Vinewell

I like Vinewell. Maybe we get too comfortable. It started to feel like an mip thing. Especially since some of them work there. It started to feel too comfortable. Plus I was making ruby slippers nervous. She was sweet. Then I had another lady. We had a good groove. Maybe my allergies were just getting too bad. Maybe they got tired of seeing me. I never spoke to the doc but I saw him from time to time. Maybe I'm oversensitive. I like simple. I don't like know it alls. I never asked to hug them either. I did ask about that mip nurse once. The one that liked the poem. She was nice. It's funny how they get so worked up over I'll listen to. What I do. Im a 43 year old disabled guy. Not that important. Maybe I'll go back to taxes. Or teach. Some people just don't know how to shut up. Elle was never like that. Always the right words at the right times. So yeah I switched. I turned against liberalized medicine. Against too many pills. They forced me to. That's why I talk about legalized drug trafficking, human trafficking, abuse, fraud, and reckless endangerment. That's why i think about lawyers and guns. That's why medical complexity trauma. That's why two comas. That's why I worry about them trying to bury me. Because what they do is dangerous. Borderline criminal. So now the FBI stands between me and the doctors. Until they shut the fuck up. Though... with the records and witnesses, it may be too late. People are pissed off. I can't control the law, but they don't scare me. This looks alarmingly like racketeering. A shit load of state and federal laws in question. I can't protect anyone. It's gone Federal.

Internist

    Ok, maybe contacting the FBI was excessive. Been a side effect off excessive education (psych/it/cj/business/tax) is a knowledge of what these people are capable of. So I guess being tired of doctors and being pushed too hard can have unexpected results. 

    Anyways, I've liked my internists. Which is part of why IMA couldn't keep me. The counselors office and the internist became safe zones. I was either there or at home. I need to stay the hell way from memorial. They hate my guts. I could have gone elsewhere. Maybe accountability is overrated. The old internist tried to protect me. But I was making people nervous. 

    Now I have the new one. She reminds me of my old friend. She doesnt say much. The staff says plenty. They like giving me those ekgs. Checking my BPs. I never see the male doctor, I just know he's there. I can tell from the way they act. Nervous and all concerned about appearances and distances. I like that its called family medicine. I swear she hardly says a word but she chooses so carefully. I'm not sure she's ever smiled. Very delicate and precise. Detailed records. Mostly stops meds that mip starts. She's pretty. The receptionist seems to find me irritating. I'm not always timely but I don't like to be there long. I tend to make people nervous. I think I met two nurses. One is rather cheerful and pretty. The other seemed more anxious. Unlike IMA and the allergist, I haven't actually asked to hug anyone. But I seem to have developed a reputation. Oh he's good with words... maybe too good. Side effect of education. Yeah I've been spending a lot of time with women. Tired of the male God complexes. Narcissists. The few, the proud, the inordinately stuck up. Drive me nuts. Literally.

    So now the liberals are starting to hate me and the conservatives seem slightly relieved but nervous. And I've been contacting state and federal agencies. Because I'm too pissed off to shut up and too strong to die. The liberals will find me though. I know they're looking. They won't shoot me they'll just medicate. I like nurses. They find the middle ground. They avoid extremes. But the obsession with hemp products enrages me. The internists haven't mentioned it.

Changes in Attention

I used to get bored more often. I do still get bored. I think i used to get bored more because of the chemical numbing, youth, and to a lesser extent genetics. It's just wierd to me the way the world is changing. Politics has become so odd. I think the increase of technology and communication make information spread more quickly, and that contributes to polarization and chaos, along with gridlock. It's impossible to be a moderate when you instantly get very detailed and high volume feedback. Technology puts everything and everyone under a microscope. And I actually like people. I dont understand the micro examination of others. Pushing people too hard or being overly critical decreases stability and increases danger. Silence can be deafening but noise can be agitating. The idea of studying someone to death is particularly bizarre. Then you wonder why they get pissed off. Maybe autism is simply a function of increased education, urbanization, and increased technology. Maybe it simply means people are still evolving. Maybe adhd simply means the brain gets overworked. 

More on Switching

    We have to take turns. Especially in letting younger people have a chance to experience life. When People try to draw me out it worries me. I'm not actually a Satan Worshiper. People just scare me sometimes.

