I wonder what to do about it.
"Just let it go"
I have and I try and I do and I don't and I can and I can't and I am but I am not and time will heal all wounds while absence makes the heart grow fonder....
and...
sigh...
the traps
In reality, I need reality, or I at least know that reality would help. To be able to put into context the reality of what happened with the person with whom it happened. It is the ideal that so few people ever actually get because we are so very human and so very flawed, proud, selfish and scared.
"Be the change you wish to see in the world"
How?
How can I be that change when I am not allowed?
I think the mental health industry has a similar problem to our education systems: We challenge kids and claim we want kids to be creative problem solvers and utilize higher level thinking skills but when they do they are punished for various reasons:
- because it posses a threat to "classroom management"
- because it is not exactly the way it was taught so it must be the wrong answer
- because the teacher does not understand the different way of saying, doing, or seeing something
- because it does not match the test exactly
- because teachers are worried that other kids might follow suit and get lost
- because we like consistency and order, symmetry and matching and the creative approach or rendition may threaten that
- We like things to me homogenized and homogeneous- it feels safer
- If every kid were doing things their own way it would take the teacher ages to understand and grade
- The kid may be going off on a tangent that keeps them from acquiring the skill that we are required to teach them.
The mental health industry claims to want to help people be able to manage their "mental illness" and yet when they do they are not listened to, not heard, discredited, discouraged and even punished for it. They are overlooked instead of utilized.
I have learned so very much and when I look back I know I have come so very far because I have worked to manage my mood instabilities and my intensities since I was a teen and yet I am still stigmatized and not heard.
I know my symptoms, I know a lot about what helps and what I need. I know I can do many things I am not allowed to do because I don't fit inside the boxes of others.
My lovely fellow piñata person friend pointed out that they don't want to listen because then it destroys their illusions... Maybe so.
Their illusions of control and sanity that are so very ridiculous and we know because we have been broken open and we know how easy it is to be broken open. But we also know the beauty that can come along with it and how that illusion of control and sanity is making themselves and so many people behave in such unethically insane ways.
...addicted to my story
Maybe so
but also, I think that being addicted to my story keeps me alive, because in this story, with the transference that happened and the mania and the "I will never have anything to do with you" and the "let it burn out" -"it" being me- and the "we need to get you stabilized..." so maybe you should go somewhere else and here are some suggestions," mere suggestions, not referrals and not with the people they have there that have the credentials and know how "oh those two didn't work, check with your insurance because we don't want to work with you anymore" my story ends in sacrificing me for him...
I don't like that ending. I don't want that ending. I think that ending needs to be rewritten, and re-righted. It's too deep and too profound... And every time I tried to go somewhere else I had to relive the story, feed the addiction, and it was confusing to me and the new person trying to treat me. One man fed it, one women shamed me for it, one PA tried to treat me knowing they that were abandoning were better qualified to figure this out so she was careful and cautious with how to proceed, herself very likely unsure of who to believe. Each time... feeding the addiction... the story, the fantasy, the taboo, the effort to resolve, and the what was left unknown to me.
So time, yes, but there is some fighting that also has to happen to break this addiction. Some addictions just can't be stopped cold turkey because it's very dangerous to the addict.
Friday, September 27, 2019
The Prettiest Petite Piñata Lady Ever and her Managed Manic Magnificence
Yesterday I stopped in at the Brain Injury Alliance to say high and see if there is anything I can get involved with there. I am needing to find a place, figure out how to fit into society once again. While there I met the prettiest petit piñata lady ever. I can not even begin to express how much I loved her. She was absolutely bursting with so much energy and so much of what I know so well but keep contained. She says she doesn't open up like that to people, that people do with her but she doesn't like that with them. She claims she needs to. I agree with that but I also am not sure that I should because she and I both know what comes along with that.
It's why we don't embrace our crazy so openly.
She was like manic me if I were on steroids and Ritalin at the same time and yet, she was managing, working and functioning.
Managed Manic Magnificence.
She was like a the live version of so many intensities shared on this blog, the stuff that I only share here and mostly keep restrained in the "real world."
I loved how she related to the spirituality and the way she thought in rhymes at times. I loved that she researches and understands "coming out of isolation." I love that she knows what it is like to be tough and yet not seen and not heard. Actually I don't love that, I wish she did not have that pain and the problems that come along with it. I wish I could take it from her and so many other tragedies she has had to endure, and the thing is she relates to that as well.
She is not me but she understands things about me and I understand things about her that very few do.
She and I, we are valuable in our communities and we are especially valuable in the TBI and bipolar communities. We could help the people who have abused us in the systems that are supposed to help us. We deserve to be heard and listened to, we deserve to be treated with respect and we deserve fair treatment.
