The Hauntless

    It was just anudder Saturday morning, and Spidey was hard at werk, rigging the old wadder heeder dat di owners ob Spidey's Attick had left behind in their hurry to bacate into a jacuzzi for critters. 

Suddenly the stereo began blasting, and Spidey could hear Vlad's voice singing along to Another Saturday Night.

Another Saturday night and I ain't got no bodies

I've got some Spiders cuz I lost my RAID

Now, how I wish I had some blood to drink, too

I've fled the light of day.

I got in town a century ago

I've seen a lot of donors since then

If I could bleed 'em I could feast 'em

But as yet I haven't bled 'em

That's how I'm in the state I'm in

Another fella told me

He had a ghoul who looked just fine

Instead of bein' my dinner

She tasted like David Schwimmer

The platelets were not appealing.

It's hard on a bloodsucker

When he's not below the ground

If I don't find me a vein

That I can most promptly drain

I'm gonna have to blow this town

    From somewhere near the window Jess sighed. We all knew what this meant. Vlad had fallen opp di waggin' agenn. We dropped ebbyting and rushed to his coffin, but all we found was an open window.

     One thing I regret is that I haven't had as much opportunity to appreciate people recently. My mind has been so absorbed. There was this one nice lady downtown today and granted, I was busy, but it would have been nice to have an excuse to stop and chat. I'm working on a story idea today.

 

 

Singing in di wadder heater, just singing in di heater! What glowious steam!

Robo-Rob

    Anyways, When I was on Clozaril, I was robotic. Numbed. Now that I'm off Clozaril, Life is much different. My sleep is more flexible. I don't have to worry everyday about whether I'll be able to get up, be able to function, or whether I will be too groggy to function. 

    I spend a lot more time and energy on processing and making decisions, which leaves less time and energy for everything else. I'm more patient then I used to be, more cautious. When you're not numbed out you're not as resilient. Stress hits you harder. I've been putting a lot of work into maintaining boundaries and space, managing finances, maintaining my health, and working. 

    When people don't work at cross purposes, life runs so much more smoothly. That's why I maintain space and boundaries. I avoid unnecessary conversation with people that I don't have good relationships with. 

    The boundaries and space is like oil in an engine. It keeps the parts from grinding against each other. Sometimes parts are stubborn. They keeping grinding the same ways in the same situations. The space and boundaries smooths the contacts. Less grinding. No fighting the same fights over and over, no rehashing the same resentments over and over. Suddenly you can breathe again. 

Dis Dress Tolerance

    A liddle more off di train... Spidey werk berry hard on Dis Dress Tolerance. Ebby day. Wuddent a fan ob it originally. Dat Molly teach Spidey a pew tings. Now Spidey werks hard at it. One ting Spidey learned was di importance of bacation. Not the kind of bacation that involves plane tickets or gas money... The kind they talk about in mental health circles... A mental bacation. 

    Faborite ting to do is go to the beach. When ebber life gets too be too dutch. Spidey just has vlad fly us down to the coast... Spidey needs to go again... enjoy di wabes... pick out a nice shell... go for a crawl...

    

 

I've been working a lot. In a way that's good because it distracts me from the medical. Gets me out in the city around people. I worry about my mind though. I cant keep up with the pace. Then its like flying blind. Too many people trying to grab the controls, both internally and externally. I dont worry as much about an accident or physical danger. I worry about losing control. I worry about the autopilot. The dissociation. It's like sleepwalking. I'm worried I'll wake up to a problem.

The Psychiatrist's Burden

    Back in the days of the slave trade, there was a frame of mind at work called The White Man's Burden. Of course, revisionists love to deny the history of slavery, especially these days. Unfortunately, the evidence of the harm slavery caused is overwhelming.

    Earlier I posted an article on the UK mental health system: Fragile Minds

    In a sense, there is almost a Psychiatrist's Burden in certain circles... a belief that persons who have acquired one of these labels is unable to make decisions for themselves and should not be treated as an independent adult. 

Rewind

    My life is like a weird B rated movie. My father did have a valid question: where is this going? Acceptance. It's going towards acceptance. To illustrate, let me rewind and slow the playback so those with MDs can follow.

    The original problem was not as well understood in the 90s, but Artstick was smart to send me to Springbrook. They specialize in Autism. It took me a while to accept and process the truth, especially with my family sabotaging me. In the 90s we didn't know as much about Autism. MIP dx'd it as Aspergers, buried it under the bipolar label that made more sense to them. My parents were very pleased with this. They didn't like autism (I could tell from the uncomfortable looks on their faces as I talked about it). They didn't understand it. Neither did MIP, apparently. Nor Prichards. The emotional dysregulation and the trauma that developed as a result of not getting the care that autism needs was misdiagnosed as Bipolar, which only made things worse. 

