Darkness Until Dawn

  Merry Chwistmas to all, and to all a good byte!

    I'm focusing on keeping my days consistent. Every day, Repeating the same habits, keeping it simple. I'm turning my attention back to All the Colors of the Rainbow for a bit.

     I am engrossed in my research for my Civil War Greenville book. The more research I do the more I know I need. I'm working on clarifying the city's status leading up to the war... what businesses were here, the notable people, things of that nature.

    Story writing is coming slowly. My short attention span gets the better of me. Yet I feel on borrowed time, trying to go in multiple directions and ending up going no where. God willing, I'll have some more story parts soon.

     Dat Bat. Nebber a dull moment. Der he goes again, stealing Spidey's best carapace. Why, it was just di udder gnight...     Spidey was so berry happy. It had been a gweat day for the nest! Sebben flies, and Spidey had finished the Mona Fleasa, my primier werk of art for di community.      Spidey was so berry pwoud. She was BEAUTIFUL, and quite tasty looking. Well, no sooner had di lights gone out when there was a flapping sound at di window. Spidey rushes to look. Der must have been twenty bats out der! All carrying a most pwecious cargo!     "HEY YOU! BATS! DROP DI CARAPACES! HEY! NOT IN DI... ribber..."     They had stolen Spidey's prize carapaces, worth countless flies. Den dey dropped dem in di ribber.       Gone. In di ribber. Di cwazy bat duddent know how to stop. 

     Well, it turns out that my family didn't actually talk the hospital into re-bipolarizing me.. Seems the staff just got creative in an effort to flip my script. Sneaky little devils. All's well that ends well though. It got me writing more, and I love to write. I do. I hope I can write something people really enjoy.      I get frustrated with the process. Then I get grouchy about it. Today it was the website giving me trouble. Found a few broken links that I fixed, but I wanted to splash up the colors and the editor was not that responsive. I continue to research. I'm working on adding more writing and some more images and other content. 

 

    He treats the blood bank like a McDonalds. Eddie was running hard and fast after the bat with Sarah on his back . She had to catch him before he reached the blood bank and cashed out. The crazy bat didn't know how to stop.      By the time they reached the blood bank, Vlad had lost them and Eddie was worn out. The only sign of life outside was some parked cars and the faint sound of Aerosmith.     They stepped inside and Sarah knew immediately that Vlad was there for sure. A group of Hauntless had moved in. Vlad's assistants, Digger, Crusher, and Cy, were serving as makeshift bouncers. There was a Bluetooth blasting a remake of Walk this Way by an undead band that called themselves Bonez and the Relics. He had turned it into a monster dance club.     They found him in a supply closet with a phlebotomist.      "Vell, my friend I once was a phlebotomist myself, but the work made me too thirsty. I had to give it up." He was sa...

Split between the person I am and the person you would have me be Unable to blend the two into one without periodic flashes of truth that reveal the dichotomy of my reality and betray the illusion outright Making the consistency hard to maintain. The persona, its perfection marred only by acceptable flaws of social construction The other, a living being contorted to maintain the illusion They draw me out with the bait Looking for some facts to twist back into some semblance of the illusion. Occasionally we come to crisis created by the inability to tolerate our truths Seeking to restore the myth, we wind our facts into narratives Hoping to disguise the inconsistency of reality with a pretty lie dressed up in theories Running away from the truth, we only trip up over the inconsistencies The inconvenient truths of our imperfections and failures Cannot overcome the engineering of our most contorted perfection In which reality is the disease, and lies are the cure Inevitably comes the cras...

Tips from a Therapist

 

 

 

 

    Persistence can be a troublesome thing. Sometimes people don't see the dangers of persistence.      What is it does it look like when you persist beyond all evidence to the contrary? What is it called when you persist TOO far? ______ (adj):       having or showing dogged determination not to change one's attitude or position on something, especially in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so. "a ______ refusal to learn from experience"     One thing that I was taught growing up, that has been repeatedly reinforced, to a fault, is persistence. Yet, persistence carried too far starts to look remarkably like ... being stubborn . Being stubborn is a problem for sure. Sometimes, flexibility is required. Take iron, for example. Pure iron is not very flexible. It's hard, but it will break. Sometimes a soul has to be forged in a fire to become strong, just like iron has to be forged in fire to become stronger. The Samurai had a me...

