Darkness Until Dawn

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...

I'm not sure if I don't say what I need to say or people simply don't listen. I'm trying to be more deliberate with my communication. People that don't listen, I don't spend time with. I now have a job that requires minimal talking so I dont have to stress my voice for no result (VNS implant). I'm saving my communication for when it has impact. For the most important things. Without the medication, I communicate mostly by the mychart (text) messages, which is something Prichards was completely unwilling to do. It's so much easier. Plus, it creates a paper trail, so no one can BS or do the run around. I talk to five people on a regular basis. Well six now. The PA, two counseling people, my sister, and 2 friends. Cutting down on social contacts keeps my head clearer. Maybe I'm hypersensitive, but I'm finding people much more difficult. I'm trying to be much more careful. Psychological walls, gates, checkpoints. It's not only harder to focus...

Boundaries in healthcare can be very important. Without proper boundaries, it's easy to hijack or sabotage someone's well-being. To run them over, run over thier providers, to have one family member running another family members entire life byproxy. This breaks relationships, breaks wellbeing, and wastes resources. Eventually the hospital will have to choose whether to do its job or to help my family control me the way Prichards did. They tried the helping to control route. My counselor is the roadblock to that plan. So now either the hospital is doing wait and see like my family or they are finally getting the picture. It's a Healthcare cold war. Everyone wants a piece of the action, it seems. I've put up my own walls. 

 

     I'm closing down everything I can no longer maintain to focus on my deliveries, health and my writing. Only the essentials now. I'm still dealing with a lot of memories and ptsd. it doesn't help that people keep doubling down on sabotaging and undermining me. But I'm closing doors as much as I possibly can. Maybe some people will finally fuck off. Maybe my counselor will have to work overtime. Who knows. She gets paid by the hour, just like anyone else. So long as she is standing, the law is on MY side. So everyone (you know who you are), Fuck off. Thank you.

    There are times in life that a person needs to walk away. Sometimes you can explain, sometimes you simply have to move away as quickly as you possibly can while you still can. Further, sometimes life involves a lot of one way communication. That's not generally a good thing, but it happens. Usually, one way communication is a good sign that it's time to suspend communication or end it permanently. Sometimes you don't get a chance to say goodbye, much less to explain.      I've put all my communications on hold pretty much since march. Damage control mode. I don't know if or when some communications will resume. I'm focusing on what's real. Writing. Working. Maintaining my health. Maintaining space. Slowing down the BS train.      I'm hoping that eventually some communications resume. Others, I'd rather let go.     There are many things I can take responsibility for. I can take responsibility for being funny, intelligent, kind, good a...

   One of the first things I did when I got out of the hospital was broadcast this website far and wide. I sent it to hospitals. I sent it to friends (including Health Dept). I sent it to all my providers. I sent it everywhere. There had been such a colossal and utter lack of listening that the only thing I knew for sure is that if I was going down, everyone was going to know why. Even if they chose to ignore the truth, they would at least hear it.      There's been forced medication, threats, manipulation, backstabbing, sabotage, medication carousels, diagnostic BS, and never ending chaos. When there is no listening, life is merely a long process of screaming into the wind, with the only result being that you hear your own echoes now and then.      Then they wonder why my counselor insisted on keeping going. It was because she had been in the storm with me, and knew the insanity that was my life first hand. She knew it all. She knew why I had to ...

It helps to focus on what I do well and what I enjoy, and eliminate the rest. Rather then put myself around people who clearly do not enjoy my presence or spending time doing tasks badly, focusing on the people who genuinely enjoy my presence and dont play mind games 24/7 is the path forward. I dont like it. I'd rather get along with everyone. But I can't control everyone and everything. 

Well, can't get stuck on the past. You can only move forward. Adjust. Try to forget. Walk the narrow path. Someday I will die. What will they say when they bury me? Will they lie then too? Will there be any truth left by the end? Or will my life be the never-ending BS bipolar train, complete with supporting cast and extras? Finding out one day at a time. I need to be much more careful. Close more doors. I dont have the energy or endurance anymore.

