Dear Readers,

    I truly lack the ability to fully grasp the how's and why's of the past 28 years. But as the days go by and I see the effects of it all, it leads me to doubt the future. I feel the need, for my own wellbeing and safety, to step back more. I'm not honestly sure at this point where my confidence came from. Was it youth? Was it the medications? I don't feel that confidence anymore. I don't feel as durable. 

    I've expressed parts of me that I had kept more hidden, here for the world to see. Honestly, I was worried I was running out of time. I was worried that something might happen. Instead, it's been more of a slow sinking feeling. Seeing the contrast between the world as I see it, my internal world, and the world out there has been jarring. I'm tired of arguing with doctors. As much as I'd like to be right about myself, I'm tired of arguing. I'd hate to be like the NYC shooter guy and be like, study my brain after I die and find out the truth, but seriously, is it worth arguing? I'm leaving it alone. 

    My focus has not been great. Unfortunately, I can't fake it till I make it on that. Whether it's ADHD or whatever, I'm not going to argue and I'm not going to push the bounds of modern medicine any further. I'm going to reduce my presence a bit. I'm closing the tax part. I'm going to try to focus on tutoring and writing. Or maybe just writing. I've got to find one thing, one thing I am really, really good at, mysterious health issues and all. I'm getting too old. I have to think about my remaining time. I have to think about what I can give consistently, other than words. My focus is not strong enough, my health not stable enough, my interpersonal skills not effective enough to practice tax. 

Ashes

How Aspergers Became Autism (And all the confusion in-between)

    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 but calling it something else. I have to insist on that stopping because Bipolar is in fact much different from Autism. 

    I do not have manic episodes. I have autistic episodes with ADHD. I do not have alternating episodes of depression and mania, I have a lot of frustration from misinterpretation, and I have unipolar depression.

    I do have trust issues with people that INSIST on talking about Bipolar, as if that is my name. The Bullshit has followed me long enough. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the miseducation. These experts can't even agree, they might as well listen to me and stop this bipolar bullshit. It's not that autism is better, it's just NOT THE SAME THING. AUTISM. TRAUMA FROM BIPOLAR MISDIAGNOSTIC BS. Some ADHD. LEARN SOMETHING. That is the malpractice and the insurance fraud right there: insisting on a DX and ignoring the correct DX despite all evidence to the contrary. 

    It may seem like a small thing. But it has followed me for decades. I just want the correct DX on the chart, next to the correct name and the correct treatment. That's all. It's not helpful to misdiagnose. 

Fake it till you make it!

    I feel that when I was growing up, fake it till you make it seemed like a winning strategy. It seemed accepted. These days, some of the cracks in that philosophy seem more obvious. I feel like I hear more people talking about the importance of being genuine. 

    Fake it till you make it is most associated with a salesman known as Glenn W. Turner and is different from the psychological concept known as "acting as if" in that acting as if means to emulate qualities that you don't actually have such as confidence, but fake it till you make it is a philosophy that encourages dishonesty in social interactions in order to project a certain lifestyle or talent that isn't actually there. Presenting yourself as a great investor while hiding losses would be an example of fake it until you make it. Presenting yourself as confident while being honest about your performance would be acting as if. 

    Fake it till you make it goes hand in hand with Ableism.  The idea that you can do whatever you want, regardless of your limitations, just by changing what you believe and how you present. Nuerodyvergence isn't actually real, its just a mindset, so the thinking goes. It's a magical idea... but life is not a fairy tale.

Trade-offs and Mental Health

    The question I come to in mental health these days is: what is realistic? Is it realistic to push the doctors and the medications so hard that my doctors quit and the meds cause ER visits? Is that realistic? I said this because I can't be the only frustrated one. I think that I've pushed the limits of psychiatry pretty well, from the feedback I've gotten. 

    So what is realistic? What is realistic with autism-adhd plus whatever you want to call whatever the rest of it might be? I'm trying to find out. Realistically, my job is to do what I am able, no less and no more, just like anyone else I suppose. 

    I feel I've attracted so much controversy that it blows my mind how much controversy there is. I almost want to get retested just so they can verify that yes, facts are facts. Autism is real. ADHD is real. The rest of it is... whatever the rest of it is. I'm not going to argue. 

    I'm just so tired of people being so curious about my life. It's really not that interesting. I think most people would consider me somewhat boring. I have a few personal possessions, but it's really not what people make it to be. It's not a life to be envious of, unless you're starving and homeless. 

    I'd like to be less interesting. I'm really not that important. This is me being humble, being honest. My life is not some mythical thing. It is a person trying to get by. I do not have some secret plan. I don't think the doctors do either. We're just dealing with what we've got. Maybe some unrealistic expectations of what medicine can do. 

    I'd like to reiterate: 1. No, I don't have money, please stop asking. I'm not a bank. 2. Yes, I do have autism, it's a real thing. 3. Refer all other questions to someone else. I have enough of my own. I'm rather certain the doctors are doing everything they can. I think making someone repeat themselves should be categorized as a misdemeanor. I'm trying to focus on being thankful. 

Dear Psychiatry

Dear Psychiatry,

    The 90s are over. It's time to move into the 21st century. To that end, I would like to summarize and reiterate a few key points. Autism is very real and affects about 2.8% of the population, including me. ADHD is very real, and affects about 11.8% of kids and 4.4% of adults, including me. HIPPA is very real and is important for keeping medical records valid and useful. Without reliable medical records, we cannot take good care of the population. It's important that patients are able to have trust in their providers. 

    I am guilty of relying strongly on medication. This is not the same thing as drug addiction. I have at times expected too much of medication. Medication can be very dangerous. I hope to take mine safely and privately. 

    I do not know what the future holds, but I need it to look different from the past. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on how medication can be safely used or misused. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on clozapine's shortcomings as a medication. It is not my responsibility to explain the limitations of the bipolar model. It is also not my responsibility to allow these things to haunt me. I need to give up my medical guilt. I do hope that autism becomes increasingly understood. I hope that new therapies and treatments for autism advance. 

    I hope that I find peace and a place to thrive. This medical drama has taken too much of my time. I look forward to some peace. I look forward to some prosperity. I look forward to less time working on my medical situation. I look forward to fewer arguments with doctors. 

Ashes

Self-Image and Times of Crisis

    I feel like times of crisis can severely challenge self-image. Me, before all this happened, I thought I was the same things my counselor thinks I am: funny, nerdy, smart, odd, creative, autistic. Now I'm not sure what I am. At the hospital they seemed to see a different person. And I was in a dissociative episode, so I'm told, so maybe I was acting like a different person. It's hard to see myself the same again. It was a very strange experience in which I was conscious, but in an altered state of mind in which my memory and my emotions worked differently. It was similar to that time I had the car accident, and I was in a state of shock. It was very much like that. 

