What did one suspicious nail say to the other?
I've got MIST'RUST!
EIGHT LEGS! *Sweeping* Ebbyday! Spidey knot di fastest arachnid in di attick, but sumting rotten round here... Spidey fix...
Dear Elle,
I'm drawing on the knowledge and the faith I have collected from so many people. You were there from 97-20. They can make it about your hair color or your physical attributes, but you were my RN. You watched over me, you taught me, you never failed me. You know me.
I need to be a better me. While I cannot simply sit and blame my families, I cannot stay the same nor can I simply forget. You may be asking why. Why he can't just go live life and work and get married and forget. To me, that kind of walking away is a betrayal of the struggle and an abandonment of the people like me who also got lost as well as a burying of the truth. I cannot be the only zombie that's been walking around drugged up. I cannot believe that living that way is healthy or right. Maybe I haven't seen enough evil, but life has not actually been a walk in the park. I don't like being that disabled guy with the name.
You WOULD NOT LET ME BREAK. So now I have to be more. To fail to do so would be to let the lies about myself and the people around me fester and to dishonor the work you did. God gives us purposes. In McClean I kept asking why. I could leave. I could go somewhere else. But it's been too long here. It's become unfinished business. What would I be if I let the people around me break? Maybe you didn't know how much I relied on you. Maybe there's people that rely on me too.
I have to trust. I have to try to lift others up. I won't always be able to. At times I will fail. My heart was never in the rat race. I wanted to touch people. I feel dull and worn. But so long as I am breathing, I will continue to try to understand how to make this right. I don't have it in me to shut my eyes and ears to focus on money and raising kids without first untangling the trail of pills and hospitals. There has to be something more. I hope, wherever you are, you understand. It seems so many other people want to bury this. Just give the psychotic guy more happy pills until he shuts up and does something useful. I hope they are wrong about me. There has to be something more than silence in my future.
Yours,
Ashes
I created a series called creative medicine to warn people about the dangers of different prescription drugs. This is not at all an encouragement to use them. Quite the opposite. I learned wrong. I still have to take some. I try to take as few as possible. Lots of vitamins helps to make up the difference. My hope is that by educating Greenville County, I can avoid lots of pills out there. I can avoid doctors getting script happy.
I'll never forget Mini press. This is some highly dangerous stuff. The red pills. It decreases adrenaline. Makes you think things are ok. deactivates fight or flight. decreases nightmares for some people. BUT WHEN YOU COME DOWN... shit gets real. suddenly you're freaking out and can't stop. Nothing makes it stop. That's probably why they dye it red. it's an alpha-blocker. primarily for blood pressure. Beta blockers are safer, less powerful. The blue pills. Propranolol.
Gabapentin is a drug that I have strong feelings about. That stuff can get pretty crazy. Disinhibits behavior like alcohol. I start doing all sorts of crazy stuff. This one is scary. Mostly used for seizures, but also for shingles and off label for anxiety. Long term use, especially at high doses, can (in my experience) lead to muscle spasms, phantom sensations, and a loss of awareness.
I think some people are missing the point. I needed a different perspective from medically perfectionist liberalized medicine. I wasn't getting the perspective I needed. I needed someone to point out the insanity of what was going on. And I found those people. I found them in a black female doctor, a male PA, two female LPCs, and a female NP internist.
These people are giving me that different perspective. Maybe I could have found more white male practitioners who could give me that perspective. Maybe not. But what I know for sure is that this has to stop. I picked people that were not part of the club on purpose. The meds weren't working out. I was misled. They weren't helping me. Now I'm on different ones. I have to keep in the middle, wherever that path is exactly. The doctors will always try. They can't help themselves. They need something to fix. Like a bored auto mechanic. I need people to stop trying to fix me. It's really run amuck. I can't imagine what my healthcare has cost in total. I need to focus on de-medicalizing my mind, unlearning what I was taught. Medication is definitely dangerous. I'm not actually trying to antagonize people. But I was misled about medication. It's dangerous. I was misled about Bipolar. I was misled about CBT and how men can be healthy as men.