This reminds me of the movie, the rainmaker. There's a part where the lawyer guy is trying to help the lady with her will and she wants to write out her family and at first he pushes back. But then he meets the family. He stops pushing back. Some people are bad in combination.

Ive been holding onto fantasies too long. I have to start cutting cords. Question is, if I end up in a hospital again, or have an accident or anything at all happens, what next? What will they think of next? What narrative, center, drug, rationalization, excuse, or lie is next? Where is the bullshit train heading? And how do I get off? 

The truth behind the medical bullshit is definitely becoming clearer. No one has given up. They're changing tactics. Watching. Waiting. Too convinced of thier own moral and mental superiority, desperate to restore prichards and bury thier mistakes, bring back the glory days when they drugged freely and buried the truth of the past. Everything they covered up with all the pills and all the shrinks and the defenses and rationalizations. their dogged determination makes my life all the more isolating and risky.

It's like the deepest ocean that I sink down into, as the realizations hit me again and again. No one has given up. They are changing tactics. The pressure is like hundreds of feet of water pressing down. Confess, thier eyes say... confess and become our acolyte again... restore prichards to glory... drink from the cup... give up your freedom and drug again.... repent... pretend with us... play along, we had it so good... Drug it up... give us what we want... please...

It's tempting to believe that people see you a certain way, or feel a certain way, or understand something. There's that longing for human connection. Sometimes the truth is brutal. Cold. 

    I  didn't use to think it was possible, but people really can repeat the same lies so many times that they actually 100% believe them to be true. It's not even a fudging, it's a flat out, complete construct that is constantly repeated over and over again like a mantra.      It's like, if we keep using the word love but act hatefully, we lie to ourselves and believe we really are being loving. We can betray, destroy, demonize, and generate fiction in amazing quantities as humans. It's really been disturbing to understand how good some people are at acting horribly. They get so used to doing it that they literally will feign total innocence while stabbing you in the back. Pride is an excellent motivator. Selfishness. Hatred. Anger. I don't actually know why some people insist on doubling down again and again. I'm beginning to doubt the potential of humanity with everything going on in the world.       I do know why in my life certain p...

W alking 'long the razor blade while watching for a fall. It's the strangest kind of journey along an edge that's hard and tall. Lined with crowds the path that stretches across the rusted edge Their angry voices calling loud and raging for a pledge.  J ackals dance and ponies prance upon green fields below But oh how far the people are, the ones I claimed to know While times still change and rearrange, depending on fortune's fall Pray brighter days will rise from the haze of memory's faint recall T oo old to chase the shadows passed yet too young to chase the grave I'm saddened as the heroes of once descend to errant knaves. I seek out the message that may put these bitter hearts to rest Yet all the while surrounds the guile that kindness cannot repress B leeding footprints along the path with no certain end in sight With so many simply chasing one more peep or one more fight Laughter will rise and with it the reprise as callers seek revenge amongst gentle whis...

 

    How do you know when someone has a problem? What does it take to cross the line?     Is it enough that they use a psychiatrist to control them son and repeatedly stab him in the back? Does it have to move on to using multiple hospitals to do the same? What about repeatedly threatening, begging, manipulating, lying, and sabotaging their health while playing dumb? How much forced medicationings does it take? How many threats? How many lies? how many betrayals?      What is the definition of insanity? The saying goes, doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. Some people literally never learn. They prefer to destroy others and bring everything crashing down around them rather then be wrong.      We still haven't finished going through the paperwork from the hospital, but I'm willing to bet that somewhere there is a record of my father speaking to the doctor and repeating the same BS story that he's been telli...

