I feel like im letting these people destroy my life by playing into thier mind games. That's what makes me Angry. 

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 screw 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.

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.

The Process of Frustration

    I need to put this in a book. I keep getting distracted. Frustration can come fast and hard in the form of betrayal, or slow and steady in the form of burnout. 

    Betrayal can look like someone you trusted misdiagnosing you and trying to sabotage your counselor. It also look like someone you were in charge of the care of doing something like reporting you to an agency or threatening people or misusing information that they were trusted with. 

    Burnout is more of that slow and steady, day after day, why do I have to deal with these people still after all this time, the same problems, the same old BS. Pushing too hard, doing too much, getting in trouble and getting overwhelmed. 

    Maybe the hospital was right to stop the ritalin. Black Box. 

Thank you for Viewing

Anyways, I think that concludes the self discovery portion. I have a history of misinterpretation, overmedication, and I don't actually have bipolar. Thats been a point of contention. I'd like to thank my oldest sister. I'm not actually dangerous but I prefer to not have my healthcare manipulated or to attract too much attention. If I don't say anything, you can assume that I simply have no comment. I have my limits. 2 comas. I need to focus on a quiet life, finding my partner. I'm used to inspiring confidence. Thats not been the case lately.

    I don't know what people think. I don't know exactly how they think my brain or my body works. I know I've spent a lot of time in hospitals. If institutionalization still existed, my life would be a case study. If you think I'm a carefree, party person, think again. That's not who I am. I did try. Multiple careers. Bad communication. I tend to collect jackals. The ones that feed on vigilante justice. I've learned to keep my distance.

Purpose

    Occasionally I need to remind myself of purpose, because experience has taught me that I cannot always rely on others to do so. I'm trying to help. Help myself. Help others. Interdependent decisions. Not destruction. Real, actual help. 

    I have to remind myself that a lot of lives were saved at that hospital. I guess it makes people sad. To see someone fall. And Angry. I can understand that. But I struggle to understand the desire to bury what happened on Woodruff road. I struggle to understand a life supporting my families when they want to demonize me when I didn't write those prescriptions. 

    I do want those records. I want to know how many times that man deliberately and recklessly ignored safety guidelines around prescriptions. If you're complaining to YOUR OWN PATIENTS that the state is coming after you for your drugs, exactly who are we helping by burying his actions? Who? Everyone but me? Really? Is it safe to let doctors bury this shit? I don't think so.

    I think I have to remind myself that I was supporting some people who were doing some good. And they say there's the memory problems and the cognitive problems. I need to be ok with ok. That's what I need to do. I just want them to observe a few days. See if the medicine that the outpatient started is doing what it needs to do. And not monkey around too much. Because we did so well the time before. 

 

Review

    I feel like I have to spell things out for people. Not because they cannot understand, but because they deliberately refuse to understand. It's like day after day, showing people two balls and then adding two balls and asking how many balls there are, and they say anything but 4. 

    So, one more time for the moronically intelligent:

    SOMETHING happened revolving around Woodruff Road, Greenville Psychiatropy, a psychologist with bullshit ideas of CBT and manhood, and large amounts and combinations of Minipress, clozaril, seroquel, stimulants, benzos, gabapentin, ketamine prescriptions, and other drugs. Something extremely dangerous. And until the day I die I'll be working on making that clear to people. Because it could have been so much worse. And thank God it wasn't. But it's on me to make sure that people are safe from bad psychiatry. Accounting is a day job. 

Denial

     There's a reason they want it to be psychosis or illegal drugs. It's because then they can deny that something happened. They can deny that they were aware, they can deny responsibility and accountability, and it can just go away free and clear. 

    But that's not how life works, and it's most definitely not how I work. I know what Prichards did, I know who collaborated with him. I know the problems of Woodruff and its friends. The real problems. They revolve around legal drugs by prescription, lies, greed, and emotional abuse. And I have responsibility. To make sure people are safe from this.

Arson

    I have trouble remembering a time when Arson started a medication or increased one. Usually the opposite. That's how he was different then Prichards. Prichards and Assmussen were bad in combination, for damn sure. But they answer to God, like everyone else. Assmussen's out of practice but be careful about Woodruff Road. 

    I'll keep reminding people. So at least the smart ones can learn about toxic masculinity, Bullshit CBT, and bad psychiatry. I know there's something to learn here. I know because of all the drugs, all the people, and all the bullshit ideas. I know because I have trouble functioning. There's something to learn. 

Verdict

 

    So, regardless of whether anyone ever knows the full truth or anything close to it, I think the amount of people impacted and the fact that the Governor's office spoke to Woodruff Road by itself says enough. Anyone with common sense can see that something dangerous happened. His actions do not define my life. I do. That medication does not define my life. I do. Bipolar does not define my life. I do. 

