Dear Psychiatry

Dear Psychiatry,

    The 90s are over. It's time to move into the 21st century. To that end, I would like to summarize and reiterate a few key points. Autism is very real and affects about 2.8% of the population, including me. ADHD is very real, and affects about 11.8% of kids and 4.4% of adults, including me. HIPPA is very real and is important for keeping medical records valid and useful. Without reliable medical records, we cannot take good care of the population. It's important that patients are able to have trust in their providers. 

    I am guilty of relying strongly on medication. This is not the same thing as drug addiction. I have at times expected too much of medication. Medication can be very dangerous. I hope to take mine safely and privately. 

    I do not know what the future holds, but I need it to look different from the past. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on how medication can be safely used or misused. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on clozapine's shortcomings as a medication. It is not my responsibility to explain the limitations of the bipolar model. It is also not my responsibility to allow these things to haunt me. I need to give up my medical guilt. I do hope that autism becomes increasingly understood. I hope that new therapies and treatments for autism advance. 

    I hope that I find peace and a place to thrive. This medical drama has taken too much of my time. I look forward to some peace. I look forward to some prosperity. I look forward to less time working on my medical situation. I look forward to fewer arguments with doctors. 

Ashes

Self-Image and Times of Crisis

    I feel like times of crisis can severely challenge self-image. Me, before all this happened, I thought I was the same things my counselor thinks I am: funny, nerdy, smart, odd, creative, autistic. Now I'm not sure what I am. At the hospital they seemed to see a different person. And I was in a dissociative episode, so I'm told, so maybe I was acting like a different person. It's hard to see myself the same again. It was a very strange experience in which I was conscious, but in an altered state of mind in which my memory and my emotions worked differently. It was similar to that time I had the car accident, and I was in a state of shock. It was very much like that. 

    The weird thing is, now I'm not sure how to act. I don't feel the same. I'm in the same place. I'm doing some of the same things. But my state of mind is different. Even my writing seems different. I'm not sure what to do with that.

Side Effects of Spravato and Ketamine

    While I will never regret trying ketamine, these medications have certain side effects that can be quite scary. The biggest one that I've encountered is the one that landed in the hospital: sudden changes in heart rate and blood pressure. That will freak you right the hell out. I don't know if these medications can cause heart attacks or strokes, but you feel your heart going like a percussion set on steroids, you feel the surge of the pressure, you're going to be calling 911 like I did. If you have any sense, that is. 

    When I left the spravato center, they didn't check the vitals. I remember feeling off. I remember refusing to answer questions. And then I ended up in the hospital. These things can be dangerous. But at the same time, they have helped me so much. That's why I advocate for really well controlled access in controlled conditions to these medications. So that people can get relief in safe ways. I should have stayed at the center longer. I should not have left before they thoroughly checked me out. 

     I do hope that life is meant to be beautiful. For me, though it may not be apparent, it has been a struggle and at times very dark. I want it to be beautiful. I want it to have happiness. I want it to be gentle and kind. I do not want strife. So, I am working on smoothing some of my rougher edges and increasing my tolerance. I am doing this so that life can seem more beautiful, and less like a war. I do get angry when people assume they know me or what it is like to be me, as if it is easy, as if I don't know what it is like to stare into the face of an abyss. I do know. I don't wish to agonize over the depravity, hate and struggle in this world anymore then I have to. I hate arguing. I just want to be. 

    I'd like to thank all the little rodents. They're quite tasty with a bottle of A-. I'd also like to thank the nurses and the doctors, while reminding everyone that we're all human (or vampiric bat, or Spider, or, well, you know...) and we all have our strengths and weaknesses, good times and bad. 

    I'm taking some time to review the site, after a bit of a cooling off period, some better sleep, and improved sinuses. I'm trying to get it in shape for showing ads. I need to focus, so I've improved my boundaries around online harassment, scammers, and beggars, because God knows I'm not a rich person and I have my own problems. My property is now protected by Vivint Security, to further discourage disruptive behavior. I do not have the finances, the will, the desire, or the time to put up with BS. 

