Push Crash

 I'm supposed to stop and take a break if I am approaching 80% and/or before I crash... I am feeling so tired right now that I just want to go back to bed... But it is so early in the day and I haven't gotten hardly anything done... I don't want to stop and take a break. I don't want to feel so fatigued and worn down so early and after doing so little. "I'm not pushing myself hard enough," I think as I refuse to take a break. I am determined to be fine and capable. I have so many things I need to do and so many things that need to be done in order to keep fighting, but the thought of it weighs heavy like it is pushing me into the ground.

I pick up my laptop and decide to watch a training video. That might be a good break I think. I even take it to bed thus allowing myself to fall asleep while watching the video if that is really what my body needs. But my eyes start leaking as I open my laptop... Have I already pushed to hard? My eyes leak even more and I decide to come on here to write it out first. 

This is what this "disability" looks like. It is very hard to  accept and come to terms with and people really have no clue and rarely do they even try to. 

push crash happens too fast...

Plights and Fights and very painful Insights

 Sometimes my brain collapses in on itself and this is the best I can do. Blog

Hard time getting up this morning. Finally up. Get dressed and ready to go. I need to bring the expungement certificates to Cache County. I have been reluctant. I want to make sure that is the best thing to do, I want it gone completely, especially since the charges had been filed by "mistake" but they will still show up on background searches because teaching, what I do, and what I want to do, require higher security clearance so "it'll always show," I am told and, "you won't want to try and hide it," even after its expunged they tell me... I want to get it taken care of but how? I have tried but nobody seems to care that the prices of their "mistakes" have and continue to be so very high for me. 

This is too much right now. Too many stressful and overwhelmingly emotional things to handled. These are the times when I really know and have to face the fact that I do, in fact, have a disability.

And this is what it looks like. 

I have so much to do but I can't keep it all straight and it can easily become cognitively and/or emotionally overwhelming. I know when it has become cognitively and/or emotionally overwhelming because my heart changes it's patterns and functioning, I will feel a surge in chemistry, and I feel physically weak. I cry very easy and I become so very forgetful and tired. Sometimes so tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open... it becomes a battle to survive and thrive... then I feel guilty for being so weak. But it is not because it is intellectually difficult, it is because it is emotionally difficult and I am being treated poorly through it. 

... it's all I can do to keep going...

Too much. 

And my body is not allowing me to go today...

Jumping now.

Insurance papers form the car insurance; Explanation of Remittance. I'm not sure what they mean or what I am supposed to do with them. But in them there are notes from visits with my psychiatric PA. She documents "suicidal ideation" but that's not right because I'm not idealizing or contemplating it... It is more impulsive and intrusive... "Maybe I am misunderstanding the term ideation," I think. 

So I look it up. "Ideation: the formation of ideas or concepts." 

Okay, I suppose that is correct. 

These hits that hit so hard and hurt so deep, coming from people who should know better -and even declare evidence of that on their own websites - actually causes, triggers, encourages, (or whatever) the "formation of ideas or concepts" that equate to ones ceasing to exist. 

Why is that? 

It's pretty obvious really: they are telling you and sending the message loud and clear that you don't matter and they don't care. 

The not caring... We are supposed to think, "Whatever, who cares what you think," right? But in reality, when that comes from the exact people who should care, whose job it is to care, the ones who are supposed to be and that we believe are actively working to make a better more humane, fair and caring world... It cuts so much deeper than we allow it to... 

Jump. 

So many kids with anxiety issues. So much increase in depression, PTSD, suicide, and so many mental health issues... 

Connect

It's not terribly surprising now is it? 

and all I wanted to do was help... 

Story time: I got to hang out with an old friend. She is telling me about a brother's girlfriend's ex-husband who is the father of her child. "He has a criminal record that includes child abuse," friend explains as she expresses her concern and frustration with him being allowed, by the courts, to keep his child for longer than initial arrangements had allowed. 

It makes me wonder and I ask, "was he prosecuted for child abuse or just charged with it?" 

My friend doesn't know. It does not seem to matter all that much... and even I think so because we all know if he was charged for it then of course he did enough wrong to deserve the charges and he probably just had a good attorney...

