I've tried to be honest on this website about mental health. It's taken a few detours and it's not always been pretty, or anywhere close to it. I miss feeling like I had a crew. Having an independent voice is isolating. I have not enjoyed the experience. Trying to inspire others in a world of differing views is a strange business. 

    I feel disingenuous if I'm always positive and full of hope. I try to be honest, and that doesn't always allow for painting in the brightest colors. What's most disturbing to me has been the shifting of loyalties as I've said more and more. All I'm saying is what has happened. It's gotten so extremely personal. It makes me wonder how you can be personal with someone and still be their friend. 

    I like to lift others up, even by admitting fault. I don't want to be the perfect one. It's not realistic. I'm definitely not perfect, I'm not actually well liked.

    What I learn about people sews doubt. It's easier to be closed, play it tough. So much easier. To say nothing at all. I've tried to hold back. I've tried to be nice. When you say all the right things, you play along, life goes right smooth. Where is that middle ground between too open and too closed?

    When I started the website, I thought maybe I would still be able to relate, while telling the truth. I feel like I was living a false life, just playing along. Living in a fantasy. All the volatility and the isolation, is it coming full circle? They keep asking me about paranoia. As if wanting to have a voice in your own health care is paranoia. And low and behold, my physical health has gotten better with me having that voice. But I don't like the pushback. I feel a chilling effect when truth comes out. 

    I do feel betrayed. And the world is going to have to let me feel betrayed. They should have asked me why. They should have given me a chance to explain my actions. Now I'm paranoid because they don't want to hear. I don't think it's paranoia to be afraid when people threaten you with jails and restraining orders for showing up to a hospital with a bad reaction to Spravato. I don't think that's paranoia. I think it's a very realistic fear. 

    What I would have understood is if in March they had a talk with me about maybe spravato is too risky for you. That would have made sense. And I had some poor judgement around Elle with the contact and the mentioning her name. It's funny how when I used to just play cards and go to the classes and take the drugs everything was fine and dandy. I try to have a say in my own healthcare, and I make one mistake with a nurse and the tables turn. I was following Prichards and the doctors' medical advice the whole time. That never changed.

    I need to find my humor and hold onto it. I need to do this because I am grateful for the care of the workers that put in long hours and demonstrated compassion. I need to be my own light in the world and communicate better. I hope that I can do that. Hopefully, my writing and my work in accounting can do more for the world then my actual presence has seemed to do.

Life can get dark. But it doesn't always have to be that way. Sometimes people move on. It doesn't mean they didn't care. It just means they can't be there anymore. Sometimes caring gets out of hand. People can be addictive like that. There's an addiction I can understand.

Self imposed isolation

    I feel that self-imposed isolation can be helpful. It's really not been working out socially. It just seems like my communication has not been up to my environment. I want to contribute positively to the world. Thats why I stay away. Because I want to remember the positive and stop creating negative. I can't hit life's speed bumps at 100 mph. I need to be deliberate. I feel sad that I can't be with people I care about. It makes me even more sad to think I've let them down. They said I was good with words. So I'm sharing only my words as much as possible. I'm trying to sculpt those words to make them even better. I want people to remember the good things because I struggle to know what to do. I need to be humble. I need to offer the best of me. So I'm working on my words. Trying to find the right ones, so that when the moment is right, I can give them. I feel like half of what I've said has led me the wrong paths. I need to look within and find those gold nuggets beyond the labels and the drugs. I want to offer the best of myself all the time. Surely there is more. I cant let my legacy be a poem on a wall in a mental hospital like some demented I was here statement. I can't go to more centers and institutions. I need to find the right words. I want to make sure I am giving my best. 

I need to turn a corner. I need some normalcy. I'm trying to focus on here and now. 

 

Interest you in a glass of A, my dear?

zee left wing is a little sensitive. (Vhy do I always have to explain twice?)

 

    Nonono, we didn't feed her invisible pills. Jess, stop disappearing while the internist tries to examine you.

 

Zee legged one distracts them while I fly you out back, yes?

