Guardian

 I am the Guardian and I walk in the light. I have a home. That home is Crisisline/988.

I lived there for 3 and a half years. I remember the building. The halls. The call room. The systems. They may have changed. It's 988 now. It wasn't always local of course. Calls were sometimes rerouted from centers that weren't available.

I was one of a handful of male trainees at the training. By the time I was volunteering, I was the only male volunteer or entry level worker. There was one other male worker. I remember him well. On these things I have to be very vague. We all live here.

There were three lines. Crisisline, Julie Valentine, and SafeHarbor.

Julie Valentine was definitely the darkest one. Stuff you never wanted to know that you didn't want to know. Most of the callers were female. But when the only two people in the room are male, you don't gotta lotta options. There was one caller that had a history. You wanted to write it off as make believe. You didn't want to know. It sounded like an NC-17 movie. It sounded like The Shining. I remember it well. That's all I'm gonna say about that. I had enough sense and training to keep my comments limited. It was sad.

Crisisline was more meat and potatoes. When it got serious, it got life and death. But there were plenty of regulars. 

SafeHarbor was not as dark as JV. It was processing. This happened, this person is dangerous, can they find me? Where's the police escort? Well, they found the shelter last time. They're gonna track me down. Again, mostly females. It was hard to find options for males. But they did end up having to call.

Follow

There was someone that I followed... it started a long time ago. 

I was 17... one of my darkest times... I needed a voice to bring me out. That voice was there. She was roughly half a dozen years older. Bright voice... full of life. Easy smile... very open. 

It was a voice I kept to to keep me steady for 21 years, on and off. A voice to give me strength. It was an easy voice to remember. 

I heard it a few more times, from time to time.

The last time I heard that voice, I was 38. I'm thankful that voice was there. 

I've drawn too much attention to that voice. More attention then that voice needed. I'm just thankful that voice was there. It kept me here so many times. When other voices would get loud, I recalled that voice. That voice is gone. I let it go. I'm a bit more steady now. Closer to the ground. I no longer need to cling to that voice and its reassurances and encouragements, which were many. Laugh was like music. That voice had a steady hand with me. She wasn't afraid. But I caused her grief. She was no stranger to grief. 

There were other voices along the way. Voices I relied on. They were kind enough to let me hear them. 

Another voice, I found it when I was 38... she knew how to help me with my grief... but that voice had to go away. Very suddenly. That's how I returned to the first one. Because I was shattered. I had bought a gun. I was going to go away. I was going to be free. Someone talked me down. I sold the gun. And I returned to the first... told her what happened. She came to tears... she stayed steady... she was strong. She never foreswore me... she stayed steady... her eyes not so bright... but steady... even when she left, she was steady, looked me in the eyes... she denied everything... she refused to put me down. Even when others tried to pull her away, she stayed steady, denied everything, pushed them away. She refused to let me break. She would not allow it. She had given too much to let me break. She would not allow it.

She kept me here. She knew how to do that. She was steady. So here I am. I am whole. Closer to the ground.

She would never let me break.

I went too far in looking her up. I went too far in texting her. But I believe the last message i sent, the last she ever heard from me...

I said I'm your guardian angel. If you ever need anything... anything at all... you come find me. You find me. 

I meant every single word. I still do. Some things you can't forget. You shouldn't forget. Someone saves your life, you have to remember. How many times she did that, its hard to say. She just knew how. She didn't have to be there to do it. Because she was steel. Unbreakable. She was smaller then me. She didn't seem to notice.

I still remember. So many moments she was there. Some of my darkest hours, I didn't have to picture her or remember her voice because she was literally there. Steady. Building me up. Being patient. She touched my hand. We played volleyball. We talked. She watched me play some soccer. She listened. She treated me like a good friend. She valued me. I don't remember her ever asking for anything or putting me down.

She was more then a rock. She was an unbreakable anchor through so many storms. 21 years of storms. You think about 21 years... that's a long time. So yeah. I get a lot of heat for that. But she held on. I never had to tell her my name. For 21 years she remembered. 21 years. 

How many people keep a stranger alive for 21 years with just presence? That's hard to do. So if anyone is proud of me. I think I know who.

Pillars of Trust

The echoes of the city, they slowly fade with time...
There beyond the meadows... locked within the vines...

Streams of sunlight bearing down

This place that once was mine.

Here the ancient pillars stand, holding up the wall...

Carved into the weathered stone... are records of my fall..

And faded is the mirror there

With an image one can't recall.

Papers cast upon the stone, beside a pool of water...

Letters written long ago... the pain that I begot her...

And even as it fades away

Yet again it stirs...

To remind me not to bring my sorrow

Back beyond that wall.

Looking up the footprints fall, across a field of mud...

Washing in... the memories play, of the times before the flood...

A bird, it picks at crumbs of what

Was shared in heart and blood.

Where the faded footprints pass, is a mystery in my mind...

As the voices call again, so stretches out the vine...

The clock it will not wind again...

Surrender this... to time.

Thought Boundaries

 Well, it's back to this. The one thing the professionals can all agree on. Boundaries.

