Arachnid Date 2025.09.30.0939

Di webbing is tinn on di log. Spidey has launched his arachnoprobes to di outreaches ob di forest. Ebbywhere, amongst di moss and di gwass, di trees and di bush, ebben in di ribber, der are baby recluses, wadder striders, and daddy long legs, wit one mission and one mission ONLY: to explore strange new clearings, to seek out new wildlife and new cibilizations, to boldly go where no Spider has gone before!

Spidey, Di Gweat Webber here! My minions are probing di forest, in search of new adbentures and new fwends to help spin new tales. A pew wadder striders in di ribber, a pew baby recluses in di moss. Spidey put on his best carapace. Bwown wit di light stripes. A pew flies in di webbing is bedder den twee in di air, Spidey always say. 

Vlad’s up in the trees somewherez, directing his searchbats to provide air cubber. Di old bat has still got some flap in his wingz, and out for blood as usual. 

Di air ob the forest is ripe within smell ob mushrooms, moss, and my friendly critters. Nebber before has der been such a coordination of epports. Ebben di deer take note of the vast array of Arachnid allies as they chart out di dark reaches ob di woods. 

Di shadows are fwiends ob di forest, cooling di creatures as dey go about der libes, libbing togedder in total harmony. Fweedom is our nouwishment, As Spiders dance in the dark, celebwating the vast dibersity of di woods. Ebby rock, leabe, creature and element, cweating a bast world of lipe. Togedder, celebwating dis world.

Yet suddenly a scout reports back from di front: “YOUR WEBBYNESS! YOUR WEBBYNESS!” Di liddle recluse gasps for air. “It’s di humans! Der back! BULLDOZER SIGHTED!”

“BULLDOZER?!?!?”

“Yes!” the scout huffs  “And a Halp dudden Chainsawz at least!”

“CHAINSAWZ??? Actibate Wed Alert! Notify Vlad! We need ebby last cweature to conberge at WONCE!”

“Yes, your webbyness!” the scout dashes off.

My worst fears are realized. Di Humans hab… Weturned!!!

     Refocusing back on what I'm good at. Running deliveries, writing, taking care of my health. 

My problem is that I dont like confrontation. But the hospital has given me some assurances that they won't play along anymore. If that's true, there's nothing my family can do to harm me anymore. I was a fool to sign that information release. Closing doors. Walls up.

The Funny Part

    The really funny part is that my family expects me to apologize for everything and use meds and support groups and money to make up for their awfulness. Even after March, they admit ZERO fault. ZERO. After stabbing me in the back so thoroughly they play dumb and act the offended Angels. What kind of wretched excuse for a human being uses a hospital to beat down a family member and then plays dumb? And it's not like it's the first time. And the hospitals just play along. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE PEOPLE. Not everything is my fault. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE. 

    It's weird how my family stops listening when I start talking. I don't know exactly how they do that. It must be one of those marvels of modern medicine. If anyone happens to have a word with a member of my family, please warn them to wake the **** up while they still can. I really don't have the energy to waste my voice talking to them anymore.

    You know, I've been thinking. The hospital seems sick and tired of my family and me. My family seems dead set on restoring bipolar and Prichards' reign at all costs. My counseling team refuses to let that happen. It's really my Counselor's office word against my family's that prevents restoring bipolar. Yet my family insists on restoring the narrative and holding me to blame. It's a stalemate. A rather ridiculous one, if you ask me. 

    What is love? Not a narrative that keeps one person locked in a false diagnosis with drugs that don't actually help them. Not a family that would rather force medicate then talk. Not family that is too proud to admit fault but would rather drag in the entire upstate medical system. That's not love. Definitely not love.

    Love is not an addiction to Psychiatric labels like Bipolar. Healing involving forgiving and moving on, not just by one person, but by a group of people. But I keep getting burned. Over and over. One sided forgiving and moving on is no healing at all. Crushing people like bugs unless they conform to a narrative is not love. 

