You know the American spelling is "gray" and the English spelling is "grey" or vice versa and I can never remember which is which.
Anyways, life is full of shades of gray. That's hard to navigate. I get rather obsessed with the rights and wrongs and the justice, especially as related to medicalization, toxic masculinity, and bad psychiatry. But that doesn't wipe out or compensate for failure. And I have to be surgical, clean, and gentle in my approach to righteousness, even as I try to slow down and detoxify my life. But it has to be a better world for the kids. Better than it was for me. I just struggle to understand. Some people were riding fast and loose. They get high on the excitement. On the power. That's what worries me. Then they want to shut me up, because my warnings become inconvenient. But I'm trying to help the good eggs. The people that stay in their lanes. I know they exist. I hope there comes a day when I see my people again. Right now, it's just not the same.
I'm not sure how it ends or how I break free. It takes time. But I'm told some things are permanent. I don't know how much.
Just because I care about people doesn't mean I'm on their side. It doesn't mean I support what they do. But advocacy is important. And I'm trying to help people. Even if I have to drag them kicking and screaming. If nothing else, I can warn people about the dangers of Greenville County. So they can be safer in their own lives.
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!
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.
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.
I'd like to think that there are people who know the real me in this world. I took a few falls. I need to move past the falls.
I remember what Leaves said. She said "all my best". Because she knew about me and Prichards. I know I'm doing the right thing to try to understand this. I know it's very important. There are people that would rather let sleeping dogs lie, to sweep the past under the rug. I can't do that. I have to understand. It is essential to my existence to understand this. I have no choice. I have to be sure. I have to know what it means.
I wish i could tell you everything in person. Maybe you'd believe me, maybe not. There are people that want to stop me. They want to bury this. They are addicted to the mirage. But I have to understand my body and the drugs and Prichards. For both my sake and the sake of anyone like me. The medical system doesn't want to know. Because of the money. But I need to.
Looking up Elle was a mistake, but if you know anything about trauma, anything at all, then it's not actually surprising. I know she knows why I did it. I shouldn't even have to explain myself to people. A handful of text messages is not a big deal. I knew her a long time. I know Leaves and Molly know why. Anyways, that was a long time ago. She's out there, she's safe, that's what matters. And she knows how to find me. I gave her everything. Not exactly a criminal mastermind. Why do I feel afraid? I don't know, exactly. The world seems chaotic. But people have to help one another. I feel safer when the people who understand are nearby. She was one. She could read me. I think I was pretty good at reading her too.
I've had some weird ideas in my time. Some places, you end up there, there's not much to do. Let's take two different ones: McClean and MIP.
MIP has changed much over the years. The food is worse. The pool table is long gone. The fence is stronger. More cameras. Key cards, no more manual keys. Anyways... most of the staff I knew is retiring and the rest will move on to the new place when it gets finished.
I used to like to go for walks. I got so damn bored. I learned so many details. It freaks them out now. Funny it never did before, and I had plenty of opportunity. I guess my attachment to Elle really shook them. I used to be angry, but I kept it hidden. And that's more dangerous. Keeping secrets. Oh, I used to make plans. All sorts of plans. But I don't do that anymore. Because I get the right help.
Anyways, trust can be such a strange thing. It's a risk. It's always a risk.
Techs have less education and generally less experience. Maybe they don't understand warning signs.
There was this one time. And they should just be glad that I don't actually mean them harm. That I don't want anyone hurt.
She was young. It was night. Late evening. She either had courage or a lack of awareness. Or maybe I just have that demeanor. That makes people feel safe. She was about Elle's size. Maybe slightly above average height, somewhat slender and fairly lean. Bright. Chatty. Kind. My mind came up with a whole plan. And I had every opportunity. But I didn't want to hurt her.
But if I did... we was walking down the hall towards the cafeteria, around the corner towards the gym. The nearest staff was on the unit. Unarmed, with no one nearby. Definitely not as strong. But she was so kind. At one point she did become slightly aware, and she asked me what was going on with a slight hint of nervousness... completely unaware that she was operating within a complex plan that she had already fallen into and could have done little to stop.
McClean was a different animal. Built like a fortress. Like a prison. I hated that place. There were weaknesses in their little fort. And with so very little to do and such small spaces and so little actual therapy, one could get creative. The staff was awful enough that maybe I didn't feel the urge to be so nice. But they were very careful. Very fortified. But they couldn't think of everything.
So, I told MIP a story they didn't like so much. I tell people things that stress them out. McClean had those singles with the old bathtubs. Of course, they didn't let you fill them. Risk of drowning. So the drain was just a hole. You know what though? every day, multiple times a day you would get those little plastic pill cups that you threw away. Flexible but solid. I never tried it, but you put one in those drains, well then, that tub fills right up. And you could flood it. Sometimes, on rough nights I would think about those pill cups and those tubs. What exactly one would do with a flooded bathtub and a lot of anger. There wasn't much else to do. I never tried it. But I surely could have. I like people. I don't like to harm them.
Elle was so kind. She brightened my days. She inspired me. She worked hard. And I could read her. I could see when she was afraid or nervous. She didn't get angry much. One of my favorite memories is actually of a weekend at MIP. We had pizza and Elle and some of the other workers and patients organized some volleyball games. It was beautiful. Right there in that old gym. Good times.
I remember telling Leaves a story. See, I think of roles and boundaries too. So I made her like an honorary niece. Those were the boundaries I set. But I had some special rules. Maybe a little extreme. There's a bubble, and I am that bubble. And any harm that enters that bubble is returned tenfold. And I put her in that bubble. I kept her there as best I could. She's married with kids.
That Tech... I could have used my wrestling skills, I could have overpowered her and I doubt they would have heard her because she wasn't even paying attention, and we were far. But I was in uncle mode. And no one was going to harm her. No one was going to grab her from behind, take her swipe key, and drag her into a nearby room from where they could escape or hurt her or do just about anything with no one aware and no one able to hear and the key in hand. No one was going to do that. Because I did not want her harmed. She was safe with me. So, nothing ever happened. I just prefer to have my space, because I'm tired and a little jumpy. They need to stop being paranoid because i don't want to harm anyone I just want my space.
I guess the dx's don't matter so much. I'm just overcategorized.