The Gap

    When I was on Spravato I was not working. Things had gotten bad with my families. The biological and the corporate. We weren't seeing eye to eye about Prichards and Clozaril. But it seems we've gotten past that. I think. Then we had to resettle the meds and argue about THC and Spravato. Supposedly now we're moving on. I spend so much time just documenting what I'm doing now. I like feeling more in touch with my emotions and more open with people.

    I feel this yearning to be productive vocationally. I'm excited for the kids. They've got important stuff going on. I need to get some traction with my communication. Especially my auditory communication. I wanted to be heard on my concerns about my healthcare. It seems I've done that. So now I need to focus.

Offerings

        Well, hopefully I can please my angels. I applied for another tutoring job. I'm researching some remote work. I've got my car in for maintenance. Tomorrow I'm going to focus on looking at those jobs and cleaning some more. I think I'll try to add some more uplifting posts. Maybe adjust my perspective. All these memories about health care and personal differences is getting tiresome. I need some humor. 

    It's just weird being around health care workers these days. It used to be I was just another patient but there's always something in the air. Like a vibe. There's so much in people's eyes. I can tell I make some of them nervous. Maybe it's not so different. Maybe it was always like that. Then I missed my sleep doc appointment. I hate that. I'm so embarrassed to even contact them now. I get preoccupied. I need to regiment my routine better. March really shook me. I need to refocus my priorities again. Get this job thing locked down. 

Let's see...

Tasks

Health

sleep doctor
continue my reinvigorated exercise routine

turns out I'm low on bupropion... fill that one

schedule dentist

Work

Apply to tutoring job #1 - waiting to hear back

Apply to tutoring job #2 - waiting to hear back

Review Business plan - in progress

Social Networking - in progress

Writing/Art

The Messenger - work on character sketches not started

Tales of the Attick - brainstorm new ideas

The Watchers - continue next installment

Finish my impressionism painting

Receive drawing supplies I ordered

Update site

House/car

Sort more items for donation and put in spare room

Clean kitchen

Install new toilet seat

Call habitat store to schedule new pickup for old sofa

vacuum

repair old laptop

Laundry

Mind and Spirit

Find some humor

read some more

Try new recipe

Research 501(c)(4) some more

Surveys

    Now this I find funny. I guess I've really gotten a reputation. The hospital system contacted me the very next day not just once, but three times. The first time was a text survey about my ER visit. The second time was a phone call inquiry on the quality of my visit. The third time was an automated voice survey about the quality of my visit. 

    Honestly, I could have let the female nurse do the catheter and she probably would have been gentler. Ironically, I thought I'd be crossing fewer lines if males did it. It wasn't the first time I'd had a catheter. That first coma. Before I went into it. The female nurse did the catheter just fine that time. She did it more gently. But that was '98. Anyways! 😳

Dealing with Emotions

     What I do like about this middle ground finding thing is that I feel more peace and I feel more connected to myself. I don't always feel connected to other people. I have gotten a lot of advice. I like that I think about electronics less. I still use them a lot, but they are less of a preoccupation. I feel that I'm seeing medication more realistically. I feel that my compassion is actually increasing. I was always angry; it was just a medicated angry. 

    Now the emotions are more obvious, and that scares people. They think that they can drug or talk or explain away the anger and the issues, but life just doesn't work that way. I have to actually deal with my problems. I feel like part of that is having really honest communications with health care professionals and budgeting more carefully. Handling trust and relationships differently. Not hiding so much. Which is why I do these posts. So, people can see the reality behind the chaos. Otherwise, it's just confusing. 

     You know, I actually liked this Dr. Darcy the second time around. She was quiet and gentle, like Meghan. That's not always easy in an ER. I'm kind of glad they had me talk to several people. It gave me a better perspective of the ER. I saw things differently. It was refreshing. And the Observer told me a little about some of the people that worked at the ER. Not names of course. But it made them seem more human. And that's what I wanted. For us to all seem human.

Labels

    I'm trying to keep a cohesive memory. So, I've been spending time reviewing what's happened. I'm actually surprised the ER visit went so well. I did have some intrusive thoughts on the way out. But I found them easy to ignore. It was just some of the anger coming back to me. They were nice though. 