    The hospital can't fix one side of a problem. It has to address the whole problem. But some people won't budge. It's really sad. I thought I could heal in counseling, but some people are so dead set on being right that they sabotage everything just to prove themselves right. Welcome to my family.

    We should start a support group called Psychiatry Addicts Anonymous. We'll label each other to death and walk away instead of talking about the problems. It's not actually uncommon in my family. I don't actually like to talk about their faults nearly as much as they like to talk about mine. But they do have them. Maybe someday they will have a real conversation with me. Maybe not. I've waited a long time. At this point, I think that the entire upstate mental health community is ready to walk away with me if that's what it takes to stop this battle between family. 

    No let's just blow up everything instead. Great idea guys. 

    Diagnonsense is not love. I've learned a lot about love. Things my family did not teach me.

I feel like I need more walls. Stronger. Thicker. Unbreakable. Layers of them. My mind is not so strong. I thought the hospital would help. Not flip the script. Instead of recognizing problems, they reinvent imaginary ones and make everything worse. They run back to bipolar like some dog chasing a car, no clue what he'll do if he catches it but damn set on doing so.

I'm still trying to focus on my strengths, but I'm still dissociating a great deal. It feel like everyone wants to avoid the truth. I'm not sure how to approach that. I can barely focus, and when i can i have trouble keeping up. I feel like the world goes faster then I can. Even going to church is hard. Everything ends up being hard. I feel like everyone is so in a rush to have me doing so many things. I can barely function. They're just looking for an excuse to blow my world up. My counselor won't let them. So they slander her. And they slander me. Slander is actually a crime, you know. 

Had trouble working tonight and trouble functioning at church. I need to focus on the concrete. Basic tasks. Though I'm always brainstorming for a story. Hopefully something funny soon. Life has been too serious.

The hospital was doing trust building. I think they are just trying to be pragmatic at this point. They're adjusting tactics. So that's a plus. It's really ridiculous with everything going on in the world that my life should revolve around bipolar... a simplistic theory that does not explain or describe so much of what happens in the world. I know why they don't like cptsd/did. It makes them look bad. It's not pretty like Bipolar. If it's Bipolar, then my problems are all psychosis and delusion. If it's complete denial, its all imaginary and insurance fraud. But if it involves patterns... then it's hard to adjust, it makes them look bad for not identifying the patterns, and it makes other people look bad for being part of patterns. Bipolar is thier best way out. It's thier "everybody wins". 

My everybody wins is to simply stop talking about labels completely. To not repeat the past. To be all of me, the good, the bad, and the ugly. With better walls. A whole person rather then a label or a last name. Just me. Rather then replace one label with another, simply stop using labels. To me, that's moving on. Being a person.

Thats what they tried to do last time I think. They did remove bipolar. So if I just live my life, don't change the meds, then there should be no problem. Maybe thats the everybody wins. I really don't understand the labels obsession. 

It really is time to move on. So long as I have the health care I need... it's time. 

I used to think I was good with people. No, seriously, I did. Sometimes I can be. When I can truly be myself. 

Anyways, I'm trying to move in a more playful and fun direction with my life. While keeping defenses up and vigilance on point. In private I can be a cool person. I want to rediscover me. Bring me out for everyone to see. Move past the labels. Create something more then writing. Draw. Paint. Build something, like in a friendship or anything other then the same grindstones with the same people, just tearing each other up like so much raw prey. I know it's possible. I can do it alone, or with anyone who isn't hell bent on conflict.