She knows there are more out there like us and I hope I can help find them and help them have a voice too. We have taken on burdens and helped people be strong when we were breaking or broken our selves and far too often we were overlooked and/or slandered, talked down to, sacrificed or undermined because we were nice and tough but also independent and even selfless.
I take care of myself by taking care of others and I will keep doing that, only now, I'm also going to take care of others by taking care of and standing up for myself.
I remember asking, in my breaking and in my exiling: "Why me? Why now?"
Because I am stronger than I knew and I am needed and I have done a damn good job of managing and adapting and being a good person despite my "mental illness" and TBI.
Maybe I won't get resolve where or how I would like, but I may just be developing resolve.
And somehow I am letting go by holding on and I can feel things letting go as I reach out and keep trying.
True colors will come out and all that needs to be brought to light will be.
I am going to be okay.
Tiny victories
and
Keep Fighting
Update: My pretty piñata friend has read this and I love that she needed time to process it and me also, it tells me she is holding onto rational and I know that I can trust her. She told me she wants her name on here and I am flattered that she not only will allow it but requested it. The only problem I have is I don't know how to write her name in now without changing the integrity of my in the moment writing. So I decided to attach it here and in the future I will call her by name... maybe, -well, only if I don't think what I am saying could come back to bite her.- Her name is Renee Casati and she is truly a beautiful person. It is so nice to be seen and nice to be heard and nice to know I am not alone.
It's why we don't embrace our crazy so openly.
She was like manic me if I were on steroids and Ritalin at the same time and yet, she was managing, working and functioning.
Managed Manic Magnificence.
She was like a the live version of so many intensities shared on this blog, the stuff that I only share here and mostly keep restrained in the "real world."
I loved how she related to the spirituality and the way she thought in rhymes at times. I loved that she researches and understands "coming out of isolation." I love that she knows what it is like to be tough and yet not seen and not heard. Actually I don't love that, I wish she did not have that pain and the problems that come along with it. I wish I could take it from her and so many other tragedies she has had to endure, and the thing is she relates to that as well.
She is not me but she understands things about me and I understand things about her that very few do.
She and I, we are valuable in our communities and we are especially valuable in the TBI and bipolar communities. We could help the people who have abused us in the systems that are supposed to help us. We deserve to be heard and listened to, we deserve to be treated with respect and we deserve fair treatment.
She knows there are more out there like us and I hope I can help find them and help them have a voice too. We have taken on burdens and helped people be strong when we were breaking or broken our selves and far too often we were overlooked and/or slandered, talked down to, sacrificed or undermined because we were nice and tough but also independent and even selfless.
I take care of myself by taking care of others and I will keep doing that, only now, I'm also going to take care of others by taking care of and standing up for myself.
I remember asking, in my breaking and in my exiling: "Why me? Why now?"
Because I am stronger than I knew and I am needed and I have done a damn good job of managing and adapting and being a good person despite my "mental illness" and TBI.
Maybe I won't get resolve where or how I would like, but I may just be developing resolve.
And somehow I am letting go by holding on and I can feel things letting go as I reach out and keep trying.
True colors will come out and all that needs to be brought to light will be.
I am going to be okay.
 |
| This is what came out today as I reflected on Managed Manic Magnificence and the pains that come along with living and loving. I felt the pains of my lovely new friend and older friends. I felt the weight of the world as I painted. I wondered how and why we can all keep living with so much pain and so much heartache. A few tears fell as I painted, but ultimately, I feel like something beautiful came out of it and I love it. It may be my favorite painting yet. |
and
Keep Fighting
Update: My pretty piñata friend has read this and I love that she needed time to process it and me also, it tells me she is holding onto rational and I know that I can trust her. She told me she wants her name on here and I am flattered that she not only will allow it but requested it. The only problem I have is I don't know how to write her name in now without changing the integrity of my in the moment writing. So I decided to attach it here and in the future I will call her by name... maybe, -well, only if I don't think what I am saying could come back to bite her.- Her name is Renee Casati and she is truly a beautiful person. It is so nice to be seen and nice to be heard and nice to know I am not alone.
Thursday, September 26, 2019
It's easy to die ...and industry that feeds it?
One thing I would like to address are the suicidal tendencies and thoughts. I am honestly pretty disgusted about how the Neuroscience Institute and Patient Experiences "Advocates" (those are the obnoxious sarcastic air quotations spoken with derision) overlooked, dismissed and treated with disrespect this very symptom in me. I knew not to say I was immediately feeling these things. I had been locked up once before for making a stupid honest comment. But I was fending those off and I told them so on several occasions. Then when I was really fading and struggling to find appropriate replacement care because they would not allow me to be seen there I pointed out how their actions affect people, to which they responded by calling the police. However, the police could do nothing because they don't treat fading they only can stop an emergency. The police felt they should not have been called, "passing the buck" is what they felt was happening. Other providers felt they should not have called. They never followed up or did anything to make sure I was getting proper care, so I feel it was basically a threat or meant to send a message to me.