The Knowledge Tree

 

   Once upon a time, a sickly young boy was walking a field in the village of Green Vale and came upon a medicine man. The medicine man was busy tending a tree by the River of Reeds. The tree was storied and old and stood taller than the others. As the boy approached, the man paused his pruning and greeted this stranger.

    "Hello, young man, what troubles you?" 

    The boy explained that he was of the Furlat tribe and was said to be diseased of the mind. He acted different, he did not fit in. Did the medicine man know of anyone that could help?

    The man gave him a kindly smile, picked a leaf from the tree. "Eat this leaf of knowledge. It makes your mind strong again."

    The boy took the leaf and ate it and felt better. 

    "Now eat this acorn of medicine, it makes your body healthy."

    Over time, the medicine man taught him everything he knew about the knowledge tree. They passed the days together, tending it in isolation. They became so alike that they became known by the same name. Yet the sickness persisted, though he ate of the knowledge tree regularly.

    One day he saw some women tending a bush further down. The bush was queer looking and thick, with colorful leaves and strange berries. 

    What's that bush called, asked the boy, now a man.

    The medicine man was old by then and tired but looked upon his pupil with kind eyes. "That is the bush of common sense, and those are the women that tend it. The berries are potent and strange, like that of a weed. They change your mind and make you obstinate. That bush has torn apart families and good friends at times. Be careful of the bush, my friend, but if you feel that you need it, talk to the woman tending it, and she will tell the story."

    So the man went and he talked to the woman a great deal and ate of the leaves of the bush of common sense. He even tried the berries which gave him thoughts that he found unusual. 

    The other medicine men were quite incensed, and they called upon the village elders at the medicine center to have the boy locked up. 

    "This boy is out of control!" They said. "He has eaten of the bush and its berries and now he questions his former master! He must be addicted to the bush or fornicating with the women!"

     The man's former teacher had retired, have long tended the knowledge tree and seeking his rest. It was only the upstart who stood against the college of medicine men.

    So, they took the upstart and interned him at the medicine college. There they proceeded to berate him and instruct that he was now an addict and needed to learn his place. "They will not take you back!" the medicine men warned. "You are an addict and a criminal!"

    The man became very embittered, and when they released him he returned to the women tending the bush. They did not believe the lies of the medicine men, saw the truth in-between: That the man was doing as he always had done, learning and relying on the teachers and the garden to nourish him and make him strong. And the women took him back. 

    He continued to eat of the bush of common sense, as well as the old knowledge tree he had relied on. He only hoped that the medicine men saw the errors of their ways and overcame their ignorance and arrogance. But only time would answer that. 

Emotional Numbing

 Emotional Numbing

Trust Issues vs Paranoia

    Trust issues and paranoia are both forms of mistrust, but they differ in their origins and impact. Trust issues are often rooted in past experiences where trust was broken, leading to habitual behaviors of distrust. They can manifest in various relationships and may involve behaviors like constant checking or suspicion. Paranoia, on the other hand, is characterized by irrational suspicion and intense fear of betrayal, often without a clear origin story. It can feel heavier and more detached from reality, making it difficult to interpret neutral or uncertain situations as genuine threats. Understanding the difference between these two can help individuals seek the appropriate support or therapy.

Trust Issues

 'Trust Issues': Signs, Causes, and How to Overcome Distrust

The more I review the past the more I question what I know. I think it's important to be realistic in life. Autism isn't a death sentence, but does come with definite and rather permanent differences... Differences in communication, perception, and comprehension. I need to focus more. Accounting will never be what I wanted it to be. I don't have the mental integration and the capacity. I can't keep chasing shadows. I'm still good at writing. I can give the world my words. Because I believe the standardized testing results, even if others wish to deny those results. Someone with impaired recall, adhd, autism, and psychological problems is not destined to have a great deal of success in business. If I truly could choose to not have problems, then the world would indeed be simpler. But from what Im being told, that's not in the cards. I realize there is still some disagreement amongst the professionals, but only on the finer details.

Some people, they just don't get it, and never will. I need to focus on my writing. Leave the past behind. I can't wish it back. I cant pretend it back. I cant rewrite it back. I cant medicate it back.