    I'm trying to be careful. Focusing on the basics allows less room for error. I'm keeping my timeliness and accuracy as high as I can, maintaining records, and keeping my head clear. I've got to keep moving forward. I can't move backwards. I try to make time to fill in bits of my writing as well, but sometimes maintaining my work and my health take all of my time.      It's very strange how social relationships work. I cannot figure them out for the life of me. People are unpredictable. Sometimes they are are nice as pie, sometimes there is such strong hostility, and sometimes they are simply so fake that conversation becomes an exercise in absurdity. Some of the strangest experiences are conversations that actually leave you with far more questions then answers.      Then there are the smaller contradictions. You get paid to verify orders, but some suppliers make it virtually impossible to verify the order. They don't label or they seal the or...

    I'm finding it helps to divide my time between work and reflection. It helps me to clarify the changes that I need. Life cannot simply be repetition. Life requires growth. Life requires beginnings and endings. A life with too much certainty is not sustainable. I'm trying to streamline so that I can prioritize necessary change in my life.      I feel like I have taken my eye off the ball. Relied on the wrong assumptions. I cannot allow myself to stray again. I need to be more careful. I'm getting older and there is only so much time. It's not just that I don't want to buy into false narratives, there's not enough time and energy for it. Repeating the same fights, regurgitating the same grievances, worrying about the same people and events again and again, makes no sense.      Sometimes I miss Robo-Rob. I get caught up in the details of how I got from there to here. Then I get tired of thinking about it. I try to go out and do stuff. It doesn't ...

Psychology Article

    I'm definitely still having trouble with subtext. That's where walls and space sometimes help. I particularly struggle with when I think a situation is going well and suddenly someone becomes hostile, seemingly without warning.      I want to rely on what I am good at. If I am consistently doing what I do well to the best of my ability, then I am adding value to the world. I don't want to focus on things that I cannot control. I really did used to think that I was a good communicator. I was definitely wrong. I'm far too out of touch. A narrow focus helps my clarity and calm. Focusing on the most pressing tasks.      I'm continuing to focus on working with the two contractors and waiting for a response on volunteering. Today I hope to spend some time finding something interesting to write.      Interpersonal communication is so strange to me. It's so very hit or miss. Two different people can take the same words and go in complet...

     I've begun delivering with another contractor. It's an adjustment, but it's going well. Doing the deliveries leaves less time for writing and brainstorming. Yet it keeps the bills paid. 

    My work continues to go decently. I'm trying to focus on what I can do positively in my own life. I don't feel like I have the endurance or the energy that I used to have. I enjoy writing when I can focus. So I'm trying to save my energy for that. Preserve my mental presence for work and my writing. Though I'm hoping to start volunteering at an animal shelter soon.       There's always far more to do then I have the energy, focus, and presence for. I keep trying to do more but I get spacey quickly sometimes, or without warning. Sometimes conversations seem circular. I alternate between untethered optimism that ignores inconvenient truths and a biting pessimism. Sometimes I feel so lost in my head that the world seems distant and I get that floating feeling. Sometimes it feels like a play or movie, only the guy who's supposed to prompt me for my lines is either out sick or drunk.     I keep running into the same problems. Like this thing with t...

     Vlad had the most marvelous experience the other day. He flew into a corpse named Bob, from just down the street. He was on his way to Home Freako again - yes, he goes most every week - and the girls were playing Marco Polo. As usual Jess was winning. Sarah was only playing to humor her.      Bob was a businessghoul, first and foremost. He was in the middle of haggling a price for his patent pending formula for Necrolyte chewing slime and his Ryse of the Dead energy drink. When Vlad first hit him, he was quite flappy, almost besides himself. Then Bob gave him some free samples. He could see the potential immediately and wanted to buy in on the spot, so Bob invited him over for some Ryse and finger food.      Bob was set up in an abandoned bungalow four houses down. A charming place, really, he had such a knack for decor. Turns out he shopped at Home Freako as well.      When it came time to get down to guts and jolts,...

