Darkness Until Dawn

So I rather regret filing a report with the FBI. I have a sneaking suspicion that my report is very related to the internet disruptions and password reset requests that day. So my professionals are getting used to having conversations with state and federal agencies... the local police can breathe a sigh of relief. The same people that want me to shut up know county and state officials pretty damn well. Extremely well. Unfortunately they can't control the medical board or federal officials... but I'm not law enforcement I'm just pissed off. So again, it's really a bad idea to know me unless I contact you. It attracts the wrong kind of attention. Let it alone. Don't worry about DSS. Worry about DEA and FBI instead. I'm trying to keep myself physically intact and mentally functional, help the local hospitals figure out how we got into this mess. Keep people safe. And maybe the federal government doesnt mind so much giving me some disability and some insurance, if ...

Almost every time I talk to a non-professional who knew the medicated me I get the distinct impression that people want me to shut the hell up and medicate. Such desires have side effects. Insisting on seeing someone through a lens of medicated perfection is a distortion of reality. I get it. I kinda liked the old me. But that's how I got here. Medically complex, permanently disabled unless I learn to deal with emotions differently (near as an honest professional will tell me), unable to maintain relationships... unable to maintain jobs... a medicated perfectionism. Oh, you'll be damn strong... miserable, and unstable. You have to deal with the emotions and set boundaries, or you'll drown in pills and anger and there will be no help for you on this earth. So I strongly advise anyone who knew the old me to avoid contact unless I contact you. Oh I'm full of ideas, you made me that way... not all of them are good ones... the local hospitals and I are engaged in some learni...

What am I grateful for? Knowledge... People... Food... Home... Rest... Spring... Peace.

I'm seeing good signs... the hypersensitivity seems slightly less. My body feels more present. I feel more aware of people around me. Slightly less lost in my mind. The depression seems milder. The energy a little low but more consistent. The anxiety and anger still seem a little high. Blood pressure still elevated. Heart feels a little wierd with periodic mild chest pain. Allergies... less congestion, more airway constriction, especially in the sinuses. Hands and feet are sensitive. Joints pop a lot. Forehead, gums and face have pain at times. Forehead is changing a little. I can only imagine that the neural networks in the prefrontal cortex are adapting. Some of the bizarre thoughts have faded with some of the more unpredictable physical sensations. Though I think avoiding certain memories and people is still wise. Chronic inflammation from over medicalization, numbedness, lack of processing. I'm rinsing with warm salt water. Some exercise, and continued nutrition and routine...

She was magnificent. I rode her like a stallion. Oh, the creases, the curves! The way the sheets felt right out of the supply room! The long metal legs! I - damn there goes the BP monitor again... I'm waking up...  BOLTING UPRIGHT. 3-4 PEOPLE HOLDING ME DOWN... RIPPING WIRES OFF OF AND OUT OF MY BODY... THE MONITORS GOING CRAZY... oh yes, my love, that Hypoallergenic pillowcase looks good on you... where was I? Drifting back into my coma, I think... oh don't worry about the medical staff... they've seen delirium before...

 When you have health problems, relationships can become a challenge.      Perhaps the staff at Memorial has misunderstood. Desperation is a dangerous ingredient to the mind. You've known me, for better or for worse, for decades. You brought me out of a coma. You kept me alive. It's the workers on the ground that I appreciate the most. The low-level ones. I did not come there to learn names. I know you well enough. That's the whole damn point.      Someone keeps you alive, you tend to remember. It's been a long time since that first coma. 17 years old. 26 years ago. You knew me even before then. Some of you have been there the whole time and are getting ready to retire. So I wrote you the poem.  Safe Harbor Anyways, I mis-learned a bit. That's why I don't want the pills anymore. Just the bare minimum. Family doesn't like to remember these things. Big surprise.     But hospitals built me up. Not just one of you.      I just...

2 Do not return to MIP 3 Do not file reports before checking with Team 2 Do not talk to family 5 Do not think about law 5 Do not speak to or contemplate MIP 7 do not contemplate prescription medications 6 Stay home 5 Do not contemplate the general community 4 Dot not misplace anger 4 be careful with the sense of humor 1 Keep noise down 5 Do not get creative with dealing with the past 4 Do not try to help people atm 5 do not worry if internet connection comes in and out 5 if password reset links randomly show up, contemplate the positives and negatives of filing reports or saying weird things. 4 Mind my own business      That said, a thank you to my team for listening. I'll be quiet now. This is waaaaay too much like "The Departed"... from numb to very aware. No longer care. Not my business. I am not a federal agent. I am not undercover. I am minding my own business. Now I'm retired from medicine AND law enforcement. What else can I retire from?      I'd lik...