    I don't think it's healthy for people to be afraid to go out in public. Regardless of their appearance. Yet in the pharmacy, at the grocery store, at fast food, at the library, I attract eyes and ears, and I get comments. I know people get to have feelings, and I do understand a little about gossip, and how written word and spoken word can be distorted as they travel from person to person. How appearances, smells, and tactile sensations can be distorted even from one to person to the next, but particularly as those impressions travel via gossip. Being bad at communicating and being pushed too hard or in unwanted directions are all different things. How does one person's words or actions travel so far so fast? It's amazing. Never mind signal fires. It's like that coregulation thing. Like we're a living neural network and each person is a node. Information can travel too quickly or slowly, or it can be distorted. And I do worry about consequences, not just for me. Because I worked in Tax and IT, retail and psychology. I don't know criminal law. I've seen what life can do to people. I worry about consequences. Especially when... lives seem at risk. Which is why recently, I've been very focused on safety, and domestic activities, and minding my own business. Because I'm not sure what the future holds. This talk about victims and my awareness of tax law... it makes me nervous. I've been hearing a lot of real things, seeing a lot of real things... and I'm worried where the lines are. I feel like I need to continue to reflect on my life choices and give younger people a chance to shine. I'm hoping that other people with more independence will be making the larger decisions. I don't remember when I filed the first FBI report. I don't know what they are doing. I have not spoken to them directly. I'm not being told much. I know that some people have been very concerned. I know I'm being advised to stay home and mind my own business. 

    I've been spending my days monitoring physical symptoms and doing basic at home tasks. Going to counseling when I'm not afraid to leave the house. To my medical appointments when I'm not afraid to leave the house. I'm not sure what's going on. But everywhere I go people seem acutely aware of my presence. When I think back, I remember the times professionals started looking alarmed. And I think about that legal requirement to report abuse, people in danger. I think about the tax laws. About Al Capone. I think about some of the things I've seen and heard. I move between "It's not that bad" and wondering if people might go to prison. I think about our prison population being so large already. I think about the time I spent in McClean. I haven't actually been out and about that much. There are people that know this community better. I have been on a lot of medication. So maybe I really am crazy. Or maybe not. I did work in tax. It's hard to do a job like that and be completely nuts. So, I'm not sure. I'm just wondering how many times the healthcare system or other government agencies may have heard about me. I think maybe I should think a little less. This is getting too interesting. There's plenty that I don't know. And certain types of people in the community or online seem to have agendas. And I was contacted by someone whose voice I recognized. He was angry. Not long after CCBH. This is definitely not what I had planned. I'm wanting to mind my own business. Maybe text, email, or specific people that I trust that are not health care professionals (unless being paid to help me). Maybe some social media. Natural light. The internist's offices have seemed particularly nervous. Since maybe 2019. It's kind of weird that when I saw SDOH, I thought it meant Social Determinants of HARM. I need to mind my own business. The hospitals are getting very edgy. I was told some things are permanent. But not which things. Or even the type of things. And of course there was covid. I've been hearing a lot of rumors. Not just about me. The doctors hated the DID dx. absolutely hated it. And I've heard some conspiracy theories about DID. About how common or uncommon. About what people who have it, what they do. About the treatments. But also I heard once that it was like a government program. To recruit people. Like Bourne Identity shit. 

    People want me around them. They want to watch me. And they are so hypersensitive about the way I act. It doesn't matter what I do or say, they get testy. Ever since 2019. And my body is changing off Clozaril. And I still believe that drug should be taken off the market. That it's not safe. Permanent ban. Permanent. Misguided drug trials. Nazi like experimentation on people. I may be crazy, but I've been taught by the best. I'm going to go mind my own business now. Let other people shine. Oh, those doctors hate my guts now. Maybe that's why some people won't let me quit. 