    It was just anudder Saturday morning, and Spidey was hard at werk, rigging the old wadder heeder dat di owners ob Spidey's Attick had left behind in their hurry to bacate into a jacuzzi for critters.  Suddenly the stereo began blasting, and Spidey could hear Vlad's voice singing along to Another Saturday Night. Another Saturday night and I ain't got no bodies I've got some Spiders cuz I lost my RAID Now, how I wish I had some blood to drink, too I've fled the light of day. I got in town a century ago I've seen a lot of donors since then If I could bleed 'em I could feast 'em But as yet I haven't bled 'em That's how I'm in the state I'm in Another fella told me He had a ghoul who looked just fine Instead of bein' my dinner She tasted like David Schwimmer The platelets were not appealing. It's hard on a bloodsucker When he's not below the ground If I don't find me a vein That I can most promptly drain I'm gonna h...

     One thing I regret is that I haven't had as much opportunity to appreciate people recently. My mind has been so absorbed. There was this one nice lady downtown today and granted, I was busy, but it would have been nice to have an excuse to stop and chat. I'm working on a story idea today.

 

  Singing in di wadder heater, just singing in di heater! What glowious steam!

    Anyways, When I was on Clozaril, I was robotic. Numbed. Now that I'm off Clozaril, Life is much different. My sleep is more flexible. I don't have to worry everyday about whether I'll be able to get up, be able to function, or whether I will be too groggy to function.       I spend a lot more time and energy on processing and making decisions, which leaves less time and energy for everything else. I'm more patient then I used to be, more cautious. When you're not numbed out you're not as resilient. Stress hits you harder.  I've been putting a lot of work into maintaining boundaries and space, managing finances, maintaining my health, and working.       When people don't work at cross purposes, life runs so much more smoothly. That's why I maintain space and boundaries. I avoid unnecessary conversation with people that I don't have good relationships with.       The boundaries and space is like oil in an engin...

    A liddle more off di train... Spidey werk berry hard on Dis Dress Tolerance. Ebby day. Wuddent a fan ob it originally. Dat Molly teach Spidey a pew tings. Now Spidey werks hard at it. One ting Spidey learned was di importance of bacation. Not the kind of bacation that involves plane tickets or gas money... The kind they talk about in mental health circles... A mental bacation.      Faborite ting to do is go to the beach. When ebber life gets too be too dutch. Spidey just has vlad fly us down to the coast... Spidey needs to go again... enjoy di wabes... pick out a nice shell... go for a crawl...     

 

I've been working a lot. In a way that's good because it distracts me from the medical. Gets me out in the city around people. I worry about my mind though. I cant keep up with the pace. Then its like flying blind. Too many people trying to grab the controls, both internally and externally. I dont worry as much about an accident or physical danger. I worry about losing control. I worry about the autopilot. The dissociation. It's like sleepwalking. I'm worried I'll wake up to a problem.

    Back in the days of the slave trade, there was a frame of mind at work called The White Man's Burden. Of course, revisionists love to deny the history of slavery, especially these days. Unfortunately, the evidence of the harm slavery caused is overwhelming.     Earlier I posted an article on the UK mental health system:  Fragile Minds     In a sense, there is almost a Psychiatrist's Burden in certain circles... a belief that persons who have acquired one of these labels is unable to make decisions for themselves and should not be treated as an independent adult. 

     My life is like a weird B rated movie. My father did have a valid question: where is this going? Acceptance. It's going towards acceptance. To illustrate, let me rewind and slow the playback so those with MDs can follow.     The original problem was not as well understood in the 90s, but  Artstick was smart to send me to Springbrook. They specialize in Autism. It took me a while to accept and process the truth, especially with my family sabotaging me. In the 90s we didn't know as much about Autism. MIP dx'd it as Aspergers, buried it under the bipolar label that made more sense to them. My parents were very pleased with this. They didn't like autism (I could tell from the uncomfortable looks on their faces as I talked about it). They didn't understand it. Neither did MIP, apparently. Nor Prichards. The emotional dysregulation and the trauma that developed as a result of not getting the care that autism needs was misdiagnosed as Bipolar, which only made...

  Ebbybody lubs Spider! Ebben ip he is a biter!

