Darkness Until Dawn

 I feel like im letting these people destroy my life by playing into thier mind games. That's what makes me Angry. 

     Ok, maybe a little less fixated on doctors and less paranoid about what they're doing.       So where was I? Elle was an RN at the 600-page hospital. The one that gets nervous about me now. The one that has the poem with my signature. That hospital. And yes, I ran a background check on her. And you can judge me for that. But while you're doing that, I need you to save some of that precious judgement for these doctors. Maybe in the 90s we had a higher opinion of what medicine could do. I don't know. But what I can tell you is, absent a lot of fancy metaphors that I haven't had the time or energy to come up with just yet, that a lot of mental manipulation and legalized drugs can be dangerous. That's my problem with the old guard. Elle kept me safe. She looked out for me. Never failed me, not once. She didn't overstep. She didn't go outside the wheelhouse. I was always safe in her care.       Now I have weird headaches, memory iss...

     Why, no, the doctors don't want to kill me, they just don't know what they're doing. So, I have to help them understand...

     Why yes, yes I am. Do I care? Hell no, I don't like them particularly much. Thing is, I know she's right. Cleaning up my professionals. One Doctor/Doctorate at a time.

     I need to put this in a book. I keep getting distracted. Frustration can come fast and hard in the form of betrayal, or slow and steady in the form of burnout.      Betrayal can look like someone you trusted misdiagnosing you and trying to sabotage your counselor. It also look like someone you were in charge of the care of doing something like reporting you to an agency or threatening people or misusing information that they were trusted with.      Burnout is more of that slow and steady, day after day, why do I have to deal with these people still after all this time, the same problems, the same old BS. Pushing too hard, doing too much, getting in trouble and getting overwhelmed.      Maybe the hospital was right to stop the ritalin. Black Box. 

Anyways, I think that concludes the self discovery portion. I have a history of misinterpretation, overmedication, and I don't actually have bipolar. Thats been a point of contention. I'd like to thank my oldest sister. I'm not actually dangerous but I prefer to not have my healthcare manipulated or to attract too much attention. If I don't say anything, you can assume that I simply have no comment. I have my limits. 2 comas. I need to focus on a quiet life, finding my partner. I'm used to inspiring confidence. Thats not been the case lately.

     I don't know what people think. I don't know exactly how they think my brain or my body works. I know I've spent a lot of time in hospitals. If institutionalization still existed, my life would be a case study. If you think I'm a carefree, party person, think again. That's not who I am. I did try. Multiple careers. Bad communication. I tend to collect jackals. The ones that feed on vigilante justice. I've learned to keep my distance.

     Occasionally I need to remind myself of purpose, because experience has taught me that I cannot always rely on others to do so. I'm trying to help. Help myself. Help others. Interdependent decisions. Not destruction. Real, actual help.       I have to remind myself that a lot of lives were saved at that hospital. I guess it makes people sad. To see someone fall. And Angry. I can understand that. But I struggle to understand the desire to bury what happened on Woodruff road. I struggle to understand a life supporting my families when they want to demonize me when I didn't write those prescriptions.       I do want those records. I want to know how many times that man deliberately and recklessly ignored safety guidelines around prescriptions. If you're complaining to YOUR OWN PATIENTS that the state is coming after you for your drugs, exactly who are we helping by burying his actions? Who? Everyone but me? Really? Is it safe to l...

 

     I feel like I have to spell things out for people. Not because they cannot understand, but because they deliberately refuse to understand. It's like day after day, showing people two balls and then adding two balls and asking how many balls there are, and they say anything but 4.       So, one more time for the moronically intelligent:      SOMETHING happened revolving around Woodruff Road, a psychologist with bullshit ideas of CBT and manhood, and large amounts and combinations of Minipress, clozaril, seroquel, stimulants, benzos, gabapentin, ketamine prescriptions, and other drugs. Something extremely dangerous. And until the day I die I'll be working on making that clear to people. Because it could have been so much worse. And thank God it wasn't. But it's on me to make sure that people are safe from bad psychiatry. Accounting is a day job. 

      There's a reason they want it to be psychosis or illegal drugs. It's because then they can deny that something happened. They can deny that they were aware, they can deny responsibility and accountability, and it can just go away free and clear.      But that's not how life works, and it's most definitely not how I work. I know what Prichards did, I know who collaborated with him. I know the problems of Woodruff and its friends. The real problems. They revolve around legal drugs by prescription, lies, greed, and emotional abuse. And I have responsibility. To make sure people are safe from this.