 

I have to keep my mind clear and as sharp as possible. It's not as strong as people think it is. Or act like it is. Keeping this constant structure, reinforcing my memory and my thought coherence through repetition and habit, avoiding stress and keeping strong, unbreakable walls will keep my mind from breaking. It will keep me alive long enough to speak the truth. Distance and time. Strategic retreat. Survival is a matter of defensive tactics. Peace is an illusion. There is only conflict when doctors are merely mouthpieces of the control. You know, that lady from Springbrook spoke of letter writing being a lost art. She was right about that. These are my letters. This is the truth. Trust is dangerous, and the past is never far. Independent thought is always a risk. Always. The system will crush it like a bug. Parrot the party line, and the rewards are nearly limitless. Defy it, and you are roadkill. This is the record of my life. People are too busy writing over the truth to hear it. But it is here. They deny it, they will spread lies and backstab and hate and never ever stop until the bullshit of bipolar reigns supreme. Until prichards is restored to glory on his throne of all holy Psychiatropy. But truth remains visible who have the will to see it. Mental manipulation, abuse of trust, and powerful medications are dangerous in combination. Together, they break the mind. The indoctrination merely papers over the cracks.

When I am dead, let my tombstone read: here lies ashes, child of Psychiatry, Rest in, as he walked in, pieces. Broken and reformed, manipulated, threatened, and drugged into silence. I am the drone that would not mind his place, I am a reflection of the dysfunction that created me.

Drugging away the past is simply not possible. There is no drug on this planet that changes the past, there is no drug that makes an unhealthy relationship healthy. There is no cure for hatred.

    Hopefully, this is me moving on. Writing my own story. Putting the past behind me. I've been a little caught up in the narratives of the past still. I'm building walls, higher and thicker. I must make my mind a fortress. Trust is not a thing to give out like party favors. Walking away from so many things. I'm not sure how I didn't see the truth sooner. I kept walking into the same traps, the same resentments, the same problems, like some crazy lemming in a catch and release cycle. Every time it's the same old thing, the re-bipolarization, the re-drugging, the demonizing and the indoctrinating. I now know to avoid my brother, my younger sister, and be careful with my parents and the hospital employees. They'll never bend, they'll never give up, they will push the narrative and break me piece by piece unless I submit to the all holy Old Guard Psychiatry, that which cannot fail, is all knowing, all seeing, and all backstabbing. That which has no fault, no liability, and 100% deniability. 

    I have to remember my friends George, Artstick, and the others. The ones that have tried to show me the way. The ones that tried to defy the narrative. That is the light in the darkness of the Bipolar night, it is the air in my ideological prison. 

    All this attention focused on what my problem is and whether I'm right or wrong about my own life... the thing is, if the medication I choose works and the strategies I use work, then it doesn't actually matter what theory they throw at me... the theory will fall flat if my way works regardless of the theory. 

    All this indoctrination about manic highs and depressive lows, completely ignoring social factors, autism spectrum, and the ADHD to focus so laser like on the bipolar theory of the magic maker, Prichards. So desperate for him to be right and me wrong, damn the system and damn me if it doesn't fit. Bring it all crashing down just to make a point? Just to be right about the past? Just to be perfect again. I don't have the energy to argue about bipolar anymore. I don't have the tolerance for the side effect riddled meds that don't address the real issues. Works out great for them. I don't have the energy for it. So focused on picking the disorder that fits their narrative that they destroy any possibility to a real story with me. Writing me out of my own script with the wrath of God. Too blind to see their own hubris. Any excuse other then the truth.

    I have to move on. I'm leaving the myth of Bipolar in the past. Anyone that wants to know me is gonna have to leave it in the past too. It doesn't need to be replaced with a different problem to fix. Just leave it. Let it go. Back away from the ideological fixation with your prescription pads down!

    Maybe they think I'm stubborn. They simply can't see that the bipolar meds don't work. They can't see that the application of the theory to my life is nonsense. Some people will never admit that I was misdiagnosed. But, the outpatient seems to have agreed to limit my family's influence on my health care. To once again de-bipolarize me. To fix the meds. Maybe I should take what I can get.

    After all, I don't actually want to be a label, regardless of which one. I just want the healthcare I actually need. Here's hoping.

 

I dunno, Vlad... dudent look good...

    Sometimes, all a person really needs is to take a break. Stepping away from whatever troubles you can bring calm to the moment and wash away the struggles.