    The weird thing is, now I'm not sure how to act. I don't feel the same. I'm in the same place. I'm doing some of the same things. But my state of mind is different. Even my writing seems different. I'm not sure what to do with that.

Side Effects of Spravato and Ketamine

    While I will never regret trying ketamine, these medications have certain side effects that can be quite scary. The biggest one that I've encountered is the one that landed in the hospital: sudden changes in heart rate and blood pressure. That will freak you right the hell out. I don't know if these medications can cause heart attacks or strokes, but you feel your heart going like a percussion set on steroids, you feel the surge of the pressure, you're going to be calling 911 like I did. If you have any sense, that is. 

    When I left the spravato center, they didn't check the vitals. I remember feeling off. I remember refusing to answer questions. And then I ended up in the hospital. These things can be dangerous. But at the same time, they have helped me so much. That's why I advocate for really well controlled access in controlled conditions to these medications. So that people can get relief in safe ways. I should have stayed at the center longer. I should not have left before they thoroughly checked me out. 

     I do hope that life is meant to be beautiful. For me, though it may not be apparent, it has been a struggle and at times very dark. I want it to be beautiful. I want it to have happiness. I want it to be gentle and kind. I do not want strife. So, I am working on smoothing some of my rougher edges and increasing my tolerance. I am doing this so that life can seem more beautiful, and less like a war. I do get angry when people assume they know me or what it is like to be me, as if it is easy, as if I don't know what it is like to stare into the face of an abyss. I do know. I don't wish to agonize over the depravity, hate and struggle in this world anymore then I have to. I hate arguing. I just want to be. 

    I'd like to thank all the little rodents. They're quite tasty with a bottle of A-. I'd also like to thank the nurses and the doctors, while reminding everyone that we're all human (or vampiric bat, or Spider, or, well, you know...) and we all have our strengths and weaknesses, good times and bad. 

    I'm taking some time to review the site, after a bit of a cooling off period, some better sleep, and improved sinuses. I'm trying to get it in shape for showing ads. I need to focus, so I've improved my boundaries around online harassment, scammers, and beggars, because God knows I'm not a rich person and I have my own problems. My property is now protected by Vivint Security, to further discourage disruptive behavior. I do not have the finances, the will, the desire, or the time to put up with BS. 

The Knowledge Tree

 

   Once upon a time, a sickly young boy was walking a field in the village of Green Vale and came upon a medicine man. The medicine man was busy tending a tree by the River of Reeds. The tree was storied and old and stood taller than the others. As the boy approached, the man paused his pruning and greeted this stranger.

    "Hello, young man, what troubles you?" 

    The boy explained that he was of the Furlat tribe and was said to be diseased of the mind. He acted different, he did not fit in. Did the medicine man know of anyone that could help?

    The man gave him a kindly smile, picked a leaf from the tree. "Eat this leaf of knowledge. It makes your mind strong again."

    The boy took the leaf and ate it and felt better. 

    "Now eat this acorn of medicine, it makes your body healthy."

    Over time, the medicine man taught him everything he knew about the knowledge tree. They passed the days together, tending it in isolation. They became so alike that they became known by the same name. Yet the sickness persisted, though he ate of the knowledge tree regularly.

    One day he saw some women tending a bush further down. The bush was queer looking and thick, with colorful leaves and strange berries. 

    What's that bush called, asked the boy, now a man.

    The medicine man was old by then and tired but looked upon his pupil with kind eyes. "That is the bush of common sense, and those are the women that tend it. The berries are potent and strange, like that of a weed. They change your mind and make you obstinate. That bush has torn apart families and good friends at times. Be careful of the bush, my friend, but if you feel that you need it, talk to the woman tending it, and she will tell the story."

    So the man went and he talked to the woman a great deal and ate of the leaves of the bush of common sense. He even tried the berries which gave him thoughts that he found unusual. 

    The other medicine men were quite incensed, and they called upon the village elders at the medicine center to have the boy locked up. 

    "This boy is out of control!" They said. "He has eaten of the bush and its berries and now he questions his former master! He must be addicted to the bush or fornicating with the women!"

     The man's former teacher had retired, have long tended the knowledge tree and seeking his rest. It was only the upstart who stood against the college of medicine men.

    So, they took the upstart and interned him at the medicine college. There they proceeded to berate him and instruct that he was now an addict and needed to learn his place. "They will not take you back!" the medicine men warned. "You are an addict and a criminal!"

    The man became very embittered, and when they released him he returned to the women tending the bush. They did not believe the lies of the medicine men, saw the truth in-between: That the man was doing as he always had done, learning and relying on the teachers and the garden to nourish him and make him strong. And the women took him back. 

    He continued to eat of the bush of common sense, as well as the old knowledge tree he had relied on. He only hoped that the medicine men saw the errors of their ways and overcame their ignorance and arrogance. But only time would answer that. 

Emotional Numbing

 Emotional Numbing

Trust Issues vs Paranoia

    Trust issues and paranoia are both forms of mistrust, but they differ in their origins and impact. Trust issues are often rooted in past experiences where trust was broken, leading to habitual behaviors of distrust. They can manifest in various relationships and may involve behaviors like constant checking or suspicion. Paranoia, on the other hand, is characterized by irrational suspicion and intense fear of betrayal, often without a clear origin story. It can feel heavier and more detached from reality, making it difficult to interpret neutral or uncertain situations as genuine threats. Understanding the difference between these two can help individuals seek the appropriate support or therapy.

Trust Issues

 'Trust Issues': Signs, Causes, and How to Overcome Distrust

The more I review the past the more I question what I know. I think it's important to be realistic in life. Autism isn't a death sentence, but does come with definite and rather permanent differences... Differences in communication, perception, and comprehension. I need to focus more. Accounting will never be what I wanted it to be. I don't have the mental integration and the capacity. I can't keep chasing shadows. I'm still good at writing. I can give the world my words. Because I believe the standardized testing results, even if others wish to deny those results. Someone with impaired recall, adhd, autism, and psychological problems is not destined to have a great deal of success in business. If I truly could choose to not have problems, then the world would indeed be simpler. But from what Im being told, that's not in the cards. I realize there is still some disagreement amongst the professionals, but only on the finer details.

Some people, they just don't get it, and never will. I need to focus on my writing. Leave the past behind. I can't wish it back. I cant pretend it back. I cant rewrite it back. I cant medicate it back.

    I've been thinking a lot. Again, when the hospital mentions jail and restraining orders, it seems like a good time to think. Life hasn't exactly gone smoothly, and it's a bit of a mindfuck at times. 