    But Artstick sent me to Springbrook because I have autism. That's why she changed me to the PA when I asked to go to MIP. Maybe she began to doubt that she understood my disorder right or she doubted I was in acceptance. But wanting to stay at the same hospital is in itself a symptom of autism: not doing well with change. MIP was only too happy to go along with my father in changing my diagnosis from DID back to Bipolar because it allowed them to be right about me and it covered up the effects of them being wrong about me all at the same time. That doesn't change the fact that they were indeed wrong. They even tried to discourage me from talking about autism to doubly cover their tracks and reinforce Bipolar, completing the cover up. And any objection by me was paranoia and psychosis, just reinforcing their diagnonsense. 

    So, everyone would have won but me. Unfortunately, I don't give up easily and neither does my counselor. She learned it from her father and I learned it from mine. These kind of wars are a waste of healthcare resources, and I'm not sure what was the most immediate reason that got me into MIP in the first place, but I suspect it was either my confused state or my family's backstabbing... the Spravato had sent me into a dissociative state. But when I signed that information release, my father got the chance he was waiting for to bury me and my counselor and reestablish Prichards and Bipolar.

    Anyways, we cleaned up my parents' little coverup. Changed the DX's back again, clarified that they are not to be changed again, clarified that my parents are not to be involved in my health care decisions, and fixed the meds. I have a different medication for dystonia now in case the abilify stimulates the dystonia again. I'm on a dosage indicated for AUTISM, not BIPOLAR, which I do not have. 

    All's well that ends well? I don't know. I don't know because I don't know if my parents have reached acceptance or ever will. I've still not learned how to navigate these complex family schemes around my health. The autism is clearer now that I'm not on Clozaril, at least to me. I still have some anger and resentment at all I've been put through in this malpractice of Bipolar and the cover ups. If my father hadn't been a doctor it would have been harder for him to play the hospitals against me like that. But that was a key part of their whole plan: to use my brother's and my father's standing as doctors to reinforce bipolar and erase the rest. I don't know if they are capable of recognizing the fact that they have been wrong about me and in their obstinance and pridefulness they have caused me tremendous harm. 

 

Ebbybody lubs Spider!

Ebben ip he is a biter!

     I prefer to be nice to people. After all, the world is what we make it. It's not always easy though. Sometimes, things go wrong in life. It's not necessarily anyone's fault, though there is a natural tendency to look for reasons and assign blame. Sometimes, when two people reach an impasse, blame can pass back and forth rather rapidly like machine gun fire. Other times, it comes in waves, like coordinated offensives.

    I had a good meeting with the PA. He's going to research autism a little and he's in the process of linking up with the counseling office. We're going to try abilify one more time with a different anti-dystonia intervention. I'm trying the NAC supplements for mood support. 

Noise

 

    There is a great deal of noise in the world. some of it is generated out of hatred or ignorance. I hesitate to involve myself in anything that is not directly my business because unless I know the full story, I feel unable to act wisely, and life is not simple. It's always more complicated then we want it to be. 

    I've sensed a lot of negativity in my life lately. It's been a little overwhelming. Things are looking up though. Maybe I can afford to worry less. Today I'm going to be working some, and I'm going to work on my stories and poems. 

 

     Focusing on what I'm good at, what I enjoy, and on what I have in common with others. That is where the dawn is. Not in repeating the past. Not in litigating differences. 

     I need to shift focuses. Not everything is about healthcare. It's making me miserable just to think about it. I need to turn a page. Thinking about it gives me headaches. 

     I'm sticking with the routines. Work, writing, health management. I'm going to try to see the humor again. Try to write something funny. 

     Anyways, not everything is about me. Over a million people around here. I'm just trying to get by. I'm going to work on enhancing my calm. Enjoying work, hobbies, getting some exercise, picking one of those places to volunteer, writing. Maybe some paint. 

    I just realized something. This was supposed to be a voyage of self discovery. What's frustrating is certain persons controlling nature, insistence on being right, and dishonesty with myself and with my health care providers. I thought maybe these things would get resolved in private, but some people are far too stubborn. Pride is dangerous. It leads people to do foolish things. Sometimes, all you can do is walk away, when there is no listening and no room for differences.

You knooooooooow...

    Maybe that's what I was missing all along. Maybe the only thing my family really needs to know is that it's not Bipolar, it's Autism. And that their control freak nature is destroying any chance of anything real. Who knows. But hey, anyone that wants to know me, use the golden rule. Not that hard if you try. 