People are not made for love but made to be my toys I build them oh so carefully to rush unto my bidding Like a vengeful God I smite and engage my minions in my ploys The world it revolves around my name, and I am always winning I tweak my little playthings and I program them with care I am the worldly doctor, and as such, you must beware Should you dare defy me, I will rip your world to shreds Lock you up and run you down, drug you up with meds I'll make you into a liar and I'll threaten you by proxy, I'll stop at nothing to control your everything, even till you're dead, I'll run you up and run you down I'll play you for a fool, I'll rearrange your everything You are nothing but my tool. I am the worldly doctor, I know so much more then you If you're lucky you'll still be breathing When my game is through. I'll drag everyone that I can find into my twisted games I'll lie until the sun goes down if it gets you labeled insane I'll play ag...

    You know I feel like an addictive substance. People just can't stop fucking with my mind. It really makes no sense. People absolutely love going on power trips. Psychiatrists can be some of the worst. There's this one psychiatrist, his advice to me was to act like a robot. That was one of the last conversations I had with him.      I was a bit robotic on clozaril. It's some powerful stuff. Numbs you out and you're just running around with no real connection, no real emotion, just this emptiness that's kind of soothing but also haunting and you never form any real connection but live a meaningless and empty life.     A lot of people preferred me as a robot. I was easy to control. It was an incredibly structured life, and I was devoid of personality. It was so empty. It was about toys and games and nothingness. Now they're so angry that I don't want the empty, meaningless life they had set up for me. And they make threats and pull strings and draw in...

     Life feels like an amusement park ride that I just can't get off. Now I'm beginning to see that other people are getting tired too. We're all just spinning round and round and crashing into each other. I think a while back I talked about slowing it down. I feel like I just keep pumping the brakes but its difficult to make it stop especially when all the noise just doesnt dampen. The more time passes by the more the reality creeps in and the horrified I am by the past.       People are messy. They require a lot of maintenance and management and instead of getting quieter everything just gets louder and faster. I keeping closing doors and they keep breaking open and then its musical medications and backstabbing and manipulation and ceaseless and never ending games and its like living inside a pinball machine. The reality comes back again and again and im absolutely horrified by the past. The more I try to step away from people the more angry and spi...

     Sometimes being part of a family is less like a company and more like a cult. There's a tremendous volume of stories that go beyond all reason to be more like ancient legends or folklore... members become caricatures or mythical beings of good or evil, and facts are pulverized and reshaped into stories of greatness or tragedy. There's a certain desperation when people don't stick to the script. A panic. A rage, even. Life becomes a predictable nonsense of walking around repeating the same phrases and pretending that life is rigidly predictable and that nothing happens at random and no one makes mistakes. People are either perfect or evil. Angels or demons.     Sometimes families even have enforcers. If someone falls out of line there's always a sibling or a child or an aunt or uncle to form this stream of incessant checking like a stream of water wearing down a rock.      I'm rather certain that by the time I'm dead, people will understand th...

     Maybe this paranoia thing isn't so bad. 🤔 My social life hasn't been incredibly successful recently anyways. Maybe this gives me the space to actually refocus myself.

Dear God,     I've been tested. I have failed here and there, as you know, but this is getting a little ridiculous. Please grant the health care professionals the wisdom and the humility they need to stop pushing Bipolar narratives and narratives about other professionals. I think they're getting there, but they may need some help, especially if my family is feeding them false narratives.       Grant the Health Department of the good State of South Carolina the wisdom it needs to stop wasting time and resources dealing with this little circus. To see that it does not help anyone. To see that if the doctors simply open their ears and close their mouths, they might save themselves some time and grief.  Grant them the wisdom and the patience to keep my medicine filled. Thank you for the things that help me be what you intended and to follow your plan. Thank you for the strength, patience, and fortitude to wade through this nonsense. I really don't enjoy m...

  Vlad's attit a'genn. Taunting di seagulls. Dat bat will nebber lern. 

