On Paper I am the Prime Target

 Paper lights up fast

and burns out fast

but I am not paper

and I refuse to die

even when that is exactly what I am supposed to 

or expected to

do. 

 "You are right," she tells me, "On paper you are the prime target for grooming."

But that's just on paper,

And I am not paper. 

Civil Disobedience

 I recognize them as symptoms which is how I beat it every time. It is only by recognizing that it is a symptom that you can overcome the underlying that is causing the symptom; whether that be a medical problem, a societal problem, or somewhere in between and combined. 

Right now it is cultural and societal issues that are causing the symptoms and exacerbating the underlying that tells me to succumb to the inevitable because I am nothing and of no value -and that is very unfair.  

But I have been knocked down before and I have gotten up every other time, even if sometimes it has taken months to years to get back up, so I'll do it again. 

Let them document their bad behavior. 

You cannot prevent them from destroying themselves and you cannot protect them from themselves. 
I wish I could protect the innocent who trust them, but I am not allowed. 

So underground I will go, letting them think they have won, but still fighting to save whom I can one at a time when the opportunity presents. 

I will never disappear and I will never agree to be what they have made me out to be nor what they have tried to force me to be. 

Keep manipulating the laws and the truth to suit your egos and your paychecks.

I am your civil disobedience. 

I didn't need cutting because I ran track.

 Self harm, often in the form of cutting, is a quit popular coping strategy among adolescents these days. Which I think is sad when there are so many healthy alternatives. 

Like running.  

In high school and junior high I was a distance runner. I ran cross-country in the fall and track in the spring. In high school I joined the swim team so I had that to keep me active, busy and pushing the pain outlet boundaries all school year long. 

 My peers often said I must be masochist to enjoy running, especially at my speeds. Maybe they were right (although not by the "sexual pleasure" definition) as these activities also helped to combat depression far more than I understood at the time. While there may have been something to the pain causing of this outlet, it helped to combat depression in many other ways; the physical activity helped and the social interaction helped. Being and feeling part of a team, having friends, goals, people who cared about you all helped.

I wish I could teach that to others, especially to teens, these days. I wish I could help as a licensed therapist and psychologist certified educator because, like it or not, when you have that title people listened better and trust you more and you have significantly more opportunities to address larger audiences. But those opportunities have been denied to me and even stripped from me...

I'd say, "oh well," but I don't really mean it because it hurts. But that is not what I wanted to write about, maybe I need to allow a tear or two to fall though, in order to healthily grieve that significant and painful loss and maybe that is why it came out here and now...

But now I am going to turn my thoughts to what I really wanted to do; write casually and even playfully about running on a team and how that can relieve a lot of pain while causing pain. 

"Run 'til you hurl!" 

David, I believe that was his name, the boy who would push himself so hard he'd throw up. It was discouraging to him and even embarrassing that he could not push himself hard enough to be one of the best. But he was still there trying and pushing and, instead of shaming him for his embarrassing reaction of throwing up after a race, we, as a team, embraced him and his curse by making it our motto. Thus began tradition of shouting "Run 'til you hurl" as our team cheer just before the beginning of each race. We even preserved this silly camaraderie by making it our team t-shirt. The image was created by one of our teammates; a-stickfigure-esgue outline that at first glance just looked like a cool lined design but upon further inspection was realized to be a figure hunched over hurling to match the motto that was printed on the shirts. 

Personally, I never could never quite push myself that hard. Nor could I push myself as hard as Violet, the slightly to very odd duck that decided to run track our sophomore year. Now Violet was one of those people that nobody can quite figure out. She's intelligent in many ways but likely low scoring on IQ tests. One of the things that was particularly odd about Violet was that she would often moan and groan as she was running as if she were in great agony. But she also seemed oblivious to social cues and how behaving like this would effect others opinion and comfort with her. Although we did observe the practice of moaning and groaning while running did seem to have interesting effects on the other teams' runners. Ultimately Violet's obliviousness was probably a good thing for her because, although she often made others quite uncomfortable and was often over-dramatic, she was generally happy and oblivious to the reactions people would sometimes have to her. 

Katie was another distance runner. Only Katie was a senior, established runner, and very NissanZ-driving-cool. Although well known she was not one of the most popular but only because she really was too cool for that. If she hadn't been a runner she was the type of girl you'd expect to see Jame's Dean style leaned up against the corner of the school smoking, but never smelling of it and, albeit cool and collected, too tough to be harassed by any teachers. 

