There was a helpful poem that mip gave in one of the groups. It was about not repeating past mistakes. Going down a different road. Thats what I need to do. Step back from certain relationships and stressors, not look to hospitals for fixits, find peace on the outside. 

Ironic

 

What's really ironic is to have so many people seeming so desperate for me to talk and yet so pissed off when I actually do. I definitely need to be much much more careful.

Wierd

    It's really weird when one person has so many strong opinions and misconceptions built around themself. So, I'm just saving my breath and energy and telling everyone at once: I don't want to hurt anyone, and I'm too tired to argue with you. I need to focus on writing and working. Best wishes to all. 

    I'm going back to forgetting that the March clusterfuck ever happened. I'm pretending that MIP and I ended on good terms and that we're on the same side. Because that's what I need to do. Not like anyone from MIP reads this anyways. 

    I mean seriously. This is like The British (me) trying to convince the Italians (family) and the Americans (hospitals) that we all believe the same things and have a fully functional NATO alliance that agrees on everything. Just the fact that I need such a ridiculous metaphor to try to appease everyone says something by itself. I'm one person. I cannot possibly be worth arguing that much over. Find someone else to argue over. I can't spend the rest of my life apologizing for Elle and trying to clear my name regarding Prichards. We're all human, we all have faults, we all make mistakes.

I always had the anger, the thoughts, the issues, you just didn't know.

Reminders

 #5 stop engaging with people who never agree with you

#2 stop going to psych hospitals

#3 stop getting legalistic

#4 stop trying to help people who don't want to be helped

#1 they don't want to play

#6 learn some new recipes

#7 go back to the gym

#8 don't repeat patterns

OK, I need to be less angry still...

Dear Elle,

    Maybe you have better words then me. But you knew me. Maybe you're not angry. Maybe you can see that I don't want to and did not ever want to hurt you. Maybe you can explain. I feel like a lemming. I keep going to mental hospitals expecting different results. It's really become bizarre. It doesn't even make sense to me, and I'm the one doing it. They wanted me to advocate. Now they want me to shut up. They can't make up their minds. My family only likes it if it's Bipolar and Prichards is faultless. They only like it if they can blame me/genetics. My world is distorted. It makes no sense. Maybe you can help them understand. Call off the dogs. Preferably before Monday. 

Thanks,

Ashes

Mental Manipulation

    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 issues, focus issues, trouble working, boundary problems, anger problems. That's my concern with these doctors; they push so hard and expect so much and then fuck the patient when it goes sideways. Come up with excuses and lies, come up with everything but the truth. But some people know the truth. The doctors pushed too hard, expect too much, use too many drugs, and then the governor's office has to say stop. And thank God for that. I don't need everyone to understand, I need certain people to stay out of my business and out of my healthcare. I need to slow down and go easy. The body and the mind can only take so much. Too many cooks in the kitchen and people not minding their own business is dangerous. 

    They should have told Prichards no some 20 years ago and to his credit from time to time he did try to say that there was only so much that could be done. Atlanta did say no. No one was listening. Never mind Massachusetts. 

    Lucky me, on Monday I have double duty. The internist and the head Doc. This is why I asked my old friend Brannon to keep an eye. The more eyes the better. Because my health care is not a matter of public debate. But it is in the interest of the Health Department to make sure no funny business is going on. Because I'm trying to work. I'm trying to heal. And what I do remember worries me. The truth is I don't want to hurt anyone. Not Elle. Not Leaves. Not Molly. Not anyone. I'm too old for that stuff. 

    I just hope it's not too late for me. I don't know if I can focus well enough to work consistently, so I need to go slow and work with the doctors and I don't know that I'll ever speak to Elle again but I'm hoping she understands. I want to live a quiet life. I don't want too much attention. I want to try to finish my writing. 

    The fact is I didn't write the prescriptions. The fact is that if someone is improperly influenced and drugged, bad things can happen. The fact is, I was miseducated and pushed hard. And I made mistakes. I need to be realistic. Pressure can be dangerous. I'm being more careful with trust.

    OK, so my sleep and my focus aren't great and my regulation is still off. But I feel like I'm getting some traction in that I'm learning how other people are operating. They're starting to make a little more sense. Their patterns are a little more readable. That's a start.

Hypocrites

 

    They're always coming up with reasons to bury me and Molly. Hypocrites.

Ironic

    I've been noticing patterns. Now the Psychiatrists are running out of ideas. They're not focusing on hair color or Elle. Now they're alternating male/female. It's rather amusing if you stop and look at it. You do realize the problem goes well beyond me, yes? Y'all literally started it. You taught me the bullshit.

    Ok, maybe threatening to shoot myself in front of North Wing was a bit much. I'm just tired of my families fighting over who I am. 

    Maybe we're slow learners. But I think we're catching up with each other.

Are they trying to kill me?

    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...

Am I running out of Psychiatrists?

    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.

From a Distance

     I can't be the same as I was. I can't be with the same people anymore. I can be there from a distance, or I can be different up close. From a distance, I am medically perfect. Up close, I am anything but perfect.