    The funny thing is, in college I was so boring. Barely ever had alcohol, my social circle was a church group. I wasn't the greatest student; I spent a lot of time working on my computer. Eventually I built a custom liquid cooled rig, after graduate school. I don't understand people so well. I was not captain of the cross-country team for very long in high school, it all started coming apart in junior year. I used to write fiction to cope, but I didn't share much of it. I wasn't very confident in my work. I blended into "the background" so often. It seemed like I was living that song every day almost. Seems like so many missed opportunities. I did not find my place. When you spend so much time alone, maybe it looks paranoid. 

    Counseling involves more direct communication. Makes things simpler. Less reading between the lines. I like technology, too. It makes sense to me and makes my life easier communication wise. I'm so much better at visual communication. Not everyone likes that. They don't understand my desire to communicate in writing. They sometimes seem to resent my use of texting/messaging and other written communication. But if anyone is ever going to know me other than my counselor, I have to communicate. So, I leave these words for people who want to know, like a message in a bottle. 

    For those for wish to know the God's honest truth of my life, here it is: I'm a nerdy guy with autism spectrum. I never found my place. Yet here I am. I'm still trying to find my way. I've been quiet. That was always my way. The world is not a predictable place. It's easy to get lost. I'm trying to understand where I am going, because it's not clear. To me, anyways. And the number of opinions can make your head spin. 

We decided to try vyvanse again. I'm waiting for the pharmacy to get it in stock. That and increased mirtazapine for sleep, and a new machine for cpap therapy, which is on order. I'm hoping the vyvanse will help with the restless. 

    I've been giving my professionals feedback on how to help me. The biggest feedback is to simply hear my feedback. What all is right and wrong upstairs may be a matter of debate, but I'm not a child anymore. I for one am glad I got off Clozaril. It's been rough, but I know it was right for me. 

    Today I have the Sleep doc and the head doc as I continue my "health care journey". Sleep's been around 6 hours and I'm trying to fine tune my focus. 

    I think independence of thought is important, and that's hard to do within the system. Sometimes there's too many wheels bumping up against each other to keep them all moving in the same direction. That's why I like independent contracting and small teams. So long as each team keeps within the general ruleset, small teams can wiggle a little and still stay in line. 

    I can't jump on too many bandwagons. I'm getting myself down to a system that works for me. I feel like I expressed my concerns and adjusted my circles and boundaries. Perhaps now everything starts falling into place. In the meantime, regarding the scammers, I'll stay in touch with law enforcement as needed and screen my communications more carefully. 

Remember, Sarah, find Jess, don't come back with hospital supplies.

Scammers

I hate Scammers. They're always coming up with new ideas. Tonight I got contacted by one, said they were going to pay me to use my photo for some art. Then they sent me a check, started ordering to send money here and there or they would report me to FBI. eventually I had to call police. They said to block all the numbers. So I did. Bank must be wondering wtf. Now I have to contact mauldin police if I get contacted again. I wish these people would find something else to do. I'm trying to get work. I don't need this stress.

Verbal Combat

Hard words delivered fast in a fury of certainty

Melt back to the corners of my consciousness slowly

When the fool marches forth with his lecturing and monotony

I pause lest I respond too fast.

My silence they mistake for weakness or impropriety,

But it is only a measured response to their haste

For there is no sense in speaking often and loudly

To a man whose ears are wide yet shut.

Words without impact carry no value

I save mine for when the time is right

And if that time never comes for us

I let retreating footsteps say what remains. 

 

Wake up Greenville County! This is your FABORITE brown recluse! SPIDEY!!!!

Then there's that other story MIP doesn't like so much...

 It was like 20 years ago. I had been there too much. I got bored. I don't think they had cameras back then, and the fence wasn't watched as carefully. It didn't have the rounded top, either. There was a corner, behind the wall. Staff wasn't looking, I went behind the wall, jumped that fence, and came around to the visitor's entrance, tried to visit myself. They were like, Ashes, get back in there. 

 Ive been a little dark and unfocused, but I'm doing better with the anger and the isolation. Hopefully, I'll have some work soon.

Gratitude

    I think it's time to review what I'm grateful for. I'm grateful for food, for having people that help me, for shelter, for medicine, for my health, for freedom, for my car that allows me to travel, for my talents, for my friends, for my cat, for my nieces and nephews, for nature, for time to heal, for the strength and patience that allows me to try again and to forgive.

Projection and Healthcare

    I want to revisit projection. There's so very much to say about projection, and it is so seldom discussed. 

    Projection can look like a look of things. In today's society it happens unconsciously all the time. Every interaction is permeated by projection. For example, when you see another man catch a woman's eye, what does it mean? Is it attraction to her good looks or graceful way? Is it jealousy of the rich things she wears? Is it dangerous, in that he is looking to steal those things? Based on past experiences, people come away with different assumptions about his behavior. She may as well. 

    In the hospital, there was a tremendous amount of projection. Did they ever ask me why I contacted the nurse? No. Did they ever ask me why I said I was thinking of harming my counselor? No. Did they ever ask me what I needed, or were they too busy lining up the next center? Teeing up the next failure? They did ask me at points, but they weren't listening. Gullet and I barely exchanged 5 words. They talk about emotional mind, rational mind, and wise mind. I think the temperature was too high for a wise mind to prevail. Now we're back at paranoid, because I refuse to buy into the bullshit surrounding me. I'm just tired of it. At least they had the intelligence to stop the spravato, the true reason why I was there. It was a bad reaction. 

    I think if you slow down the doctors, if you put speed bumps in their way, they can get frustrated. I know the hospitals push them hard, but I think independence, HIPPA, mandatory vacations and retirements, and other speed bumps exist for a reason: to keep people safe. Because even the safest treatment can do harm. 

    I think I'm going to have to write much, much more about projection and psychedelics in medicine. Boundaries are those safeguards that break up things that are dangerous. When you're dealing with inanimate objects or an enemy, such as in war, boundaries are less important... but when what you are dealing with is a friend or loved one or a customer/client/patient, you can do real harm very easily. Sometimes I wish I had been a soldier and could just bam bam bam without concern for what I was harming. But I am not dealing with an enemy. I'm dealing with people I care about. And that's entirely different. Being a soldier isn't easy, definitely not, it's just a different kind of challenge. Being a man is about more then destruction. Being a man is knowing how to build and preserve. Some do it with words and services, others with guns. But I think we need to recognize that glorifying violence is dangerous, lest that violence be misdirected.

    Me, I've developed a reputation. First crazy, now drug addict. What comes next? That's what worries me. So, maybe I have reason to act a little paranoid. Who knows what they'll think of next? I think I'd best keep my distance either way. 