     I prefer to be nice to people. After all, the world is what we make it. It's not always easy though. Sometimes, things go wrong in life. It's not necessarily anyone's fault, though there is a natural tendency to look for reasons and assign blame. Sometimes, when two people reach an impasse, blame can pass back and forth rather rapidly like machine gun fire. Other times, it comes in waves, like coordinated offensives.     I had a good meeting with the PA. He's going to research autism a little and he's in the process of linking up with the counseling office. We're going to try abilify one more time with a different anti-dystonia intervention. I'm trying the NAC supplements for mood support. 

      There is a great deal of noise in the world. some of it is generated out of hatred or ignorance. I hesitate to involve myself in anything that is not directly my business because unless I know the full story, I feel unable to act wisely, and life is not simple. It's always more complicated then we want it to be.      I've sensed a lot of negativity in my life lately. It's been a little overwhelming. Things are looking up though. Maybe I can afford to worry less. Today I'm going to be working some, and I'm going to work on my stories and poems. 

 

     Focusing on what I'm good at, what I enjoy, and on what I have in common with others. That is where the dawn is. Not in repeating the past. Not in litigating differences. 

     I need to shift focuses. Not everything is about healthcare. It's making me miserable just to think about it. I need to turn a page. Thinking about it gives me headaches.       I'm sticking with the routines. Work, writing, health management. I'm going to try to see the humor again. Try to write something funny. 

     Anyways, not everything is about me. Over a million people around here. I'm just trying to get by. I'm going to work on enhancing my calm. Enjoying work, hobbies, getting some exercise, picking one of those places to volunteer, writing. Maybe some paint. 

    I just realized something. This was supposed to be a voyage of self discovery. What's frustrating is certain persons controlling nature, insistence on being right, and dishonesty with myself and with my health care providers. I thought maybe these things would get resolved in private, but some people are far too stubborn. Pride is dangerous. It leads people to do foolish things. Sometimes, all you can do is walk away, when there is no listening and no room for differences.

    Maybe that's what I was missing all along. Maybe the only thing my family really needs to know is that it's not Bipolar, it's Autism. And that their control freak nature is destroying any chance of anything real. Who knows. But hey, anyone that wants to know me, use the golden rule. Not that hard if you try. 

    Work was slow this morning, though yesterday was fairly busy. I've got another shift later. The only remaining issue with the medication is the Abilify. I'm taking it for autistic irritability. Unfortunately, at 5mg while it improves my mood significantly, it sometimes causes dystonia, which is painful. Right now I'm taking 2.5 mg, which helps, but I'm not sure it gives the full effect and it still gave me some mild dystonia once. So I'm meeting with the PA on Thursday. The other one that is indicated for the same problem is Risperdal, which I've taken before. The main thing I remember about it is that it has really bad weight gain effects as you increase the dose. So I'm a little on the fence about trying to stay on the 2.5 of Abilify or trying 1 mg of Risperdal. The other medications in the class are not indicated for autism.      There are some alternative medicine approaches and some off label things for autism in general. I've actually tried all...

     The thing about identity is, it is one's thoughts, feelings, and experiences, plus the biology that goes with it. It is not merely a psychiatric disorder like bipolar, ptsd, did, or what have you. It is not merely a job or a gender. It is not merely a political leaning or ideology. It's not just your religion or the foods you like. It's not just who you know or your IQ. It's the spark within... the soul.      Agreeing on everything or submitting to a group identity is not life. Life is expressing yourself through all that you say and do. Every word and every action is a part of who someone is. Ideological or chemical conformity and love or loyalty are not the same thing. Taking a medication or conforming to a label is not the same as loving or living. Clozaril did not make me who I was nor does the lack of it make me who I am. Clozaril did not make me happy or "normal". Clozaril merely suppressed my emotions or "numbed me out". It did not change...

 

     The best thing I can do is maintain focus on what I am best at. Right now, that's the deliveries and writing. It's not always smooth sailing. Today during deliveries I witnessed an act of road rage. I found myself locking my vehicle.      The PA walks a middle road, much like I do. He doesn't understand everything, nor do I. He tries to be pragmatic, as do I. It's a narrow path.       I try to keep walls and boundaries and space. It helps me to breathe. Some things are sacred, though. Like birthdays. Some birthdays are coming up. Some will be easier then others.      I want to be naive again. I want to believe in things like family, Santa Claus, America, etc. Some of those things are easier then others. I do believe in God, that is not a hard one. The more earthly things are harder. Reality gets too real rather quickly. I feel that distance helps. People are messy. They require maintainance and space. Breathing room....