"This," I point out, "is exactly what is wrong with my being wrongly charged. That is exactly what people will think about me." 

"Your right," she says, "and that is totally unfair." She knows I'd never do what they accused me of and she thinks it is so stupid that anyone ever even thought I would put my kid up to what they accused me of... She knows, but we both know others, who don't know me, who may be looking to employ me or admit me into grad school, will not know and will automatically assume that I stalk and harass people just because I was once charged for it. 

...so my heart breaks again seeing the reality of my plight...

and why I have to fight.

Pressing matters

Right now, sleep or write it out? Well here I am ... tears streaming again as I fight to stay brave and strong and try to get myself out of my way... 

It's unreal how Utah State University has violated so many of their own professed and published beliefs and standards and how they have no desire or concern about it in regards to me. Here's a fun example "We recognize racial trauma and intergenerational trauma has an effect on all aspects of the student experience including mental health and well-being. We offer resources, support, and advocacy to USU students through our student-centered programs for these specific struggles." https://www.usu.edu/student-affairs/ So they claim to understand "intergenerational trauma," which means they know the stress and discrimination I was facing would/could effect my kids, and yet multiple people from this Division of Student Affairs opted to exclude me and every person in my family from the promises their division makes, their obligations to due process, and procedural fairness that is published for the world to see on the homepage of their website. Read their website and all about how "The Division of Student Affairs inspires, engages, and challenges students through inclusive, holistic, student-centered programming," and maybe you might start to understand why I have to keep fighting.   

The more I dig the worse it is, which I know will ultimately help me because it is so blatant and obvious, but getting that help is very difficult, very time consuming and very taxing on anybodies brain. And for me we have to add to that the permanent scars of TBI in regions that effect emotions and abilities to focus etc. They should be sensitive to that, but, much like the Neuroscience Institute, instead, they are actually using those weaknesses and vulnerabilities to their advantage and a preponderance of evidence might very likely find that they have been (more likely than not) engaging in the act of intentionally pushing a person to their emotional limits in order to get them to back off and retreat...It's called intentional infliction of emotional distress. 

I am so tired when I should not be and need to not be, but my damaged brain can only handle so much... And it is beyond me why, amidst this, my tired brain keeps trying to return to that betrayer that it once felt was home. 

The effects of this? In addition to dramatically increased tremors and many other exacerbated symptoms, my eyes become heavy to the point that they can hardly stay open. If I force them to they will leak and release the hydrating resources of my metaphorically drought starved body. 

What to do?  It's distressing but I have to fight. Somebody has to stand up for students and people like me who are so flagrantly underserved and so brazenly marginalized. Especially when it is happening in a place like this, and this fight is much more straightforward that they previous beatings from IHC and Dr. He.

Hearts and souls heal slower than brains.

 I don't have time to write right now but I want to. For whatever reason I had this post open on a screen; https://amicrazy2.blogspot.com/2019/09/superman-takes-kryptonite-for-his-sanity.html At that point in time my TBI still had not been accurately diagnosed. It was still being labeled as a concussion or mTBI (mild traumatic brain injury). This blog entry makes even more sense knowing the TBI was more than just a concussion, especially when you consider this comment "I could feel the black dead ends that used to be well traveled routes and then I could feel it rerouting; doing something different to arrive at the same place."

Fascinating. 

Which brings me to what I really want to write out today. Yesterday I had a long late conversation with my daughter. Her planned breakup with her high school boyfriend is not going all that well. Even knowing if anyone could do it my daughter and her best-friend-boyfriend could, it's not all that surprising that it's not as easy as they had hoped it would be. 

Unfortunately for the ex-boyfriend he is feeling more heartbroken... and because of it he is behaving rather strange. 

As my daughter talks and tells me about all of the strangeness and how love triangles are turning into pentagons and hexagons etc. I can feel the pains of love and the confusion that accompanies it. "There are no right answers," I tell her as I fight back my own tears.

Memories return and feelings surge. Although they are significantly subdued they still manage to hurt as they push hydration up into my eyes. 