Autism and the DMH

    Work was slow this morning, though yesterday was fairly busy. I've got another shift later. The only remaining issue with the medication is the Abilify. I'm taking it for autistic irritability. Unfortunately, at 5mg while it improves my mood significantly, it sometimes causes dystonia, which is painful. Right now I'm taking 2.5 mg, which helps, but I'm not sure it gives the full effect and it still gave me some mild dystonia once. So I'm meeting with the PA on Thursday. The other one that is indicated for the same problem is Risperdal, which I've taken before. The main thing I remember about it is that it has really bad weight gain effects as you increase the dose. So I'm a little on the fence about trying to stay on the 2.5 of Abilify or trying 1 mg of Risperdal. The other medications in the class are not indicated for autism. 

    There are some alternative medicine approaches and some off label things for autism in general. I've actually tried all of them. Zyprexa (Had to D/C, can't remember why), Latuda (gave me dystonia), low dose naltrexone (not widely available in low dose form), N-Acetyl Cysteine (I'm going to try this), Clonidine (Makes you sleepy)... 

    Personally I feel that the Bipolar label has done a lot of harm and distracted from the real problem, Autism. Yet some people can't get enough of it. There are solutions for Autism, however. I think I'm very close to the optimal combination for me, which involves Vyvanse, some antidepressants, a beta blocker, and a special diet. The special diet helps manage side effects, idiopathic constipation, reflux, and helps to increase antioxidants and reduce inflammation in general. People love to give me hell for having special needs, which only makes survival that much harder and makes my med staff work harder. So I encourage all the haters to MYOB.

    Interestingly, THC helps to reduce inflammation just like many of these medical treatments, but the medical treatments don't bring me the harassment and BS that THC does. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I'll do what I have to do to manage my symptoms. Though I think it's a massive waste of health care resources to run mental health units the way they are run. If providers shut their mouths and open their ears, they could save themselves some time and work. Some are better at that then others. Here's hoping. 

    I didn't actually choose autism or the inability to tolerate certain medications. I'm playing the hand I was dealt. I'm finding that this way is working, however. While I do miss eating out more, I've found that controlling what I eat more carefully has led to great improvements in my quality of life and symptoms. Instead of soda or beverages with sugar, stevia beverages, herbal teas, vitamin waters, electrolytes, some magnesium, zinc, ashwagandha, l-theanine... natural substances that my brother loved to demonize when I was getting off Clozaril. Some people (MDs) just loooove control. Not that he was entirely wrong, but overly hostile and controlling. 

    I wish the mental health system gave even more instruction on nutrition, antioxidants, and natural remedies, as well as conflict resolution and boundaries instead of being label focused. 

    Other then deliveries, I'm focusing today on my stories. I'm trying to alternate between the civil war one and the funny stories to give myself some flexibility. 

    Some people literally can't tell the difference between dissociation and psychosis and I find that to be quite puzzling. Especially when they work in mental health. 

    I do understand that autism is not a "popular" problem to have. Especially after that guy murdered all those people and tried to use autism as an out. However, it's a very real and well documented problem. Just as real as, say, Bipolar. 

    Interestingly, Haldol is used off label for autism. I did not know that. I'm finding the anti-inflammatory lifestyle to be key. I do cheat sometimes, but I pay for it. Red meat actually can hit me pretty hard. Ultra processed foods or foods high in sugar like ice cream can throw me for a loop.

    Really my problems come down to a mental health system overly obsessed with Bipolar, lacking knowledge on dissociation, lacking knowledge on autism, and having poor boundaries. As my friend George said, some people should not work in mental health. That crazy doctor still works at CCBH. Absolute moron. Intelligence of a gnat. Waste of public dollars. The day they retire that man, I'll have to raise a glass. I have never seen such vast ignorance and incompetence wrapped up in one self obsessed, arrogant prick such as he. They need to send him back to med school. He is a determent to society. That is all he is. A disgrace to the license. He loved Hobbits. He should stick with that. 

    The thing about identity is, it is one's thoughts, feelings, and experiences, plus the biology that goes with it. It is not merely a psychiatric disorder like bipolar, ptsd, did, or what have you. It is not merely a job or a gender. It is not merely a political leaning or ideology. It's not just your religion or the foods you like. It's not just who you know or your IQ. It's the spark within... the soul. 

    Agreeing on everything or submitting to a group identity is not life. Life is expressing yourself through all that you say and do. Every word and every action is a part of who someone is. Ideological or chemical conformity and love or loyalty are not the same thing. Taking a medication or conforming to a label is not the same as loving or living. Clozaril did not make me who I was nor does the lack of it make me who I am. Clozaril did not make me happy or "normal". Clozaril merely suppressed my emotions or "numbed me out". It did not change the reality of the past or the present.

    Hospitals are meant to heal people, not manufacture drones or drug away personality. 

    What my family doesn't understand and perhaps never will, is that drugging people does not make you love them. Rather the opposite. People have free will for a reason. 