    The Bible say, Judge not, lest ye be judged... but then... what does the Bible know anyways...

Each Day

Each day is another chance, another opportunity to show the world that I can. I can be more then the past. I can be more then what people say about me. Today is a day to give my best. For me, that means being selective about what I choose to be involved in. Careful choices. Deliberate choices. One choice at a time. 

Psychedelics for Trauma/Anxiety/Depression

    I find that THC use for Psychiatric purposes is not worth it. There's too much stigma for it to ever be worth it. I find that in limited amounts, THC or CBD is not much different from Benzodiazepines with a little mood boost on top. It also seems to increase the flexibility of thought, and in that I believe it has healing properties. People with mental illnesses like depression or PTSD tend to have less neural growth in the brain, especially in the Hippocampus, the area primarily responsible for emotions and memory. THC/CBD promotes the growth of nuerons and reduces inflammation, but God forbid you test positive for employment or even worse, show up in an ER with THC traces in your blood. It's one long 411 from everyone you know on the evils of THC. Funny how Spravato/Ketamine doesn't seem to do that. It's a psychedelic too. Spravato itself seemed to be more limited in its therapeutic benefit. It seemed... milder. 

    Trying Ketamine was one of the best decisions I ever made. I have known people to sing the praises of psilocybin, which I have never tried, but Ketamine was a game changer for me. In combination with therapy, it helped me see the world much differently. It took away some of the black and white and added not just shades of gray but also color. A lot of color. The infusions of ketamine with the music therapy was absolutely amazing. It changed who I was. It gave me hope. My life was like a mental prison on Clozaril. The side effects, the limited mindset, the support groups, the regimented lifestyle... The emotional experience lacked depth. I very much resent the attitude of the medical community and the way that they changed their perception towards me as I tried the very treatments they recommended: the psychedelics. It's moronic to recommend a treatment and then demonize someone for taking your advice. To withhold medical care or threaten someone with jail seems self defeating in that context. It discourages people from seeking any sort of help. And then suddenly you're paranoid for feeling that way. No, I very much resent the attitudes one can encounter around the treatment of mental health issues.

    I think the ideal solution is more providers licensed to administer psychedelics in conjunction with therapy. By introducing them in a controlled context, it both provides much needed benefits supported by vast amounts of research and personal testimony, but provides it in a safe way while also enhancing the benefits of therapy. To me this is ideal. To provide a proven treatment in a controlled way (thereby drastically reducing risk), you provide another option. By pairing it with therapy, you increase the potential for productive learning and increased coping. By providing it safely, you prevent people from turning to illegal and inherently less safe sources, such as traveling to Mexico as I know one person who did for psilocybin. He swears by psilocybin, and is a successful businessperson and somehow never accused of being an addict or doing anything illegal.

    I think by rewarding some people for doing something that is not legal in the US and punishing others for doing so, you create risk. You create the risk of people leaving the US to seek treatment, perhaps permanently, as he did. Alternatively, you create problems for those who choose to stay. You encourage illegal use by making illegal use the only option. The best alternative, in my mind, is to carefully control a clean supply of psychedelics for pain, trauma, depression, and ideally to mandate therapy as part of the process. I think it is extremely self-defeating to deny the option entirely, or to fail to pair it with proven therapy. Only in combination can you truly recover and learn how to deal with problems better. This is what I firmly believe, having tried all sorts of treatments, support groups, hospitals, centers, and talk therapies. The war on drugs is self-defeating, because there is a way to provide relief in controlled settings. I would never go back to a pre ketamine world. I would never go back to a pre trauma therapy or DBT therapy world. It takes off the chains of limited thinking in ways which other therapies, in my opinion, cannot hope to do. CBT can be distorted and misapplied. I know in my life the combination of CBT and benzodiazepines had harmful effects in encouraging complacency and dependency. 

    I don't know how much of a success my life can be at this point, but if nothing else let it be a case study on autism and trauma. Let it be a case study. There are better ways to treat autism and trauma then were used in the past. Rather then reflexively retreat back to our limited thinking of the 1990s on Bipolar and Aspergers, let's move forward. Let's move forward and be willing to learn. Be willing to admit that we don't know it all, and we can still learn about how to deal more effectively with mental illness and neurodivergence. Rather then stereotyping and labeling, let's learn about how to do effective therapy in the modern, post 20th century. I believe that this modern world necessitates a more advanced understanding of nutrition, supplements, psychedelics, and therapy to decrease all the negatives of mental illness: anger, violence, lack of productivity... with better boundaries, better use of medicine, better diet, more nuanced thinking, I believe the world can be better. Take a look at the whole picture of my life: when was I better, on Clozaril and bipolar with poor boundaries and bad communication... or post psychedelic and post therapy, with lower blood sugar, lower weight, more self-control, an enhanced knowledge of neurodyvergance and how to be productive in my own way, more self-awareness. When was I better, beating a square peg in a round hole or finding the square hole and moving through? When was I better, with more say in my own healthcare, or a slave to a doctor and his tightly controlled and limited medicine with very limited ideas of CBT and some inappropriate and even abusive counselors? When did I learn more? When I was with all men and be male in a traditional way, or when I branched out to be different and more well-rounded? I think time will make the difference obvious, as I communicate more and change my relationships and lifestyle even more. 

    I'm not going back to the way it used to be. It wasn't working. I'm not going back to the support groups and the machines. It wasn't working. I'm moving forward, with or without the community. And I certainly don't need THC to do that. I don't need Spravato to do that. I don't even need more ketamine to do that. Because like that guy who left the country to try a drug in a way that would be illegal here did (without being demonized at all), I have changed. My perspective has changed. My lifestyle has changed. The only thing I regret is that there wasn't a better system in place to learn what I needed to learn and get the psychedelics I needed to get in order to change. I believe that time will prove this to be true. Just as he knows the truth of his recovery, I too shall know mine. I too will be free. Free of this limited thinking. Free of the ridiculous slavery of limited mindsets. I believe this will be true, whether I die poor or rich, tomorrow or twenty years from now, I will know the truth of my life. It will remain written for those who care to know it. That Autism is real. That Clozaril is out of date. That I was in limited thinking. That I found my way out of that limited thinking.

    I am forgiving and moving on. I am learning. And I am grateful, even while acknowledging mistakes made along the way. Nevermind learning, let's demonize and rush back to limited thinking? Let's forget and pretend nothing happened? Or maybe, just maybe, we can learn the right lessons. That is what I hope to do. That is what I hope to do. Let my ridiculously complicated medical journey be a guide. Let us learn. Some people have had tremendous success with psychedelics. Let's learn how to use them properly, in proper form, in controlled settings, with proper education. I do believe that they can do much more for society then benzodiazepines ever did.