I feel like and I suspect they think I was only making comments about this subject to manipulate. I think they are really stupid. If I was honestly trying to manipulate I would have made a bigger deal and I would not have been like, "yeah, I have had those thoughts but I am not right now and I know what to do with them and how to handle it when they come." That is what I said.
If I had been trying to manipulate to pursue I would have said something more like, "I am feeling suicidal and I don't think I can live with out getting this resolved" or probably something stupid like that. I don't know, I cannot even think of a good intelligent manipulation for this scenario. Probably because I don't (do not) do shit like that.
That is stupid.
No, instead I try to address it but I also kind of try to hide it. It's kind of stupid and probably hard to treat but I try to make sure I am saying enough so they know it is there but won't have me admitted or committed anywhere. I know I can hold on for a long time.
BUT
I also know how damn easy it is to die.
And how it could take just one brainwave malfunction and you could be gone before you even realized what you were doing.
Here are some examples:
I feel like and I suspect they think I was only making comments about this subject to manipulate. I think they are really stupid. If I was honestly trying to manipulate I would have made a bigger deal and I would not have been like, "yeah, I have had those thoughts but I am not right now and I know what to do with them and how to handle it when they come." That is what I said.
If I had been trying to manipulate to pursue I would have said something more like, "I am feeling suicidal and I don't think I can live with out getting this resolved" or probably something stupid like that. I don't know, I cannot even think of a good intelligent manipulation for this scenario. Probably because I don't (do not) do shit like that.
That is stupid.
No, instead I try to address it but I also kind of try to hide it. It's kind of stupid and probably hard to treat but I try to make sure I am saying enough so they know it is there but won't have me admitted or committed anywhere. I know I can hold on for a long time.
BUT
I also know how damn easy it is to die.
And how it could take just one brainwave malfunction and you could be gone before you even realized what you were doing.
Here are some examples:
- hiking, oops, too close.
- Medicine, "I just need a little extra"- or "wait, that wasn't a drink"
- the silver eraser that clears the unwanted, painful, memories quickly and completely with one pull of a trigger
- here is one I remember from when I was much younger- I must have been somewhere in the spectrum of manic as I was driving on the freeway thinking through the possibilities for my life. My mind grabbed hold of one path and then, faster than I was driving, as my vivid thoughts raced I lived through the entirety of the plan in my mind and then I was suddenly at the end of my life when my hands fortunately fought back the instinctive reflex to promptly jerk the steering wheel to the left thus ramming me into the cement barrier because my life was supposed to be over in that moment.
- Oh, darn the river is faster than I thought.
- It's a nice train. It just wanted a hug. (or semi, or car)
- Here is one that reminded me I am not totally out of the woods yet: my daughter is telling me about what she learned in biology; that a person can die from water poisoning, by drinking too much water and my brain says "huh, that would be an interesting sensation" as I envision the ease of guzzling a galloon or few of water.
- I just ran into a friend who shared concern about a family member of hers that is diabetic, because it would be so easy for this family member, all they would have to do is push a button on there pump...
I am sure I could share more but I think this list is sufficient to illustrate how easy it would be in a moment, just a moment, of intense and screwed up chemistry, one could easily do irreversible damage regardless of how well they think they can handle it.
Fortunately I know that suicidal thoughts are a symptom, not the problem and certainly not the solution, so when I have them I mention them as just that, a symptom. But it is a symptom to take seriously because their is something terribly wrong and this symptom can get worse and/or catch you off guard at just the wrong time. So when someone says they are having this symptom, if they tell you they are feeling these things and if they try to explain any part of it please listen.
**Ohh... epiphany- as I am writing I am thinking and I bet they really did think I was trying to manipulate because I told them these thoughts were being fed by the situation and the way the transference was addressed, or maybe rather not addressed. Because I told them they were the root of and possibly the cause of the symptom I was experiencing. And I kept trying to tell them their neglect and desire to be rid of me, their treating me as worthless, was feeding it.
Man, I am stupid sometimes.