      At least the hospital is finally learning when enough is enough. If certain other people would finally take a hint, mind their own damn business, and stay out of my healthcare, a lot of people could breathe a little easier, not least of all me. I hate to have to consider legal remedies. It's not pleasant. I still have that one friend that works in the health department. Though we haven't talked in a long time. I've had to close a few doors. I can't afford more setbacks. Trust is a risk.       I had a good talk with the healthcare team and adjusted emergency contacts. I'm not going to sign any further releases. It's time I learned my lesson. Some people will never give up. They'll shoot themselves in the foot to spite their patient, or their family, or whoever they feel they need to control. My life needs to feel a little less like a game of Healthcare Clue. If some people would just get a clue. I can't keep grinding the same stones. I don't hav...

You know, I'm feeling a bit more like my old self. The dots started connecting. I was remembering my last ER visit... comparing it with my conversation with the PA... they finally figured me out! I realized that the patient observer in the ER was following a script. I could tell because the life events she described were so very closely tailored to mine. She even changed her story a little, which made it seem rehearsed. I particularly liked the part where she insulted the doctors. And the part where she reported a doctor for mistreating a patient. Said she'd been dx'd bipolar and went off the meds. Described a traumatic event and multiple personalities.  Not entirely sure how much of the story was based in fact. Anyways, I'm trying to be pragmatic. I really want to write some more. But the hospital seems to have surrendered on Bipolar... whatever they actually believe... I guess I can finally relax. Do what Arson said... try to enjoy life. 

    It's time to work on my records a bit. Some budgeting and planning time. Taxes is always a good reminder of the importance of keeping records. It turns out I forgot to include a form with my federal taxes and miscalculated my expenses. Hopefully I'll have a refund soon.     I'm feeling much calmer with this new routine. I'm going to need to figure out how better to divide between writing and deliveries. Build morning and afternoon writing sessions around the driving.    I actually enjoy Cold Mountain much more then Gone with the Wind. So far The Black Flower is good. I think I'm going to turn back to Tales of the Attick, The Watcher, and All the Colors in the next few days. 

     It all makes more sense now. I'm finding solace in sameness. When life stays the same from one day to the next, it's actually very liberating. I continue to work towards my goals in being productive, calm, and uncomplicated.

Keeping a healthy lifestyle, maintaining focus on the essentials, and finding some peace and serenity in the seasons of life... life will be calmer... the days will move more gently. God willing.

I'm still working on recognizing sarcasm, but I'm getting disturbingly good at recognizing rage, contempt, condescension, smugness, conceit, and pity. Last night one restaurant was literally dripping with tension. The why is not clear, but the signals made more sense. I utterly missed one episode of sarcasm until this morning. If I'm going to continue living in the South, I need to improve my indirect communication. 

I've got to find a place in this world. Life has become too dangerous since I peeled away the chemical layer that disguised the brokenness beneath. And now the world has this intensity as the lies become more clear. I can feel the anger of the people in the world. I can thier contempt. All the fairy tales fade away. From time to time it's brutal.  I wonder how Artstick is doing. I really hope she still has some say in this world. Reality comes crashing down hard. I'm going to need a few rocks to hold onto. The past is never far. If I'm not careful, it will crush me like a bug. 

I'm like a bad penny. People are like, if we just shine it up, it will be ok. Too valuable to toss. Too ugly to like. Course, pennies lose any more value, and they will get destroyed. Living in a family is a lot like having a job. The company goes through good times and bad. Every now and then you seek a rebrand, but the reputation still sticks. Everyone has a role and a place. Titles, even. Periodically someone is in danger of losing thier job, but then management realizes the price of terminating the contract. There's plenty of politics and maneuvering. Posturing. Power plays. Sometimes someone doesnt get the memo.  I need to be careful. My job security is low. I can't afford a reorganization. We're going to have to cut costs. But if I keep overhead low, avoid outlays, who knows, I just might make it. On thin ice with corporate. But who knows... I keep my head down and I cross those t's and dot the i's, I might be alive and safe come new years... so long as re...

When people prefer pretty lies to ugly truth, facts become a matter of mutual agreement. Reality is what happens when people look away.