    My life is defined by a long history, that much is true. It is defined by growing up in the 80s, by being a loyal family member, friend, and member of the community. In surviving 2 comas, lots of drugs, lots of traumatic events, a lot of isolation and pain, and yet, stubbornly persisting, I did many things. I volunteered for 3.5 years with Safe Harbor, Crisisline, and Julie Valentines. I helped in the raising of nieces and nephews. I participated in multiple varsity sports. I learned a tremendous amount about mental illness. I got that BA in psych and the MS in Accounting. I certified in IT multiple times, passed the CPA, I worked in three different fields. I wrote poems and stories. I taught others. I traveled. I met many people. I lived independently. All that and more. And there are people who know my strength, my fortitude, my intelligence, my compassion, my humor, my resilience, my empathy. And regardless of what they say of me, I will die accomplished someday. 

R.I.P., that which was myself. May those struggles rest and never rise again. 

FDIA

     I knew there was something I had to warn Greenville County about. And it matches the history and the records and even the gossip around town. And it starts with my families. Oh, it makes perfect sense. Fictitious Disorder Imposed on Another, formerly Munchhousen's Byproxy. Imaginary illnesses. That is the danger and the waste of public money. That's the source of the endless new hospital, new center, new doctor BS. And Bipolar was the perfect foil. Vague and completely internal and invisible. Whereas FDIA can be traced to records and facts. All these hospitals with their records. They just have to connect the dots. Like IMA did. Like Mindful Upstate did. Medicalized perfection linked to psychiatric illness. I found my answers. And it's all about control. Lack of boundaries. It even explains the DID and the memory issues. Greenville County has a lack of proper boundaries around medical care. And that was taught. It actually is a problem based in reality, not some bipolar/psychosis BS. And their own damn tests prove it. They have done so many. I do believe it.

Oh crap...

    Oh crap... he's becoming aware... oh crap... he's not with the program. QUICK, MEDICATE! Shit, that didn't work! Moralize! Demonize! Activate the checkers! Go down the center list! Find another doctor! No that one quit... let's get creative... *sigh*

    Twisted humor aside, I need to continue to work on anger and increasing my functioning. Which means reconnecting memory and processing. So, everyone can expect to see very little of me for quite some time. 

Judgement

 

   The people that I have known me and myself are biased in our opinions. So part of the purpose of this website is to promote writing, part is to promote mental health awareness and to encourage and entertain. The final purpose is to let the public be my judge and jury. 

    Between myself, my families, and Greenville Psychiatropy... Where lays the blame? Or is it just a bunch of pills, pain, and pointed fingers? Where is the danger? Was I so dangerous? So crazy? Some things are dangerous. Pills are one of them. They hate me for calling this out. But I think it's in the public interest. 2 comas. Multiple states. Lots of pills. Lots of pain. Lots of Bullshit. Where are the answers for this medicalization? They hate me for calling it out. They demonize me for doing so. So do something with this knowledge. In your own lives. 

Jumping up and down trying to warn people who don't listen...

 

Wheeeeeeee!!!!!

Munchhousen's Byproxy

    I know they watch the website. I know they have people in the community that know me and them, and that report back on my activity. And so I am a prisoner that walks around. I wonder how many people live like this? Then it's back to paranoid, crazy, addict, psychotic, whatever reason they can find other then the truth: some people are bad in combination, and drugs aren't kosher. Legalized or not. Especially on minors. But BEHOLD! TOMORROW IS A NEW CENTER!

Pearl Jam

 

They're going to go with "crazy" or "addict" because it suits their purposes. It keeps the money and drugs flowing. And the FBI will sit there and watch. Just like everyone else.

Stuck

    I got a little stuck trying to please people. Now I'm caught in-between. Trying to please people who will never be happy. At times, I feel like I missed the bus on DID. I was supposed to change. Being me wasn't working. Instead, I stayed me. Maybe that's why people are bitter. They expected a metamorphosis. I felt like I owed some people. Like I couldn't leave them. I thought the middle was where I belonged. Now I'm stuck there. 

    When I got off Clozaril, I thought that I could change. Some people wanted to stop me from doing so. They're addicted to the mirage, to the perfect me they want to believe I am. And I'm letting them do it. It really isn't funny. Yet people find it amusing. Or infuriating. Depending. 

    They want me to be the crazy one, the addict. I'm addicted to trying to please the same people. I'm crazy enough to stick around Greenville. I cannot go back to the medication table. Yet the table will eternally call for me. I have to ignore its call. People have tried to help, but I have to stay the same. Because I'm the name. The one on the building. It makes no sense. 

    God is watching us. So what will I do? I am caught in-between. I am split. Split between my families. Duty, loyalty, Nazi lockstep vs the reality of human limitation.