So it seems likely that my analyzing to maintain control of me and speaking openly about it, was once again, misinterpreted through projection, reflection, deflection. It is possible that my analyzing to maintain control of myself, may have been projected and interpreted as an attempt to maintain or gain some control of them... sigh
But the reality of the way they treated me does feed those feelings, especially when you are in a transference where you were learning to love yourself by loving the bits of you you saw in your therapist -that now needs to be rid of you. This is honesty from my fighting the suicidal thoughts and figuring out why the hell these thoughts were plaguing me so intensely and unexpectedly at all. It was never a manipulation of anybody. It was trying to undo the manipulation of me, that happened in therapy... Accidental or on purpose.
Damn this psychology is deep. But I assure you, it was not about them, or at least it was not supposed to be, it was about me. That is what I kept trying to tell them and will maintain is my truth. Yes, Dr. Cheri was loved by me, and honestly still stupidly is, BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS THERE ABOUT AND THAT IS NOT WHAT I WAS EVER AFTER IN SEEKING HELP, CLARIFICATION AND TREATMENT. It was supposed to be about me and the screwed up chemistry or injury of my brain. It was supposed to be about me and that when I so desperately needed it to be... But I am an empath and so many things that put my needs last. It should not be that way in that industry. This is where the broken, vulnerable, overlooked, neglected, caregivers need to be noticed, seen, valued, cared for and helped. Too many wounded end up wounding because they are reflective.
And in this deep reflective epiphany moment, I am thinking maybe I need to be done with therapy with anybody ever again because it is too damn messy and too damn scary and they can twist it and twist you however they feel to either benefit or protect themselves. Sigh... and I thought they only had as much power over me as I allowed them to have. No, they have too much control, too much corruption, too much power, or there is too much disrespect, dehumanizing and stigmatizing of patients within the industry of psychology and psychiatry; the industry that is supposed to understand, help and protect me.
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
Here we go round the mulberry bush...
It’s kind of strange being an adult and a child at the same time but apparently that happens when you have shit from your youth that needs to be worked through. It’s good to know I’m not alone in this even though I am very much alone in this.
I really like new therapist she is helping adult me reconcile with child me. She doesn't say that but that seems to be what she is doing. She is also helping me to understand reality. Reality is something that at times is hard for me to understand because apparently I might be bipolar and I probably have a mom that has borderline personality disorder and I definitely have a genetic predisposition for mental illness (which by itself makes me sad and mad) and head injury makes it much more likely for that genetic predisposition to manifest... I don’t really want to accept any of it and I have tried not to but ultimately that turns into me not accepting reality and rejecting part of my perfectly imperfect self which then somehow turns into me isolating myself... sigh...
So I am a child and an adult trying to figure this out and sometimes I don’t want to hear about how so much of this shit is actually normal so many people go through it because I’ve got years of feeling sorry for myself to catch up on. And that should be read with a laugh following because it is meant to be funny since, even though, there is a hint of truth, it is also not what I am really doing.
I really am grateful for my crazy ass shit because mine can at least be quite fun quite often and I have found a lot of good in it AND I have done really well with it. My lifetime friend, lets call her CP, even thinks it is funny that when I feel like I have super powers I think it is a symptom of mania or oncoming because she says I do have superpowers. I love CP, she really believes that about me.
So I really feel more proud of myself rather than sorry for myself. I mostly feel sorry for the lack of recognition and support I get. And ironically that is very likely tied to the fact that I do so well managing all my shit. I am not broken enough and, aside from me possibly isolating myself by trying to handle it myself, at times I actually end up being punished for that. Maybe people really don't believe me that snowboarding was just shy of orgasmic and that spirit animals and gods were talking to me because I wasn't full blown crazy and I could keep it within context. Maybe people don't believe I was manic because maybe I really was clairvoyant in those moments and I really did have super powers. Maybe I do need to return to that place and become a prophet or seer... Or maybe mania kept me from understanding how to handle the messages from god, maybe that keeps me for being a prophet... I could go on and on. Believe me, I have considered probably every possibility because my mind was running at hyper speed through every avenue.... my true super power. It's hard to keep up with. I can't even do it.
Yet somehow I managed, and that is discredited and that is where I feel sorry for me and angry at those who dismissed me so easily.
But back to Dr. She- today Dr. She explained that I was predisposed to have the problems I was feeling were a direct result of TBI and that TBI just brought them out. This is a hard pill for me to swallow because I first have to accept that I am "mentally ill" irregardless of TBI and somehow I have to both accept and dismiss the roles I thought or felt TBI has played in that. And I have to accept that I have to accept all of this shit I have been fighting to dismiss in myself. "If you just believe you can do anything" "if you have faith you can be healed"....Or you can go manic and have it be missed because you believe in yourself and the system that is "healing you".... tragic comedy of errors.
It's a lot to come to terms with. I have to accept:
I’m going to be okay, I think, but I’ll also need to find a balance with my crazy and that just never seems to look like what others think it “should” look like.