Courage isn't just facing pain or uncertainty. Courage does also involve knowing when to say no. And that would be easier, if I wasn't raised to be addicted to liberalized medicine.
Do I know what the perfect middle ground is? Most definitely not. I do not. But what I am certain of, looking at my history, is that I was misled about what medicine can do. My body is too tired. Medically complex has got to be the body's way of saying "I can't keep doing this. I've got to slow it down. It's wearing me out." I've not been realistic. Whatever is or isn't wrong with me, I can't do the hospitals. God willing, I'll do whatever I can do, and I'll die peacefully. God willing, the world will back off angry so angry can back off too.
What I truly need is no more medicalized perfection and some privacy. Because to me this is Munchhausen's by proxy or something close to it. It's stressing me out. I need privacy. Medical complex trauma. You diagnosed it. It needs to stop. I know the doctors will find me.
I've got to focus on maintaining boundaries, minding my own business... accounting in limited amounts, and writing. Hopefully, Public Health is paying attention. To keep the kids safe from overmedicalization. Because I don't actually want to hurt myself or others, and the doctors weren't helping me. They're wasting public funding with this nonsense. Miseducated and misled. It has to stop. I need privacy and peace and quiet. That's what I need.
These storms get crazy sometimes. Interesting that the hospital uses the website. So I thought maybe giving them more information would help. But then I realized that's not what I need. I need to learn to shelter in place better, and let the storms pass. I need to get to know people in the community, not in the hospital. Hospitals aren't places for meeting people.
I need to let people in the community learn about me. I need to learn about them. I need to adapt. Because I'm tired of being "just" that disabled guy. I need some privacy and some peace. This isn't working, the whole shipping me from here to there to everywhere and trying every last therapy and drug. I've got to stay on the outside, in the community, doing what I can and not pushing too hard. That's why I firewalled my healthcare. That's why I stopped going out. Because I can't keep up with this.
The hospitals were a mistake. Bipolar was a mistake. It hasn't actually helped me. What I need, instead of meds labeled bipolar that do not lead to long term benefit or education for bipolar which teaches me the wrong things, is to go at a speed I can maintain. To not let others push me to do more than I can maintain. And maybe they can at least learn from my life as a case study of what not to do. Do not take a doctor's child and go gonzo with hospital insurance, medicate out the wazzoo and ship from state to state. WASTE OF MONEY.
Rather, give the child something they can realistically accomplish. Don't push them too hard. Let them be themselves. You won't end up with permanent disability and some miserable and bitter people that way. Otherwise, it's symptom whack a mole and hospital lottery all day long. Just like I can criticize public policy and still care about and support the actual work of the soldiers that protect us, I can criticize health policy and still care about and support the actual work of the health care workers. Because I know for a fact that they have better things to do then run circles for some doctor who wants to be med happy and perfectionist on hospital insurance. And when that insurance is no longer good and it doesn't pay so well, that strategy backfires.
AM I STARTING TO MAKE ANY SENSE YET? I sure hope so. Because my body is wearing out. It's been pushed too hard. And I can't fix it. The body doesn't work that way. You make it hard to believe in medicine with these policies. I sure hope someone is listening. Because we can't let this happen to our kids. We've got to slow down the med trains. It's not worth it. Not in the long run. Too much chaos. Not cost effective. We need to be more realistic about what we expect from medicine. The more these doctors talk, the more I have to shut my ears. Whatever you think you know, think again.
I have some resentments regarding Healthcare that I need to move past. Funny thing is, the harder I try to avoid attracting attention, the more I seem to get. Like the doctor is always watching and the next hospital visit is just a breath away. I thought writing those poems for the hospitals would be like a goodbye. They weren't helping me. Not that much. They had already done what they could. I had been there enough. Yet they keep inviting me back. Maybe they'll ship me to Georgia next time. I'm sure GA dept of health would love that.
I can't keep doing these hospitals. I don't have it in me. It just doesn’t make sense. It does look like Munchousens or something. It makes no sense. You'd think I had cancer or something. And I definitely do not. They cant even agree on what the problem is, much less what to do about it. Just a bunch of short term, bandaid solutions. Alphabet soup diagnoses. I still like most of the people, but its hard to believe in the mission. Then they seem to resent my cynicism. But we'll see.