     I have trouble remembering a time when Arson started a medication or increased one. Usually the opposite. That's how he was different then Prichards. Prichards and Assmussen were bad in combination, for damn sure. But they answer to God, like everyone else. Assmussen's out of practice but be careful about Woodruff Road.       I'll keep reminding people. So at least the smart ones can learn about toxic masculinity, Bullshit CBT, and bad psychiatry. I know there's something to learn here. I know because of all the drugs, all the people, and all the bullshit ideas. I know because I have trouble functioning. There's something to learn. 

      So, regardless of whether anyone ever knows the full truth or anything close to it, I think the amount of people impacted and the fact that the Governor's office spoke to Woodruff Road by itself says enough. Anyone with common sense can see that something dangerous happened. His actions do not define my life. I do. That medication does not define my life. I do. Bipolar does not define my life. I do.      My life is defined by a long history, that much is true. It is defined by growing up in the 80s, by being a loyal family member, friend, and member of the community. In surviving 2 comas, lots of drugs, lots of traumatic events, a lot of isolation and pain, and yet, stubbornly persisting, I did many things. I volunteered for 3.5 years with Safe Harbor, Crisisline, and Julie Valentines. I helped in the raising of nieces and nephews. I participated in multiple varsity sports. I learned a tremendous amount about mental illness. I got that BA in psych and...

      I knew there was something I had to warn Greenville County about. And it matches the history and the records and even the gossip around town. And it starts with my families. Oh, it makes perfect sense. Fictitious Disorder Imposed on Another, formerly Munchhousen's Byproxy. Imaginary illnesses. That is the danger and the waste of public money. That's the source of the endless new hospital, new center, new doctor BS. And Bipolar was the perfect foil. Vague and completely internal and invisible. Whereas FDIA can be traced to records and facts. All these hospitals with their records. They just have to connect the dots. Medicalized perfection linked to psychiatric illness. I found my answers. And it's all about control. Lack of boundaries. It even explains the DID and the memory issues. Greenville County has a lack of proper boundaries around medical care. And that was taught. It actually is a problem based in reality, not some bipolar/psychosis BS. And their own damn te...

     Oh crap... he's becoming aware... oh crap... he's not with the program. QUICK, MEDICATE! Shit, that didn't work! Moralize! Demonize! Activate the checkers! Go down the center list! Find another doctor! No that one quit... let's get creative... *sigh*     Twisted humor aside, I need to continue to work on anger and increasing my functioning. Which means reconnecting memory and processing. So, everyone can expect to see very little of me for quite some time. 

      The people that I have known me and myself are biased in our opinions. So part of the purpose of this website is to promote writing, part is to promote mental health awareness and to encourage and entertain. The final purpose is to let the public be my judge and jury.       Between myself, my families, and Greenville Psychiatropy... Where lays the blame? Or is it just a bunch of pills, pain, and pointed fingers? Where is the danger? Was I so dangerous? So crazy? Some things are dangerous. Pills are one of them. They hate me for calling this out. But I think it's in the public interest. 2 comas. Multiple states. Lots of pills. Lots of pain. Lots of Bullshit. Where are the answers for this medicalization? They hate me for calling it out. They demonize me for doing so. So do something with this knowledge. In your own lives. 

  Wheeeeeeee!!!!!

     I know they watch the website. I know they have people in the community that know me and them, and that report back on my activity. And so I am a prisoner that walks around. I wonder how many people live like this? Then it's back to paranoid, crazy, addict, psychotic, whatever reason they can find other then the truth: some people are bad in combination, and drugs aren't kosher. Legalized or not. Especially on minors. But BEHOLD! TOMORROW IS A NEW CENTER!

  They're going to go with "crazy" or "addict" because it suits their purposes. It keeps the money and drugs flowing. And the FBI will sit there and watch. Just like everyone else.

    I got a little stuck trying to please people. Now I'm caught in-between. Trying to please people who will never be happy. At times, I feel like I missed the bus on DID. I was supposed to change. Being me wasn't working. Instead, I stayed me. Maybe that's why people are bitter. They expected a metamorphosis. I felt like I owed some people. Like I couldn't leave them. I thought the middle was where I belonged. Now I'm stuck there.      When I got off Clozaril, I thought that I could change. Some people wanted to stop me from doing so. They're addicted to the mirage, to the perfect me they want to believe I am. And I'm letting them do it. It really isn't funny. Yet people find it amusing. Or infuriating. Depending.      They want me to be the crazy one, the addict. I'm addicted to trying to please the same people. I'm crazy enough to stick around Greenville. I cannot go back to the medication table. Yet the table will eternally call for me. ...