Really that is what happened in my blog yesterday. I started off wanting to address the "take care of you to take care of me" problem probably many in therapy have but as I wrote my frustration with how completely powerless I am in civilly and amicably resolving anything with the Neuroscience Institute and specifically with Dr. He came out. If I had my way we would just talk and the crazy manic fed irrational components could and likely would very naturally work themselves out as I addressed them where and with whom they would be appropriate to address with. But I am not allowed, because they have me branded and stigmatized, because rules and policies don't allow it, because they (the rules and policies) are bias and stigmatizing... Such a stupid paradoxical conundrum: I have to pursue legal action and hire a lawyer to be heard because they are afraid of talking to me because I might might hire a lawyer and pursue legal action...
How do they not see
how stupid that be?
I really like new therapist she is helping adult me reconcile with child me. She doesn't say that but that seems to be what she is doing. She is also helping me to understand reality. Reality is something that at times is hard for me to understand because apparently I might be bipolar and I probably have a mom that has borderline personality disorder and I definitely have a genetic predisposition for mental illness (which by itself makes me sad and mad) and head injury makes it much more likely for that genetic predisposition to manifest... I don’t really want to accept any of it and I have tried not to but ultimately that turns into me not accepting reality and rejecting part of my perfectly imperfect self which then somehow turns into me isolating myself... sigh...
So I am a child and an adult trying to figure this out and sometimes I don’t want to hear about how so much of this shit is actually normal so many people go through it because I’ve got years of feeling sorry for myself to catch up on. And that should be read with a laugh following because it is meant to be funny since, even though, there is a hint of truth, it is also not what I am really doing.
I really am grateful for my crazy ass shit because mine can at least be quite fun quite often and I have found a lot of good in it AND I have done really well with it. My lifetime friend, lets call her CP, even thinks it is funny that when I feel like I have super powers I think it is a symptom of mania or oncoming because she says I do have superpowers. I love CP, she really believes that about me.
So I really feel more proud of myself rather than sorry for myself. I mostly feel sorry for the lack of recognition and support I get. And ironically that is very likely tied to the fact that I do so well managing all my shit. I am not broken enough and, aside from me possibly isolating myself by trying to handle it myself, at times I actually end up being punished for that. Maybe people really don't believe me that snowboarding was just shy of orgasmic and that spirit animals and gods were talking to me because I wasn't full blown crazy and I could keep it within context. Maybe people don't believe I was manic because maybe I really was clairvoyant in those moments and I really did have super powers. Maybe I do need to return to that place and become a prophet or seer... Or maybe mania kept me from understanding how to handle the messages from god, maybe that keeps me for being a prophet... I could go on and on. Believe me, I have considered probably every possibility because my mind was running at hyper speed through every avenue.... my true super power. It's hard to keep up with. I can't even do it.
Yet somehow I managed, and that is discredited and that is where I feel sorry for me and angry at those who dismissed me so easily.
But back to Dr. She- today Dr. She explained that I was predisposed to have the problems I was feeling were a direct result of TBI and that TBI just brought them out. This is a hard pill for me to swallow because I first have to accept that I am "mentally ill" irregardless of TBI and somehow I have to both accept and dismiss the roles I thought or felt TBI has played in that. And I have to accept that I have to accept all of this shit I have been fighting to dismiss in myself. "If you just believe you can do anything" "if you have faith you can be healed"....Or you can go manic and have it be missed because you believe in yourself and the system that is "healing you".... tragic comedy of errors.
It's a lot to come to terms with. I have to accept:
- that I am "mentally ill"
- that head injury may have contributed
- that head injury may not be my biggest problem
- that I have lower cognitive stamina
- I am genetically predisposed
- thus my children are also
- that my relationship struggles are deeper than TBI and Bipolar
- that I need medication
- again
- and even more (medication)
- that I need people to help me
- the stigma, it's not going away
- that I am like my mother (in that I also have a mental illness and am a victim of some shitty circumstances) This one is harder than you know since I think she is pretty maladapted and I really don't want to be like that. I don't want to be a victim that points fingers at others criticizing them for "playing the victim" and thus doing the same thing with the situations they are not such a victim in... And yet, swinging too far the other way, when I am the victim I blame myself and get hurt more believing "I can fix this"... yeah, this is a hard one...
- and once again, I have to figure out what I want to do when I grow up, only now I appear to have a bad track record with jobs and I am old.
And in addition to that I need to:
- once again figure out what to do with my life
- find a career that I can handle and that can handle me
- face that I have trust issues
- and avoidance issues
- grieve losses that are big and profound.
