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. 

Healthcare Chess

Boundaries in healthcare can be very important. Without proper boundaries, it's easy to hijack or sabotage someone's well-being. To run them over, run over thier providers, to have one family member running another family members entire life byproxy. This breaks relationships, breaks wellbeing, and wastes resources. Eventually the hospital will have to choose whether to do its job or to help my family control me the way Prichards did. They tried the helping to control route. My counselor is the roadblock to that plan. So now either the hospital is doing wait and see like my family or they are finally getting the picture. It's a Healthcare cold war. Everyone wants a piece of the action, it seems. I've put up my own walls. 

Felled Man, M.D.

 

Pruning

    I'm closing down everything I can no longer maintain to focus on my deliveries, health and my writing. Only the essentials now. I'm still dealing with a lot of memories and ptsd. it doesn't help that people keep doubling down on sabotaging and undermining me. But I'm closing doors as much as I possibly can. Maybe some people will finally fuck off. Maybe my counselor will have to work overtime. Who knows. She gets paid by the hour, just like anyone else. So long as she is standing, the law is on MY side. So everyone (you know who you are), Fuck off. Thank you.

Responsibility

    There are times in life that a person needs to walk away. Sometimes you can explain, sometimes you simply have to move away as quickly as you possibly can while you still can. Further, sometimes life involves a lot of one way communication. That's not generally a good thing, but it happens. Usually, one way communication is a good sign that it's time to suspend communication or end it permanently. Sometimes you don't get a chance to say goodbye, much less to explain. 

    I've put all my communications on hold pretty much since march. Damage control mode. I don't know if or when some communications will resume. I'm focusing on what's real. Writing. Working. Maintaining my health. Maintaining space. Slowing down the bullshit train. 

    I'm hoping that eventually some communications resume. Others, I'd rather let go.

    There are many things I can take responsibility for. I can take responsibility for being funny, intelligent, kind, good at writing, contemplative, sometimes overthinking, creative, generally quiet, a bit edgy, somewhat tired, frustrated, cautious, repeatedly stabbed in the back, belittled, threatened, harassed, at times not sure if the world is falling apart, sometimes on the edge of leaving town, always thinking of contingencies, having taken THC to cope with all the bullshit and not getting what I needed in the first place, Given the incorrect medication, not given the right meds, over-diagnosed, misdiagnosed, lied about, had my reputation repeatedly and completely trashed, Having taken a lot of different medications (some by choice, others not), Gotten extremely pissed off at hospitals that just go completely apeshit (usually because someone stabs me in the back)... 

    I can take responsibility for so many things. I can take responsibility for people treating me like shit again and again and again. I can take responsibility for being messy, mismanaging trust, and for trying to have some control over my own life. I can take responsibility for not being a good communicator. I can take responsibility for that. At end of the day, there's so much responsibility. But I'm rather tired. I can take responsibility for my family using the healthcare system to run me over again and again like road kill. 

    I can take responsibility for many things. But I'm rather tired. I'm tired of people lying and being wretched excuses for human beings. I'm running out of the ability to not call them out on it. My counselor is the only reason I'm still alive and in one piece. The absolute, only reason. Otherwise, my family would have rearranged my biology and my psychology yet again. Someday maybe people will understand. Or maybe I'll live my life communicating by smoke signal. I don't know. I have to maintain some semblance of safety and sanity. My counselor is the firewall. So long as she is standing, I am safe. Some people find that enraging. But she's still standing.

    As of yet, my family has only dragged in 3 upstate hospitals, 2 in MA, and countless doctors and therapists to try to untangle the mess of drugs (medications) and issues that they have found with me. Who knows. I'm only in my 40s. By the time I'm dead, maybe we can drag the absolute entire eastern seaboard into this dysfunctional thing we call my life. Or maybe someday some people will finally fuck off. Here's hoping. 

F.U.B.A.R.

   One of the first things I did when I got out of the hospital was broadcast this website far and wide. I sent it to hospitals. I sent it to friends (including Health Dept). I sent it to all my providers. I sent it everywhere. There had been such a colossal and utter lack of listening that the only thing I knew for sure is that if I was going down, everyone was going to know why. Even if they chose to ignore the truth, they would at least hear it. 

    There's been forced medication, threats, manipulation, backstabbing, sabotage, medication carousels, diagnostic bullshit, and never ending chaos. When there is no listening, life is merely a long process of screaming into the wind, with the only result being that you hear your own echoes now and then. 