Still having memory disturbances. Intrusive thoughts. Anger. Gaps in memory. Lapses in memory. MIP just doubles down on stupidity. But the outpatient clinics clean up the mess that inpatient makes. IS anybody learning anything here? Or is the Healthcare system addicted to stupidity? Find out next time!

Grooves

    I see now how finding and staying in a groove is essential. Keeping it simple. 

    The memories and the anger can come without warning, or it can be a obvious trigger. The hospital only has so much patience, and I need to be careful, because if they don't fill the medication, its hard to function. 

    It's hard to maintain focus, and my memory is very unreliable. Gaps. Sudden floods of memories. They're too busy burying the truth to acknowledge it. The past seems like a different life and people come out of the past to visit me. My path has sharply diverged. It becomes dangerous to talk. I'm able to drive, but ordinary activities are challenging. I lose focus so easily. 

    Even watching TV is a challenge. I space out (dissociate) and miss parts of the plot. Sometimes I watch a movie and either cant remember the plot or its so disconnected that it makes no sense. 

    The bursts of memories and anger is the worst. It's hard for people to manage, just like the spaceyness.  

    I've made a few key mistakes that continue to bite me in the rear. Sometimes I blurt before I can catch myself. Sometimes I dont speak up. I'm not sure what's going to happen. 

    I try to take my mind off the problems and focus on writing and work. It's so hard to deal with people. I'm trying to get the truth out there. I need people to know how dangerous it is to combine powerful medications like clozaril with poor boundaries. It destroys lives and families. Now the Healthcare community wants to bury its mistakes. I cant let that happen. 

It doesn't even matter that much which dx they use, as long as I have what I need. Though I still think cPTSD/DID, adhd, and autism are the most accurate. Tomorrow I'll try to write a funny story.

All I really need is a quiet life making my own choices. That's it. That's really what I have. I have problems, but I make them work. 

In a way I feel like my life started 3 years ago when I got off clozaril and the magic maker quit. Unfortunately, I do get to have an opinion and make decisions. A Lotta people dont like that. Take that one fella in the ER, a male nurse. It was a beautiful moment we shared. He took the time to snarl at me how much of a disappointment I was to my father. So sweet. That was shortly after he violently shoved a catheter up my urethra. Some of these of these moments were Kodak. 

Anyways, the world is so different off clozaril. I read people better, and I think more coherently. So long as I follow the law, I get to make choices, like which provider and what medication. I'm becoming more and more aware of the disconnect. They miss bipolar and clozastill. They dont like the dx. They dont like the provider. It's unfortunate.  

Anyways. It makes more sense now. Everything, really. I just dont like people messing with my health care and other people dont believe in my provider. As long as I focus on the most pressing and real tasks, no one has reason to fool with me. I like stability. It works for me.

Reminders

    I'm taking the time to remind family members and healthcare providers of my legal rights. While I'm still a living, breathing, US citizen I still have some of those rights. Sometimes people come up with excuses to violate my rights repeatedly. 

    There are several laws that apply to healthcare. I went to the Patient Bill of Rights.

• Timely access to medical care.
• Be treated with dignity and respect by each MED health unit staff member.
• Medical care that is free from discrimination on the basis of age, sex, race, ethnicity, national origin, language, disease, disability, or religion.
• Easy-to-understand information about your diagnosis and treatment options from your MED medical service provider.
• Ask your MED medical service provider questions so that you can make informed decisions about your health.
• Request the professional qualifications of the primary MED medical service provider rendering care.
• Communicate confidentially with your MED medical service provider. 
• Privacy and confidentiality as outlined in the Notice of Privacy Practices (available at your health unit).
• Withdraw your consent, delay, or otherwise refuse examination, intervention, or treatment.
• Continuity of care – if for any reason you decide to seek care elsewhere, your MED medical service provider will work to coordinate your care in accordance with your wishes.
• Review and request amendments to your medical records.
• Provide confidential feedback about any matter that occurs in MED Health Units by available means
• 
  

    I've had to stop talking to several family members over these issues. I've had to file a complaint against CCBH. Now MIP has also been violating my rights. It's frustrating to me. They say I need to take responsibility. But they are not doing the same. They are not doing the same.