I remain at home in contemplation, having applied to several jobs and done all my medical and self care. I feel like some meditative reflection is beneficial. I regret taking needing time away, but I still feel the need to slow this down. I reached God in McClean, I can reach him here too. Just me and him. And the cat. I feel like too many influences is just as bad as idle hands... its the devil's workshop.

Plan for Discussing Psychedelics

    I do have a plan for discussing psychedelics in full. I'm working on a draft to explain how I think that they can help society, as I have seen them help others and myself. And I will not be the demonized one while others are celebrated for the successful use of psychedelic therapy to change their lives. 

    That is my message here. That we must move beyond limited thinking and better use psychedelics to improve mental health. I am determined to bring positive change. I will not be a martyr. I too will demonstrate the power of recovery, the power of more advanced thinking in mental health. Ketamine changed my life. It changed the way I see the world dramatically. 

    These drugs have enormous untapped potential. If we simply learn how to use them better, we can do more. I will not be a slave to lies about myself or the people who have helped me. I will not allow the community to insult the work of so many to benefit the prejudices of the few. I will not allow the Bipolar Bullshit to continue unaddressed. The Truth will come out, so long as I am alive, people will know the dangers of bad psychiatry. 

    So long as I am breathing, people will see and hear what it means to be a slave to Clozaril vs what it means to have the right choices. I'll do that for the kids. Let them demonize me and let the world learn about the power of psychedelics and DBT/trauma therapy, as many others have learned on their own. Let the world see the results of bad psychiatry, as so many have already seen firsthand. Let them demonize me but let them learn how these alternative means can truly help people. 

    If they are properly controlled and administered, psychedelics are safer and more effective than drugs like Mirapex and gabapentin. It's just a matter of the proper administration. I will not allow a few self-interested and know it all doctors to sabotage other professionals and therapies for their own limited thinking and self-benefit. I know some stubborn people. But I can be just as stubborn. The world must learn the truth about these mental illnesses and the treatments for them. I'm tired of caring what they think about me. I'm tired of caring. Let them learn how to help others better, if nothing else. If anything, the answer to the war on drugs lies in better control, not support groups, soldiers, and prisons full to the breaking point. There's got to be some truth about my life out there other than the bipolar bullshit. There's got to be truth about me out there. And apparently, it's up to me to write it. 

    I know some people have worked hard to help me. It's up to me to make it worth it. We have to learn something about mental illness. We're not learning. We need to learn. Otherwise, what is the point? we just make up stories as we go along? What does it matter what anyone says? We have to learn. I have to believe that is possible. It's just one big, drugged façade otherwise. Life needs to be about more than taking pills and doctors' orders. There has to be compassion and truth, or it means nothing. I cannot have faith in a system that drags people down for doing what is right. I cannot do it. 

 

    Change can come slowly, or in a rush. Sometimes, it's exciting. Other times, it is quite frightening. Yet, inevitably, it comes. The winds of change can lift you up or they can buffet you like a storm. I look for the signs along the way like anyone else. I do feel somewhat weary from the repeated rises and falls in life. The road can get lonely and sometimes every path seems to be blocked with some obstacle or another. Sometimes there are special interests keeping you out. 

Right to Decline

     I think there's a point that you reach between enough medical and too much medical. Sometimes that point isn't all together clear. I have to evaluate on a decision-by-decision basis, just like anyone else. I've reached that point a few times. I reached it with Prichards and Clozapine. I reached it with CCBH and Clozapine. I reached it with the Hospital/Center run around. I reached it when talk of jail and restraining orders came up. I reached it. I'm happy to continue counseling and the medication I do have. I'm happy to take a step back. I'm happy to give the hospitals a break. I hope that anyone who reads this can understand the reasons why.

Internalized Pain

Watchful eyes make darkened skies all the brighter still

In the stars we find our guides and follow them until

The sun comes up and we come to see the light falling once again

So parts the pain and heals the insane until it fully ends.

A gentle hand helps the broken mend and stills the aching heart

A steady guide brings hope and pride to its shattered parts

And looking up the clear skies come to rescue us until

We're strong again and stand as one to climb another hill.

    I'm building trust and learning about choosing words. Which words for the right times. What strength looks like. What money can and can't do. I would have been a priest, I'm too curious about the world. Maybe that is my undoing. There have been times when I should have spoken up but didn't. There were times I simply wasn't heard. I'm trying to choose companions wisely and communicate clearly. I have to take the world seriously, because it is a serious place. Serious things can happen. 

    I was always quiet. I'm trying to get louder. Looking for a job. Cutting expenses. Working on fiction and art but coming up with mostly poetry and AI art. 

Apologies

     I am not sorry for following the orders of Prichards on THC. That was not my mistake to make. That was the doctor's. I am not sorry for following Artstick's orders on Spravato, that was her mistake to make. I am sorry for not communicating better. I am sorry for spending beyond my means. Those two things I can be sorry for. Those two things alone. 

    I am not sorry for the small-minded ignorance and hatred of the inpatient population. I am not sorry that my family and some people cannot understand autism spectrum or trauma. I am not sorry for these things. 

    I am sorry for contacting the nurse. I am not sorry for cutting off people who were being unhelpful. 

    I regret the misunderstanding and chaos that has followed me from this hospital to that center to the other hospital. I regret that some people have the inability to recognize a good person for they are missing out. I regret the loose mouths and the hateful ignorance. 

    I reiterate my gratitude to SCDHEC (or whatever it's called now), to the ethical nurses and doctors (the ones that understand boundaries), to Gryphs, Leaves, Molly, and "my women"... To Lost and Rigged... to all the good eggs. Wrong and right work both ways. I hope to be able to contribute more, since that seems to invariably be what the world wants... but only the best of me, since that is what it insists on. I hope to keep my peace and earn my keep... to communicate better, so that I might avoid the misunderstandings of the past. Hospitals can be dangerous places. I've seen dangerous things happen in them. I've seen times when dangerous things could have happened but did not. My health seems fragile enough and the medications unreliable enough that I fear trying to get off disability. But I have some job applications in and I continue to look for part time work suitable to my bizarre arrangement of skills.

    This gets much more traumatic, I might just have to apply to graduate school and become a trauma counselor myself. In the end, trauma is a matter of perception. I've had every concept of myself challenged and again. I've gone without emotional comfort. I've been through various medical symptoms. I've had extreme moments of dysregulation and confusion. I'm tired of it. To the ignorant, I am sorry you are not able to understand these things. I suppose I could have said more. I didn't realize it was necessary. There was a lot of not hearing going on. I would really like to mind my own business now. 