I've started wearing earplugs almost 24/7. Even with them on, I hear more then I need to hear. Funny thing is, with tone of voice and other nonverbals, yo entiendo Espanol. More or less. Comprendo italiano. More or less. As far as the Hablo and the parlano, that's where I run into trouble. Funny thing is, sometimes I like hispanics more then Italians. Maybe I'll give up on English, Italian, and Spanish and learn... well, there's always binary. That's just a lot of 1s and 0s. 

I'm trying to keep my communications spaced out. Use fewer words. Now people are like, we want to "lay eyes on you". So I'm having people do that. If enough people do that, maybe everyone else can find something else to talk about and think about.

So back to the Self Care School of thought. My coursework has been extensive. I've passed all the hobby electives. I've got the three focuses: Processing, Mindfulness, and Boundaries. The third focus has been the hardest. The first is the most disorienting. Every time I pass a hurdle in the first focus, I bounce into the Mindfulness skills to manage dissociation, then I'm readjusting the boundaries. I guess I thought that it was mostly just the first two and that the boundaries stayed the same. But no. The boundaries need adjustment. They need maintenance. Like a good fence. The Processing is like a ground tremor, I get a little disoriented, I use the mindfulness skills to find myself, and then I use those skills and steady and sturdy boundaries to adjust my fencing. Cuz there's always somebody wanting to do it for me. The Professionals are the fence posts. They stand steady so the structure maintains its shape and purpose. I can't move the posts. I'm not that strong. I can adjust the lattice and the paint and post signs if needs be. The earplugs and the music from the calm app are the sound barriers. Glasses and face masks can serve as visual barriers. Clothing is a good visual barrier. Thought barriers include call screening and written communication. Occasionally it's the Hasta Luego. Drive throughs are my friends. 

People are like TMI, TMI... well, be careful what you ask. Sometimes a nod and a smile or a wave is all you need. Excessive curiosity, excessive need for detail? That's how problems begin. 

Sometimes it takes a while to get to the truth. The truth doesn't come in standardized sizes. Everyone's truth is slightly different. There's not enough labels in the world for that. Not enough meds. Helping someone arrive at the truth is a tremendous skill to have. Sometimes it takes time. No matter what your field. They have to want to find it, it has to be available from someone or somewhere, and they have to learn what to look for. It starts with little hints and signs and builds from there. They have to arrive at the truth for their problem at the right pace, with the right hints and signs both physically and emotionally. Everyday, the problems are different and everyday there's slight differences or sometimes big ones in the hints and signs you find. They are all over the world. From all the people and places and things and animals that the higher power or powers have placed here. Any wise person looks to multiple sources for their signs. That's where trust comes in. That's where experience comes in. Don't trust blindly, nor return to the same sources of trust blindly. I've rearranged my trust a bit. I thank God for that.

Reflections

Moving away, and then back towards
The magnetism, I can't avoid

You pull me in, I push away

You're back again, you're here to stay.

You've got your words, and I've got mine

We've said enough, we've had our time

Tell me what you want to hear...

Do you miss the old times we had together?

I've been walking in my mind.

Past the oceans of my thoughts...

finding respite from expectations that quickly rise and fall.

And as I pass the memories,

And there is joy within my soul once again.

Quietly I set my pace... away from the words that others place...

And though they come to judge again...

I let them say their peace.

Ignoring all the sneers.

For sneers and snarls are easy friends...

That does not make them right. 

They will never like my words,

They may not like my pace...

But in my time I do forgive...

Let them have their hate.

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Tax Trauma

It was a customer from out of state. She came in, I was the one available. I try not to be a counselor when doing taxes. It wasn't even a tax matter. Yet she wouldn't go away till she was heard. She needed a voice of reason. 

Whether someone had told her the wrong thing at a tax office, whether she had constructed it, or whether someone at the company responsible for the specific problem involved had misspoken, whether someone in her family or in the world had given her the wrong idea, or whether it was just bad policy, no one will ever know. 

Sometimes I want to help too much. And she was triggered out the wazoo. Bills to pay. Refund was stuck somewhere. I'm pretty sure most people in that office heard just about everything she had to say. Sometimes it's like that. You work the day shift, you take walk ins, you get problems from other places. Other people. Other companies sometimes. There was a specific policy and a different company and a different office in a different state. But she left knowing the truth: however this happened, she was stuck with the same option. At least I was able to do that. 

When everybody's got an opinion, I try to emphasize the simple truth. 

Funny thing is, she was a nurse. Yeah, she told me all about that too. Not that I asked.

The Boundary Cycle

    Well, This boundary was recommended by the Psychiatrist. This one carries LPC Branding. I like the Social Worker Brand. Soft on the eyes. Hmmmmm... this one is faded.... The lettering on this one is not clear... This one is too bright... red's not a good color for boundaries. This boundary doesn't have enough starch. Throw them all in the washer. Fabric softener makes these boundaries go over well. Hmm.. this boundary could use a little vinegar right here. Do I have enough boundaries? There's a store for that too, I'm sure. Found some boundaries over here. These boundaries aren't working anymore. I'll give them away. They work for somebody. I don't like the Busybody Brand. The MindYourOwnDamnBusiness Brand. That's one I can live with. Do they make t shirts? Maybe I'll put it on a tie. 