Calmer Reflections

It literally has been five years since I have seen or spoken to either the nurse or the psychiatrist. Boundaries did get misplaced with both. THC was indeed recommended by the psychiatrist. Somethings are unfortunate sometimes, but I'm not sure which is which. I do like people. So did they. Sometimes people just need to drop their stones. I need to focus on things other then drugs (prescription or otherwise). There is an ocean of research on trauma, polyvagal theory, stockholm syndrome, things like that. You just have to choose not to ignore it. We all have choices. I need to FOCUS on domestic skills and writing... maybe taxes if the office doesn't get too excited about my skills and I end up doing 180 returns. Maybe first I can finish my own taxes. Stupid 1099-Q or whatever it is. The cat's doing well. My printer occassionally disconnects and the IT sometimes glitches and I'm really not that interested in IT anymore. Maybe we can all be a little less paranoid if we watch what we say, who we spend time with. But sometimes I do think in terms of protectors and persecutors. Some of them were doctors, MDs or PhDs. Some were nurses. Boundaries got misplaced. On both sides. Starting when I was a minor. So I think it's important to be careful what we teach young people, who we spend time with, and what drugs we prescribe. Not everythiing is a nightmare. Sometimes darkness is simply a natural absense of light. Sometimes there is no reason to be afraid, even if unusual things are happening or if people use odd words. Though I'm not sure why some hospital employees lie or become aggressive. Then wonder why I act strangely. It's very odd. So am I. Maybe a little less Mrs. Doubtfire. Malacheck is dead and so is Robin Williams. I'm not sure what the future brings, but I'm very aware of the eyes on myself and the PA. I'm very aware of the gossip. Hopefully I'll have no more FBI or SWAT related thoughts. Hopefully it will be calm in Greenville. Today I'm going to go through a few more things. Try to work on some funny stories and some stories about Greenville. I get stuck in certain time periods. 90s, 2002, 2013ish, 2018-2021. I've spent time around God complexes. Maybe some of it rubbed off. But we did mirror each other at times. We both acted a little bipolar at times. Pushing too hard. Crashing. Not all of it is nuerochemical in nature. And cooregulation is real. I have not spoke to the FBI. My counselor did. Like the nurse at Vinewell... she became... somewhat faint appearing. Maybe we could all drop some stones. Relax a little. Take mental vacations. I do not know what the future holds. But settling down / slowing down sounds good. I do like Greenville County. Keeping it safe is a good thing. I'm not sure I want to make a habit of visiting police stations, filing reports, or thinking about legal action. Some things are nasty business. Yet I do appreciate the medical board, SCDHEC and Timmons. Certain events were not helpful. Not wise. I think I should mind my own business now. I do appreciate nurses. They are usually more careful what they say then techs or doctors. Because they are in the middle. Being in the middle can be better. The power balance is more equalized. Too low, and you have no say. Too high, and you start to become arrogant. Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like as an Army Ranger, a teacher, or law enforcement. Instead I learned to follow psychiatrists and nurses around like a lost puppy. We can spread the blame around or maybe just find something else more interesting. People and thoughts both make me nervous. Now that I'm less numbed out, both myself and others have become a little testy. I can see and hear voices from the past. My senses can be acute. I'm not sure how I developed boundary issues, but I think it had something to do with mild autism and some overactivity and chaos in childhood. I've never liked to be in the spotlight for too long. Privacy is nice. I'm really appreciating a quieter life. Sometimes I go outside. Othertimes I just let the sound of the birds come in and open the curtains. But I think the people watching me are getting a little overworked. I'm not sure when I signed up for all this. I'm not interested in pity parties but my life has been exciting in the wrong ways. At school I did not go to hardly any parties. I was a nerd. So don't get too jealous. It's not really been quite that bad or that great. Alcohol never really did much for me. I never tried any illegal substance. I was prescribed a lot of pills. I never sold them either. So sometimes they collected. Around 2020 they began to freak me out. I have some ritalin I need to burn. Maybe some old hospital paperwork. There is a bit of a rebound effect with sensory. With or without legal or illegal drugs. There is a shutdown effect. I remember that EMT. I liked him a lot. Reminded me of my CL partner. Very kind and wise. I remember 3 workers from CL, including the manager. Now I have "my women" and coffee. And a lack of interest in the larger world. A lack of interest in politics and excitment. I don't understand running around. Women in non-professional situations make me nervous. Men tend to bore me. Or irritate me. Sometimes they are outright obnoxious. Think far too much of themselves. I like young people, but I don't have much energy. I'm told that my brain is burning a lot of energy to deal with processing issues and past events. When I was numbed out, life was much different. Now I can remember a bit more, but the memories seem much more intense. When you're a little more numb, 911 level stuff isn't really that alarming. When you're not numb, you can make better decisions, function better, your body can not wear out as easily, but the intensity of small things becomes large. I thought I was unpopular. Maybe I wasn't. I don't know. But lately I seem a little too interesting. Maybe like that nurse, I attracted too much attention. Or the wrong kind. But now "my women" like it when I stay at home. They worry about me being around the wrong influences, germs, substances, or pushing too hard. If I was 20 years younger, I'd grab an IT job, or a tax job, or maybe a psych job, or even military or law enforcement. But I never ever wanted to work in health care. outside of mental health, at least. I do not understand the fascination. IT gets irritating. The smallest little formatting mistake and everything grinds to a halt. Even taxes are less finicky. Teaching or law enforcement would have been better. But the further I go along the more allergic I become to advice. I not only communicate better in writing but visual is a much easier barrier then auditory. I've never been good at filtering sound. Voice is even less strong with VNS, but if I give it breaks, it does well. I can, in fact, talk. I've come to find that I don't have a whole lot to contribute to everyday conversation that is of tremendous value. Conversations become tedious quickly. Though the weather is becoming a favorite subject, and I'm coming around to American sports a little. Though baseball seems little more interesting then golf, which is like watching grass grow. Or paint dry. Hockey is much too loud. Basketball and football are better. Tennis is decent.

