Volly

 

Volly, they are heading back towards Grove. I think they're feeling inpatient.

Hope

    I hope I can trust the hospital. I hope we won't get caught up in threats and garbage referrals to various places. I need to address this brain fog. I just want an opinion. The last hospitalization was a clusterfuck. I think we can do better. 

    It's just weird trying to walk a line trying to please family and community and professionals and I'm really not that important I just need to quietly address a few symptoms. Maybe we can have more open communication and not be looking at each other as if from separate defensive positions. I do hope and pray. 

    I feel like staring off into space isn't really helpful. I must be crazy for going back there. Maybe they can do like a once-a-week IOP. I just don't see myself be able to go there more than once a week. 

Friends

    I do hope that friends from Public Health and the healthcare community check this blog. I hope that they are trying, like me, to understand the effects of taking so much medication. I hope they are not letting rumors or the occasional and legal use of hemp products to distract from the mission, which is to understand what the heck has been going on with my healthcare and how to keep Greenville safe and the healthcare system cost effective. 

Werk, werk...

     What I'm finding is that Prichards' constant jiggering of the medications combined with my family's control of my mind and body was creating a lot of emotional conflict and both emotional and physical strain. It was a medication train on my mind. That's why I need to understand better how these medications have affected me. Past, present and future. Because medications have long term effects, sometimes even after stopping, and I was on so very many. I have to understand, if nothing else to keep the kids safe from this kind of Nazi like human manipulation. 

    I may have to go back to the hospital for a few days for them to observe again. They may have to tweak something. But this time it will be voluntary, and I'm going to specify in advance what's ok and not ok. Threats and lying are definitely not ok. And if I catch them lying or threatening again, I'll take that up the chain. I need honest help. I don't understand what Gullet was thinking. We barely spoke. I'm not going to work with her again. They can put me back with Arson or with the NP. Or find someone else. 

    I know Springbrook was concerned about the number and types of medications. I know CCBH never had a damn clue. But that's ok. We're moving on. I definitely need to reset after last time. Trust is hard. I know my counselor doesn't want me in these hospitals. But I have to be an independent adult and draw upon multiple perspectives and opinions to do what's best for me. I think a few days that is better planned and managed in the hospital will yield a hell of a lot more than the chaos that was March.

    Honestly, though, the last time I was at Springbrook, it was rather disorganized as well. Which is why I see no point in traveling that far for a few days of observation. I don't know exactly what I am capable of, but I'm told that W2 work is not a realistic option. Anyways, I've been having trouble with focus. The outpatient was saying brain fog. I'm not on ADHD meds anymore. Hopefully I can get a good opinion in inpatient on brain fog. Get this tweaked. 

    They offered the outpatient program, but I don't feel comfortable with driving back and forth to memorial. It freaks me out too much. It's very difficult to do that regularly. I'm worried I might have an accident. Dissociating while driving isn't that much different from driving while under the influence.

    It seems to be a bit of a war over what I put in my body. Medication or otherwise. The hospital prefers to feed me unhealthy crap I can't digest, shovel pills, and demonize everything else. I prefer natural and digestible healthy food, fewer pills, and the choice to take the vitamins and supplements without worrying about Nazis coming to jail me for taking vitamins. 

    Anyways, I'm tired of feeling like a prisoner in my body. I don't have patience anymore, and my body can't last forever this way. It would make sense if I was doing something more important. Like I was a secret agent or the President, then that kind of attention would make sense. Otherwise, it's a waste of resources. I'm not nearly so important to demand such tight control. 

    Because if this keeps up, they won't have to worry about where to bury me or which state to ship me to. I'll have to leave. Life isn't meant to be lived like that. The body and the mind can only sustain certain things. And it makes no sense to sustain this when I'm not doing anything important. If I can focus better, I can work more. That will be a start. 