My daughter is also dealing with other things -trying to come to terms with how her own brain functions and malfunctions. She is careful, thoughtful and wise beyond her years. Part of this she attributes to me and I am grateful I have been able to help her be better off than she would have been. The dimensions of our brains are fascinating and I enjoy talking to her about it. But it also stirs those memories and the devastation I still feel from not being allowed to explore what really was happening to my brain when I was manic and manifesting but managing so well that my professionals on the matter were missing and denying it. 

It was so fascinating and I want to understand it from every angle. I want to discuss it and talk to those who were party to it in order to help progress the medical and psychological fields that address it. But I am refused that privilege and it feels so degrading and oppressive.

"Maybe someday," I say to myself as I struggle to refrain from attempting to reach out again in hopes that this time they'll listen and care... 

We could help each other so much and so many others...and this is what hurts me the most. Then tying back to my conversation with my daughter I begin to wonder again as phrases start haunting again, was it simply just a matter of heartbreak and a man-boy not knowing how to handle the feelings he was having? Maybe. 

Dear Dr. He, 

Has enough time passed that you might be able to reconsider the terms of our interactions? Forever and never... Do you remember?  I do. You don't believe in forever anymore - although I don't know what you meant- while I don't believe in never, my friend.  And I wonder, is it possible that we might find a better balanced medium between the two -forever and never, that is? 

By this I suppose I am really asking if you can you please reconsider your forever declarations of falling in love with me, declared by never having anything to do with me outside of therapy? I understand that it is unlikely you still feel this or have any feelings of fondness for me left at all and my rational logical brain has let you go as well. But the part of my heart you stole and the other part you implanted yourself in would benefit greatly from making amends. Maybe then I could sort you out and satisfy my soul that will forever keep trying to knock that door down in order to retrieve those pieces of me left behind.  Maybe then you can explain and I can refrain and retract the warnings I feel obligated to provide others who could also be so easily and devastatingly broken by you. The potential for good is so significant here, please let me help you help me and you help me help you too. 

You know how to find me, please do. 

Sincerely, 

Me

How to use Confirmation Biases to Oppress: #freebrittney and me

 ...just keep keeping on, believing in you and eventually you will pull through.

It's not going to work because I won't let it -the confirmation biases that is.

To my neurologist I say today, "maybe they are right about me. Maybe I'm not doing nearly as well as I think" after reading what USU is willing to release in regards to what has been said about me. 

He, professor Johnson never complained about me until AFTER I had asked to be removed from his class and I had complained about him. Then suddenly I am such a disruptor that he wants me removed and he throws out terms to feed and use confirmation biases to his advantage first planting then twisting and feeding those twisted understandings and beliefs about people with TBI's. 

Even though I know this and I feel prepared, it still hits me hard each time and, just to be fair, I find myself analyzing me to see if they just might be correct about me or if their degradations are true. To some degree maybe, but not to the degree he is using against me. 

It's so easy to see when you let go of those biases. At first I was frustrated again by their unwillingness to provide the records that show the truth. But that should not hurt me and cause me to doubt when I know what the reality really was. Show me. 

You say tangential speak and longwinded distractions, a negative influence in class, I was. Prove it. 

I don't disagree that I was causing Dr. Cristopher Johnson to feel insecure, but it is not likely quite due to how he has since manipulated others to perceive me to be. 

...aahhh, and I have been here before. 

Which could explain the heightened manifestations of traumatizations triggered by the backfiring of a car on the road this last week

Tangential? Not at all. 

The stress of what I am experiencing with USU is quite similar to the stress I experienced with IHC and the Neuroscience Institute. That stress and the reason I was there (IHC) was directly related to a car accident that caused a TBI that went misdiagnosed by the Neuroscience Institute and IHC for two years and contributed to significant problems for me with IHC. That increased stress and trauma. 

A backfiring motor sounds just like your car being hit; the initial injury that led to and increased so many of these insults. The added stress of USU makes me extra sensitive and a post traumatic stress response more likely. It's not so hard to figure out and not tangential at all.

Thus, maybe, my tangential might not be so tangential at all, but rather a term and a label used to plant, twist and then feed confirmation biases and the like. hmmm. Is this something a University should consider? You be the judge. 