Naturally Violet, was especially annoying to Katie. But Katie would usually just roll her eyes and walk away from the annoyance trying to ensure she gave Violet no reason to think they were in anyway friends. But Violet did not get the hint as was solidly confirmed on the day Katie and Violet were both assigned to run the mile race. I am not sure why I was not running the mile that day, it was my usual event and I was almost always the fastest, but I also ran the two-mile, 800meter and the 400 meter (my least favorite) and the coaches usually would not put you on the 1 mile and 2 mile on the same day, so I got to watch and man am I glad I did. 

As Violet, who was quite far behind Katie, rounded the corner of her second to last lap she very dramatically, and with much moaning and groaning, collapsed, and dragged herself off of the track as if she had pushed herself just as hard as she possibly could and beyond. Katie, shortly after rounded this same corner in one of the top three positions, well ahead of the majority runners. But as she approached Violet's corner, you could see Violet, in her arms-propped-side-lying position lifts herself just enough to yell very loudly -shockingly loudly for a person who had just collapsed off of the track- "GO KATIE, GO KATIE, DO IT FOR ME, DO IT FOR ME!" Even from the complete opposite side of the quarter mile track you could see Katie's eyes narrow into a death-threatening glare as her always-straight-forward face went beat red and visibly hesitated for just a moment making us all fear she would stop and walk right off the track in the opposite direction just to ensure that Violet knew she was NOT going to do ANYTHING for her. 

It was SOOO FUNNY! And after that Katie let her disdain for Violet flow freely from her lips as she admitted our fear of her throwing the race was precisely on her mind in that moment. Fortunately she did not unleash on Violet, and only to those of us who understood the whole situation. And fortunately, as pissed as it made Katie, she still was able to laugh or at least allow us to laugh about it. 

But, although it ended for Katie and the other team members who graduated that year and Violet who quit running shortly after that race, the story did not end there as we took these comical observances with us into the cross-country season the next year.

. 

At some point, early on during practices for the cross-country season of my junior year, when we were missing and reminiscing Katie and Addy (the other too-cool-previous-year-senior), we began discussing Violets odd habit of moaning and groaning. This lead to the collective decision that maybe were should try it to see if it somehow helped. So we started moaning and groaning as we ran, our coach Bob, who would run with us, not at all sure what to make of us but unable to completely hide his amusement. Of course it just made us laugh so hard we could hardly run at all, but somehow this experiment still evolved into a very bizarre team ritual. 

In our analyzing discussion we noted our observances of the effects Violet's moaning and groaning would have on the other team members. Often people would suddenly drop back from her, not sure make of it. Usually they'd pick their pace up again and wide-birth-style pass her, but for those of us who were in ranking positions, we recognized that this little drop back by the other team could be just enough to give us the winning edge. Soooo

We had to try it out. We, the girls cross-country team, decided to do it for Violet! and at the beginning of the next race, right after the gun fired and everyone started the running, we all, and yes all, let out a huge overly-dramatic moaning-groaning breath and then just kept on running, holding our laughter until after the race. Sure enough, it worked. It shocked the other team so much that they did hesitate and look around in confusion as we all got out with great controlled start. 

Thus began the second ritual of the my last two years of high schools cross-country: 1st "RUN 'TIL YOU HURL!" 2nd a very loud moaning and groaning at the beginning of the race, even at State. 

So Run 'til you hurl and moan and groan if you need to but whatever you do, don't quit running!

Dear DOPL prelitigation panel IHC vs me

 DOPL Panel. Reviewing their bullshit decision in preparation for taking on the ... I can't find words vile enough to describe the creatures I am preparing to take on... and rage is rising. 

Rage that is born of necessity. The fight of life. To be so dismissed and dehumanized. To be treated with so much degradation in tone and declaration by people who are "highly qualified" and to know that these egregious egos are teaching others the same forms and levels of discrimination. 

It is more than I can bear. 

And the anger keeps my heart beating. keeps it from breaking and keeps me breathing. 

To deny myself of this rage would be to accept a defeat that is so demoralizing and so dehumanizing that a person becomes less then the dog shit left on the lawn waiting to be scooped and discarded so as not to taint the perfectly manicured palaces' of power and prominence. 

But I am not dog shit and treating me as such, while recognizing the fertilizing power of bullshit -your warped facade of caring-  does not protect you, your ego, your profession and especially not your patients. In fact you compromise all but your disgusting and fragile ego. 