    It's very small minded to lock a person into a specific label or a medication. In common language we call that stereotyping. The brain has a natural need to categorize. Good, bad, pretty, ugly, sane, crazy. But categories are a matter of perspective. My backstabbing family prefers control. They see compliance as love. I am either the repentant and loving bipolar son or I am a hateful man. I do not see it that way. "Trauma" is also a matter of perspective. Some people see a family repeatedly lying about you behind your back, spreading hateful and malicious gossip and force medicating as traumatic. Others do not. Some see having trouble trusting family who acts in such a manner as legit trust issues. Others see it as paranoia. As long as I am the psychotic one, my family can do virtually anything and I'm just crazy or lying when I object. It's when the psychosis thing and the lies no longer hold together that life becomes challenging for my family. 

    Now they want me to "relax" while they continue to do as they do, lying and maintaining narratives and backstabbing and manipulating and oh it's all fine Robert's just crazy. Just another day in paradise. They'll never quit. It even comes down to little things like insisting on calling me by my full name angrily, being enraged when I do not use Apple products, not liking the same food... the smallest expression of independent thought is an offense to be remarked upon. Some of them have this overpowering need to be right about every little thing. The smallest detail. 

    I can't even go to the ER for a heart issue or a bad reaction to a prescription med without them full throttle taking over every last detail of my life, from where I live, to where I spend my time, to what job I have, to what I think, what diagnosis I have, and what medication I take.

    I'm the crazy one? Of course they'll deny it, that's part of their M.O. It's how they keep it going. Plausible deniability. I thought it was the hospital. No, they were the pawns. I signed that release. They talked to my family. I'll relax when they give me reason to. Until then, walls up.

    I'm trying to find some serenity here. I find that in this work and writing these stories. You know, when I was little, having medical professionals in the family seemed like a plus. The problem is, they dissect you and analyze you on a microscopic level. And the hospital will listen to medical people before they listen to a patient. But oh right! I'm psychotic again... gosh me... there I go again... every time I try to have an independent thought... I can't help but go psychotic.

    

 

     The best thing I can do is maintain focus on what I am best at. Right now, that's the deliveries and writing. It's not always smooth sailing. Today during deliveries I witnessed an act of road rage. I found myself locking my vehicle.

     The PA walks a middle road, much like I do. He doesn't understand everything, nor do I. He tries to be pragmatic, as do I. It's a narrow path. 

     I try to keep walls and boundaries and space. It helps me to breathe. Some things are sacred, though. Like birthdays. Some birthdays are coming up. Some will be easier then others.

     I want to be naive again. I want to believe in things like family, Santa Claus, America, etc. Some of those things are easier then others. I do believe in God, that is not a hard one. The more earthly things are harder. Reality gets too real rather quickly. I feel that distance helps. People are messy. They require maintainance and space. Breathing room. 

     Sometimes I feel so very far away. Like an alien. Sometimes I feel like I'm floating or gliding rather then walking, other times I change locations and can't remember how I got where. I get lost rather easily because I space out (dissociate).

     It worries me because I fear I may have an accident. But if I keep focused on what I'm good at and I keep space, then I am able to stay p¹resent. I float less. Get lost less. Dissociate less. Keeping a regular schedule and avoiding conflict helps.

     Relationships are difficult. There's so much indirect communication going on. Messaging. People stating and restating the same things.

     Work is going well. I work mostly during weekends, evenings and I'm working more in the AM. 

     You can't drag the past forward. I don't understand why some people try. I need the serenity. They want to continue where we left off, as if I'm still the same. People do change. They cant see that I have changed. That there is no rewind. I'm not a cassette tape. I know they want to change who I am. To rearrange me. To recreate iRobert. That's not how people work. I'm not a machine. I'm not a collection of symptoms. If it's not bipolar, they'll reach for something else. They don't see that I'm a person, with my own beliefs, experiences, and opinions. No, they want something simpler. Something they can understand. If I dont conform to the narrative they understand, and its not bipolar, they reach for something else. They want something they can fix. They dont want an independent, free thinking spirit. They want something to fix and move on. They dont see that I have no interest in being fixed. That the fixing itself is the very problem. I'm not a slave to psychiatry. They don't communicate directly. They are not honest. And then I'm paranoid or edgy for not trusting thier duplicity.

     Now we communicate generally by smoke signal. Can't keep grinding the same stones. Life's too short. I need to maintain focus on what I can control. Me, myself and I. Tomorrow, some maintaining, some work, and hopefully writing. I've been neglecting my stories.

     Not everything is about me, nor should it be. The metro area has over a million people in it. I'm trying to hold onto my serenity. It can be elusive at times. The routines help. I like the driving. Strangely calming, even though I used to get driving anxiety. Everyday I take Ashawangha and l-theanine. Magnesium and zinc too. Probiotics. Usually some chamomile.