    I'll always remember the good eggs. If I can do right by them, that's good enough for me. We know more now about autism and trauma then we did in the 90s, so let's apply that knowledge. Me, I'll try to watch what I say and get more done at home where I can keep a safe distance most of the time. 

Loyalty

    Loyalty means sticking it out when times are tough. Loyalty means having the courage to point out other people's mistakes or misjudgments in tactful ways to help them do better, not blindly aiding them to commit errors. Loyalty is not blind obedience. Loyalty means being loyal to what a person stands for, not necessarily what they do. Standing by them while calling them out is more loyal than helping a person to make mistakes. 

        Being firm about boundaries is actually a service to another person, even if they cannot see that. When they realize they were wrong, they will be grateful if they are worth keeping. If they never realize they were wrong, or don't have the ability to forgive a misunderstanding, then they were never worth keeping.

    A wise man makes decisions based on facts, not a lack of information. Thus, a wise man sometimes must consider that he doesn't know all the facts, and therefore a wise man makes decisions based on the facts he does not know but can infer from situational factors. Further, a wise man does not speak when he does not know all the facts. 

    Even the most educated man can act the fool. All it takes is some misplaced assumptions and the heat of passion, or simply a lack of good judgement. I have known many educated men to do many foolish things and say many foolish things, despite having very high placed degrees. Having letters after your name does not make you invincible.

Restraint and Humility

    I think Restraint and Humility go hand in hand. I think strength without good judgement is worthless. Restraint means being able to do something but choosing not to do it. It is easy to hurt someone. It takes restraint and humility to hold back the words or the hand that does the actual harm. It takes humility to recognize that harm is not wise. Maybe only a fool would have walked back into that emergency room. A small man might have said something ugly to Dr. Darcy when he had the chance. Or even been violent. I feel like I exercised restraint and humility. It takes a bigger person to turn away from the past. It takes a bigger person to forgive. I did not feel like that first ER visit was handled well. I called that ambulance for a reason. The Spravato did not check my vitals before releasing me. My heart rate surged. Cold and clammy. I justifiably thought I might be dying. Weak and faint. I called for a reason. It was just nice to see a different response this time. 

Biblical Meaning

Today, I'm focusing on cleaning and exercise, writing, and some light accounting research. I need to stay focused. 

I like doctors and nurses because they are educated and they focus on helping people. I think aripiprizole helps maintain calm. I think Bipolar is at best an oversimplification and clozapine is out of date. I think if a man is disabled, that necessitates a change to relationship dynamics. How can the man be disabled and still be the breadwinner? It makes no sense. Not in today's world where couples struggle to survive on one full income. Rigid rules of gender Conformity make less and less sense in a modern society and yet some people still cling to them like whites clung to slavery long after it stopped having even the veneer of sense to it. Modern society requires flexibility. It requires seeing beyond stereotypes. In an age of AI, it makes zero sense to me to cling to stereotypes promoted by out of date concepts. You can still have faith and God but at the same time see that the Bible was written thousands of years ago in a much different time by much less educated men with much less technology. God did not create life to remain static and unchanging. Life is by definition changing. Otherwise it is not life. One can still remain true to God and to faith and be open to growing and changing. I believe that was God's intention and that love thy neighbor means exactly that. It doesnt mean love thy neighbor UNLESS. It doesnt mean love love thy neighbor UNTIL. It means love thy neighbor. Love thy neighbor if they are white, black, orange, purple. Love thy neighbor male, female, autistic, disabled, whatever. If the Bible was meant to be a rigid cross checked formula for exactly how to live life, then Im sure God would have made a commandment, crosscheck the passages to find hidden meanings behind my words to nullify the exact meaning of what I say. Read into what I say until my words become meaningless. He did not say that. Why would he say that? It is a desperate man who clings to hidden interpretations of the Bible. It is a desperate man who uses hidden interpretations of the Bible to justify hatred and bigotry.

My first impressionist painting is sunlight peeking through wisps of dark clouds. 

 

The Wash

 

A washing we shall go, a washing we shall go, high ho the dario a washing we shall go!

I just feel like it's reasonable to take a step back, try to find some serenity after treating my body like a human science experiment for so many years... going from this patented drug to that one, this machine to the other to the implant. I feel like its reasonable to step back. Give the doctors a break. Let them focus on someone they can fix. That's what I want to do. I've been pushing them hard, and for what? I'm not even that important. These drugs have problems, like clozastill. 

     Thing is, as much as I didn't like Dr. Darcy the first time, the second time she was kinda nice, and I didn't want to rock the boat on that. 

 

    Maybe I thought my emotions would make my situation obvious. But I suppose maybe that's expecting too much. People are blind to what they do not want to see. I need to be quiet for a while.

     So many points in my life where it seems like I'm in a conversation with someone in which we are talking at each other and not TO each other. I almost get used to it. With my counselor, I can be myself and speak the truth and she gets it, and that's a beautiful thing. At MIP, it was the complete opposite. It seemed like a twisted game of choose the wrong words. Say what you don't mean, so that it can flow more easily. Like every conversation was multiple choice, but some whack job was picking the answers. If I hadn't been so out of it, maybe I would have picked my own. Hospitals can be dangerous places, for sure. 

Flat affect vs blunted affect vs shock versus full range of emotions.

Flat affect is an almost lack of emotional response. No emotional reaction, positive or negative. Like being stunned. That was me in the ER.

Blunted Affect means a reduced range of emotional response. So, less extreme than a flat affect. 

Shock means very intense emotions.

Full range of emotion is a normal emotional style. I feel like I don't experience this much. 

    The head doctor in the ER was one of those quiet, contemplative ones. Seemed like a smart man. Sometimes I confused which ER doctor was the resident and which was the attending doctor, but the head doctor was easy to differentiate. I guess I feel like I need to understand. To wrap my head around all of this medical. I read most of the notes and records, not to look for errors or even for explanations but just to understand the way they think. He called it flat affect... a lack of emotional expression. I'd say that I was afraid and feeling somewhat dissociated standing in that ER again. I didn't know what they were going to do. I just knew that my head wasn't right without the pristiq. I needed that medicine. And I got it. Thank God. I don't say much in person. It just seems like there's so many things I could say. So many things left completely unsaid. Like with Dr. Darcy. It was somewhat surreal. "I remember you" "Yeah, I took care of you"... I think we said a few other things. Repeating what I had said to the resident.