From a distance the world looks blue and green,
and the snow-capped mountains white.
From a distance the ocean meets the stream,
and the eagle takes to flight.
From a distance, there is harmony,
and it echoes through the land.
It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace,
it's the voice of every man.
From a distance we all have enough,
and no one is in need.
And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease,
no hungry mouths to feed.
From a distance we are instruments
marching in a common band.
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace.
They're the songs of every man.
God is watching us. God is watching us.
God is watching us from a distance.
From a distance you look like my friend,
even though we are at war.
From a distance I just cannot comprehend
what all this fighting is for??
From a distance there is harmony,
and it echoes through the land.
And it's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves,
it's the heart of every man.
It's the hope of hopes, it's the love of loves.
This is the song of every man.
And God is watching us, God is watching us,
God is watching us from a distance.
Oh, God is watching us, God is watching.
God is watching us from a distance.

Get Together

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Better Reasons to Support Darkness Until Dawn

    The better reasons to support Darkness Until Dawn include: learning how to avoid misusing drugs to numb or destroy yourself and others, learning what abuse looks like in all its forms, learning what toxic masculinity and toxic CBT look like, learning about boundaries... no charge, maybe a few ads if Adsense ever gets with the program. I'm losing patience. So tell everyone you know. Tell your dog. Tell your bartender. Tell the Chimpanzee at the zoo. Tell them about medicalized perfection and bad psychiatry. 

Medicine

     Truth is a potent elixir. The truth shall set you free, they say. Funny how no one says that the Clozaril will set you free. So, I mix my words, I balance the ingredients. And I count on my friends. My readers. To keep reading. To understand the dangers of Bad Psychiatry. Because it's out there, waiting to suck you in. The drugs are out there and readily stocked on shelves. Come and get it. 

Shadows

Dear Elle,

    I've had my dark moments. I do know anger. But I will protect you. I'll keep talking. They can't shut me up. They can't help but read. But they can't choose the words I say. They can't choose their facts. They can't bury it with money and reputation. Not so long as I breathe. People will know the work of the magic maker Prichards and his enablers. And I will keep you safe from all harm. And they can lie about me. But I will speak the truth, and they won't shut me up.

Yours,

Shadows

Brannon

    Ebbyday, dat Molly werks... ebbyday, Spidey weaves his cobwebs... waiting for di day dat my black widow arribes. Spidey keep his distance until people stop trying to step on me. Dey've gotten in a habit, so Spidey be patient. Wait until di all clear. Spidey berry patient.

Finish what I started

 

Dear Joe,

    So, this is me supposedly doing "the work". You know, confessing my sins worldwide. I got tired of hiding the truth behind bipolar. Hopefully, it's working. I'm getting too old for this. I need to change. I need to stop getting stuck. I was trying to please my families. Worked out great, didn't it? Now everyone is pissed and I'm broke and delusional. But when the psychologist says I have impaired recall, I believe her 100%. It's like saying that grass is green.

    Anyways, so Molly here decided to finish what Leaves started. The breaking up of my families. Telling you the truth. Getting me out of dysfunctional relationships and breaking the bubble of medicalized perfection. Yeah, if my memory was better, I could have moved. If I didn't, in fact, have DID, a very disabling and serious mental illness, I could have gotten out. It's a little late, I was miseducated. But I can still tell you the truth. The tale of a family that prefers to keep its faults behind a wall of medical lies. And, you know, I helped. I helped keep it buried. 

    I allowed the doctors to run me into the ground with the medications and the bullshit education on bipolar when I could have dealt with my emotions. I thought taking care of people was better, but perpetuating the lies has had costs. Truth is, there's a lot of problems. And labels like drug addict or bipolar don't even cover them up anymore. The medication trains don't cover them up. No, a lot of people are bitter. Not just me. The magic maker and his enablers... they're being exposed for the frauds that they were. 

    Now, someone else could have said something. Someone at MIP, or at CCBH, or in my families. No one did. No one did. They preferred the legend and the Bipolar Bullshit. They liked the magic maker. And I believed it. Now I'm learning to keep my distance. Just like you have. 

    I can only hope this message carries far and wide. To every corner and crevice in the world so that the lies have nowhere to hide: the enemy is the lies of Bipolar and the MagicMaker Prichards and those who enabled him. Spreading this message allows everyone who hears it to use this knowledge to keep themselves safe from the lies of medicalized perfection. I don't have enough metaphors for this shit. Pills don't work. Blaming me doesn't work. Creating a myth of drug addiction does not in fact work. The only thing that works is giving up the bullshit. Being decent human beings. Treating others with dignity and respect. So, I'll be limiting my time with my families and working on my memory and my thought cohesion. Just like you have limited your time with me. 

    I have to honor the work that Elle put in, that Leaves put in, that Molly put in. I have to say no to medicalized perfection. I have to say no to bad psychiatry. Too many people bled to get me here. I'm not buying the bullshit. I will get medical care when I need it. Period. End of story. I won't keep supporting enablers and liars and abusers. Which means less social time for now. Until I have more space from my families. Some people don't listen. So, I'm spreading the word far and wide to the ears that won't buy the bullshit. Some people I know are simply too proud and too rich to understand right and wrong. So, I'm doing this the hard way. I don't see how what happened wasn't criminal, but I'll settle for the bullshit ending. 

    That Molly's stubborn, yes? SO AM I. I get to tell my truth like everyone else. The sooner everyone gets with the program, stops spouting shit from their mouths, and starts acting right, the better for everyone. We're not quitting. Y'all can keep your bullshit going with other people. 

        I'll send the pain below.

Ashes