 

What I personally don't appreciate is how these "experts" and "professionals" keep trying to say I am "crazy" and irrational when I not and not when I was. And then using all of it against me and forcing me to to continue to pay for everyone else's mistakes and negligence made in how they  "handled" and understand me. 

My sister, the prison guard, distrusts psychologist most because, as she has observed, their diagnosis somehow seem to conveniently match whatever benefits the diagnosing provider most. I see and I increasingly agree. 

Now it is time to #FreeBrittney and me from the labels and the abuses of confirmation biases and people who jump on the bandwagon with little to no regard for what's really going on and little desire to help the oppressed at all; playing with fire while feeding the flames of gas powered lighting.

Again, tangential? Or are they just having a hard time keeping up and feeling insecure about that? 

Wars and rumor of wars

I come on here to write sometimes because what I really want is someone to talk to. Someone who understands, someone who cares. 

The problem with people, facilities, institutions, and organizations handling certain types of countertransference the way they do is that they absolutely reinforce all of the rejections and negative perceptions we have about ourselves built on foundations that are often created by the negligent and/or selfish treatment of others who have debased and degraded us in so many different ways in the first place.

"I am not worthy of love and acceptance," is the message I keep receiving... and I can't seem to pull out of the external cycles that keep reinforcing those internal messages...

My safe place, my home rejecting me, when I was most vulnerable, to never again let me in.  

"Please don't shut the door on me completely," I plead, "or I'll just keep coming back trying to kick it down."

It was not a threat. It was not what I wanted or planned to do. It was not anything consciously intended at all. It was a response from my body, mind, soul and all parts of me telling him that I needed the safe place that he was for me while I was in the midst of the turmoil outside of his fortress. It was pure self-preserving instinct speaking. 

To better explain, imagine a child in a war torn dangerous place who happens to stumble across a rescue mission, a fortress surrounded by protective walls. The child is let in, made to feel safe and protected and given food or some other form of sustenance or protection to bring back to their own family. Family who is actively engaged in the wars that the child is yearning to escape. As the war becomes more intense, as it moves closer to the child's home and family, the child begins to understand that they don't want the war, they want to be part of the safety and peace that the mission is professing and claiming to be. The mission that had taken him in and offered the assistance and protection the child so desperately yearned for. 

When the war is at the child's door, ready to claim the life and liberties of the child the child flees and returns to the mission only to find the door shut tight, their previous saviors locked tight inside refusing to respond to the knocking, then pounding, of the frightened child whose life and safety is now in immediate danger. 

The child is not kicking and pounding at the door because they intend to hurt the mission, they are kicking and screaming because they are pleading for their life and begging for the help and protection that they know lies on the other side of that door as their assassins close in from all sides...

...Somehow I managed to survive on the outside; amidst so many warring forces. I had to negotiate, pretend, agree, fight, hide, and do whatever I had to in order to survive, one foot in both camps, at home and a fraud at all times -all while knowing this fortress exists but simply didn't want me anymore. 

How long can that last? How long can I survive in this warring world that does not want me either? 

Alone, running and hiding while somehow trying to connect and create a new space for myself that mimics the lie I once believed to be true: that I was worthy of love, appreciation, acceptance, help and protection, and even that I had value so significant it was scary to those who could utilize it best for the benefit of themselves and others amidst the tumultuous times....

A lie. A heart breaking and devastating lie? Or is it the truth and those on the other side of the wall, hiding behind their fortress walls, are simply cowards? Maybe cowards who don't really care to accomplish the mission they profess to be working at and toward and collecting money for? 

Tired. Sad. Brain stumbling again. Relationships impossible to navigate anymore because I am not worth saving and that impacts every aspect of your life. Others will believe it too, when they know that you have been rejected by the mission that claims to be the protector of your exact kind. They make you wrong to ease their own fears that maybe our worshipped gods of Dr's and PhD's might not be gods after all. Then, once labeled, by those same perceived gods, confirmation biases becomes the oppression used to control. -

...Now that'd be a good study, "How are confirmation biasses used to oppress marginalized populations?"

Maybe those on the other side of the wall are actually the warlords creating the wars while claiming to be the safe places and sanctuaries for the refugees of their own destructions. 