Dear ER: Clarity

    I think I'm understanding clarity a little better. Cuz everyone has feelings. If female workers cower behind males, males get protective. They might curse or make threats. 

    If DID patients are around this, they might shut down completely. Go away. And then the cursing and threats comes out later. Polyvagal theory. Stockholm Syndrome. Medical Complex trauma. 

    Biology. One body. One hardware. DID not in remission... an out of date operating system... Programs running amuck... Memory overflows... data loss... Scrambled output.

    LEARN SOMETHING ABOUT COMPLEX FREAKING TRAUMA PLEASE. Thank YOU. 

We really need to see other people. I hear Bon Secours is nice my time of illness... I can be honest. You just won't like it very much. With purely physical... honesty is so much easier. 

Laugh/cry

Its really wierd when someone has fits in which they alternate laughing and crying. I've not seen it very often. I have seen sudden bursts of anger. That seems more common. I remember the purple heart. I remember his eyes. Very very distinct eyes. Not like the usual burnt out type. Just his eyes seemed to spontaneously combust. I remember the click it guy. Used to jump from airplanes. I remember the guy on the floor. He lasted a few hours before he was moved somewhere. Yes I remember ptsd. 

Some people insist I fake. Others find the physical symptoms so frustrating. BP going up and down. Numbness in and out. Neuropathy. Others, they just recognize and don't say much. Arson used to be like that. We got too close. Maybe now we don't like the view quite as much. 

Oh I don't recall. That's why I have 600 pages. To help me remember the significance of the ten days. 

Some days we're all just playing along. It comes out in bursts. Left side of face. 7. Right side. 2. I could take a marker and stretch them on my skull. Sometimes sharp like needle points. Others more like a section of face is on fire.  Sometimes my top scalp has rippling sensations. With mirapex he mentioned microsiezures. But I don't think that was quite it. I don't think it was seizures. MRIs normal. Ekgs normal. BP ripples. Hands suddenly gripping so tight they might break something. The foot is worst in am. I hyperfocus in the most unusual ways. Mostly on environment. 

I'll never forget that ER. It was so strange. Kind of like... they found us... open the mouth. Everyone jump in. We gotta hide. Theres a rotation combination on the back of the upper lip... just keep rotating the cylinders... they'll never find us...

Flammable

    Ashes is on fire again. Maybe the foam isn't working.

    Where's the nearest Psychiatrist?

    Maybe the prefrontal overheated. Let's look under the hood. 

    Let's see... there's gotta to be an interface port behind the left ear? Can we reprogram the auditory nerve? Too much noise on the relay.

    Did you check the insulation on the auditory cortex? Run through our neurologists? Perhaps Clarity has a drive through?

Welp... back to the drawing board. Internal management is difficult. Too fragmented. Hospital had no clue. I mean as a whole. Different people saw Different issues. But none came even close to the whole. Not even close. Still. And my mental math seems off.

Mip said don't spread your trauma. They said boundaries. They also medicated and tried to dx bullshit again. Throwing spaghetti at the wall. Can't blame MA for that. Atlanta said no but nobody listened to Atlanta.  ... I should calm down. Just a little. I'm OK.

