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.
I've been eating well. I simply can't spair a Gus too often. Lettuce not mince words. A pear rently, my best skill is being a patient. I've had a lot of malpractice.
So where was I? Ah, yes, multistate clusterfuck.... bad boundaries, FBI looking up my ass to discourage others from doing the same. maybe I complain too much. But I get tired of trying to explain. Time apart is healthy.
Going back to the diagnoses, the ones I truly believe in are ADHD (mild to moderate), Depression (remission), cPTSD/DID, mild Autism Spectrum, mild to moderate CAPD, and the physical ones. Too many whiteboards around psychology and psychiatry. I'd really like to consolidate everything so I can remember it all at once. I don't believe in perfectionism, medicalized or otherwise. I believe in personal space. People get bitter and resentful. They want to tear someone down or control them. I don't like that. Hopefully I can inspire from a distance. Let the kids have their turn. I'm just sick of the demonization. God knows there is something more important in this world then what I do or don't do.
I guess we all have some fear about people knowing the truth about ourselves. I got tired. I needed some privacy. It went in some weird directions. No one is perfect. I think having more control over my health care was necessary. I have so much to do. The 90s wasn't health friendly. For smart people, one of the bigger threats was carpal tunnel. Now we have better keyboards, better care, voice recognition, handwriting recognition, etc. The Spravato was a little hard to manage. Harder than ketamine, I think. I really need my families on the same page. So, life is a little less like Zombie. I had limitations. We all made mistakes. Now I manage my anger and work on managing my own health.
The thing I like about a website is I can tell everyone the same thing at the same time. Rather then inventing and improvising and hoping no one gets pissed off. Humans can be exhausting. I need to avoid interfamily warfare. I'm working on hiring a very part time executive skills assistant so that Molly can focus on trauma and the psych can focus on the rest and I can focus on writing and maybe some tax or tutoring. I have so many thoughts. It's hard to know what to do with them.
I've been struggling tremendously with focus. They never took the Ritalin back so I've tried one here and there. It actually seems to help. Ridiculous for someone to be so afraid to take his own meds. But it's not been easy. I guess some things make sense. The hospital gives me the pills and tries to perfectionize me, I get angry and we both eventually make some mistakes. Then it's the back and forth. It does make sense.
In the 90s we didn't know as much. But I thought the doctors could learn. They could learn from their mistakes. That way they can do better for the kids. I'd be like one of those cautionary tales. I just get upset at all the pills then I get upset at the mistakes, then they're pissed off that I'm pissed off, then they're trading me between hospitals. Then they're threatening jail and restraining orders. It's rather odd. It's a very strange life.
I was like bubble boy. But I didn't intend it to get this far. So now people know some of my darker sides, including sometimes taking hemp products legally as recommended by an MD and catching hell for it. Though Spravato was much more powerful. In my opinion. I still believe that ketamine is fantastic for depression. Though I'm not on it right now. And I've lost interest in looking for miracles.
But there's good sides too, and while my family, former professionals, and some former friends seek professional help, I should focus on some of that. I did play sports, do well academically, and met a lot of cool people. I worked different jobs. I traveled. I was close to the kids. 6 nieces and nephews and at times honorary ones. I've have to think about some of the good parts more. While everyone else seeks professional help.
I do better in smaller groups because of PTSD/AS/CAPD (trauma/autism/auditory issues). I know other people with medical problems that avoid large groups as well. I just don't have the energy to go around and tell everybody what's going on. Sometimes I don't even have the mental clarity.
I like to think of all the people who have helped or have been there. You know? I'll have to mention some of my favorite people. I just can't push too hard. I've got to focus on my writing. It helps me think more clearly and to see the bigger picture. I miss Elle. I hope she's doing well.
I'm told I need more cohesive thinking, more connected memory, a lack of sensory chaos, to avoid stress, and better emotional and impulse control.
Yeah, I think it's starting to make more sense. Hopefully before the lynching mobs show up. Anyways, I figured I'd start publishing everything as quickly as possible just in case. This was supposed to be PG. Now I understand why Prichards wanted complex medical trauma instead of DID.
Today's arachnid is slightly edgy with a chance of panic. Expect feelings of dread to extend into the latter half of the day, with a prevailing restlessness and awkward communication.
Angry gets a little distracted. He has identity issues. Sometimes he thinks he's Irritable. Other times he's annoyed. Now and then he switches it up, goes for amused or afraid. He is good at Sarcastic. Now and then he randomly falls in love.