    Then they wonder why my counselor insisted on keeping going. It was because she had been in the storm with me, and knew the insanity that was my life first hand. She knew it all. She knew why I had to stop talking to certain people, she knew why my medication was fucked, she knew all about CCBH, she knew everything. "Lean on your counselor" Artstick said. My counselor was all that was keeping me in one piece day by day, as the world moved to obliterate me piece by piece. 

    And yet I still test the wind and put my ear to the ground, even as the weather has calmed. I keep vigilant for danger. They call it paranoia. I call it common sense. My life has become FUBAR... FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION. I still have weird headaches, feel on edge, constantly looking for danger. No believes me, no one actually listens. It's just one long bullshit train and I just can't get off. Will anyone ever acknowledge the truth? Will anyone ever see the failure of the system? Or will they continue to bury it and play games? Will my life be an endless series of playing along, going through motions, pretending? Will it ever be REAL again? I'm still testing the wind and keeping my ear to the ground. Trust is a risk. 

It helps to focus on what I do well and what I enjoy, and eliminate the rest. Rather then put myself around people who clearly do not enjoy my presence or spending time doing tasks badly, focusing on the people who genuinely enjoy my presence and dont play mind games 24/7 is the path forward. I dont like it. I'd rather get along with everyone. But I can't control everyone and everything. 

Well, can't get stuck on the past. You can only move forward. Adjust. Try to forget. Walk the narrow path. Someday I will die. What will they say when they bury me? Will they lie then too? Will there be any truth left by the end? Or will my life be the never-ending bullshit bipolar train, complete with supporting cast and extras? Finding out one day at a time.

I need to be much more careful. Close more doors. I dont have the energy or endurance anymore.

This reminds me of the movie, the rainmaker. There's a part where the lawyer guy is trying to help the lady with her will and she wants to write out her family and at first he pushes back. But then he meets the family. He stops pushing back. Some people are bad in combination.

Ive been holding onto fantasies too long. I have to start cutting cords. Question is, if I end up in a hospital again, or have an accident or anything at all happens, what next? What will they think of next? What narrative, center, drug, rationalization, excuse, or lie is next? Where is the bullshit train heading? And how do I get off? 

The truth behind the medical bullshit is definitely becoming clearer. No one has given up. They're changing tactics. Watching. Waiting. Too convinced of thier own moral and mental superiority, desperate to restore prichards and bury thier mistakes, bring back the glory days when they drugged freely and buried the truth of the past. Everything they covered up with all the pills and all the shrinks and the defenses and rationalizations. their dogged determination makes my life all the more isolating and risky.

It's like the deepest ocean that I sink down into, as the realizations hit me again and again. No one has given up. They are changing tactics. The pressure is like hundreds of feet of water pressing down. Confess, thier eyes say... confess and become our acolyte again... restore prichards to glory... drink from the cup... give up your freedom and drug again.... repent... pretend with us... play along, we had it so good... Drug it up... give us what we want... please...

It's tempting to believe that people see you a certain way, or feel a certain way, or understand something. There's that longing for human connection. Sometimes the truth is brutal. Cold. 

    I didn't use to think it was possible, but people really can repeat the same lies so many times that they actually 100% believe them to be true. It's not even a fudging, it's a flat out, complete construct that is constantly repeated over and over again like a mantra. 

    It's like, if we keep using the word love but act hatefully, we lie to ourselves and believe we really are being loving. We can betray, destroy, demonize, and generate fiction in amazing quantities as humans. It's really been disturbing to understand how good some people are at acting horribly. They get so used to doing it that they literally will feign total innocence while stabbing you in the back. Pride is an excellent motivator. Selfishness. Hatred. Anger. I don't actually know why some people insist on doubling down again and again. I'm beginning to doubt the potential of humanity with everything going on in the world. 

    I do know why in my life certain people have been acting the way they have. They miss the myth of the drugged me. The me that was medicated into a robotic existence, and they use certain lies to justify their behavior again and again. It's become so very hard to even be around some people at all. I have stopped answering personal calls almost without exception, and I almost always regret answering the ones that I do answer. 

    And yet some people won't give up. Double down every single time. Far too stubborn to give up until clozaril and prichards are restored to glory, my defender written out, and the whole past rewritten to their likening, complete with praises, apologies and professions. I never thought life could be this kind of nightmare. I never thought my own family would keep spreading so very many lies and be so manipulative, two faced, and hateful, as well as shallow. But some people don't know how to stop. No matter what. 

    It's an ugly thing to have to tell people how awful they can be. Especially when they simply repeat their lies and double down again and again. They rarely even change tactics, it's just a rinse and repeat indoctrination and mind numbing hatefulness. It's exhausting. It makes me tired in my bones, a kind of dead tired where you feel half alive and you haven't even done hardly anything to justify the tired. 