     You can't drag the past forward. I don't understand why some people try. I need the serenity. They want to continue where we left off, as if I'm still the same. People do change. They cant see that I have changed. That there is no rewind. I'm not a cassette tape. I know they want to change who I am. To rearrange me. To recreate iRobert. That's not how people work. I'm not a machine. I'm not a collection of symptoms. If it's not bipolar, they'll reach for something else. They don't see that I'm a person, with my own beliefs, experiences, and opinions. No, they want something simpler. Something they can understand. If I dont conform to the narrative they understand, and its not bipolar, they reach for something else. They want something they can fix. They dont want an independent, free thinking spirit. They want something to fix and move on. They dont see that I have no interest in being fixed. That the fixing itself is the very problem. I...

     Not everything is about me, nor should it be. The metro area has over a million people in it. I'm trying to hold onto my serenity. It can be elusive at times. The routines help. I like the driving. Strangely calming, even though I used to get driving anxiety. Everyday I take Ashawangha and l-theanine. Magnesium and zinc too. Probiotics. Usually some chamomile. 

    I'm trying to jump back into some positivity. I'm about to start working with another contract company, I'm trying to write more poems and stories, add some exercise, and clean out a little old stuff. I'm enjoying keeping a regular schedule.

    I do think my life is strange. It took me time to put all the pieces together. There was so much mental programming going on. You want to believe that you can trust people, especially if they are your parents or siblings. I'm still trying to figure out what to do now. They loved Prichards. They refuse to admit any fault, but they have lied, backstabbed, gossiped, threatened, manipulated, and rearranged my health care at whim. They treat me like their property. And they expect me to love them for it. That's fucked up. And for what? To reassign me a psychological label? To put me in my place? What do you say to an unrepentant backstabber who just can't quit? What do you say to someone so insistent on controlling the narrative? What do you say to someone who is that hateful and calls it love? I don't know. You close a few doors. You give them space. Sadly, they end up driving you away. 

    Any real, breathing person has to build relationships based on who they are, not based on who people want them to be. People are complicated. Experiences build who they are. They are not robots or labels. It's difficult to have a relationship with anyone that accepts you only so long as you conform to a label or deny your own experiences and feelings. March was obviously an attempt by my family to erase the past and replace it with a sanitized version. It kind of reminds me of the movie Equilibrium or the book The Giver.      Like in the Giver, there are some memories that are difficult to remember. But you cant pick and choose your memories. You have to take the good and the bad. Antipsychotics don't actually erase memories. That's not thier purpose. That's why forced medication does not work. Denying experiences doesn't erase them. What it does do is destroy trust.

    Unfortunately, it's become clear to me that my family will never give up. I was thinking that they would see reason eventually, but they will not. They're set on restoring the narrative. I don't know what that means for the future. I thought there was a middle ground, but they keep crushing that middle ground. That makes my life dangerous.       They refuse to even consider that they have harmed me, preferring to lay all the blame on me. They absolutely hate the diagnosis, they hate my counselor, and they are still planning to destroy me and her. It's all in the details. They play games with words. Instead of saying we won't let you get the care you need, it's we'll let you get the "appropriate" care (the care they choose). Constantly treating me like a child 24/7. Prichards is still God to them, they are all holy angels who tolerate my faults, and I am merely the unrepentant damned who dares defy all holy Psychiatropy. 

    What really bothers me the most is that I didn’t wake up to my family's manipulative nature earlier in life. I'm rather concerned about the future, because there's no way to tell how or when they will betray me next, or what they say about me behind closed doors. This whole byproxy healthcare thing where my dad orders up a dx and meds for me like he's ordering a big Mac and fries at McDonalds seems blatantly illegal, but given that I have a history of mental illness, I'm broke, he's much more popular with the Healthcare community, he's been doing it for years, and he lies like a rug, I'm not sure there's much to stop him. Except that pesky HIPPA law.      I can't say I wasn't warned. 

System 1 Me 2 It's really tiresome when people work at cross purposes. It's exhausting. 