I used to be an idealist. I can still play the part, but its hard to put the money where the mouth is. And it is hard to understand other people's perception of me. They surprise me all the time. Only lately not in good ways. Makes me wonder where this goes. It makes me nervous. Theres so much bitterness. Touch and go. Then they wonder why I don't speak. I wish the er would have respected my wishes and sent me home. Or at least told me the truth about the screwy lab results. Boggles my mind. We couldn't find anything? It makes no sense to lie like that. Unless they simply wanted to refuse treatment but couldn't legally do that. Of course they'll deny it. We're getting used to lies.
I miss the people I used to know. Some of those people are still out there. But they have changed, and so have I. Some I haven't seen in years or decades. Some are dead. When the floods come, the ground is far beneath the waters. Some people think that being an adult means having the answers. Being strong and silent. Some people confuse violence with strength. But it amazes me to see a gentle person. It inspires me beyond imagining to see someone who doesnt need to be threatening. Someone who simply walks, and others follow. But its a burden when people come to expect greatness. Pride can be so ugly. Ive seen ugliness in many forms. Ive heard people praise God to high heaven and betray him in thier next breath. And that is more frightening then an atheist. A hypocrite. Not just a hypocrite, but such a gaslighting and insistent hypocrite. I hope to keep finding my way. Or I'll be talking to ghosts. And they make poor company after a while. I'm in the middle of something, I'm not sure what, or where it goes. I had trusted a life thati wasn't quite able to lead, thinking eventually I would grasp it. Now I am confident that whatever I may grasp, it will not be that which I thought it would be. I'm not sure why. I think i didn't know myself well enough.
People say I'm strange, I think life is strange. I do find it confusing why people are so interested in what I do. I used to just blend. People didn't notice me so they didn't say anything. Then I start talking and wham! Suddenly what I say and do is so important. It is definitely easier to nod and smile but its empty. It's easier to go with the program. But I don't see the point. Then it gets into damned if you do, damned if you don't. Gotta be just right. I most definitely am not Robin Williams. I was simply a fan. He made me smile. Yes, I believe in God. Buti don't like to litigate God. I don't like to argue about what the Bible says. I don't think God is meant to create conflict. God is meant for loving thy neighbor. Just doesnt seem as common as its made out to be. Then I find everyone wanting to convert me. I guess by wearing my emotions so openly I invite that. My anger invites it. I get overwhelmed by a lot of attention. But for so long I kept quiet. It's hard to stay quiet.
I'm going to have to stop keeping track of politics. It's gotten too difficult. Well... maybe just pay a little less attention. Life is about more then arguing.
Boundaries are limits that individuals set for themselves and communicate to others, defining acceptable and unacceptable behaviors in relationships, work, and personal life. They are essential for maintaining mental health, fostering healthy relationships, and preserving personal well-being.
Types of Boundaries:
Physical Boundaries: These relate to personal space, touch, and comfort levels.
Emotional Boundaries: These involve respecting and managing one's own emotions and not taking on the responsibility for others' feelings.
Intellectual Boundaries: These pertain to respecting individual thoughts, beliefs, and opinions.
Financial Boundaries: These involve setting limits on how much time, money, or resources are allocated to others.
Workplace Boundaries: These relate to respecting work hours, responsibilities, and expectations.
Importance of Boundaries:
Mental Health:
Boundaries help individuals protect their time, energy, and emotional well-being.
Healthy Relationships:
Boundaries clarify expectations, reduce conflict, and promote mutual respect.
Personal Safety:
Boundaries help individuals feel secure and safe in their interactions with others.
Autonomy and Self-Respect:
Boundaries enable individuals to maintain their independence and assert their needs.
Clarity and Communication:
Boundaries provide clarity in interpersonal interactions and reduce misunderstandings.
Setting Boundaries:
Self-Awareness:
Understanding personal needs, values, and limits is crucial for setting effective boundaries.
