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Better Reasons to Support Darkness Until Dawn

    The better reasons to support Darkness Until Dawn include: learning how to avoid misusing drugs to numb or destroy yourself and others, learning what abuse looks like in all its forms, learning what toxic masculinity and toxic CBT look like, learning about boundaries... no charge, maybe a few ads if Adsense ever gets with the program. I'm losing patience. So tell everyone you know. Tell your dog. Tell your bartender. Tell the Chimpanzee at the zoo. Tell them about medicalized perfection and bad psychiatry. 

Medicine

     Truth is a potent elixir. The truth shall set you free, they say. Funny how no one says that the Clozaril will set you free. So, I mix my words, I balance the ingredients. And I count on my friends. My readers. To keep reading. To understand the dangers of Bad Psychiatry. Because it's out there, waiting to suck you in. The drugs are out there and readily stocked on shelves. Come and get it. 

Shadows

Dear Elle,

    I've had my dark moments. I do know anger. But I will protect you. I'll keep talking. They can't shut me up. They can't help but read. But they can't choose the words I say. They can't choose their facts. They can't bury it with money and reputation. Not so long as I breathe. People will know the work of the magic maker Prichards and his enablers. And I will keep you safe from all harm. And they can lie about me. But I will speak the truth, and they won't shut me up.

Yours,

Shadows

Brannon

    Ebbyday, dat Molly werks... ebbyday, Spidey weaves his cobwebs... waiting for di day dat my black widow arribes. Spidey keep his distance until people stop trying to step on me. Dey've gotten in a habit, so Spidey be patient. Wait until di all clear. Spidey berry patient.

Finish what I started

 

Dear Joe,

    So, this is me supposedly doing "the work". You know, confessing my sins worldwide. I got tired of hiding the truth behind bipolar. Hopefully, it's working. I'm getting too old for this. I need to change. I need to stop getting stuck. I was trying to please my families. Worked out great, didn't it? Now everyone is pissed and I'm broke and delusional. But when the psychologist says I have impaired recall, I believe her 100%. It's like saying that grass is green.

    Anyways, so Molly here decided to finish what Leaves started. The breaking up of my families. Telling you the truth. Getting me out of dysfunctional relationships and breaking the bubble of medicalized perfection. Yeah, if my memory was better, I could have moved. If I didn't, in fact, have DID, a very disabling and serious mental illness, I could have gotten out. It's a little late, I was miseducated. But I can still tell you the truth. The tale of a family that prefers to keep its faults behind a wall of medical lies. And, you know, I helped. I helped keep it buried. 

    I allowed the doctors to run me into the ground with the medications and the bullshit education on bipolar when I could have dealt with my emotions. I thought taking care of people was better, but perpetuating the lies has had costs. Truth is, there's a lot of problems. And labels like drug addict or bipolar don't even cover them up anymore. The medication trains don't cover them up. No, a lot of people are bitter. Not just me. The magic maker and his enablers... they're being exposed for the frauds that they were. 

    Now, someone else could have said something. Someone at MIP, or at CCBH, or in my families. No one did. No one did. They preferred the legend and the Bipolar Bullshit. They liked the magic maker. And I believed it. Now I'm learning to keep my distance. Just like you have. 

    I can only hope this message carries far and wide. To every corner and crevice in the world so that the lies have nowhere to hide: the enemy is the lies of Bipolar and the MagicMaker Prichards and those who enabled him. Spreading this message allows everyone who hears it to use this knowledge to keep themselves safe from the lies of medicalized perfection. I don't have enough metaphors for this shit. Pills don't work. Blaming me doesn't work. Creating a myth of drug addiction does not in fact work. The only thing that works is giving up the bullshit. Being decent human beings. Treating others with dignity and respect. So, I'll be limiting my time with my families and working on my memory and my thought cohesion. Just like you have limited your time with me. 

    I have to honor the work that Elle put in, that Leaves put in, that Molly put in. I have to say no to medicalized perfection. I have to say no to bad psychiatry. Too many people bled to get me here. I'm not buying the bullshit. I will get medical care when I need it. Period. End of story. I won't keep supporting enablers and liars and abusers. Which means less social time for now. Until I have more space from my families. Some people don't listen. So, I'm spreading the word far and wide to the ears that won't buy the bullshit. Some people I know are simply too proud and too rich to understand right and wrong. So, I'm doing this the hard way. I don't see how what happened wasn't criminal, but I'll settle for the bullshit ending. 

    That Molly's stubborn, yes? SO AM I. I get to tell my truth like everyone else. The sooner everyone gets with the program, stops spouting shit from their mouths, and starts acting right, the better for everyone. We're not quitting. Y'all can keep your bullshit going with other people. 