Bigger Picture

    I saw a friend the other day. We had pizza. I contacted a few other friends. Sent them my concerns about healthcare. Also, to a few healthcare people. And my team is tracking me. And I may or may not have FBI watching me. So now everyone can rest easy that I'm not actually dangerous. Because there's too many healthcare people, social workers, and even public safety keeping tabs. That gives me some peace of mind. I may be strange, but I'm not strong or smart enough to outsmart or overpower that many people. Not possible. Still weird that Prismo is keeping security guards around, but it's their dime. 

    It seems that my odd communication and behavior has alarmed people. Also, the rather abrupt resignation in 2020 and the D/C of Clozaril. Maybe people are finally cluing in to the fact that poor boundaries, forced medication, and powerful drugs or combinations of drugs are not safe. Or maybe they are still obsessing over hemp products. There can be plenty of theories. MIP certainly was grasping at straws. If the ER hadn't fucked up so bad... if they understood dissociation and trauma better... that Stockholm Syndrome thing, then maybe it could have been different. Or maybe they will never learn. Some people are bad in combination. Like God complex MDs or Psychologists. People that are enmeshed/codependent/cult like. Group thinkers. Ah, di internist will be sooooo proooooooud. Spidey growing up! 

    Now. A couple of IT kinks. Thanks FBI. Gotta get the printer working again. Maybe be a little less paranoid about family and health care workers. Maybe think aloud a little less. But I like the direction this is going. Hopefully, between Prismo, the health dept, and my team, things will quiet down. And the anger and the hallucination/flashback stuff will calm down.

Row, row, row, your leaf, gently down di streammmmm...
Merrily... Merrily... Merrily... Merrily...
Quietly distuuurrrrbed. 

    I wonder how George is doing. And Keisha. Some of my black friends. Today's numbers were decent. Had all di meds. A little cleaning. Dug out the back drain again. I watched a little news. Healthcare firewalled. Legal case for MIP and Woodruff Road all set. What's left? I'm still a little angry with the Furman Psychologist and McClean. But McClean really can't be held accountable. They had limited information and some disinformation and they were out of state. I'm still thinking that between them and the pharmacy up there, there was some stupidity. I mean, what did they think was going to happen? duh. We'll just pop him on Clozaril and release. Well, that worked out great. Clozaril really is a miracle drug. Worked so VERY well. All sorts of stupid. I suppose I could sue the manufacturer. That might be worth a look. Or maybe I could advocate. With the FDA or something. Well... that seems a stretch. Maybe a letter. I'm better in writing, as I think people are starting to see. 

    The Psychologist really was just super full of himself. All sorts of stupid. No common sense. The bullshit he was passing off. So stupid. A lot of theory that made very little sense in reality, sexism, arrogance like crazy, odd personality. He really was a piece of shit. I can't believe they had him around young people. Just all sorts of stupid. The most moronic interpretations of CBT. Little sketches and stuff. And he was soooooooooo proud of himself. He was such slime. God. Condescending, out of touch, weird clothes, just all sorts of stupid and hateful idiocy. Some people should NOT work in mental health. He was DEFINITELY, UNQUESTIONABLY, one of those predatory pieces of shit. People think I'm creepy... I learned from the best. That psychologist, he was a real creep. A slimeball. low life. a piece of shit. And he worked hand in glove with the shrink. and they drugged and snickered and laughed and billed and well... now we can see the results. The Mychart and my behavior and words. The records and the witnesses. Bury Ashes, they said. Some people are coming with me. That Psychologist and the Psychiatrist. Clozaril's reputation, hopefully. And the old guard of MIP. The Psychiatrist's buddies. Atlanta tried to say no. They didn't listen. They could have stopped the medication train. Rats. back at 8. Need to stay under 7. 