Clear Communication:
Clearly expressing boundaries to others is essential for ensuring understanding and respect.
Consistency:
Maintaining boundaries consistently, even when challenged, is important for establishing them effectively.
Self-Care:
Practicing self-care and prioritizing personal needs helps individuals maintain their boundaries.
Dear Elle,
I genuinely struggle with my mind going in too many directions at the same time. People will be talking, and multiple times in a sentence I'll lose track of what they are saying. That's what I liked about you. I liked not needing so many words. God, it can be beautiful to only need a very few words.
Pretending to care becomes such an albatross. You always seemed to genuinely care. I still like to listen sometimes. I don't like listening to the same things anymore. I'm tired of trying to understand certain things. I'm tired of caring about some things. I wonder what to say or do much more then I actually do anything or say anything.
It's not even a choosing your battles thing, it's feeling simultaneously torn and apathetic. Wanting to say or do multiple things at once but also not any of them. When I was medicated on the clozapine it was like playing a musical instrument. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but it flowed so smoothly. Now it's fits and starts, and I seem to have more deliberate effect.
Maybe you didn't understand as well as I thought you did. I may never know. You had the intuition, though. I know you were able to read me. I can't just turn my mind off and on. I can't reprogram it. I need more sleep. I feel so disconnected, but there's things I don't want to remember.
I'm walking around in a daze. In the back of my mind, I keep thinking about the same things. There's no reset switch. Trust is all mixed up in that I don't know what people want, if I can give it, or if I even want to. The edges are a little smoother, but I feel brittle. I don't expect to always feel in control, but now I wonder when it is that I am in control. But supposedly that's the whole point. A lack of agency. Separation of thoughts and memories and skills.
The brain is a muscle, and it needs training like any muscle. But there seems to be something tangible between myself and others. A barrier. I come out of conversations thinking of everything that wasn't said. but it seems as though sensation returns more and more. Just not sure what to do about it. Where to take it. I feel compelled to do many things but unable to do much at all. Then I find myself asking myself what normal looks like. How much of each action the average person does. As if I can follow a formula for each moment. Living life like a computer with punch card instructions.
Sometimes when I talk to people it's like talking in an echo chamber. Like I'm simply agreeing with myself. Other times, it's like no connection at all. Just white noise. Life can be strange.
The wierd thing is how people cant seem to make up thier minds, but the way i see it, if my dx is bipolar then they want me to advocate but if its did they don't want me to advocate. Funny how that works. As if a dx code changes my life so dramatically.
Ashes
Dear Elle,
I hope you are well. I'm sorry that I asked so much of you. Maybe when the past has faded, I could see you one last time. I just want to know that you understand.
Because I know you. I do know you. I know when I last saw you you were afraid. I could see it in your eyes. You didn't know what would happen to me. I want to know that you understand. I want you to see who I really am. You know how to find me. If you need me.
I got a lot lost. Some bad steps. Walking through the past. Can't stop thinking about that hospital. Everyday. Every single day. The same people. It's just weird. It does get easier. Haven't seen you in 5 years.
Ashes
One thing that has been a repeating theme in my life is that of patterns. Change involves breaking patterns. Change can be good or bad. Sometimes it's just something different. Sometimes people aren't able to change. I still take a lot of medication. I have more say in that then I used to, thank God.
But I seem rather stuck since 2022. It's difficult to maintain focus or conversations. Because my mind keeps going back to what happened. The very visual and auditory flashbacks have faded. I don't see And hear people from the past as much. I think of the same people day after day. Every single day. It's just wierd. Every single day. Same exact people. The drugs. They way they change people. Sometimes only for a moment each. Sometimes again and again. I know these hospitals. I know what they do. I remember.
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.
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.
Munchhousen's by proxy (MSP) is now known as a fictitious disorder imposed on another (FDIA). I've seen real life examples of this. A parent or caregiver can be unhappy, and they induce or exaggerate symptoms in another person to generate sympathy or take out their negative emotions on that person. It's very hard to catch. It was first published on in 1951.