    I feel like the only answer to this insanity is stepping back. Just like I told CCBH. I swear the worksheets showed zero understanding of the problem. And where was the listening? Where was the empathy? I been chasing meds as if they are the answer. Some of them I need, yes. memorial seemed like family. I have to be grateful for the medicine, because it helps with some things. But the indoctrination seems soulless. And they wonder why I act paranoid. You think this is going well? Not actually. 

    I feel like I have to write about it. Because no one is listening. They say they are and then they turn their ears off. And then they wonder why I need counseling. No, we're the almighty doctors who know everything. Forgive me for being jaded. But there's a lack of humility in medicine. There most definitely is. A belief that medicine can do more than it actually can. Maybe I am just the disabled guy. Maybe I am the guy on the sidelines criticizing the man in the arena. But I think some criticism is necessary. I need to say something before it's over. Something other than repeating the medical bullshit they feed me. There's a lack of humility, a lack of common sense. Doctors without Boundaries, they should call it. It's too fast paced and inhuman for me. I need to communicate better. I should have realized I couldn't just play along. It's not working out. I'm looking for answers in all the wrong places. Barking up the wrong trees. I need to step back. I can still walk and talk. I should take that as a win. 

    There is one person who defends me more than anyone else. She sees that I can be very kind, smart, funny, considerate, patient, persistent, and strong. I don't understand this world. It runs over people. Chews them up and spits them out. It's very strange to me to threaten someone who showing up at a hospital for help. Very strange. Maybe I have a simple mind. I don't understand the system; I don't understand the doctors. Maybe I should have been a farmer. Technology truly is fascinating, but so inhuman. 

    Then there's the run of the mill insults that we throw at each other on a daily basis. Too slow, too fat, too messy, too short... why do we have to make the world awful? Am I just now waking up to reality? Hospitals are strange places. You take a bunch of people who are not doing well, and you put them together, what exactly do you expect to happen? We'll all just kumbaya right there in the ward? We'll drug it up and play cards and sit in classes and then go out into the world with issues and damage and everything will be just fine? I need some peace. 

    I've been too much time in hospitals. It's almost easier to be the worker in one sense: at least you can do something useful. Patients aren't even allowed to help. It's kind of a silly rule. I think allowing patients to help with the cleaning and the other tasks actually encourages that sense of community that felt more present at Springbrook that first time. 

    I hope to encourage others and get one of these jobs. I'm tired of feeling useless. That last hospitalization was extremely confusing for me. It was like, slap on label one and go here and drug it up and let's all indulge in our worst insults and the grossness of humanity together until we all hate each other and then let's slap on label 2 and ship out to the next center or hospital as if it makes any sense or accomplishes anything at all. Where is the humanity? Am I a person or a defective widget?

    I think the humanity was lost a long time ago for me. Those ECTs are a humdinger. I feel more like a machine then a person, and technically I'm a cyborg, I have an implant. Such a strange world. I don't see the humanity. Whatever is wrong with my head... it's like a medical pinball machine. I'm telling you; it's been almost 4 months since discharge... I have never had such a horrific setback. CCBH, it made sense in a way. They didn't know me. MIP knew me. That's what makes it strange. And Elle was my defender. Now that's been poisoned. I'm sorry, but my head is spinning from the med changes, the lies, the misunderstandings, and all the chaos of it. Never mind having a say in my own healthcare. Never mind that it has improved with space and boundaries. Let's do a hostile takeover. I don't get it. And then they wonder why I talk about trust issues and anger. They want to call me paranoid. Really? paranoid? It's worked out that great so far. Bullcrap. I don't get it. 

    I can't do more of the back and forth. I can't do more of the labeling and the centers. It makes no sense. None whatsoever. Every now and then you find someone who truly listens. If I have advice, it's to hold onto the listeners. Keep them. Don't let them go. Otherwise, you'll be from this hospital to that hospital to this center to that center with people looking up your rear and wondering what the hell is going on in this world. Ugly places. Ugly. Maybe not physically violent, but verbally violent, emotionally violent, medically violent. Sometimes I wonder why I hold back. 

    They say time heals all wounds. I think distance heals all wounds. Time alone doesn't do anything. Space is required. That's the only way to heal. I really don't like going near memorial. You can laugh it up, but I don't like going anywhere near that place. I don't think it's the people themselves. It's the fast pace, getting lost in the system. If I hadn't shown up to the ER on a Sunday morning, who knows? They actually had time to talk to me. It almost seems like the height of stupidity to go anywhere near that place. Confusing beyond imagining. Four months later and I'm still wrapping my head around it. I was miseducated on medications and hospitals. This is insanity. These places freak me the hell out. I really don't think there's anything paranoid about that. Communication has been terrible.

    I'm trying to step back and find some peace and centeredness. Which is what I was looking for at CCBH. It seemed to make them angry that I wanted peace. I'm not sure why. Maybe they thought it was a metaphor for suicide. I just don't want to fight people anymore. I don't see the point of so much conflict and lies and bullshit around mental health. I don't. It makes no sense. But I'm finding my peace in my own space, on my own time. It's just lonely. And I need money. So, I must sharpen my resolve and my focus. Standing alone is difficult. Something seems off about my perception. How am I this tired?

 

🫂 🫂  Smally 🫂 🫂 

Wierd Ideas part VI: Fear and Empathy

I remember the last thing I thought that night. I wanted her to know how I felt. I wanted to see my emotion on her face. 

That emotion was an intense fear, with some sorrow and anger. I wanted her to understand. I wanted her to be afraid too. I wasn't sure how to make her understand. In the end I decided I didn't want her to see.

cleanup on ward 2! Ashes is back!

Reflections

Your eyes looking back at me tell me everything you see

Your eyes tell me where I've been and the person I can't be

Your eyes tell me so much more then I could ever say

Your eyes come to me in dreams and then they run away.

My hopes float upon the wind like a gentle feather

They rise with every victory and sink with stormy weather

They fly so high when I am free of all my doubts and cares

They come to me to lift my goals with challenges and dares

My wisdom finds the meeting 'tween my goals and all my acts

My passions rising in the storm forever wane and wax

Until I find my soul's true counter forever will I roam

And if I never find her, I will find my way alone. 

Project #Next

I need to work on my drawing skills so that I can create consistent images of Sarah, Jess, and the others. Otherwise the AI makes them look different every time. And im wasting my life trying to be something I am not. I am a writer. Accounting is not very realistic. My health is too unstable. Accountec has done nothing but lose money. I've got to publish more writing. 

I know there are people in this world who do not want to believe in autism or to deal with it, but I have no choice. I have to face the truth that memorial medical and people in my life don't want to face: that I have autism, not bipolar, I have a trauma disorder resulting from years of medical mismanagement and misdiagnosis. I have been medicated out the wazzoo, and become a running joke because my body is like a science experiment.  And they'll believe anything but the truth, so help them God. So I take a few steps back. And I keep a safe distance from the bipolarizers and the doctors without boundaries. The God complexes. And I try to reduce expenses and adjust to my reality. The reality that the medication has caused me harm. A great deal of it.