    Recently, there was a big ruckus around here because some EMS workers violated HIPPA, a law that my brother described as "well intended but... [not enforceable]". It was one of the last conversations we had. My brother and I have not had a healthy relationship. He refuses to recognize that fact. 

    These people just keep doubling down. They don't give up. Convinced of their own moral superiority they will break the law and encourage others to do the same. It's sad. Then they lie to my face repeatedly about their actions and end run my health care, lie to my providers. It's frustrating. 

    I don't like being ugly. Sometimes people force me to. Unfortunately, there are laws in this country, and everyone has to follow them. You can say what you like about me, but I have broken no laws. ZERO. 

    They want me to take responsibility, but they won't take responsibility. Those EMS workers? They're unemployed now. I don't have the energy for this stuff anymore. From now on, no further warnings. I do contact the authorities when laws have been violated. My brother needs to reconsider his position on HIPPA. Very carefully. CCBH, MIP? They need to keep in mind these laws. My family doesn't own me. 

Walls

I'm not sure if I don't say what I need to say or people simply don't listen. I'm trying to be more deliberate with my communication. People that don't listen, I don't spend time with. I now have a job that requires minimal talking so I dont have to stress my voice for no result (VNS implant). I'm saving my communication for when it has impact. For the most important things. Without the medication, I communicate mostly by the mychart (text) messages, which is something Prichards was completely unwilling to do. It's so much easier. Plus, it creates a paper trail, so no one can bullshit or do the run around. I talk to five people on a regular basis. Well six now. The PA, two counseling people, my sister, and 2 friends. Cutting down on social contacts keeps my head clearer. Maybe I'm hypersensitive, but I'm finding people much more difficult. I'm trying to be much more careful. Psychological walls, gates, checkpoints. It's not only harder to focus since clozaril dc, but I seem hypersensitive. I almost always have tinnitus. I suspect I come across as aloof. I need to protect myself. While people can argue whether I've had a hard time, I can plainly say that it's difficult to tolerate stress. So while people can argue all day long about who I am and what I am capable of, I can clearly demonstrate how extreme my limits can be. I just don't have the endurance, particularly when people work at cross purposes. 

Running people over destroys trust. People can call me paranoid if they like, but I dont have the patience or the energy for playing games. I need to focus on what's real. If I say something once and it is ignored, denied, or not heard, thats it. One strike and you're out. Communication should not be a war. People don't listen, they're gone. I'm done. 

There are many people that I have not had real conversations with in months. I just dont see the point anymore. If its not working, it's not working. I'm scratching people off the list. One day I'll be dead. I'm not there yet. But, while I'm still alive, I'm not going to keep grinding the same stones. There's text, email, voicemail. If you don't hear back, no hard feelings on this end, just know that it's not working. I'm done. I know people have no fucking clue, but its been 3 years since Prichards quit. My life changed. It will never be the same. Getting off clozaril, switching psychs twice, and all these hospital visits has been a nightmare. I do not have the energy to fool with people anymore. I'm done. You can blame me, my counselor, spravato, thc, you can blame the damn moon and then you can fuck off. Kindly please. Too many people in my pathetic little life fucking around. Call me paranoid, then kindly fuck off. I need breathing room.

Anyone that has the fool idea to screw with my providers, my healthcare, or my well-being, keep in mind that I'm always more then happy to contact the state and file a complaint. While I'm still living, I do get to make some choices. I've tried to be nice. I prefer to be nice. Now, I reserve the right to do I need to do to protect myself. 

If people finally fuck off for a good long while, then maybe things will change. But people are simply not taking a hint. Then they act surprised when relationships crumble, trust crumbles. If you can't listen to me, you can shout at the wind or listen to me through legal channels. I can be ugly too. I don't like it, but I'm learning to live with it. 

If you think I'm winning, you haven't checked the score.