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Friday, July 18, 2025

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. 

Past Reflections