    Maybe when I'm dead they'll stop demonizing me. Maybe not. Maybe I'll always be Prichard's demon. Maybe my brother will be my gaoler. In the prison of my mind. I hope not. I want to see something more positive in this world. I want to stop thinking in these terms. So maybe, if I try hard enough, life can be different. I sure hope so. My family has some truly bizarre ideas of who I am and what I need. It may or may not qualify as FDIA, but it is bizarre. QUICK, HERE'S MY SON, HE'S LOOKING AT ME FUNNY. FIX HIM!! And they insist on knowing EVERYTHING. It's truly frightening. It's no wonder I feel undercover at times.

    Hospital just habbing a tizzy fit obber Elle. I've known where she lives for years. So what? I knew where leaves was. Where molly was. So what? Thats what I don't understand. They were all right here. Big deal. 

Spidey kneads his black widow. Gedding too old for dis.

You knooooooow....

    That gives me an idea. What they need is a dating service that specializes in psychiatric nurses and mental health techs. 

    Di hospital got concerned because one night, Spidey was talking to di staff... said how much he appreciates Elle. And dey said, oh, you mean Elle *lastname*? Knot spideys fault dey gab spidey her last name. 

    Wellllll.... didn't take long. Background check. Der she was. She lives down the road. Not far. Not far at all. Dats why I knew I needed counseling. When I say she understands trauma... I'm not kidding. The background check said it all. So that's why the hospital worries. But really. I've known where she lived for years. Never went there. Had to delete. Spidey gets a liddle mixed up. Di nurses... sometimes dey understood. Sometimes knot. Leaves understood. 

    I'm not always good at talking to people, and family can be difficult. They don't get it. Not at all. They'd rather lock me up. Force medicate. Makes talking to them difficult. They totally don't get it. Not even close. I always liked mental health workers. They understand better. Usually. I guess im feeling a liddle hung up. On the tech. I don't remember her name. I can't keep going back to these hospitals. I keep getting attached to the workers. I'm worried about it. And so are they. I cant keep getting attached to nurses and techs. It becomes a problem. 

    Then last time one tried to hug me. And I said I couldn't. For that exact reason. I keep thinking about the technician. I don't really know anything about her. It's getting too complicated with these hospitals. I need to stay outside.  I'm getting too old for this. They wanted me to come back in. And what? Here i am again? I'll take technician #4? They said I was not sounding very clear. But I'm tired of the back and forth. Tired of the med carousel.  Tired of the families. Tired of the name. They're all trying to fix me. Tired of that too. 

    Ebbyday, Spidey tink, wun day Spidey pind his black widow. Spidey like di blue eyes. Nice smile. Berry nice. Spidey get a liddle wrapped up in di sweet ones. Maybe spidey like di nurses too much. But. Dey understand spidey. Dey hab seen di dark side ob tings. 

    Spidey used to get in trubble at di hospital. Said Spidey couldn't hug di nurses no more. Den he went to di udder hospital. Damn place said di same ting. Dat was apter Spidey hugged twee or phor. Dey got radder annoyed. Now dey don't like di poems needer. 

 

Spidey's back wooooo wooooooooo!

 I'm getting a little hazy. I'll have to come back to this one.

admission, p1

     It was June. Jessica had arrived at the hospital per the instructions of the psychiatrist. The sun was shining down on the campus and the parking lot was as full as always. Hospital staffers would hurry along on dedicated pathways between buildings in ones and twos. The light was faded from her eyes, but she had that spark that would not die. She hiked up her backpack of clothes and walked up the steps and under the archway towards the main unit. To the right and left, the mauve brick and brown doors of the  wings surrounded her. her footsteps and the distant sound of traffic filled her ears. To her left, the glass wall of the cafeteria came up... the outpatient office on the right, visitor's entrance on the left. And now she had reached the glass sets of double doors that was North Wing. They were expecting her, she had been told. 