    I guess when I was little, they really were like family because my dad worked there. I felt like they liked me better before I grew up and developed mental illness. I wanted to be successful so that they would be proud, I guess. Part of me still looks for them to be proud. I feel like life is supposed to look different when you come from a doctor's family. People expect it to look different. 

    It was weird to see dr. darcy again. They asked me about Bipolar and paranoia again. I'm tired of talking that stuff. The whole point of these labels is to describe people's problems accurately so that they can deal with them better. But if the damn meds don't work and the label becomes a regurgitating talking point, what the heck is the point? Anyways, I take the meds. I can't reinvent the wheel every 6 months. 

She said

     If I really wanted to hurt hospital workers, would I go around telling everyone about it? I think not. And you can assume many things about Elle, but all I said was that I was her guardian angel, and if she needed anything, to find me. Do I actually expect her to come find me? No. But it's called gratitude. A strange way to express it, maybe. People make all sorts of assumptions. And if you're wondering, she did exactly what she was supposed to do. She knew I was a patient, because I told her who I was. 

    She said nothing at all. 

Communication

So I'm still working on communication. Trying to make sure that I'm saying what I mean and meaning, what I say. I need to improve my emotional regulation and avoid making extreme statements. When I get very triggered, it's like a flood of words. The patient observer in the hospital told me that she had 7 personalities.

I had not mentioned that I have did. She describes her personalities for me and described how she copes with life. She also shared with me the origins of her trauma. It was inspiring to talk to her.

I'm told some things are permanent. I'm trying to figure out how much. 

MIP Memories

    It was so weird being in MIP in March. It was probably the most extreme dissociative state I've been in. I had nearly complete lack of awareness of time. I was in the 90s and early to mid 2000s. I wasn't even as recent as 2020. I wasn't looking for Elle. I knew she would not be there, because I had already told outpatient everything. They knew about the texting and all of it. They knew it happened quite some time ago. Inpatient was just finding out, I guess. 

    But I kept thinking about the way it used to be. All the things that had happened. It's a very haunted place. Something draws me there, but it's not a place you want to be. That's the weirdness of it. It's like one of those movies where something feels like unfinished business. It's just like a Siren, drawing you in. But it's creepy as hell, and then you want to stay away. Just being near those glass doors. It's just like standing outside the unit at McClean. Feeling like you're floating. Alarm bells going off in your mind. A voice telling you that you need to get out of here. I almost had a similar feeling standing outside Patrick B that one time, even though I had never been there before. That campus is creepy as hell. 

 

Dear Elle,

I'm sorry. That i scared you. You always kept me safe. I hope you understand. 

Love,

Sarah

Dating and Autism

     The other day, someone suggested to me that I should date someone with autism. I have to say the idea rather horrified me. The idea of putting together two people with poor social skills seems like a recipe for disaster. I said I'd rather date someone with ADHD. ADHD seems easier to handle. Autism can be rough. Better yet, I wish I could date someone in healthcare (not one of my professionals). They just seem to understand better, but they still have enough social skills that they can lead the way when I cannot. 

    I hope someday to find someone, but I don't plan to look for autistic people as dating partners. If I meet someone that is a good fit and has autism, then great. But I'm not about to go around looking for autism as if that's something on a checklist. I think people in a couple need to complement each other's strengths and weaknesses, not reinforce them. I'd hope to meet someone with better social skills or at least skills that complement my own, not reinforce my weaknesses. 

Intrusive Thoughts

    I do get intrusive thoughts. These can vary in nature. When I'm especially triggered, they can get strong. I think sometimes the doctors confused a triggered, dissociative state that includes intrusive thoughts and hallucinations with Bipolar mania that includes paranoia and psychosis. 

    I see people that I've met before. I see them and I talk to them. Sometimes they even say things back. It started when I was little. Most of them are from my families. Biological or medical. I talk to them when they aren't there.

     I did not want to be a doctor, but I did want more from my life. But they say some things are permanent. I just hope my angels are watching over me. I know I can't count on people in the community to understand. I have a goobledy gook bunch of DX's in my chart, impaired recall, attention problems, dysregulation, disconnections with reality, time distortions... I don't know what the future holds, but I know that the professionals are hard at work. I just know that the harder people push me, the harder I have to push the doctors, and they can make mistakes. I guess to some extent I'm still working on acceptance. 

