Dear ER Staff

The funny thing was, you got a little more twisted out of shape then you needed to be. A dissociative episode does not have to be a big deal. I'm not exactly sure what you found so alarming. But threatening and running a lot of different people in and lying to me are not exactly ways to be productive, gain trust, or help people. 

I do appreciate the Sprite. 

Refusing to change the urine bags when I'm obviously in pain and they are obviously full is just all sorts of stupid. It's not hard. You have eyes. Even if you're a cleaning person you can tell the people standing right outside watching THAT DUH he's in pain and needs help. 

That aside, it was bizarre that the doctor lied about the lab results. There was definitely stuff that you found. And yes, my phone did die. And no my family wasn't helpful. So congratulations, now my emergency contact is my LPC. YOU DON'T GET A FUCKING CHOICE. You contact someone that can help. 

That said. I do appreciate some of the communication instruction and the ideas on what to relay to my family. Not sure why I could not pee. The RNs were very rough. Unnecessarily so. I've had catheters before. They did not have to be that rough, and I can file lawsuits. Remember that. 

Anyways, you guys did fine as far as to keep my health intact. I guess I'll ask my internist to recheck the labs to make sure they return to normal. 

Some of you seemed angry and others amused. You'll be happy to know I do not remember any names. At points I wasn't sure who was the doctor and who was the nurse. If you're wondering where I got the curse words from, you taught me. Remember, Garbage in, Garbage out. You treat me like shit, don't be surprised if I get ugly. You curse, I curse. You lie... I call you out.

Maybe save the comments about shipping me out of state. The guy that transferred me to MIP. I can remember things from time to time. I can be nice. I think you can remember I've been nice before. I can be ugly too. Don't worry about the names. FBI has eyes. So just forget about it.

Let's not do this again. Maybe if there's a next time I'll try Bon Secours. But I like holding people ACCOUNTable. So who knows. If I go back to Mindwell, I'll have a word about the vital checking. Don't worry though, they're not eager to see me either. I've got rather acute hearing. Somethings I can ignore.

I am not the property of my family. You don't need to talk about me being a disappointment to my father or anything about my treatment team or anyone I know. They do not actually control me. No one actually does, but if I am accountable to someone right now that would be my treatment team and the Federal Government. South Carolina did try to succeed. We failed, guys. 

** Author's note: I would have indeed changed it myself, but my hands were not steady and it is a biohazard **

Public

See, what I have learned is that I do not have the right to privacy. Cuz people don't leave me the fuck alone. So, I'm just publishing my entire life here until some people lose interest in fucking with me. 

So let's get started. I was born here in Greenville in 1981. Greenville General. It moved to Memorial. My father was a doctor, sister a social worker, other sister an anthropologist, brother a psychiatrist. I have 6 nieces and nephews who mean a lot to me. 3 boys and 3 girls. My mom from Italy and my dad from New Jersey. 

I had some early childhood trauma. Ended up making MIP my other home. Beck Middle School. Southside High School. Worked at Taco Bell. My family put me at Furman. I got expelled. Not a long story, but I'll get to that. Then I went to MA. Two Hospital/Treatment Centers. Worked in Fast Food. Came back down, worked at the grocery. Started taking history and business and some other courses at Tech. Transferred to Clemson. Psychology. Graduated. Worked in IT. Got two certifications in that. Went to my Masters Program. Got my Accounting Degree. Worked in some Corporate and Tax. Legally disabled since 20. Learned how to Busybody with the best of them. Learned God complexes. Was forced to develop a sense of humor. Pushed too hard. Trying to slow down. People still try to speed me up. Tired. Pissed off. Developed memory problems and a tendency to repeat myself, especially when people don't listen. Heard too much, seen plenty. Volunteered for 3.5 years at Crisisline. Never married. Dated someone for about 3 years or so. She got married. Not your fucking business. Anyways. I did try the trans thing briefly and flirted with the gay thing. Right after Clozaril stopped. Had to figure things out a bit after so much chemical and psychological manipulation. Decided I was too old and tired to experiment too much. Now I stay at home mostly. Until the people around me stop fucking with me. As long as it takes. Thinking about hobbies some. But right now my goal for hobbies is the guitar and writing. I need to go through a few extra belongings. Stop breaking into psych hospitals. I enjoy my cat. I like to read. The library doesn't like that I like to read. They don't like my Mrs. Doubtfire. They're pruds. I need to return that book but I hate going there now. They need to adjust their attitudes. All I'm trying to do is check out books. If they make it difficult then it will be difficult. I advocate some. I don't understand their narrowmindedness. Public areas are for EVERYONE. GET OVER YOURSELVES. 

That's a basic outline. Thank you for reading.

This Week

Let's see... this week I have to pick out more stuff for the checkers to donate or throw out... I have coffee... I have mindful... I need to reconnect my printer and my tv to the network (thanks FBI if that was you). Check the website to make sure no one will kill me over what it says... check the links again... reduce my old OTC/hygiene stuff... work on my anger... avoid filing more reports... Not yell at anyone... Be careful not to overexert... go for some walks...

Last Names

I realize there has been a lot of stress in the community over my last name and people with it. To some extent people need to mind their own damn business. To another extent, people need to stop making everything MY specific problem. Regardless of the blame game, people have to live here. Myself included. Only so many holes to bury me in. So to everyone on earth: it's only a name and each of us is only one person. I need to consolidate my memory and work on my health with my team. Whatever it is you want from me or people who know me, you can leave comments or contact the email provided. One person or one group of people (a family, a hospital, a community) can only do so much. For those of you who desperate to shut me up, medicate me, career me, or otherwise manipulate me into this that or the other thing, please fuck off. I will do what I can when I am able. DO NOT GIVE ME INSTRUCTION. DO NOT FUCK WITH ME. The Federal Govt may own me (through Disability) but no one else does. I am not your property. Contact the FBI or my treatment team if you feel otherwise. Thank you.