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?