    Originally, I did not like blogs. Then I realized that my family and the hospital both check this site. Even when they don't listen to what I actually say. So I decided I like blogs after all. Maybe I've been a little angry. But I'm trying to let that go and focus on doing what I do well to the best of my ability.      On a side note, given that I've gotten comfortable with driving again, I'm thinking of doing some volunteering again. Either an animal shelter, a pantry, or meals on wheels. 

      The world is full of systems, subsystems, and parts. Sometimes it does treat people like robots. Even people are systems, living and breathing organisms that have needs and make choices. A person that defies the system will indeed get run over by the system. The system will even back up and take another pass to be sure all resistance is crushed. Some people are bystanders, others are accomplices or vigilantes, and finally there are the independent minds that either glide within the system smoothly, or jam it up like a bad gear.      It's not any of this is a new idea. However, when I was a medicated drone, gliding within the system rather mindlessly, I enjoyed getting along but I missed the self-awareness and the independence. The system, desperate to recover its drone, pulls out all the stops to drug it up and reindoctrinate. How many people does the system run over on a daily basis? How does it rationalize each of these events? With labels. Of cours...

    If standing up for my rights means no doctor will work with me, then I'll gladly work with PAs, NPs and counselors that get less lost in abstract theory and simply treat me like a human being.       After all, being treated like a label, regardless of which one, is not what I want. Doctors get lost in the abstract, and will beat you down if you disagree with their all holy opinion. That is their failure. Emotions are not symptoms or side effects, they are the humanity within us. The rich tapestry of emotion is what makes life worth living, not a rigid robotic nature and absolute fealty to authoritarian figures. While I'm still breathing I will not be a slave to bipolar BS. I will be a human being, with valid thoughts, emotions, and experiences that I can share with anyone who treats me as such.       Springbrook was much better about treating me like a person, though there was a tremendous lack of privacy and gossip in the small spac...

Di webbing is tinn on di log. Spidey has launched his arachnoprobes to di outreaches ob di forest. Ebbywhere, amongst di moss and di gwass, di trees and di bush, ebben in di ribber, der are baby recluses, wadder striders, and daddy long legs, wit one mission and one mission ONLY: to explore strange new clearings, to seek out new wildlife and new cibilizations, to boldly go where no Spider has gone before! Spidey, Di Gweat Webber here! My minions are probing di forest, in search of new adbentures and new fwends to help spin new tales. A pew wadder striders in di ribber, a pew baby recluses in di moss. Spidey put on his best carapace. Bwown wit di light stripes. A pew flies in di webbing is bedder den twee in di air, Spidey always say.  Vlad’s up in the trees somewherez, directing his searchbats to provide air cubber. Di old bat has still got some flap in his wingz, and out for blood as usual.  Di air ob the forest is ripe within smell ob mushrooms, moss, and my friendly...

     Refocusing back on what I'm good at. Running deliveries, writing, taking care of my health. 

My problem is that I dont like confrontation. But the hospital has given me some assurances that they won't play along anymore. If that's true, there's nothing my family can do to harm me anymore. I was a fool to sign that information release. Closing doors. Walls up.

    The really funny part is that my family expects me to apologize for everything and use meds and support groups and money to make up for their awfulness. Even after March, they admit ZERO fault. ZERO. After stabbing me in the back so thoroughly they play dumb and act the offended Angels. What kind of wretched excuse for a human being uses a hospital to beat down a family member and then plays dumb? And it's not like it's the first time. And the hospitals just play along. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE PEOPLE. Not everything is my fault. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE. 

     It's weird how my family stops listening when I start talking. I don't know exactly how they do that. It must be one of those marvels of modern medicine. If anyone happens to have a word with a member of my family, please warn them to wake the **** up while they still can. I really don't have the energy to waste my voice talking to them anymore.

    You know, I've been thinking. The hospital seems sick and tired of my family and me. My family seems dead set on restoring bipolar and Prichards' reign at all costs. My counseling team refuses to let that happen. It's really my Counselor's office word against my family's that prevents restoring bipolar. Yet my family insists on restoring the narrative and holding me to blame. It's a stalemate. A rather ridiculous one, if you ask me.       What is love? Not a narrative that keeps one person locked in a false diagnosis with drugs that don't actually help them. Not a family that would rather force medicate then talk. Not family that is too proud to admit fault but would rather drag in the entire upstate medical system. That's not love. Definitely not love.      Love is not an addiction to Psychiatric labels like Bipolar. Healing involving forgiving and moving on, not just by one person, but by a group of people. But I keep getting burned. ...