    I've been thinking a lot. Again, when the hospital mentions jail and restraining orders, it seems like a good time to think. Life hasn't exactly gone smoothly, and it's a bit of a mindfuck at times. 

    The funny thing is, in college I was so boring. Barely ever had alcohol, my social circle was a church group. I wasn't the greatest student; I spent a lot of time working on my computer. Eventually I built a custom liquid cooled rig, after graduate school. I don't understand people so well. I was not captain of the cross-country team for very long in high school, it all started coming apart in junior year. I used to write fiction to cope, but I didn't share much of it. I wasn't very confident in my work. I blended into "the background" so often. It seemed like I was living that song every day almost. Seems like so many missed opportunities. I did not find my place. When you spend so much time alone, maybe it looks paranoid. 

    Counseling involves more direct communication. Makes things simpler. Less reading between the lines. I like technology, too. It makes sense to me and makes my life easier communication wise. I'm so much better at visual communication. Not everyone likes that. They don't understand my desire to communicate in writing. They sometimes seem to resent my use of texting/messaging and other written communication. But if anyone is ever going to know me other than my counselor, I have to communicate. So, I leave these words for people who want to know, like a message in a bottle. 

    For those for wish to know the God's honest truth of my life, here it is: I'm a nerdy guy with autism spectrum. I never found my place. Yet here I am. I'm still trying to find my way. I've been quiet. That was always my way. The world is not a predictable place. It's easy to get lost. I'm trying to understand where I am going, because it's not clear. To me, anyways. And the number of opinions can make your head spin. 

We decided to try vyvanse again. I'm waiting for the pharmacy to get it in stock. That and increased mirtazapine for sleep, and a new machine for cpap therapy, which is on order. I'm hoping the vyvanse will help with the restless. 

    I've been giving my professionals feedback on how to help me. The biggest feedback is to simply hear my feedback. What all is right and wrong upstairs may be a matter of debate, but I'm not a child anymore. I for one am glad I got off Clozaril. It's been rough, but I know it was right for me. 

    Today I have the Sleep doc and the head doc as I continue my "health care journey". Sleep's been around 6 hours and I'm trying to fine tune my focus. 

    I think independence of thought is important, and that's hard to do within the system. Sometimes there's too many wheels bumping up against each other to keep them all moving in the same direction. That's why I like independent contracting and small teams. So long as each team keeps within the general ruleset, small teams can wiggle a little and still stay in line. 

    I can't jump on too many bandwagons. I'm getting myself down to a system that works for me. I feel like I expressed my concerns and adjusted my circles and boundaries. Perhaps now everything starts falling into place. In the meantime, regarding the scammers, I'll stay in touch with law enforcement as needed and screen my communications more carefully. 

Remember, Sarah, find Jess, don't come back with hospital supplies.

Scammers

I hate Scammers. They're always coming up with new ideas. Tonight I got contacted by one, said they were going to pay me to use my photo for some art. Then they sent me a check, started ordering to send money here and there or they would report me to FBI. eventually I had to call police. They said to block all the numbers. So I did. Bank must be wondering wtf. Now I have to contact mauldin police if I get contacted again. I wish these people would find something else to do. I'm trying to get work. I don't need this stress.

Verbal Combat

Hard words delivered fast in a fury of certainty

Melt back to the corners of my consciousness slowly

When the fool marches forth with his lecturing and monotony

I pause lest I respond too fast.

My silence they mistake for weakness or impropriety,

But it is only a measured response to their haste

For there is no sense in speaking often and loudly

To a man whose ears are wide yet shut.

Words without impact carry no value

I save mine for when the time is right

And if that time never comes for us

I let retreating footsteps say what remains. 

 

Wake up Greenville County! This is your FABORITE brown recluse! SPIDEY!!!!

Then there's that other story MIP doesn't like so much...

 It was like 20 years ago. I had been there too much. I got bored. I don't think they had cameras back then, and the fence wasn't watched as carefully. It didn't have the rounded top, either. There was a corner, behind the wall. Staff wasn't looking, I went behind the wall, jumped that fence, and came around to the visitor's entrance, tried to visit myself. They were like, Ashes, get back in there. 

