Cross your fingers folks. I told my family how the community feels. They stopped talking for once. Maybe they actually heard you this time. Doctors, nurses, techs, hold your breath.
Maybe my family will go easy. I told them what you said. All the pissed off parts, pretty much.
Today is Easter. There were periods of months that I did not know what day it was. I am closer to the ground and yet I open my eyes and the world is so far away.
I am long past the point of no return. Whoever or whatever I was, that person is long gone.
As much as MIP or people in my life would like to drag me back into what I once appeared to be, it is simply not possible. I was a drugged body with emotions laid on top of a broken mind. My life was and still is a living nightmare. The darkness was drugged into the background, and now it is an open wound.
I am still broken. That doesn't change quickly. It doesn't change easily. You may not see it just by looking at me, but look more deeply and you will see the pieces of me. It hurts to smile. It's difficult to laugh. My memory is in disarray. Physically, I am whole. This mind is damaged. Don't try to drag me out, you won't like what you see. Don't try to fix me, it will blow up in your face.
My head hurts every day. People use all sorts of names for me, either good ones with fake smiles or the ones that at best show little respect and at worst dehumanize. I recognize the sing song voices and the lies I once did not.
After 600 pages from one mental hospital, if you still think it is wise to play with me, then you are completely blind and deaf and there is no saving you. 600 pages!?! Even I have trouble believing it. Play with the cat. He's my better nature.
I was many things. Now I am many pieces. I can barely care for myself. Leave me alone. 2 comas. 2 comas. TWO COMAS. I do not need a 3rd.
Eventually, you'll have to truly hear something i say or stop fucking with me.
We can argue until the end of time about what I need, what i am capable of, who I am, or where I went wrong. Waste of energy. You got your own 600 pages? File them. Then stay the hell away from me.
Develop some common sense. Do not play with fire. Someone will get burnt.
I do not like weapons.
I bought my first self-defense weapon in 2024. I say that because it was the first time I bought a weapon with the intention to defend my person long term.
It happened during tax season. One too many verbal assaults. There were 2 I can remember considering contacting law enforcement. A big guy that started screaming "BULLSHIT" when I tried to explain that I could not deduct certain trucker expenses due to changes in the tax law. It took multiple employees from multiple offices to talk him down.
The woman that would not stop pressuring me to base a tax return off an online estimate and started screaming.
There was a mentally ill woman who would not go away. A smooth-talking Northeasterner that would not stop contacting me. A bully who the women wouldn't work with. Yay for being male. There was one that came back, insisting on voiding a signed document that had already been processed.
I'm a fairly big guy. It's not incredibly often people try physical intimidation. But there many ways to threaten or cause harm.
I found a way to get people's attention. It comes in a black carrying case. It is bright pink. You cannot miss it. Turn off the safety and pull the trigger. It is so very loud. The electric current is so bright it hurts your eyes. Why anyone would see a bright pink taser, especially after a warning activation, and still walk towards it is beyond me. And given that it is so loud, it will attract attention. It is not meant for stealth. It is not meant to attack. It deters. But God forbid I should ever have to use it, I would hold contact for the briefest of moments. Painful muscle spasms. Hold it too long, chance of permanent injury. People that don't take warnings seriously, I can get their attention.
I'm not as young as I once was. I'm still fairly strong. I have words, non-verbals. I have some self-defense moves that I recall from wrestling. For the obstinate or deceptive, I have the taser.
I'm getting tired. My mind is maybe a little less sharp and enduring. So now I keep the taser, to defend my person. For the abusive, manipulative, or power crazy, I have the ability to file reports. I have counseling. I have my writing.
So, with the physical symptoms calmed down and my mental health providers keeping busy (Staff of 4 plus consultants and hospitals/centers), I have decided to turn my attention to less medical matters. The cat is doing well. I might as well just let him be my public face. He seems to be more popular.
The calm app continues to be beneficial, and I absolutely find Walmart+ to be liberating. Guitar is mostly just playing chords for now, while I continue to increase my awareness and mental coherence. My professionals are maintaining me on the four daily meds plus the as needed. On the plus side, the lack of stimulants means that I get to enjoy more caffeine. I've had some headaches that lean towards the tension type, still some weird sensations in my face. I can only hope that the South Carolina mental health community reads this site. There's gotta be something to learn from this. Such as, drugs are bad (scripted ones too), don't threaten patients, don't sabotage other professionals, don't wait until you have 600 pages worth to say about someone before you actually say something, Diagnoses are not everything, abuse can and will be reported, we all have to live here, or maybe cliques/enmeshment/codependence is not cool.
My anger for what has happened in my life is one thing. My anger for what happens in the lives of those who try to help me is another. My judgement in my personal affairs may not always be the best, but I have pretty clear perception when it comes to professionals in the community. It's something I return to again and again. It is something that I hold sacred. Maybe MIP protects its own. Yeah, I can do that too. I used to think I liked shrinks. Then I got de-numbified. Now, not so much. I've been on both sides. I got my bachelor's in psychology. I volunteered for 3.5 years. I've been to more mental health facilities then anyone I know. Seeing a facility vs facility, facility vs community, facility vs professional, or psychiatry vs counseling vs social work really gets on my nerves. Seeing mental health workers fail to correct patients or other staff on inappropriate conduct really gets on my nerves. What are you teaching this community, exactly? Fornication is ok? Drugs are ok? Lack of accountability is ok? Yelling is ok? What exactly are you teaching here? I feel I have reason to be concerned, for I have walked the halls of MIP, CCBH, Springbrook, those centers in MA, The psychiatrists offices in GE, SC, and MA. I've been to the testing centers. I've been to MUSC. To Anmed. To PRISMA. We need to be careful here, folks. Personally, I appreciate nurses, counselors, and social workers. They work very hard. You think I don't notice? The latter two are better with boundaries, with a few exceptions. I did meet an LPC at Springbrook with some of the worst professional boundaries I have ever seen in that field. I'm glad I don't remember her name, because I would have reported her so many times. Licensure requirements exist for a reason. Don't go around preaching shit that poisons this community. If you can't do your job, stay home. Do not exceed your authority or your knowledgebase. If I'm having to teach you boundaries, then you have epically failed.
Some of you techs better watch yourselves. This isn't a free ride. You are not qualified to instruct these people. You're fucking up this community, and I don't appreciate it. Shut your mouths and do your jobs. It's not that hard. I've done it a time or two. Do not spread your mental poisons and I won't spread mine. You want to mouth off? do it off the clock, in a break room or at home. You fuck up this community and then I'll make sure it catches up to you.