    Springbrook thought I was protecting someone. About the drugs and the dysregulation. The poor boundaries. Trauma. Autism Spectrum. I'd say if there was an original problem, it was AS. It wasn't well understood. The ADHD is mild. So I think when a family doesn't know how to handle AS... See, Springbrook knew the problems. CCBH had no fucking clue. Absolutely zero. I mean. They did see dysregulation. They got pissed, realized they were burning money, and fell back on past mistakes. With a Bullshit Dx. And a lot of incompetence and stupidity. It was really sad. clusterfuck. They made a lot of stupid mistakes, did a lot of nonsense. Zero professional value. I mean, it's no wonder the insurance paid for just a few blood tests. But that idiot was so damn proud. The stupid little grin on his face. What an asshole. God he was a stuck up prick. a hillbilly prick. Still a prick. The educated pricks and him really were hoping to shut me down. I just don't get these doctors sometimes. Glad I don't have any. Just NPs and PAs. I'll just post a No Prick sign. There was this one resident at Springbrook. I really liked that guy. He was great. He was from the midwest, I believe. A little nerdy I think. He could read me like a book. I worked with 3 female residents. One, they just used for the discharge. 

    It's weird how everyone obsesses over Elle's hair color. Everywhere I go. Small at MIP. That Nurse or whatever at CCBH. They look for the hair color. As if that matters. You know, if it really is hair color... My PA has black hair. Artstick had black hair. LPC brown. Mindful Psychiatrist is blonde. Internist is red. My childhood friend is red. I need another brown... AHA! the NP at the stomach Doc! BROWN HAIR! SWEET! Ok, so my man (and women), have equal hair colors. If you include leaves. I emailed her the website. So we're all on board, hair colors are represented... Racially... wait... better idea. Instead of the stomach NP, I'll go with my friend George. The stomach doc isn't that involved. wait... colors are off... I'll keep the NP. I'll add George. So 3 black hair, 2 blonde, 2 red, 2 brown. I have black hair, so I'll make an exception for black. So my collective thinking is represented by Myself, an internist, a stomach doc, Two LPCs, Two psychiatrists plus a psychiatry PA, a psychologist, A former surgeon, and their respective MDs. There's a team. 2 male, 7 female. 2 black, 7 white. Hmmmm... I need diversity. I think the income spectrum is reasonably spread. Some are more country than others. I need Asians and Hispanics. Thinking... The Neurologist! Asian! Maybe that's where the Iranians are coming from. She's Persian. You know technically, The allergist has brown hair, the dietitian... I don't know... I'm going to guess brown. the GI doc is black hair i think. Oh wait. The brunette is the NP allergist. The MD allergist has black hair. Now's there's also a blonde female psychiatry PA on my mychart. I mean, they're so obsessed with the characteristics of my team. So now I've got maybe 14. 11 women and 3 men. I feel less angry already. I'm just frustrated. I have a small world. But it's what I have. And 14 people helping. 1 Asian, 2 black, and 11 white. Not bad. Still could use another Asian and a couple of Hispanics. Thinking... Spravato Doc was white. I'm short on hispanics. 

    Oh well. That was fun though. I'll see if I can pick up two hispanic medicals and an Asian. Do I have any social workers? In the hospital, there was a black one, and I think two white. The dance instructor was hispanic. We did salsa. I'll include her. 12 women. I'd better get more guys. Male, hispanic or asian... that's a tough when if you only include medical. Well I'll work on that.

    I KNOW ALL YOU DOCTORS. I KNOW YOUR HOSPITALS. I HAVE SOME MEMORIZED. I've had MIP Memorized for decades. I know every inch. I knew McClean. Every inch of that unit. Every procedure. Every staff. I know what you teach. What you don't. I know your drugs. Your DSMs. I. Know you. Austen Riggs. I can still see them. I've been to these places. I'm practically staff. I've known many doctors. I need some eyes on me. Just a little. So I can mind my own business. I want to save you some money. Federal money. I want to stay out of hospitals. Mind my own business. I've lived in hospitals. Want to stay home. My mind back together. I want Brannon to help. She knows me. She was a surgeon. She's very smart. I had friends. At Clemson. In Greenville. MA. Dr. Z. My sleep doc. I want my people. Whatever dr.s mostly... like musc or Atlanta... I just a few eyes on me. Just a few. People that can help mindful upstate. With whatever they need. Suggestions. For treating the DID you created. That's all I want. Via online. Phone. Maybe any DID experts. On the east coast. Just for ideas. research sharing. Mapping stuff. I know there must be more knowledge. 

Ebbbbyday is a winding web!

Getta liddle bit closer and peeling pine!

Ebbbbyday is a whining toad!

(Ribbit)