 Ive been a little dark and unfocused, but I'm doing better with the anger and the isolation. Hopefully, I'll have some work soon.

Gratitude

    I think it's time to review what I'm grateful for. I'm grateful for food, for having people that help me, for shelter, for medicine, for my health, for freedom, for my car that allows me to travel, for my talents, for my friends, for my cat, for my nieces and nephews, for nature, for time to heal, for the strength and patience that allows me to try again and to forgive.

Projection and Healthcare

    I want to revisit projection. There's so very much to say about projection, and it is so seldom discussed. 

    Projection can look like a look of things. In today's society it happens unconsciously all the time. Every interaction is permeated by projection. For example, when you see another man catch a woman's eye, what does it mean? Is it attraction to her good looks or graceful way? Is it jealousy of the rich things she wears? Is it dangerous, in that he is looking to steal those things? Based on past experiences, people come away with different assumptions about his behavior. She may as well. 

    In the hospital, there was a tremendous amount of projection. Did they ever ask me why I contacted the nurse? No. Did they ever ask me why I said I was thinking of harming my counselor? No. Did they ever ask me what I needed, or were they too busy lining up the next center? Teeing up the next failure? They did ask me at points, but they weren't listening. Gullet and I barely exchanged 5 words. They talk about emotional mind, rational mind, and wise mind. I think the temperature was too high for a wise mind to prevail. Now we're back at paranoid, because I refuse to buy into the bullshit surrounding me. I'm just tired of it. At least they had the intelligence to stop the spravato, the true reason why I was there. It was a bad reaction. 

    I think if you slow down the doctors, if you put speed bumps in their way, they can get frustrated. I know the hospitals push them hard, but I think independence, HIPPA, mandatory vacations and retirements, and other speed bumps exist for a reason: to keep people safe. Because even the safest treatment can do harm. 

    I think I'm going to have to write much, much more about projection and psychedelics in medicine. Boundaries are those safeguards that break up things that are dangerous. When you're dealing with inanimate objects or an enemy, such as in war, boundaries are less important... but when what you are dealing with is a friend or loved one or a customer/client/patient, you can do real harm very easily. Sometimes I wish I had been a soldier and could just bam bam bam without concern for what I was harming. But I am not dealing with an enemy. I'm dealing with people I care about. And that's entirely different. Being a soldier isn't easy, definitely not, it's just a different kind of challenge. Being a man is about more then destruction. Being a man is knowing how to build and preserve. Some do it with words and services, others with guns. But I think we need to recognize that glorifying violence is dangerous, lest that violence be misdirected.

    Me, I've developed a reputation. First crazy, now drug addict. What comes next? That's what worries me. So, maybe I have reason to act a little paranoid. Who knows what they'll think of next? I think I'd best keep my distance either way. 

    The Bible say, Judge not, lest ye be judged... but then... what does the Bible know anyways...

Each Day

Each day is another chance, another opportunity to show the world that I can. I can be more then the past. I can be more then what people say about me. Today is a day to give my best. For me, that means being selective about what I choose to be involved in. Careful choices. Deliberate choices. One choice at a time. 

Psychedelics for Trauma/Anxiety/Depression

    I find that THC use for Psychiatric purposes is not worth it. There's too much stigma for it to ever be worth it. I find that in limited amounts, THC or CBD is not much different from Benzodiazepines with a little mood boost on top. It also seems to increase the flexibility of thought, and in that I believe it has healing properties. People with mental illnesses like depression or PTSD tend to have less neural growth in the brain, especially in the Hippocampus, the area primarily responsible for emotions and memory. THC/CBD promotes the growth of nuerons and reduces inflammation, but God forbid you test positive for employment or even worse, show up in an ER with THC traces in your blood. It's one long 411 from everyone you know on the evils of THC. Funny how Spravato/Ketamine doesn't seem to do that. It's a psychedelic too. Spravato itself seemed to be more limited in its therapeutic benefit. It seemed... milder. 