Munchhousen's tends to generate high health care costs and unnecessary procedures. It is underdiagnosed because it is not well known and there is a high rate of countertransference. Patients with Munchhousen's have high mortality rates due to symptoms imposed on self and others.
The term was introduced by someone named Asher to describe individuals who intentionally produce signs and symptoms of a disease and who tend to seek medical or hospital care.
In 1977, Meadow used the term “Munchausen syndrome by proxy” to describe children whose mothers produce histories of illness to their children and who support such histories by fabricated physical signs and symptoms, or even by alter laboratory tests. This term is also used to refer to elderly or disabled person and/or dependent adults who signs or physical symptoms are created by a caregiver and whose laboratory tests were altered.
Munchausen syndrome has sometimes been referred to as “hospital addiction”, “polysurgical addiction,” or “professional patient syndrome".
The problem lies closer to home. These people may not be aware of the patterns. The hospital systems waste money on diagnostic bullshit and overmedicalization. DSM vagueness. Perfectionism in medicine.
FDIA is a relatively rare behavioral disorder. It affects a primary caretaker. The person with MSP gains attention by seeking medical help for exaggerated or made-up symptoms of someone in their care. As healthcare providers strive to identify what's causing the child's symptoms, the deliberate actions of the parent or caretaker can often make the symptoms worse.
The person with MSP does not seem to be motivated by a desire for any type of material gain. While healthcare providers are often unable to identify the specific cause of the child's illness, they may not suspect the parent or caretaker of doing anything to harm the child. In fact, the caregiver often appears to be very loving and caring and extremely distraught over their child's illness.
People with MSP may create or exaggerate a child's symptoms in several ways. They may simply lie about symptoms, alter tests (such as contaminating a urine sample), falsify medical records, or they may actually induce symptoms through various means, such as poisoning, suffocating, starving, and causing infection.
People with MSP are often health care professionals and are usually very friendly and cooperative with providers. They demonstrate a great deal of concern and may have Munchausen syndrome, a disorder in which they repeatedly act sick when they do not actually have any physical illness.
Possible warning signs of MSP The child has a history of many hospitalizations, often with a strange set of symptoms, the symptoms get worse outside of treatment settings, the symptoms are reported worse by the caregiver then the patient, the symptoms don't agree with the testing, the family has a history of unusual illness, samples do not match the genetics of the patient, or chemicals appear in the bodily fluids of the patient.
The exact causes of MSP are not known. Researchers are looking at the roles of biological and psychological factors in its development. A history of abuse or neglect as a child or the early loss of a parent may be factors in its development. Some evidence suggests that major stress, such as marital problems, can trigger MSP.
Diagnosing MSP is very difficult because of the dishonesty that is involved. Doctors must rule out any possible physical illness as the cause of the dependent's symptoms before a diagnosis of MSP can be made. A thorough review of the child's medical history, as well as a review of the family history and the parent's medical history may provide clues to suggest MSP.
The first concern in MSP treatment is to ensure the safety and protection of any real or potential victims. This may require that the child be placed in the care of another. In fact, managing a case involving MSP often requires a team that includes a social worker, foster care organizations, and law enforcement, as well as doctors.
Successful treatment of people with MSP is difficult because those with the disorder often deny there is a problem. In addition, treatment success is dependent on the person telling the truth, and people with MSP tend to be such accomplished liars that they begin to have trouble telling fact from fiction.
Psychotherapy (a type of counseling) generally focuses on changing the thinking and behavior of the individual with the disorder (cognitive-behavioral therapy). The goal of therapy for MSP is to help the person identify the thoughts and feelings that are contributing to the behavior, and to learn to form relationships that are not associated with being ill.
This disorder can lead to serious short- and long-term complications, including continued abuse, multiple hospitalizations, and the death of the victim. (Research suggests that the death rate for victims of MSP is about 10%.) In some situations, a child victim of MSP learns to relate getting attention to being sick and develops Munchausen syndrome themselves.
Going back to Stockholm Syndrome, traumatic situations, and perception...
People with trauma tend to flock together, especially with similar trauma. Beyond that, tight emotional bonds can form. Brothers in arms, survivors of abuse, people who went through a journey or event of some kind.