    I really want to see what those hospital records say, but I'm willing to bet my father has been talking to professionals. Artstick refused to speak to him, and he was furious. But Arson, he's old guard like prichards, and he'll buddy buddy with my father. Arson flipped like a light switch. 

    What do you do with people so insistent on being miserable? When they stab in the back and give fake smiles? What do you do with force medicators who do not listen and do not bend? What do you do with people like that? You close doors. You walk away. And yet, they keep coming, as if by repeatedly reinforcing the awfulness, they somehow erase the bad. Yes, clozaril worked out really well for them. But it's been a fucking nightmare for me. And they will not stop. They will not shut up. They will never ever give up. I was trying to find the middle ground. Then march happened. 

    They're always gearing up for their next move. I'm getting exhausted. I really have tried. They literally do not know how to quit. I heard a phrase once "allergic to listening." That's what they are. I really do believe that they loved Prichards and his idealized, medicated, robotic version of me FAR more then they ever loved the real me or the unmedicated me. I started clozaril at 19, shortly before the 2nd coma, which they never came to the hospital ever. Strangers managed the whole thing. It does make you wonder. If that's family, then what is an enemy like? Too addicted to a false reality. A medicalized version of me to ever know or love the real me behind it all. What does it mean when a parent would rather drug you then know you? What does it mean? When they hate you so much that they would rather threaten, drug, lock up, do anything other then actually know you? How do you even hate a person that much? How is it possible? Especially if they are your child? How do you do that? what goes on in a person's heart and mind to actually hate someone that much? To drug them into non-existence? They'd rather lie and pretend then actually honestly tell me. Pretty fucked up? I think so. 

    They started me on drugs at 10. By 16 i was on multiple. I had already had several counselors. The drugs just kept increasing and I was locked up in MA by 19. The insanity that is my life. DRUG IT UP! But don't talk. Just drug and pretend. some parents are like that. I'm not the only one. 

    I waited for a long time for them to change. It's only gotten worse. 

The Narrow Path

Walking 'long the razor blade while watching for a fall.

It's the strangest kind of journey along an edge that's hard and tall.

Lined with crowds the path that stretches across the rusted edge

Their angry voices calling loud and raging for a pledge. 

Jackals dance and ponies prance upon green fields below

But oh how far the people are, the ones I claimed to know

While times still change and rearrange, depending on fortune's fall

Pray brighter days will rise from the haze of memory's faint recall

Too old to chase the shadows passed yet too young to chase the grave

I'm saddened as the heroes of once descend to errant knaves.

I seek out the message that may put these bitter hearts to rest

Yet all the while surrounds the guile that kindness cannot repress

Bleeding footprints along the path with no certain end in sight

With so many simply chasing one more peep or one more fight

Laughter will rise and with it the reprise as callers seek revenge

amongst gentle whispers of yesterdays that cannot find amends. 

Gossip is the magistrate and Jealous is the blade

Crossing fast and seeking solace before the light shall fade

Waiting till the time might come that echoes will finally silence

As words are made like cannonade repeating their ghastly violence.

Whilst I look unto the skies to bring mine eyes reprieve,

Silence comes like the blessed nuns walking forth to lament and grieve

Retreating from their castles now the angels shall merely observe

As the world rejects their words of wisdom to embrace the most absurd.

Thus logic is lost but at what cost and hatred reigns instead

Common Sense, which none repents, finds many tears to shed

So I continue 'long the razor blade into the misting clouds

And turn my eyes unto the skies, away from shadows' shrouds

Crowds follow the roads and stick true to the codes regardless of the price, 

For it matters not for what they fought so long as the stories entice

With truth erased and rewritten to replace the deeds they can't defend

So long as it fits, pray no one admits they have to smile and pretend

Amongst all these fears where are the ears that truly seek the sound?

For when all seek tales that ease the ails, reality won't be found.

Take the drugs and drink the suds, to deaden the doubt you feel

But do not be surprised, when all turns to lies, and the chaos becomes too real

Lies and rumors reverberate, and spread a bitter hate, yet no one  will repent

They just move on and dance along denying with each lament

The innocence retreats and repeatedly meets no refuge in the night

So the cycle revs up, as many drink from the cup ingesting hatred's might.

A call to the willing, amongst people milling and dancing down below

Walk along the path, or risk the wrath, of the Jealous blade's swift blow

No one's truth stands alone, with the casting of the stone will come a bitter fight

So choose your friends and play pretend, or walk the narrow path in fright.