Rewind

    My life is like a weird B rated movie. My father did have a valid question: where is this going? Acceptance. It's going towards acceptance. To illustrate, let me rewind and slow the playback so those with MDs can follow.

    The original problem was not as well understood in the 90s, but Artstick was smart to send me to Springbrook. They specialize in Autism. It took me a while to accept and process the truth, especially with my family sabotaging me. In the 90s we didn't know as much about Autism. MIP dx'd it as Aspergers, buried it under the bipolar label that made more sense to them. My parents were very pleased with this. They didn't like autism (I could tell from the uncomfortable looks on their faces as I talked about it). They didn't understand it. Neither did MIP, apparently. Nor Prichards. The emotional dysregulation and the trauma that developed as a result of not getting the care that autism needs was misdiagnosed as Bipolar, which only made things worse. 

    But Artstick sent me to Springbrook because I have autism. That's why she changed me to the PA when I asked to go to MIP. Maybe she began to doubt that she understood my disorder right or she doubted I was in acceptance. But wanting to stay at the same hospital is in itself a symptom of autism: not doing well with change. MIP was only too happy to go along with my father in changing my diagnosis from DID back to Bipolar because it allowed them to be right about me and it covered up the effects of them being wrong about me all at the same time. That doesn't change the fact that they were indeed wrong. They even tried to discourage me from talking about autism to doubly cover their tracks and reinforce Bipolar, completing the cover up. And any objection by me was paranoia and psychosis, just reinforcing their diagnonsense. 

    So, everyone would have won but me. Unfortunately, I don't give up easily and neither does my counselor. She learned it from her father and I learned it from mine. These kind of wars are a waste of healthcare resources, and I'm not sure what was the most immediate reason that got me into MIP in the first place, but I suspect it was either my confused state or my family's backstabbing... the Spravato had sent me into a dissociative state. But when I signed that information release, my father got the chance he was waiting for to bury me and my counselor and reestablish Prichards and Bipolar.

    Anyways, we cleaned up my parents' little coverup. Changed the DX's back again, clarified that they are not to be changed again, clarified that my parents are not to be involved in my health care decisions, and fixed the meds. I have a different medication for dystonia now in case the abilify stimulates the dystonia again. I'm on a dosage indicated for AUTISM, not BIPOLAR, which I do not have. 

    All's well that ends well? I don't know. I don't know because I don't know if my parents have reached acceptance or ever will. I've still not learned how to navigate these complex family schemes around my health. The autism is clearer now that I'm not on Clozaril, at least to me. I still have some anger and resentment at all I've been put through in this malpractice of Bipolar and the cover ups. If my father hadn't been a doctor it would have been harder for him to play the hospitals against me like that. But that was a key part of their whole plan: to use my brother's and my father's standing as doctors to reinforce bipolar and erase the rest. I don't know if they are capable of recognizing the fact that they have been wrong about me and in their obstinance and pridefulness they have caused me tremendous harm.