- while staying grounded in reality and taking care of my family... but not completely at my expense.
I’m going to be okay, I think, but I’ll also need to find a balance with my crazy and that just never seems to look like what others think it “should” look like.
Really that is what happened in my blog yesterday. I started off wanting to address the "take care of you to take care of me" problem probably many in therapy have but as I wrote my frustration with how completely powerless I am in civilly and amicably resolving anything with the Neuroscience Institute and specifically with Dr. He came out. If I had my way we would just talk and the crazy manic fed irrational components could and likely would very naturally work themselves out as I addressed them where and with whom they would be appropriate to address with. But I am not allowed, because they have me branded and stigmatized, because rules and policies don't allow it, because they (the rules and policies) are bias and stigmatizing... Such a stupid paradoxical conundrum: I have to pursue legal action and hire a lawyer to be heard because they are afraid of talking to me because I might might hire a lawyer and pursue legal action...
How do they not see
how stupid that be?
Monday, September 23, 2019
Care Bears need to air out there shit covered laundry!
I went back to school to complete my degree back in 2013 or so. I choose WGU because it was the most economical and feasible considering my circumstances. They have a great program for teaching. One thing I liked is they assign you a mentor that you check in with and that checks up on you every so often to help keep you going. I loved my mentor with WGU. At one point they assigned me a new mentor because the other mentor was only meant to be a startup kind of mentor. But new mentor's lack of life experiences and possibly her rigid "professionalism" made it hard for me to connect with her thus rendering her useless as a mentor to me and the check ins became kind of annoying to me, which did not help me with my schooling. Fortunately my old mentor was able to pull some strings and I got to keep him throughout the rest of my schooling with WGU.
And that is the back story to this very simple comment that my WGU mentor would say to me; often he would tell me I needed to take care of myself to which I would reply, "part of how I take care of myself is by taking care of other people." And now, obviously I was at least somewhat balanced in my taking care of others and myself because I allowed myself to request my old mentor and not worry too much about how that might make the new mentor feel.
It can be tricky finding that balance and I imagine therapists often see people who are unbalanced in how they define themselves with this very same trait. I bet they see many people who are trying to fix themselves and quite often repeat patterns of loving other people too much or neglecting themselves for the sake of others and they will repeat that mistake in therapy also by caring for their therapist when it is the therapists job to care for them. I would think this may be especially prevalent in my part of the world where my religious upbringing teaches girls heavily that their value lies in being a wife and mother and what they are doing to serve others.
Their is merit to this and it is important, however, I do feel we may be a bit too far to one side on this issue and I feel like it has got to be a huge challenge for a therapist not to get attached and find themselves getting some of their emotional needs met by their clients. They are human after all.
So this further confuses my brain on how the hell the APA and people in the field think it is a good idea to just shut a person out cold turkey if a therapist develops feelings. It is kind of disgusting how negatively stigmatized a therapist will be for that and how negatively this stigmatizes the client/patient with the slew of false and negative misconceptions and stereotypes this brands them with. I see that grooming can be an easy game for a therapist to play if their are no rules but the shutting out only protects the therapist and so hugely at the expense of the person on my side of the couch.
... And It has been fed, this stupid idea of "forbidden love" that my manic mind latched onto, by everyone denying me conversation about this and about what was going on with me. It has been fed by my husband trusting them and me trusting them and them refusing to call mania and misdiagnosis what it was. It has been fed by his refusal to apologize and by my husbands uncertainty of how to proceed with me. It has been fed by my broken heart again and again. It has been fed by Dr. Concussion's unwillingness to talk about what happened and her being swayed by whatever she was being told by people who had never even talked with me or had talked with me very little. It has been fed by the grapevine communication with the patient advocate and her acting as though she was helping me but then not even asking the questions I asked her to ask. It has been fed by the scarlet letter they branded me with.
It has been fed by them making it all about him and not about me. When it was supposed to be about me.
It has been fed by their bullshit that "he felt threatened" by me, because the only threat that was known to me was that he didn't want anything to do with me because he could possibly love me, and because, they said, I used the word "but" in an email. In trying to have a conversation about what was going on with my head, and in, once again. trying to tell him that he was missing something that I needed him to see and that we needed to talk about (mania), I said I didn't want to go the route of filing a complaint "but" if that is what I had to do then I that was what I would do... It has been fed while he peacefully and easily burns out knowing he does not have to face me or talk about any possible countertransference or misunderstandings. I am angry again. I am hurt again. I am angry and hurt and all of it still just feeds the damn creature Perri Cheri that is eating my brain and my heart.