    They came and let her in, the admitting nurse, a nurse by the name of Frank, a muscular man with dark skin and a tattoo. Light blue scrubs. As she entered the unit she saw many patients there. Other nurses walked around in their light blues, techs in the navies, red scrubs were... docs? I don't remember... patient observers navy blue... the nurses station had been put behind plexiglass years ago, to the right was Southwing, then to the left the hall leading to the rest of the unit. Behind the nurses station was the old children's unit, converted into IMU... Intensive management unit. The pharmacy room was ahead and to the left, a supply room to the left, and the old kitchenette area which no longer had food was ahead and to the right with a door leading to the courtyard with its tall wooden fence and cameras. All the doors with the key card locks. South wing was geriatric. The "rest of the unit" consisted of about three therapy rooms, some offices, a gym, some bathrooms, the cafeteria, the visitors area, and the old fireplace room. 

PIM

    Time for some reverse psychology. This should be fun. I love screwing with people. Since they keep inviting me back, I'll do an imaginary hospitalization. That way it can go perfectly, and the insurance won't even have to be involved. Let's see... we'll have all of the me's there. all 8. even numero ocho. Jess usually gets things started. Or should we make it more interesting? I've got an idea. They like to talk about this "danger to self or others." Let's be both. Oh wait. #1 doesn't qualify for the adult unit. sooo... 2-8. Oh I've got an idea. Perfect. I think 5 has OCD. I wonder if I can remember the schedule? probably not. 

    Let me pick out some staff... there's krystal... we can call that guy Rick... there's red... Kat? ... i can call him Frank... I don't remember her name... we can make her a heather... Arson, small... I'll add an angela... let's have a melissa... we can have a Kyle... let's do a weekend... I'll put a Jo in the cafeteria... I just want to see how realistic I can make this... Ah, Anna... can't have a hospitalization without Anna... I'll let Elle be on vacation. I'm gonna let them be short staffed. Maybe Kenzie can rotate in. Oh. rec ther... Let's make her a tammy... gonna fictionalize a bit. 7 me's... i'll put 7 in IMU. 8 will be near southwing with 4. 2 and 6 can be on the other hall... finally, 5 will be near IMU and 3 will be between 8 and 5. Ok, we'll all ready to be recommitted... in absentia...

How it Ends...

    So, I guess I don't qualify for FDIA because I have, in fact, had mental illness. But the way I figure it, there's a few ways this could end for me.

1. I prove to be such a public embarrassment that either my family (not likely) or the hospital system (becoming somewhat likely) says fuck it, we don't want to play anymore

2. I die

3. DSS or law enforcement intervenes (yeah, right)

4. certain people seek counseling voluntarily (not likely)

5. I cut off contact with my family and use Bon Secors if necessary. (Becoming likely)

6. I move away (not financially possible)

    Otherwise, I will be highly medicated and always get the blame and they will always try to fix me. I just don't know how they will ever be happy. We've been doing this so long. I've been through so many hospitals. It's just ridiculous. I am the one they couldn't perfect. Oh well, back to keeping up appearances. I've got a headache and I've been nauseous with all this. I just don't understand the purpose here. I mean, I guess it works out well for them for now, until the next hospitalization. It's hard to see how there won't be another one. These people never, ever give up. 

    I don't see how it just goes away or gets better with the dysfunctional social relationships still alive. Theres no drug, support group, treatment program, center, or hospital that can cure half of a disease. You gotta treat the whole thing. Im still young enough that I could have a life. Unless im just completely out of touch with reality. In which case im truly screwed. Because they've tried to help me. And its not getting better as far as I can tell.

FDIA

     I think I do have FDIA. I know my family and the hospital both check this website. I know this for a fact because they both use information that I only post to the website. And my family tries to fix me and the hospital tries to fix me. Because I'm the name. And I have to look perfect. 

    When things go wrong, they get to look like heroes for fixing the name. Not enough to ship me out of state. Not enough to do ECT, VNS, rTMS. We gotta perfect. And have someone to blame when it's convenient to do so. But no, the FDIA just won't shut up and play along. He won't be his bipolar and suck it up like a good insanity. 

    I think it's fucked up. I think I deserve space and privacy and choices. I think they just can't give up control. They'd rather have me living in their doll house. What I need is a plan to buy the house or to move. A realistic, black and white plan. And some privacy. So I can focus on something other than interhospital warfare. 