        I'll send the pain below.

Ashes

Spidey

Dey bedder be lice to Spidey. Spidey werked berry hard on dis.

The Storage Room

  

Dear Elle,

    I can't stay here forever. I don't know where to go. I just know I have to go. 

    Is it my fault that you're inspiring? And you never even knew. For 23 years, you never knew. Not until that last day. You see, Leaves had told me. She said, you should tell her. And so, when I came back, after all that time, that last time... I remember writing the note in the hospital. I remember asking you to talk. 

    You took me into that storage room. The nursing interview room. I don't remember what the note said. Something about you watching over me. Mentioning your name in the ER was a mistake, by the way. I don't know exactly what they thought of my trauma list. They weren't thrilled. Anyways. That's when I told you about Leaves and read the note to you. I gave it to you and you slipped it up your sleeve. You know one of the nurses in the ER was like, yeah he's got pretty words but... 

    I remember the nurses coming, trying to pull you away, and you wouldn't let them. I'm glad you were there. 

    Anyways, now everyone knows. 

Yours,

Ashes

Remembering

 

Dear Elle,

    I know it must seem strange that I write. But there's a lot I haven't said. While it was ill advised to contact you, I did what I did. It is done. I held onto to some words for many years. Now you have most. Let me add a few more. 

    I met you in '97. It was night. I was standing in line at the old medication window, lost in my thoughts. Black as night. So very lost. So far away that I was barely still alive, barely still on earth. I could show you the exact spot. A voice came alive, warm and kind. Gentle. And still, I was far, yet I could not help but think to myself... I need to know this voice. There you were. There you were. I remember you said I must be new, you asked my name. you gave me yours. you told me about your family, your kids, and there I felt safe, and didn't want to leave. 

    There's reasons I'm still here. They talk about healing, about moving on. I don't understand what that looks like exactly. I'm trying to understand. But I can't forget. I can't. I don't have it in me to forget. Some days it's like sitting in stasis. But the days change. And people move on. And I have to understand where I go from here. I know it's people like you that keep me here. 

Yours,

Ashes

Fall is not far. It reminds me of my old friend. I met her in late august, I believe. She is Leaves of September...

I’ve forgotten only what I want to remember

I’m trying so hard to recall that September

When we were building the world anew

You saw everything in me, and I in you.

 

You taught my eyes and mind to see

A world, the same, but differently

You showed me how to trust myself

Instead of trying to be someone else.

 

And though you saw that me so clearly

And helped me to try to simply be

You didn’t see what was before you

Or the entirety of what you signed up for

 

Now I know I must remember

And blow to life hope’s dying ember

There is so much that I’ve forgotten of that fall

The Good, along with all that I don’t wish to recall

 

I’ve forgotten the smiles, both mine and yours

Yet I remember the goodbyes, all the more

All of the big things, small things, and more

I remember the sorrow and have forgotten the joy

 

I know you’re still out there!

And I wonder, am I?

I wonder what happens after goodbye?

 

Do you remember,

Can you remind me?

What do I do…

when only sorrow finds me?

 

Tell me my friend,

Help me remember

I need to find my way back

To the me of September

 

Soon the leaves will change my friend

Can I build that world again?

And be the person I want to remember

And find my way back to the me of September

 

I think that you know

Can you remind me?

What do I do

To remember, to find me?

 

Once you opened my eyes anew

And showed me a world I never knew

But then you disappeared so fast

And I crashed right back into the past.

I found myself lost within a dream

My consciousness, a memory stream

 

And I miss you when the skies are light

And I miss you when they’re dark

 

I want to be that me again

I wish you would remind me

I’ll try to be that me alone

I hope that I can find me

©️ 2020, Accountec, LLC

Mood Stabilizer

Dear Elle,

Did you ever know? Did you ever realize how much you meant to me? Can you understand that? You were my Lithium. So long as you were near, I felt calm. 

Ashes

Gus

Dear Gus,

You may not remember me, but I remember you. I met you before I met Elle or Anna. You were my tech back in the nineties in one of my first stints at MIP. You were with me on suicide watch. I remember you because you used to give me writing prompts before my writing started scaring the workers. You had brown hair and a mustache. Glasses. You were quiet. Cheerful. I haven't seen you in decades. I'm sorry yall couldn't fix me. But... it was nice knowing you.

Ashes

Spidey Here

    Ebbyone, back away from di arachnid! Spidey's not angwy ennymore. 'Sides, cobwebs to weave, black widow to pind. 

Resource for cPTSD

 Beauty After Bruises

I'm coming back to reality, but if the hospital wants to help, they need to work with my LPC, not against.