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change;

Courage to change the things I can;

And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

As it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make things right

If I surrender to His Will;

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life

And supremely happy with Him

Forever and ever in the next.

Amen.

Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Weird Ideas Part V

 

   I don't like it when people get hurt. I don't. But she was all that was standing in the way of me and that key card. People wonder why I get frustrated and angry, it's when other people condescend or stand in my way or make threats. Even for decades after I started having thoughts of hurting health care workers, I didn't realize the anger problems I had. 

    She was a nice lady. I could have attacked her, no one was nearby but I didn't want her to be hurt. I'm not that kind of person. I knew I didn't want to do it so I didn't. She was safe with me. So maybe she wasn't so crazy to go walking along down a dim hall alone and far from the unit at night with a patient. Maybe some men would have attacked a woman half thier weight in an opportune moment in a dark hall. But I'm just not one of them. I just struggle to communicate and get angry.

   I'm hoping that my feedback filters in little by little to the upstate healthcare community. I think it's important to understand the dangers of Bad Psychiatry and Medicalized Perfectionism. Not every little imperfection of a living organism can be corrected. Sometimes we simply are imperfect beings. Imperfect beings that will never be perfect. 

    We are imperfect beings that get over diagnosed, overanalyzed, over criticized for our imperfections and this leads to things like thoughts of harm to self or others, agitation, PTSD, and broken trust. Forced medication is not ok. Goading is not ok. Threats are not ok. Lying and playing games is not ok. Slapping on a new dx and new drugs and blaming the patient is not helpful. Remember the Hippocratic oath, because, contrary to popular belief, I can and will always find a more ethical provider somewhere else and word does spread. Even if I don't file a complaint, it spreads. 

    And you can blame yourselves for that. 

Gender Conformity and Ableism

 

   I think two forces that have had major destructive impacts on my life are Gender Conformity and Ableism. Ableism is a big part of mental health stigma, but they are not the same. 

    Ableism is the belief that people who are nuerotypical (don't have things like autism, Down's Syndrome, retardation, mental illness, etc) and physically normal (not in wheelchairs, etc), are superior to those who are different. This goes back to Asperger, Nazism, and medicalized perfection. See the Nazis wanted perfect people too, all blue and blonde haired and strong and perfect. Only America takes it in a different direction. Instead of overtly trying to genetically perfect the population, we use other means. We stigmatize people who are different ("We're going to have to ship him out of state", jail threats, put downs, denial of accommodations) we use means to "thin out the herd". 

    We're not that much different from Nazis in some ways. The Nazis performed human experimentation to try to find ways to perfect humans. They gave amphetamines to soldiers, performed unethical medical experiments on Jews, they had a vision. I try to tolerate people who are different and find things to appreciate in them. Because I know what it's like to be medically perfected and examined from every angle to find faults. 

    Gender conformity is slightly different in that it's about the idea that men and women have distinctly different roles in society due to their biological differences. Some common ideas are that women should not work and that men are supposed to be strong and silent and all about their careers. It's very black and white thinking applied to genetic differences. Like Ableism, it fails to take into the account that humans are imperfect living organisms that do not conform to schematics. We were not designed, we were formed or created as imperfect beings to live in harmony, not to destroy one another. 

Post ER Visit

    It feels good to be getting Pristiq back in my system. I was really relieved by the difference in the ER staff yesterday. They were much more receptive. 

    I think I need to reduce my mychart messages more. I get frustrated with the doctors and some of the staff. I'm trying to increase my trust and improve my regulation. I may have called the doctors something like jealous incompetent idiots or something like that and I believe I told them that some people should rot in hell. Maybe a bit abrasive. Maybe I'm oversensitive. I'm trying to take this in a more positive direction. Because I believe that rather than fantasizing about guns and explosives that I should focus on trying to treat them the way I want to be treated. So that's what I tried to do. I was actually there for about 4-5 hours, not 2. I lose track of time. 

    So now I just need the rest of the pristiq. And to stay positive. Be me. The best me I can be.