    Eventually, one side or the other has to get sick of the chaos and put a stop to it or I'll die. And what will they do then? Who will they fix? No, they like the money and the reputation and to be seen as heroes for fixing me. I think it's dangerous.

War and Peace

    I have some personal business to resolve. It gets complicated. Because I do know my families rather well and I'm caught between them. The one family owns the building I live in and the other family owns the hospital and the building with the first family's name on it. Who is protecting whom, here?

    They keep inviting me back to the IOP and the inpatient. I think of inpatient, and I think of World War One and trench warfare. We know each other too well. But part of me pictures a "Christmas ceasefire" type moment. A moment in which people come together to acknowledge that we're all human and that we don't want to fight anymore. 

    Another part of me sees them as too interested in protecting my family and not actually working for me. Funny thing is, I actually like Arson. Small is sweet. But what I need is to not be overmedicalized, not be caught between families, and focus on doing something productive in my own life on the outside. Being around my families destabilizes the heck out of me. Far too many appearances to maintain. I thought I was free but in fact I am very controlled. 

    I'm worried that if I went inpatient, it would become a legal battle. They've already been threatening. Some staff refuse to work with me. There's only one person that is 100% independent. And both families hate her. Because both families fight over me. The biological one and the corporate one. It makes no sense. And I've tried DSS and FBI and no one wants to do anything. 

    So, the ball comes back to me. A lot of lives were saved at that hospital. And I'm glad for that. But my families are rather addicted. I feel like I need more alone time. I need to continue to try to focus on myself and my home. Being around one family makes me physically sick at this point. 

    If I'm applying game theory... the outpatient program creeps me out because I have to go near MIP without being in MIP. Weird how that works. Being in MIP, it depends on the communication. Hopefully, I can give the medication more time. If I can avoid my families and do well on current medication, I think that would be best for everyone. Because there's a lot of resentment around me. Maybe given time, we can desensitize, and we can all move on. 

    It's just that there's certain people that I trust their advice. Some of them work for the hospital. I just don't like going near the place. Too much history. I don't understand my families. I'm worried about spending time around any of the people that I have known. 

    Sometimes I do think about moving. Sometimes it seems like the best solution is to leave. Let my families fight without me in the mix. Maybe they'll have less to fight about. It's so weird because so much of this is in the past and yet I'm not the only one holding on. They want to hold onto and memorialize the legacy and if I don't pay absolute fealty to the myths and legends then it's blasphemy. 

    I need to stay out of this dynamic, but on the outside. I need to take care of my home and make some money and find someone. I'm getting much too old for this. People are getting bitter. And if I can't focus on my own work and my own personal business, then I'm no good to anyone. 

Vhere is zee Bloodstand?

Thank You

 

Dear Elly,

    I needed to thank you. I needed someone to trust. You did well. I'm sorry about asking for the hug. I'm sorry they started calling you my girlfriend. But I think you should be proud. I think you did the right thing. I'm proud of you for that. I'm proud of what you taught me. I'm glad you were there. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to please everyone at once. So far, my track record isn't great.

Ashes

Traffic Control

    I'm used to flying under the radar. I'm used to keeping my anger hidden. I'm used to people waiting until I'm in the ER or until I'm buying guns or talking about death to want to do something about it. 

    This medical has warped my mind. I see everything in terms of medical. Social time with certain medical staff makes it worse. Discussing medical has become my kryptonite. I worry about what I say, what I don't say. 

    It's not actually my concern to have clozaril banned. People have to choose to see the negative effects and choose to use alternatives. Perception is powerful. A medication helps if you believe it helps, but you may not see how it warps your perception. Strength means sticking to the truth and to what's right without warping your mind with unnecessary medications, dysfunctional relationships, or unhealthy beliefs. 

    I know their hospitals. I know there are weaknesses in the system. But they have to let me help. Or I'm part of the problem. Hospitals can be like pressure cookers.