    Trying Ketamine was one of the best decisions I ever made. I have known people to sing the praises of psilocybin, which I have never tried, but Ketamine was a game changer for me. In combination with therapy, it helped me see the world much differently. It took away some of the black and white and added not just shades of gray but also color. A lot of color. The infusions of ketamine with the music therapy was absolutely amazing. It changed who I was. It gave me hope. My life was like a mental prison on Clozaril. The side effects, the limited mindset, the support groups, the regimented lifestyle... The emotional experience lacked depth. I very much resent the attitude of the medical community and the way that they changed their perception towards me as I tried the very treatments they recommended: the psychedelics. It's moronic to recommend a treatment and then demonize someone for taking your advice. To withhold medical care or threaten someone with jail seems self defeating in that context. It discourages people from seeking any sort of help. And then suddenly you're paranoid for feeling that way. No, I very much resent the attitudes one can encounter around the treatment of mental health issues.

    I think the ideal solution is more providers licensed to administer psychedelics in conjunction with therapy. By introducing them in a controlled context, it both provides much needed benefits supported by vast amounts of research and personal testimony, but provides it in a safe way while also enhancing the benefits of therapy. To me this is ideal. To provide a proven treatment in a controlled way (thereby drastically reducing risk), you provide another option. By pairing it with therapy, you increase the potential for productive learning and increased coping. By providing it safely, you prevent people from turning to illegal and inherently less safe sources, such as traveling to Mexico as I know one person who did for psilocybin. He swears by psilocybin, and is a successful businessperson and somehow never accused of being an addict or doing anything illegal.

    I think by rewarding some people for doing something that is not legal in the US and punishing others for doing so, you create risk. You create the risk of people leaving the US to seek treatment, perhaps permanently, as he did. Alternatively, you create problems for those who choose to stay. You encourage illegal use by making illegal use the only option. The best alternative, in my mind, is to carefully control a clean supply of psychedelics for pain, trauma, depression, and ideally to mandate therapy as part of the process. I think it is extremely self-defeating to deny the option entirely, or to fail to pair it with proven therapy. Only in combination can you truly recover and learn how to deal with problems better. This is what I firmly believe, having tried all sorts of treatments, support groups, hospitals, centers, and talk therapies. The war on drugs is self-defeating, because there is a way to provide relief in controlled settings. I would never go back to a pre ketamine world. I would never go back to a pre trauma therapy or DBT therapy world. It takes off the chains of limited thinking in ways which other therapies, in my opinion, cannot hope to do. CBT can be distorted and misapplied. I know in my life the combination of CBT and benzodiazepines had harmful effects in encouraging complacency and dependency. 

    I don't know how much of a success my life can be at this point, but if nothing else let it be a case study on autism and trauma. Let it be a case study. There are better ways to treat autism and trauma then were used in the past. Rather then reflexively retreat back to our limited thinking of the 1990s on Bipolar and Aspergers, let's move forward. Let's move forward and be willing to learn. Be willing to admit that we don't know it all, and we can still learn about how to deal more effectively with mental illness and neurodivergence. Rather then stereotyping and labeling, let's learn about how to do effective therapy in the modern, post 20th century. I believe that this modern world necessitates a more advanced understanding of nutrition, supplements, psychedelics, and therapy to decrease all the negatives of mental illness: anger, violence, lack of productivity... with better boundaries, better use of medicine, better diet, more nuanced thinking, I believe the world can be better. Take a look at the whole picture of my life: when was I better, on Clozaril and bipolar with poor boundaries and bad communication... or post psychedelic and post therapy, with lower blood sugar, lower weight, more self-control, an enhanced knowledge of neurodyvergance and how to be productive in my own way, more self-awareness. When was I better, beating a square peg in a round hole or finding the square hole and moving through? When was I better, with more say in my own healthcare, or a slave to a doctor and his tightly controlled and limited medicine with very limited ideas of CBT and some inappropriate and even abusive counselors? When did I learn more? When I was with all men and be male in a traditional way, or when I branched out to be different and more well-rounded? I think time will make the difference obvious, as I communicate more and change my relationships and lifestyle even more. 