I feel like I need more walls. Stronger. Thicker. Unbreakable. Layers of them. My mind is not so strong. I thought the hospital would help. Not flip the script. Instead of recognizing problems, they reinvent imaginary ones and make everything worse. They run back to bipolar like some dog chasing a car, no clue what he'll do if he catches it but damn set on doing so.

I'm still trying to focus on my strengths, but I'm still dissociating a great deal. It feel like everyone wants to avoid the truth. I'm not sure how to approach that. I can barely focus, and when i can i have trouble keeping up. I feel like the world goes faster then I can. Even going to church is hard. Everything ends up being hard. I feel like everyone is so in a rush to have me doing so many things. I can barely function. They're just looking for an excuse to blow my world up. My counselor won't let them. So they slander her. And they slander me. Slander is actually a crime, you know.  Had trouble working tonight and trouble functioning at church. I need to focus on the concrete. Basic tasks. Though I'm always brainstorming for a story. Hopefully something funny soon. Life has been too serious.

The hospital was doing trust building. I think they are just trying to be pragmatic at this point. They're adjusting tactics. So that's a plus. It's really ridiculous with everything going on in the world that my life should revolve around bipolar... a simplistic theory that does not explain or describe so much of what happens in the world. I know why they don't like cptsd/did. It makes them look bad. It's not pretty like Bipolar. If it's Bipolar, then my problems are all psychosis and delusion. If it's complete denial, its all imaginary and insurance fraud. But if it involves patterns... then it's hard to adjust, it makes them look bad for not identifying the patterns, and it makes other people look bad for being part of patterns. Bipolar is thier best way out. It's thier "everybody wins".  My everybody wins is to simply stop talking about labels completely. To not repeat the past. To be all of me, the good, the bad, and the ugly. With bet...

I used to think I was good with people. No, seriously, I did. Sometimes I can be. When I can truly be myself.  Anyways, I'm trying to move in a more playful and fun direction with my life. While keeping defenses up and vigilance on point. In private I can be a cool person. I want to rediscover me. Bring me out for everyone to see. Move past the labels. Create something more then writing. Draw. Paint. Build something, like in a friendship or anything other then the same grindstones with the same people, just tearing each other up like so much raw prey. I know it's possible. I can do it alone, or with anyone who isn't hell bent on conflict.

 

I have to keep my mind clear and as sharp as possible. It's not as strong as people think it is. Or act like it is. Keeping this constant structure, reinforcing my memory and my thought coherence through repetition and habit, avoiding stress and keeping strong, unbreakable walls will keep my mind from breaking. It will keep me alive long enough to speak the truth. Distance and time. Strategic retreat. Survival is a matter of defensive tactics. Peace is an illusion. There is only conflict when doctors are merely mouthpieces of the control. You know, that lady from Springbrook spoke of letter writing being a lost art. She was right about that. These are my letters. This is the truth. Trust is dangerous, and the past is never far. Independent thought is always a risk. Always. The system will crush it like a bug. Parrot the party line, and the rewards are nearly limitless. Defy it, and you are roadkill. This is the record of my life. People are too busy writing over the truth to hear i...

    Hopefully, this is me moving on. Writing my own story. Putting the past behind me. I've been a little caught up in the narratives of the past still. I'm building walls, higher and thicker. I must make my mind a fortress. Trust is not a thing to give out like party favors. Walking away from so many things. I'm not sure how I didn't see the truth sooner. I kept walking into the same traps, the same resentments, the same problems, like some crazy lemming in a catch and release cycle. Every time it's the same old thing, the re-bipolarization, the re-drugging, the demonizing and the indoctrinating. I now know to avoid my brother, my younger sister, and be careful with my parents and the hospital employees. They'll never bend, they'll never give up, they will push the narrative and break me piece by piece unless I submit to the all holy Old Guard Psychiatry, that which cannot fail, is all knowing, all seeing, and all backstabbing. That which has no fault, no l...