    I truly never wanted to be a doctor. I think I became interested in justice because of all the wrong I saw being done in the world. Only, eventually, I came to see that doctors can do wrong too.

    Hospitals need traffic control to keep people safe. Speed bumps, signs, and hard lines in the sand. Medication, and the practice of it, can distort the mind. Sometimes doctors don't know when to slow down, when to stop, there need to be people there helping them. People with the power to say no. And I can help. I can be useful in helping the doctors understand where the necessary lines are.

    I don't have the energy or the will to play into the machine anymore. It's backfired spectacularly. Which is not to say that good hasn't been done. It has. But there needs to be a time to step away. trying to medically perfect myself is really taking a toll. It's time for me to think about the future and not the past. I need to think about family, not the families that I thought I knew. I need to think about the family that I never took the time to create.

    The doctors are too busy alternately reveling in discovering the dysfunction and being pissed off that they can't stop it. Because it's a social problem. It requires social workers. Counselors. Not medication. And by making this public I both help myself and I help others. By doing what DSS cannot. Shutting down certain social patterns. 

    God forbid I end up in that hospital again, I know they will read this. And finally, they will know what not to do: don't threaten, don't lie, and above all, don't feed into patterns. stabilize the symptoms. Get me out of there. Keep certain people out of my business. 

    FDIA. Look it up. There's nothing actually wrong with me other than physical symptoms I myself report at the time or that are observed by independent medical professionals. The cPTSD/DID are the result of unaddressed FDIA. The Autism, CAPD and the ADHD are mild. Just don't keep me any longer then absolutely necessary. And give the security guards and the gossip a break. Stick to the basics. There is no danger. 

    If I limit my time around certain people and places, the symptoms should become fewer with time, the hospital visits less frequent. Whether or not I have Bipolar is at most a minor detail. I need to think about the future. That's in everyone's best interest.

Mirapex

    I do believe that Mirapex can be very dangerous. It is a dopamine agonist. It directly increases dopamine activity in the brain. The reward chemical. So it feels like you have done something good, even when you haven't. When you're on Mirapex, especially higher doses, your addictive behavior can get out of control. 

    You don't recognize consequences as well. You'll be that rat in the cage, hitting the lever again and again. Never learning. I know this for a fact. I've seen it in both myself and other people on mirapex. People with addictions or the potential for addictions should not take large doses of mirapex. It changes your behavior even in small doses. 

My Women and Game Theory

    I think it's important to realize the limits of humanity. I think it's important to realize the costs of idealization. That's a large part of where my CBT education went wrong. 

    I'm trying to apply game theory to my life. Making decisions that are interdependent. It's not just about impulsive or not impulsive. There's a problem with the me first, laissez-faire thinking. CBT can make it worse. When things aren't going right in your life, CBT is like benzos. 

    Teaches you that it's good enough the way it is. That's what it did for me. And that's wrong. Change is necessary. Apathy is not helpful. But change has to be based on interdependent decisions. If I'm not considering how my decision effects people that I care about, then I will make bad decisions. I have to do what's right for both me AND the group. That's the only way to win. 

    I was taught that I was either defective LD unstable unreliable or that i had gifts and I could do better than others. That's a very difficult dynamic to manage. It's very difficult to have a consistent identity and a stable life if people pull you in different directions. Because no man is an island, and we all are influenceable. I wasn't taught humility. 

    But I do care about people. I'm not actually evil or an addict, unless you consider a miseducation around expectations and prescription drugs to be addiction, and it's not that different. I'm tired of fighting people. I look to eastern harmony principles vs western medicine, and I find myself returning to game theory. 

    My social interactions are becoming like group therapy. That's not a good thing. People in other people's business too much. But there is an underlying cause. I was miseducated and trapped within a system of dysfunctional social behavior, particularly around healthcare. In supporting the mission of certain healthcare providers, we all went too far. It got ugly. 

    And I truly am tired. I do have to draw attention to the dysfunction, because it no longer is supporting anything useful, it is supporting ego and greed and chaos. Maybe my families aren't criminal networks. But they are promoting dysfunctional beliefs about medicine. They have made mistakes. 