Please admit your mistakes IHC. PLEASE END THIS CYCLE. I have begged and followed your rules. If I am to continue to follow the rules you claim to follow, if I am to be a good citizen and if I am ever going to recover from this then I have to fight harder and you need to be held accountable. If you insist the fight is against me and with me and not for me and with me from what is going on with my damn head and the stigma's and misconceptions than the fight is with you... and I fight... to the death. To the death of my bills and the bad policies of the Neuroscience Institute and APA, or to the death of me. And if you keep winning so easily, so then my blood really will be on your hands if this continues until I am all burned up and burnt out completely.
...This is not at all where I thought I would go with this blog entry.. but there it is. I am tired. I am sad. I want to believe that is was simply a comedy of errors. I want to be able to be proud of my magnificent managed mania because it was damn hard but I managed to stayed out of complete psychosis and loosing complete touch with reality. I broke big and yet still managed. I begged for it to be seen when I wasn't even sure that was what it was, I kept trying and I want to be able to be proud of that, but instead I was shunned, shamed, lied to and lied about, I was slandered, stigmatized, denied treatment and exiled. And I am stuck in limbo not wanting to do anything because it could potentially hurt people I loved and trusted even though they were neglecting, gaslighting and abusing. When I was fighting for my rational brain they were fighting against it, insisting that I was fighting for the irrational, and this fed the irrational. It does not make sense. They would only listen when there was talk of lawyers or when I used appropriate legal jargon, but as soon as I told them I was not interested in going that route they would continue with disregarding me and feeding the wild fantasy that may not have been my own in the first place. I hate that legal action feels like my only option. I know I can continue to just work on "letting it go" but "letting it go" just seems to fuel the damn fire that is supposed to have burned out months ago and "just letting it go" still seems to tie my brain to just letting me go, letting me burn out. I don't want to burn out. I want to improve again and I want to live again.
I don't think, at this point in my life, it is entirely wise to continue to define myself by how I can benefit others and what I can do for them. I think now, maybe, as I had said long ago in a previous post, I need to follow my damn guru's example and simply do whatever I feel I need to to protect and take care of myself, no matter how it might affect someone else. Look out for number one and number one only... No conversation, no negotiation, not trying to protect or care, just stigmatize and use against him all that I can to protect myself and make sure my ass is being taken care of financially because "I am okay with being wrong" at the expense of others... so where am I wrong? Please somebody tell me? I was wrong in trusting a person who had lost objectivity, acknowledged he broke me ["you broke me" "I did not mean to"], but would not address that and then openly told me "I am okay with being wrong."
I'd rather love you and be your friend, I'd rather work with you on my behalf and even help you to benefit my people you claim to be helping, but if that is not possible then I'll fight you to the bitter end, because you broke me, and then trashed me and I will not die for you no matter how you want me to!
...sigh... I'll leave this crazy shit here and post, because this shit needs to be talked about, this shit needs to be addressed, this shit needs to be washed out of the laundry it is dirtying and then hung up to air out.
Good night. sleep tight...
we ain't out of the woods yet.
But I sure as hell would rather talk about it than burn down the whole damn forest. I wish we (the Neuroscience Institute, IHC, Dr. He, Dr. Concussion and I) were on the same page... I am still willing to get there...
but my words are likely in vain.
And that is the back story to this very simple comment that my WGU mentor would say to me; often he would tell me I needed to take care of myself to which I would reply, "part of how I take care of myself is by taking care of other people." And now, obviously I was at least somewhat balanced in my taking care of others and myself because I allowed myself to request my old mentor and not worry too much about how that might make the new mentor feel.
It can be tricky finding that balance and I imagine therapists often see people who are unbalanced in how they define themselves with this very same trait. I bet they see many people who are trying to fix themselves and quite often repeat patterns of loving other people too much or neglecting themselves for the sake of others and they will repeat that mistake in therapy also by caring for their therapist when it is the therapists job to care for them. I would think this may be especially prevalent in my part of the world where my religious upbringing teaches girls heavily that their value lies in being a wife and mother and what they are doing to serve others.
Their is merit to this and it is important, however, I do feel we may be a bit too far to one side on this issue and I feel like it has got to be a huge challenge for a therapist not to get attached and find themselves getting some of their emotional needs met by their clients. They are human after all.
So this further confuses my brain on how the hell the APA and people in the field think it is a good idea to just shut a person out cold turkey if a therapist develops feelings. It is kind of disgusting how negatively stigmatized a therapist will be for that and how negatively this stigmatizes the client/patient with the slew of false and negative misconceptions and stereotypes this brands them with. I see that grooming can be an easy game for a therapist to play if their are no rules but the shutting out only protects the therapist and so hugely at the expense of the person on my side of the couch.
