Darkness Until Dawn

    I wanted to review again the progression of my mental health from the 1990s to 2025. It's pretty clear to me now that the truth is that Bipolar is not real for me. Misdiagnosis and medical goobledy-gook dressed up to cover up poorly misunderstood Autism that was in fact diagnosed (As Aspergers) in the 1990s and then continuously overlooked and misinterpreted. I think the interpretation that I am paranoid or my self-diagnosis of FDIA is rather a symptom of all the misinterpretation that has happened. This is why I insist on Autism being the primary diagnosis: It is the one diagnosis that unambiguously has shown up for decades and consistently caused me problems. It is the clearest description of my symptoms, and in combination with some ADHD, can clearly explain my struggle.      What really tipped the scales for me was finding out that the same medications often prescribed for Bipolar mania also treat Autism spectrum symptoms. They were treating the symptoms...

      If I really wanted to hurt hospital workers, would I go around telling everyone about it? I think not. And you can assume many things about Elle, but all I said was that I was her guardian angel, and if she needed anything, to find me. Do I actually expect her to come find me? No. But it's called gratitude. A strange way to express it, maybe. People make all sorts of assumptions. And if you're wondering, she did exactly what she was supposed to do. She knew I was a patient, because I told her who I was.       She said nothing at all. 

So I'm still working on communication. Trying to make sure that I'm saying what I mean and meaning, what I say. I need to improve my emotional regulation and avoid making extreme statements. When I get very triggered, it's like a flood of words. The patient observer in the hospital told me that she had 7 personalities. I had not mentioned that I have did. She describes her personalities for me and described how she copes with life. She also shared with me the origins of her trauma. It was inspiring to talk to her. I'm told some things are permanent. I'm trying to figure out how much. 

Ableism is discrimination and prejudice against individuals with disabilities, based on the belief that typical abilities are superior. It manifests in various forms, including personal biases, systemic barriers, and harmful language. Ableism is rooted in the idea that people with disabilities are inherently less capable or valuable than non-disabled people.  Here's a more detailed breakdown: What is Ableism? Discrimination and Prejudice: Ableism is the belief that non-disabled people are superior to those with disabilities. It leads to prejudice and discriminatory practices against individuals with disabilities.  Systemic and Personal: Ableism can be systemic, embedded in laws, policies, and societal structures, or it can be personal, involving individual attitudes and behaviors.  Forms of Ableism: Personal Ableism: This includes individual acts of discrimination, like name-calling, or refusing accommodations.  Systemic Ableism: This involves discriminatory practice...

  And for my next twick! I will make my internist reappear! <cough cough> ... ???  <COUGH COUGH>  POOF! Der she is!

      One of these days I'm going to learn how to be social better. I swear I don't know how to react to people in real time. I don't actually know what they want. I wish I could say different. But the psychiatrists get tired. And I've collected too many Dx's. That and clozaril not working out was why I got the counselor in the first place. I can't keep track of all of this without her.

    Vell, let's see what Home Freako has on sale today! Hmmmmm... Zis isle has zee Mental Health Problems... no... I think we have those... 

     But I need to communicate better. Otherwise, it's just back and forth. I know there are people rooting for me. My friends from grade school. My nieces and nephews. But every time I talk to someone it seems like something gets miscommunicated. It seems like a push and pull. Like conversations are battles. Except for a very few key people. The internist seemed a bit mystified, but I got what I needed. She was very helpful. A shot and some recommendations for my ears and stomach.

  Dear Elly,     I needed to thank you. I needed someone to trust. You did well. I'm sorry about asking for the hug. I'm sorry they started calling you my girlfriend. But I think you should be proud. I think you did the right thing. I'm proud of you for that. I'm proud of what you taught me. I'm glad you were there. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to please everyone at once. So far, my track record isn't great. Ashes

     I think some people are missing the point. I needed a different perspective from medically perfectionist liberalized medicine. I wasn't getting the perspective I needed. I needed someone to point out the insanity of what was going on. And I found those people. I found them in a black female doctor, a male PA, two female LPCs, and a female NP internist.       These people are giving me that different perspective. Maybe I could have found more white male practitioners who could give me that perspective. Maybe not. But what I know for sure is that this has to stop. I picked people that were not part of the club on purpose. The meds weren't working out. I was misled. They weren't helping me. Now I'm on different ones. I have to keep in the middle, wherever that path is exactly. The doctors will always try. They can't help themselves. They need something to fix. Like a bored auto mechanic. I need people to stop trying to fix me. It's really run amuck. ...

I have some resentments regarding Healthcare that I need to move past. Funny thing is, the harder I try to avoid attracting attention, the more I seem to get. Like the doctor is always watching and the next hospital visit is just a breath away. I thought writing those poems for the hospitals would be like a goodbye. They weren't helping me. Not that much. They had already done what they could. I had been there enough. Yet they keep inviting me back. Maybe they'll ship me to Georgia next time. I'm sure GA dept of health would love that.  I can't keep doing these hospitals. I don't have it in me. It just doesn’t make sense.  It does look like Munchousens or something. It makes no sense. You'd think I had cancer or something. And I definitely do not. They cant even agree on what the problem is, much less what to do about it. Just a bunch of short term, bandaid solutions. Alphabet soup diagnoses. I still like most of the people, but its hard to believe in the missio...

     In the military, they like to say that a combat operation never goes exactly as planned. The same thing is true for everyday life. My life has not gone as planned. For damn sure. However, losing a battle does not mean losing the war. I certainly hope I don't have to start spreading rumors about dating my psychiatrist to get it into people's heads that spreading lies about professionals is not wise. I like different kinds of people. They can all contribute in slightly different ways. I've known all sorts of people.      I do have moral responsibilities. I'm trying to build something positive here, while preparing to return to doing some accounting. I feel a moral duty to warn people about forced medication, drug cocktails, overmedication, medicalized perfection, toxic gender stereotypes, toxic CBT, and abuse in Greenville County. You can question my methods. You can question the results. You can't question my mission.      Sometimes life ...

      I remember Lost and Rigged very fondly. I particularly liked the nurse manager and my psychologist. I've been all over the East Coast. It was expensive. But well done.

     Just because I care about people doesn't mean I'm on their side. It doesn't mean I support what they do. But advocacy is important. And I'm trying to help people. Even if I have to drag them kicking and screaming. If nothing else, I can warn people about the dangers of Greenville County. So they can be safer in their own lives. 

     Looking up Elle was a mistake, but if you know anything about trauma, anything at all, then it's not actually surprising. I know she knows why I did it. I shouldn't even have to explain myself to people. A handful of text messages is not a big deal. I knew her a long time. I know Leaves and Molly know why. Anyways, that was a long time ago. She's out there, she's safe, that's what matters. And she knows how to find me. I gave her everything. Not exactly a criminal mastermind. Why do I feel afraid? I don't know, exactly. The world seems chaotic. But people have to help one another. I feel safer when the people who understand are nearby. She was one. She could read me. I think I was pretty good at reading her too.

 

Maybe if we don't move, he can't actually see us? Be cool, guys.

 

Dis is your faborite Arachnid again! A small shout out to Dr. Small and di gang... Serbin di Fiercest since 1969!