I am angry and 

I am human. 

But you, you are the reason Suicide is going up, not down, and you are the demise of your patients, not the prize and not their savior. You are degradation and death. How much blood is are on your hands? Does your fragile ego feel threatened by this truth? Will you deny it and increase harm just to prove your power to yourself? 

I hate you, not me, and I am more human than you will ever be because at least I know what I am and what I am not and I do not use that to demean and dehumanize the marginalized. I do not blame and shame the innocent for the mistakes of my colleagues and comrades. I do not blame the cripple for his ailments. 

to stay quiet is too much because I, like Semmelweis, know the lives you are costing because of your blind ego and pride. 

Ramblings through the avenues of ...

 "It's going to be the same thing," I hear myself saying, "nobodies ever really what they say they are." 

Which I guess is what sets me apart. I really, genuinely am who I say I am and it is surprising how much that scares and confuses people.

Oh well. and I have come to realize that their fear, their distrust and their distortions of me are reflective of them and not me. They fear and distrust because they fear and distrust themselves, not me, as they work diligently to distort others perceptions of them. 

Being genuinely you can cause other problems too. Like being perceptive to attributes of others -that they may or may not want others to see or recognize about themselves- and then calling them out without even realizing you are doing it. But maybe this problem of mine is not due to my being genuinely me but rather due to knowing what it's like to be me and not me at the same time; a phenomenon you are not likely to recognize you are experiencing unless you have had a TBI or battled loosing your mind to mania or some other mental illness -that is just as much a physical illness and medical condition as any other physical or medical condition. TBI's also have a tendency to create lowered inhibitions in the survivor.

It's funny how the attribute of lowered inhibitions is so acceptable and excusable if you are drinking or if a person has worked for decades to achieve it while it is shunned and shamed in those who have this as a direct result of head trauma.

And so I ramble on today the many things that would like to be let out of my brilliant contained brain...

Which reminds me of a phenomenon-al notice I have recently re-noticed about APA (American Psychological Association) affiliated professionals and those in the counseling and psychology oriented professions and it is this: Their seems to be a craving and unspoken desire by those counselors and therapist to be the object of obsessive affection of one of their patient/clients. They brag and pride themselves in their "crazy" client that just could get enough of them and that they had to cut of in their confidently cold and calloused clout that they are beaming proud to own. It is really very interesting and surprising there has not been more conversation about how the therapist might subconsciously, and at times maybe even consciously, be first creating the craving and then punishing the vulnerable and highly susceptible patient for it. And I wonder how many therapists, counselors, etc have noticed or realized that the crazed patient may not really be as obsessed and possessed as their greedy needy therapists are claiming them to be after rejecting them for their therapist taught dependency and affection that rejection is sure to ignite. 

Brilliantly contained can often be hard to explain. Did you follow?

It's interesting and another phenomenon I'd sure like to research but one that would likely not garner much support for from the APA and those professionals whose need and crave being the object of obsessive affection. 

"I pity the fool"

 It saddens me how little regard IHC has for me as a patient and as a human being. It saddens me how calloused and condoning they are of serious unethical and even illegal behavior against patients. It hurts my heart and today I feel sad and slow for it. 

And why do I feel the need to publish these feelings and facts? When I know it is most likely the only people reading this are those who derive pleasure in knowing that they are succeeding in degrading me and beating me down. Those that will smile and think they are winning and getting close to causing me to cave with their cold, malicious and unethical approaches ... 

"Why?" I am asking myself out loud, "...do I feel the need to publish this?" 

Maybe I want them to know exactly what they are doing and the effect they are in fact having. Maybe knowing that they know helps me keep fighting. Maybe knowing that they know eases my mind and conscience before God and I am trusting that He will be the ultimate judge of their character and of how knowing this influenced their future actions against me and others. Maybe that is why.

Or maybe I am still foolishly hopeful that they will stop being such jerks to me or at least to others in the future if they know just how devastating their blows are... It's sad that this is a foolish belief. 

The world is weird to me and people are so weird to me in their desire to harm others ..and this is weighing me down right now. 

Just so you know. 

But to those who derive pleasure in the harm you know you have caused and continue to cause, someday it will catch up to you and I pity you for how bad you are going to feel when you finally understand or have to face the music for the harm you are causing and exactly what you are doing to people. I pity you and doubt you will fare so well. 

So good day and you have not won yet.