    They saw my intelligence and they decided to run with it and medically perfect it. For all the good that that did. I was pushed too hard, and bipolar simply was used as a means to overmedicate and maintain the dysfunction. I truly believe that. But we saved a lot of lives at that hospital. 

    Now it's over. Now we have to move on. I have to retire from supporting dysfunctional psychiatry and medicine. I have to retire from professional patienthood. I have to clear out my mind and get an idea of what I am realistically capable of before I start doing too much. 

    I have felt caught between people. At times it has seemed like everyone wanted a piece. And for what? broke, on disability, with no partner, no kids, no nothing. I don't own my home. I don't own my car. I can't even afford my home. Exactly how am I winning here? 

    Now we can't even talk to each other. I don't know what happens next. But I think game theory plays into it. And so far it seems like the women have a more accurate perspective then the men, who are more prone to feeding the chaos then stopping it. But all human beings are capable of wise decisions.

    We have to choose to not ignore what is right in front of our eyes. We have to choose to see the truth. We have to choose to do what is best for both ourselves and the group. Ego is a problem in medicine. It can be just as dangerous as greed. 

Volly

Volly, they are conspiring against the hospitals again!! Vhy did we let them out?!?!

Big not so White Lies

    I still don't see why the hospital feels lying and threats are appropriate. Or how that helps at all. They really took a giant leap backwards with that. But I can forget. I made mistakes too. That was a long time ago though. If they hadn't been lying and threatening in the er, it didn't have to go that way. But if there's a next time, Bon Secors. I'm sure they can manage to stabilize a bad reaction to spravato more effectively. Not that I take spravato anymore.

.38 (Adult Content)

Dear Elle,

    It must have been quite a shock. You know. 2020. You see, Prichards had been getting desperate with the meds. He took the prazosin up high... I don't remember how many MG. 

    I remember in October I got depressed. He said that the prazosin was probably causing that. Leaves was worried. My judgement was off. Then they had that meeting. Leaves, a supervisor, and my old LPC. They decided they needed more help. A co-counselor. But I was very unstable, lines were blurred. She said she was going to have to terminate. 

    I bought the .38. It felt weird, to have a gun. I never even loaded it. I was afraid. The minipress had dropped. It was like being in combat all of a sudden. adrenaline surge. I ran through every scenario I could think of. My previous LPC was not able to help. Clarity had disagreed with Bipolar and asserted PTSD. The meds weren't working. Doors were closing. I was at the end of the rope. 

    The last therapy session approached, and I reviewed my options. In my mind, I sketched out the details. Just like MIP, I knew the building. I did not know what to do. They had given me names. I did not feel trusting. I went through scenarios. day after day. I saw myself going to that last session, bringing the gun. I saw myself pulling it out. barricading. talking.... talking... talking. I could hear the sirens in my mind. I planned last words. I decided I didn't care what they did with my stuff. I prepared to die. 

    The day came. As I recall, I still had the gun. But I had gone through the scenarios, there was just one problem. I had pictured the last moments. I had pictured pulling the trigger. I had pictured the look on her face as I shot myself. I pictured myself on the ground with her there. And I said to myself, I can't do this to her. I pictured the look on her face. I pictured her screaming. I said I can't. I left the gun at home. I remember the session. I was pacing. She was crying. She gave me the note. All my best. Asked if she needed to call the ambulance. But I felt a calm. And I said no. I went home. I sold the gun. I came back to you. 

    I still don't know where MIP was going with whatever they were trying to do. I got what I needed in 2020 and 2024, I think. The rest I forget. 

    I hope someday I'll see you one more time. I want you to see that I'm ok. I'm still here. That's all. I think this experience changed my mind. I don't think it will be the same ever again. But I'll be alive. Because I'm getting the right help. So long as MIP doesn't creative and try to remove every person that I trust from my life. If they had known about the FDIA, they would have known which ones to not trust. 

Ashes