... And It has been fed, this stupid idea of "forbidden love" that my manic mind latched onto, by everyone denying me conversation about this and about what was going on with me. It has been fed by my husband trusting them and me trusting them and them refusing to call mania and misdiagnosis what it was. It has been fed by his refusal to apologize and by my husbands uncertainty of how to proceed with me. It has been fed by my broken heart again and again. It has been fed by Dr. Concussion's unwillingness to talk about what happened and her being swayed by whatever she was being told by people who had never even talked with me or had talked with me very little. It has been fed by the grapevine communication with the patient advocate and her acting as though she was helping me but then not even asking the questions I asked her to ask. It has been fed by the scarlet letter they branded me with.
It has been fed by them making it all about him and not about me. When it was supposed to be about me.
It has been fed by their bullshit that "he felt threatened" by me, because the only threat that was known to me was that he didn't want anything to do with me because he could possibly love me, and because, they said, I used the word "but" in an email. In trying to have a conversation about what was going on with my head, and in, once again. trying to tell him that he was missing something that I needed him to see and that we needed to talk about (mania), I said I didn't want to go the route of filing a complaint "but" if that is what I had to do then I that was what I would do... It has been fed while he peacefully and easily burns out knowing he does not have to face me or talk about any possible countertransference or misunderstandings. I am angry again. I am hurt again. I am angry and hurt and all of it still just feeds the damn creature Perri Cheri that is eating my brain and my heart.
Please admit your mistakes IHC. PLEASE END THIS CYCLE. I have begged and followed your rules. If I am to continue to follow the rules you claim to follow, if I am to be a good citizen and if I am ever going to recover from this then I have to fight harder and you need to be held accountable. If you insist the fight is against me and with me and not for me and with me from what is going on with my damn head and the stigma's and misconceptions than the fight is with you... and I fight... to the death. To the death of my bills and the bad policies of the Neuroscience Institute and APA, or to the death of me. And if you keep winning so easily, so then my blood really will be on your hands if this continues until I am all burned up and burnt out completely.
...This is not at all where I thought I would go with this blog entry.. but there it is. I am tired. I am sad. I want to believe that is was simply a comedy of errors. I want to be able to be proud of my magnificent managed mania because it was damn hard but I managed to stayed out of complete psychosis and loosing complete touch with reality. I broke big and yet still managed. I begged for it to be seen when I wasn't even sure that was what it was, I kept trying and I want to be able to be proud of that, but instead I was shunned, shamed, lied to and lied about, I was slandered, stigmatized, denied treatment and exiled. And I am stuck in limbo not wanting to do anything because it could potentially hurt people I loved and trusted even though they were neglecting, gaslighting and abusing. When I was fighting for my rational brain they were fighting against it, insisting that I was fighting for the irrational, and this fed the irrational. It does not make sense. They would only listen when there was talk of lawyers or when I used appropriate legal jargon, but as soon as I told them I was not interested in going that route they would continue with disregarding me and feeding the wild fantasy that may not have been my own in the first place. I hate that legal action feels like my only option. I know I can continue to just work on "letting it go" but "letting it go" just seems to fuel the damn fire that is supposed to have burned out months ago and "just letting it go" still seems to tie my brain to just letting me go, letting me burn out. I don't want to burn out. I want to improve again and I want to live again.
I don't think, at this point in my life, it is entirely wise to continue to define myself by how I can benefit others and what I can do for them. I think now, maybe, as I had said long ago in a previous post, I need to follow my damn guru's example and simply do whatever I feel I need to to protect and take care of myself, no matter how it might affect someone else. Look out for number one and number one only... No conversation, no negotiation, not trying to protect or care, just stigmatize and use against him all that I can to protect myself and make sure my ass is being taken care of financially because "I am okay with being wrong" at the expense of others... so where am I wrong? Please somebody tell me? I was wrong in trusting a person who had lost objectivity, acknowledged he broke me ["you broke me" "I did not mean to"], but would not address that and then openly told me "I am okay with being wrong."
I'd rather love you and be your friend, I'd rather work with you on my behalf and even help you to benefit my people you claim to be helping, but if that is not possible then I'll fight you to the bitter end, because you broke me, and then trashed me and I will not die for you no matter how you want me to!
...sigh... I'll leave this crazy shit here and post, because this shit needs to be talked about, this shit needs to be addressed, this shit needs to be washed out of the laundry it is dirtying and then hung up to air out.
Good night. sleep tight...
we ain't out of the woods yet.
But I sure as hell would rather talk about it than burn down the whole damn forest. I wish we (the Neuroscience Institute, IHC, Dr. He, Dr. Concussion and I) were on the same page... I am still willing to get there...
but my words are likely in vain.
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