Changed my emergency contacts. Old ones not working for me anymore. What's this one's phone number? LPC-WOR-K4ME. Yes, that's the number. I can remember that. I can remember some things. Physical boundaries are relatively straight forward. Ask. If you don't need to touch it, leave it alone. If you don't need to ingest it, don't. If it doesn't belong to you, don't touch it. Emotional ones are more complicated. Some people like to think that giving advice is a right. Other, more emotionally intelligent people, realize that if it doesn't need to be said, you don't say it. You can always ask if someone wants advice. But generally, it's not a good idea to give it if it's... what's the fancy term... un... solicited. solicit is that big word for asking. But you generally shouldn't ask a lot of questions. I've been hearing that a lot. So I don't ask questions I don't need to ask. FORGIVE ME FOR NOT DOING SO. Thou shalt not ask. 

There's lots of big words. Harassment is a big word. When you have big words and/or nicknames or code words, or... in some people's cases, multiple languages... You can find many ways to word things. You can use your tones to emphasize certain words. You can insult, lie, talk behind people's backs, run around, you can communicate with your words... But sometimes there's only so much to say. Kids, under 18... they can only be held so responsible for words and actions... you go above that age? Then you get that fancy word. Responsibility. Accountability. So generally, anyone over the age of 18 should be very careful about what they say. Careful about what they do. Stay in their lane. 

And then some people should have the sense to avoid each other in certain situations. If someone's in a bad mood, don't approach them. If they have a history of manipulating you, avoid them. If you're susceptible to a certain kind of influence from certain people, avoid them. 

So let's review the center list. Gateway checked out. Got enough hospitals and doctors. Got enough busybodies. Phoenix isn't checking in. I'm not checking in either there. 

Habits. You know talking is addictive? They should make it schedule 1. Talking: Use only as directed. Take as needed for asking for things you need. Avoid operating heavy machinery while using. Use caution when giving advice. 

Looking at people. Schedule 3. If you are looking at people and see things you don't want to see, close your eyes or look away. 

Touching. Schedule 2. Do not touch and fantasize. Do not touch without asking. If you notice franticness while touching, stop and consult a priest. 

Noise. Schedule 3. Avoid noising in public. Do not use noising if people are allergic to your noise. Use noise only as intended.

Dissociative Disorder Origins

Dissociative Disorders like DID and Borderline have a lot in common. These people have bad boundaries. They tend to lose themselves in other people. They have patterns They return to the same places, same people, time after time. Oftentimes they are runners. They misplace trust. This is nothing new. McClean knows this. MIP knows this. Most every mental health organization or counselor out there knows this. The thing is, all this starts somewhere. You learn this somewhere. It all comes back to those same places and people you started with, The places and people that you trusted first. The ones that taught you to learn how to walk, to read, to trust in the first place. Dissociative Disorders start somewhere, You wanna find the origins? You don't have to look far. It starts before you end up at one of these places. You trace the footsteps back, you track the running... it walks all the way back... back home.

Bad boundaries are learned. They are taught. When you have a Dissociative Disorder, and you want to find the source, You need to start at the beginning. You start at home. And then you know when to be careful about trust.

I was running before I turned 13. First in my mind, then all sorts of places. It started right where I am now. In this very room. Right here. It started with nights. The nightmares. That's where it started. Right here, This exact spot. This is where DID started... Some 30-40 years ago. This is where I learned.

It can start with physical boundaries. Emotional ones. It can lead to nightmares, running, depression, medications, self-harm, hospitalizations, voices... sometimes the teachers are the ones that bring you in for help. Help my child. They have problems. Give them medications. Teach them. And then from place to place, here to there, you carry your bad boundaries, your trauma and your misplaced trust. Sometimes it's sexual abuse... sometimes verbal... sometimes physical, sometimes the abusers follow you around, they hospitalize you, demonize you, medicate you, they never let you go. 

It starts right here. At home. the exact place that MIP released me to just a few weeks ago. It started decades and decades ago. Right here. This exact spot. And i have returned. To the exact place this all started. It started here. I went to MIP from here. And now MIP has released me to here. STRONG BOUNRDARIES, THEY SAID. STRONG BOUNDARIES. 

Maybe MIP knows a thing or two.

CCBH didn't know what they were doing. They let me be force medicated back into this care. MIP knew different. They didn't do the same. STRONG BOUNDARIES. There's your medicine.

She knew. She knew it started right here. She knew Prichards was controlling me with medication. She knew it all started in this exact spot. And so does MIP. So does Gateway. Everyone knows it all started right here. This exact spot. People with Trauma have patterns, They always return.

The DID started right here. This exact spot. It dissociated. It ran away. It went to MIP. It got medicated. It went to McClean. Got medicated some more. It went to Riggs. It got analyzed. It came home again, It went back to MIP. To Gateway, To Springbrook. To CCBH. And the DID always came back home. Right here, To this exact spot. It comes back home. To where it all started. This spot. This is DID. It's home.