My Greatest Hope and Prayer...

is to give the world my words and be at peace with those in it. The doctors have tried. I do need to step back. I need to do the slow and steady. I need to take care of myself and my home and stop ending up in hospitals. It's not helping. 

The End

     I think my biggest mistakes were not taking autism spectrum seriously, trusting Assmussen when I shouldn't have, believing that medication could do more then it actually does, going to McClean, and spending too much time in hospitals. In the aftermath of Prichards' abrupt resignation, I wish I would have been firmer and stronger. I wish I would have communicated better. 

    I regret allowing Leaves and Molly to shoulder blame. It was not their fault. It was a medication clusterfuck with some God complexes in charge. It got rather ugly. So I've withdrawn a little bit. Until I'm strong enough to face the remaining problems. I can't play musical centers/hospitals. Especially when they don't have a fucking clue and they are just pointing fingers. I'm too tired for the bullshit. 

    Given the carousel of medications that I've been on, the misdiagnoses, and all the stress and miscommunication, I have no doubt that it's true that some things are permanent. I think things cannot be undone, drugged away, or swept under the rug sufficiently. I can still walk and talk, I'll take that for a win. I'm tired of playing medication games. I think the only remaining step is to adjust the ADHD meds. Then I can work some and finish my writing. 

    They say I'm never going to have a normal life. It's not exactly a death sentence like cancer, but it can be if I'm not careful. Push too hard and you never know. I prefer not to give the doctors extra work at this point. I still apply to jobs, but with a hesitancy. And I just don't think it's realistic to retake the CPA. I'm not even sure I could pass the EA at this point. 

    The mind needs breathing room. I keep pushing it, who knows what might happen. I had micro seizures on mirapex. I had two comas. I don't think it's wise to push the mind too hard. It can break. I think it's too late. I think I need to focus on what I CAN do, not trying to push the envelope when we've already been down that road too many times. Pushing too hard is a surefire way to end up broken. It's not easy to work when you have autism, it's even harder when you've been through the med trains and the comas and the rest. They need to focus on pushing someone else... the young people who have the energy and capacity for that. 

    Some people cannot recognize true till someone is dead or dying. I think the people in my life should take a few breaths and think about how successful this has been so far. Maybe it's time to stop pushing, take what we can get? Before we hit coma #3? Just a thought. It's not actually the doctors that kill me, it's unrealistic expectations. It's not actually bipolar, it's pushing too hard and being unrealistic about my limitations. That's part of why I need to write. So that people understand the dangers of bad psychiatry. You misdiagnose, you ignore warning signs, you don't pay attention, then you end up with this. ANGER, dysregulation, attention problems, anxiety, spaceyness, depression, neuropathy, headaches, broken relationships, lies and accusations, and on and on from this center to that hospital to this other place over here until the health departments all say fuck it. Or I end up dead from medication gone wrong. It really makes no sense. 

    I need to slow down. I need to lower the expectations. Because this shit ain't kosher, and my doctors will quit, not because of THC or because I pester them too much, but because there's absolutely nothing, they can do to help me if I keep trying to do the impossible. That is the heart of the matter. Medicine has limits, especially with autism spectrum. 

    I've accomplished a lot for someone with my limitations. I need to call it quits while I still breathe. The mind can only take so much. At some point someone is going to have to have the common sense and the intelligence to say, this isn't fucking working. We need to stop. We need to step back. This is not safe. We need to take what we can get while we still can. Even CCBH said it. They said maybe there's some permanent difference that we can't see. Maybe all the meds fucked the brain. Even Prichards said it. Micro seizures. 

    We need to recognize that medication has limits. I'm still good at writing. Take what you can get. It was MIP that started the whole med train thing. ATLANTA SAID NO. No one was listening. By the time I was dumped on McClean it was too late. We had gone too far down the wrong roads, not learned a damn thing. I am a human guinea pig for brain drugs. That's what I am. All the combinations and permutations. Prichards wanted a case study. Well here it is. We done fucked up. Too many drugs, too many misfired careers, pushing too hard, expecting too much... getting nothing but a bunch of bitter and angry people, lots of accusations, and a lot of chaos. 

    This is why I have to step back. It's not worth the risk or the stress on the brain. Need to leave it be. I need to reduce expenses. Retire from professional patient hood. While I still can. I think there's only 3 people who haven't fully accepted this: two of siblings and my father. Maybe someday they'll understand. It's too late. Whatever capacity I may have had, it's not there. I will not have a normal life, I can still have a life, if I slow down, be smart, and go easy on the meds. There is no machine, no drug, no therapy for this. It's fucked. The best thing I can do is tighten my belt. Try, as Arson said, to enjoy life. He wasn't wrong. I know he saw all of this. But there's nothing he can do with unrealistic expectations. With therapy, I can still contribute. It may be hard to accept, but I think the medical community is starting to see it. It's too late. It's time to focus on the people they can help. That's what I want. For the medical personnel to focus on the ones that they can help. We can argue about the reasons, but I know we can all see, if we allow ourselves to, that it's too late for me.

    I think even my brother, who can't seem to see why this is a fool's errand, can see that the medical professionals are at their wits end. It's time to stop pushing. Before there's another medical error, or God forbid a stroke. I tried. I even let them cut me open. It's time to stop. I say that not only out of compassion for myself, but for my professionals. It's time to stop. I've been living beyond my means. I need to save money. This life has been a bit of a chaotic mess. But I got to meet a lot of cool people. I got to learn a lot. I got to travel. Now I need to slow down and stay slowed down. There are other people that need help, people with more capacity. There's no redo. I need to focus on finding people that understand. They don't hang out at mental institutions, addiction centers, or places like that. Otherwise, I need a monastery or a small, deserted island. I need some peace. 

Persons of Principal

YOU GUYZ! SPIDEY SAID NO DWINK BWEAK TILL YOU CLEAN UP DIS POND!

The positive parts of my life have mostly been with people in the real world. I think many of my concerns around medicine revolve around this idea of all the things medicine can do and the power of medicine. I feel that sometimes this conveys a lack of respect for the possible harm. When you have a system pumping humans through, maybe it's moving too fast? Maybe humans don't need so much fast paced microanalysis? I feel that I have more success in respecting people as they are then in trying to fix them. Maybe thats where the learning comes... in respecting differences rather then trying to hammer each one out. Cooperation is not a one way street. Finding one's way in a complex society requires two way communication, I think.