Tired and sad. 

sleep to reset. Maybe that is all that I need...

and inside me I hear and I am reminded, "he doesn't care, he's not going to read it, he's embarrassed by you and ashamed." 

move on. move on. please feet keep working. Please keep me moving on... don't try to go back to the lies. 

 

Turn Around Bright Eyes

 When I rolled the 300K mile Jetta with my kids in carseats in the back, I had a clairvoyant moment in which I understand completely the concept of faith, as the car floated over and landed softly topside down. 

I crawled out the window of my car and with the help of a shaken passer by we retrieved my two children who were hanging upside down in their carseats. My daughter hung a bit longer than my son since she was retrieved second. I suspect that is why she had a slight red mark on her shoulder where the carseat belt held her securely upside down. Aside from that the only other injury between the three of us was a small cut on my left pointer finger. 

That cut healed a little slower than expected, and left a rather bulging scar that was slightly tender, but it seemed to be all the way healed. Then months later a strange thing happened, a small shard of glass worked its way out of the old injury and the bulging scar. The bulk disappeared and now the scar is hard to find.

Injuries can be very interesting and it is fascinating how differently our bodies can respond to foreign objects that become embedded in them. Like slivers. You can get a tiny to large sliver from any number of things and they can range from unnoticeable to quite painful. Some have to be pulled out but others will actually work themselves out on their own. Sometimes the skin will heal over and the body will hardly care it is there while other times the tiniest sliver can quickly turn into a nasty infection. Some slivers, especially if it is from certain species of plants and/or animals can actually work their way deeper into your tissues, like porcupine quills. This is why we usually try to get the buggers out even if they are not bothering us in ways that cause pain.

Glass shards. They can be slivers and they can embed and do the same thing. 

But what about the pieces and shards of people left in our hearts as they splinter and pull away from us? 

What do you do about those? How do you remove those? Is it better to remove it or let it work is way out? Or will they work themselves deeper inward if ignored and left to their own devices? Which is more likely to destroy the tender heart of the person whose heart was pierced; pull the shards out or leave them be? Do we need to become like Ironman and develop some fancy sophisticated mechanism that keeps the potentially deadly shard from breaking our heart completely by keeping them from going either in or out?

... a few days ago I blogged out some of my anger and frustration. The name of Dr. He making its way out on this published blog again. He who should not be named. 

Was it a mistake to name him? Could that cause me more harm? Could it harm him? Determined to quite believing in the ideals that may at times imbalance my ability and choices in acting, I chose again to leave that name up; an effort to stop protecting a person who may be causing similar harm to others...

...But a few shards of him are still left in my heart and since not all the pieces had worked themselves out something was activated... and I am again reminded of the good and ideals that I still want to believe...

What is this? What does it me? And what to do about it? 

I think of my friend far away who understands the betraying countertransference creature... I am confident she would understand, better than any, my blogging of these last few days. And I reflect on the power I seem to be giving by renaming that which I want benign. 

Some shards have worked themselves out and that progress I do not want to undo or reverse. But also some pieces of me I don't want to loose, so I decide it is a mistake and I unpublished his name. 

Unnamed he is much more benign and so am I to his good works and positive potential that -in spite of it all, I still know that he has some. My hope that he might help more than he hurts. 

Such a strange place to be... But it's also faith in me, that I might help more than I hurt as well. 

He said he'll never have anything to do with me outside of therapy, and he doesn't believe in forever anymore. But I do believe in forever, and I don't believe in never -Now what is to be done about that?

I don't know.

but I do know that mistakes are often correctable and I am allowed to make them too. 

However I'd like to remain the type of person that will try not to make them at the expense of others and I will correct them whenever I can.  

It's a motto and a hope that others might live by those standards -so often proclaimed declarations of their professions. Declarations and professional standards that too often get swept under the rug and hidden with skeletons in closets that fill up too quickly with a lot of easily correctable and reversible mistakes. It's baggage that does not need to be denied, hidden and held onto by those to whom it does not belong. You need to understand that taking my baggage, hiding it, and lying about it does not lighten my load or yours  at all. Even if you leave some of your own baggage with me.