    I'm not going back to the way it used to be. It wasn't working. I'm not going back to the support groups and the machines. It wasn't working. I'm moving forward, with or without the community. And I certainly don't need THC to do that. I don't need Spravato to do that. I don't even need more ketamine to do that. Because like that guy who left the country to try a drug in a way that would be illegal here did (without being demonized at all), I have changed. My perspective has changed. My lifestyle has changed. The only thing I regret is that there wasn't a better system in place to learn what I needed to learn and get the psychedelics I needed to get in order to change. I believe that time will prove this to be true. Just as he knows the truth of his recovery, I too shall know mine. I too will be free. Free of this limited thinking. Free of the ridiculous slavery of limited mindsets. I believe this will be true, whether I die poor or rich, tomorrow or twenty years from now, I will know the truth of my life. It will remain written for those who care to know it. That Autism is real. That Clozaril is out of date. That I was in limited thinking. That I found my way out of that limited thinking.

    I am forgiving and moving on. I am learning. And I am grateful, even while acknowledging mistakes made along the way. Nevermind learning, let's demonize and rush back to limited thinking? Let's forget and pretend nothing happened? Or maybe, just maybe, we can learn the right lessons. That is what I hope to do. That is what I hope to do. Let my ridiculously complicated medical journey be a guide. Let us learn. Some people have had tremendous success with psychedelics. Let's learn how to use them properly, in proper form, in controlled settings, with proper education. I do believe that they can do much more for society then benzodiazepines ever did.

I remain at home in contemplation, having applied to several jobs and done all my medical and self care. I feel like some meditative reflection is beneficial. I regret taking needing time away, but I still feel the need to slow this down. I reached God in McClean, I can reach him here too. Just me and him. And the cat. I feel like too many influences is just as bad as idle hands... its the devil's workshop.

Plan for Discussing Psychedelics

    I do have a plan for discussing psychedelics in full. I'm working on a draft to explain how I think that they can help society, as I have seen them help others and myself. And I will not be the demonized one while others are celebrated for the successful use of psychedelic therapy to change their lives. 

    That is my message here. That we must move beyond limited thinking and better use psychedelics to improve mental health. I am determined to bring positive change. I will not be a martyr. I too will demonstrate the power of recovery, the power of more advanced thinking in mental health. Ketamine changed my life. It changed the way I see the world dramatically. 

    These drugs have enormous untapped potential. If we simply learn how to use them better, we can do more. I will not be a slave to lies about myself or the people who have helped me. I will not allow the community to insult the work of so many to benefit the prejudices of the few. I will not allow the Bipolar Bullshit to continue unaddressed. The Truth will come out, so long as I am alive, people will know the dangers of bad psychiatry. 

    So long as I am breathing, people will see and hear what it means to be a slave to Clozaril vs what it means to have the right choices. I'll do that for the kids. Let them demonize me and let the world learn about the power of psychedelics and DBT/trauma therapy, as many others have learned on their own. Let the world see the results of bad psychiatry, as so many have already seen firsthand. Let them demonize me but let them learn how these alternative means can truly help people. 

    If they are properly controlled and administered, psychedelics are safer and more effective than drugs like Mirapex and gabapentin. It's just a matter of the proper administration. I will not allow a few self-interested and know it all doctors to sabotage other professionals and therapies for their own limited thinking and self-benefit. I know some stubborn people. But I can be just as stubborn. The world must learn the truth about these mental illnesses and the treatments for them. I'm tired of caring what they think about me. I'm tired of caring. Let them learn how to help others better, if nothing else. If anything, the answer to the war on drugs lies in better control, not support groups, soldiers, and prisons full to the breaking point. There's got to be some truth about my life out there other than the bipolar bullshit. There's got to be truth about me out there. And apparently, it's up to me to write it. 

    I know some people have worked hard to help me. It's up to me to make it worth it. We have to learn something about mental illness. We're not learning. We need to learn. Otherwise, what is the point? we just make up stories as we go along? What does it matter what anyone says? We have to learn. I have to believe that is possible. It's just one big, drugged façade otherwise. Life needs to be about more than taking pills and doctors' orders. There has to be compassion and truth, or it means nothing. I cannot have faith in a system that drags people down for doing what is right. I cannot do it.