    All this attention focused on what my problem is and whether I'm right or wrong about my own life... the thing is, if the medication I choose works and the strategies I use work, then it doesn't actually matter what theory they throw at me... the theory will fall flat if my way works regardless of the theory.      All this indoctrination about manic highs and depressive lows, completely ignoring social factors, autism spectrum, and the ADHD to focus so laser like on the bipolar theory of the magic maker, Prichards. So desperate for him to be right and me wrong, damn the system and damn me if it doesn't fit. Bring it all crashing down just to make a point? Just to be right about the past? Just to be perfect again. I don't have the energy to argue about bipolar anymore. I don't have the tolerance for the side effect riddled meds that don't address the real issues. Works out great for them. I don't have the energy for it. So focused on picking the disorder ...

    Maybe they think I'm stubborn. They simply can't see that the bipolar meds don't work. They can't see that the application of the theory to my life is nonsense. Some people will never admit that I was misdiagnosed. But, the outpatient seems to have agreed to limit my family's influence on my health care. To once again de-bipolarize me. To fix the meds. Maybe I should take what I can get.     After all, I don't actually want to be a label, regardless of which one. I just want the healthcare I actually need. Here's hoping.

  I dunno, Vlad... dudent look good...

    Sometimes, all a person really needs is to take a break. Stepping away from whatever troubles you can bring calm to the moment and wash away the struggles.

Still having memory disturbances. Intrusive thoughts. Anger. Gaps in memory. Lapses in memory. MIP just doubles down on stupidity. But the outpatient clinics clean up the mess that inpatient makes. IS anybody learning anything here? Or is the Healthcare system addicted to stupidity? Find out next time!

    I see now how finding and staying in a groove is essential. Keeping it simple.      The memories and the anger can come without warning, or it can be a obvious trigger. The hospital only has so much patience, and I need to be careful, because if they don't fill the medication, its hard to function.      It's hard to maintain focus, and my memory is very unreliable. Gaps. Sudden floods of memories. They're too busy burying the truth to acknowledge it. The past seems like a different life and people come out of the past to visit me. My path has sharply diverged. It becomes dangerous to talk. I'm able to drive, but ordinary activities are challenging. I lose focus so easily.      Even watching TV is a challenge. I space out (dissociate) and miss parts of the plot. Sometimes I watch a movie and either cant remember the plot or its so disconnected that it makes no sense.      The bursts of memories and anger is the wor...

It doesn't even matter that much which dx they use, as long as I have what I need. Though I still think cPTSD/DID, adhd, and autism are the most accurate. Tomorrow I'll try to write a funny story.

All I really need is a quiet life making my own choices. That's it. That's really what I have. I have problems, but I make them work. 

In a way I feel like my life started 3 years ago when I got off clozaril and the magic maker quit. Unfortunately, I do get to have an opinion and make decisions. A Lotta people dont like that. Take that one fella in the ER, a male nurse. It was a beautiful moment we shared. He took the time to snarl at me how much of a disappointment I was to my father. So sweet. That was shortly after he violently shoved a catheter up my urethra. Some of these of these moments were Kodak.  Anyways, the world is so different off clozaril. I read people better, and I think more coherently. So long as I follow the law, I get to make choices, like which provider and what medication. I'm becoming more and more aware of the disconnect. They miss bipolar and clozastill. They dont like the dx. They dont like the provider. It's unfortunate.   Anyways. It makes more sense now. Everything, really. I just dont like people messing with my health care and other people dont believe in my provider. As l...

    I'm taking the time to remind family members and healthcare providers of my legal rights. While I'm still a living, breathing, US citizen I still have some of those rights. Sometimes people come up with excuses to violate my rights repeatedly.      There are several laws that apply to healthcare. I went to the Patient Bill of Rights. Timely access to medical care . Be treated with dignity and respect by each MED health unit staff member. Medical care that is free from discrimination on the basis of age, sex, race, ethnicity, national origin, language, disease, disability , or religion. Easy-to-understand information about your diagnosis and treatment options from your MED medical service provider. Ask your MED medical service provider questions so that you can make informed decisions about your health. Request the professional qualifications of the primary MED medical service provider rendering care. Communicate confidentially with your MED medical service...