Hi guys,

As always, it’s excrutiating asking for help. And always, when I most need help I isolate and push through so hard I end up pushing well beyond any elastic limit. I push until I’m exhausted, psychotic, and most often ready to be done. To be dead. My brain lies to me. And that is the ultimate war, battling the brain I exhausted through hubris and neglect.

You guys reached out to me when I finally pushed through the psychosis and asked for help. Finally pushed through pride. It’s a deadly sin for a literal reason.

This is excrutiating and I’m going against my self-ingrained and my self-inflicted nature by letting you in on what led me to crisis, what I’m doing about it, and what I can use from you as I move forward in my recovery journey.

This is my first time doing this and discomfort from “overshare” might be consequential. I’d love to have your understanding and patience.

My Mom said something to me before she passed away.

“Steve, you have a good heart and people will take advantage of that. Please protect your heart.”

This quality my Mom saw in me is most likely why I do what I do now. I’ve suffered and I must believe understanding my suffering can help others from suffering. It’s perhaps naive idealism. It keeps me going.

Something else my Mom saw in me is not an admirable quality, and that is to sacrifice my own health to help others. 

I met Mat at Kamp Kaseman because of this. Carlee is a woman I love. She became involved with a drug dealer named Lynn Husdon who gave her “free” weed… laced with meth to get her addicted. Three times in 2012 I was at Kamp Kaseman. Two times to steady myself so I was strong enough to help Carlee break free. The last time to steady myself to continue living.

I was already weakened. Mom always made the holidays and when she passed in 2011 I took it upon myself to recreate her Christmas for my Dad, my son, and Carlee. So they might suffer less from our shared loss, if only for one day. I didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to do this.

Thus arrogance set me up for destruction as Carlee began to fall. Weakened, I chose to fall with her.

Clare is a woman I love. We were dating the day we met. We denied this for about two months. Everyone saw it.

And Clare is dead. She was dead the day I met her. She had severe alcoholism and her body was already broken beyond repair. We had seven wonderful months together. The final month I spent in the hospital, as did she. I first in Haven Hospital for extreme psychosis. Upon discharge, within two days my muscles were failing. It was related. Hypokalemia. My potassium tanked. The psychosis was unrelated to bipolar; it was liw K. The unresponsive muscles were consequential of low K, too. 

How did this happen? I chose to help Clare as her health was failing. The stress, lack of sleep, exhaustion, and neglecting eating all contributed. I chose to help Clare at my own peril. And expense. I had to relearn to walk for my trouble.

This was in 2017. I saw the pattern and promised myself not to go here again.

It’s 2019. To my surprise, in the spring I had slowly ramped up into a hyponanic crisis. The way I recognized this is when I decided to end my relation with Becky – a woman I love – because of unmatched priorities, I began texting her enrtire Dickens-length tomes of all my reasons to end our romance. Not out of malice. So she could better understand. Because of my understanding of symptomatic behavior and my WRAP, I recognized tbe episode within three days. I also recognized the mania because I threw my phone in the river to keep myself from texting Becky more nonsense.

The thing about my manias is there is a bipolar depressive episode to follow. Most often, the magnitude of the depression is worse the mania. This time, it was “low grade” and extended. I know it is extended because I went camping once all summer. My yearly habit is at least every weekend in the summer. At least. It was low grade yet influential.

And I met Amanda. She is a woman I love. We met at group and Ibwas intrigued for two reasons:

1.) She has DDNOS and I had very little knowledge of dissociative disorders.

2.) The first at group she had the strength to leave group when triggered. She followed tis up with two emails strenuously explaining the need for DD support groups and stating plainly that if isn’t one she’d do it herself.

Sold. That sounded like something I would say.

The STS podcast was just starting out and I saw the opportunity to help people understand DD and invited Amanda to guest on a cast, sharing her life experience to educate others. She agreed, we had a lot of fun, we hung out a lot, and effortlessly we became involved romantically. It was a welcomed relationship.

There were complexities. We’ll leave it at that because I feel discomfort and there is more important group to cover, exposition-wise.

Amanda’s psychological and emotional situation faced challenges, including four hospitalizations this year, her first time inpatient. I was with her to support her for each of these inpatient stays. We spoke often of her treatment care. In one of our longer conversations on the matter in November, during the weekend of my birthday, she had researched and found a inpatient center in Texas that treated DD and associated trauma. I encouraged her strongly to follow through, which was unnecessary because she had already made arrangements to go. It was a relief because she wasn’t able to find any similar service in New Mexico.

It was a relief. Mostly, because Amanda was finally getting treatment for exactly what must be addressed. In lesser part, it’s because I was beginning to feel obligated to help her. I love her and wanted to support her. But, I saw her upcoming stay in Texas as a chance for me to reflect on whether or not I was getting into that same place with Clare and Carlee. Thankfully, I had my wits about me yet. I recognized the potential of losing myself in her health needs, and three weeks away gave me the space I needed to plot a course for my life, with our without her. This was a very good sign for both awareness and self care.

Before Amanda left, we agreed she would only call to let me know how treatment was going. This didn’t happen. Amanda called me daily for the first two weeks inpatient in Texas for emotional support. I was happy to hear her voice and be able to talk her through some rough days. It wasn’t what I needed, though. So, I became accustomed for the same support I offered to continue. And then it didn’t.

About two weeks into her treatment she stopped calling. I called twice and wasn’t able to speak with her. I asked Mat to reach out, to let her know I might be going inpatient myself. I didn’t want her to feel abandoned. That is a huge trigger for her. I needed inpatient care. Still, I forced myself to stay out so when she was discharged I would be there for her. I found out after finally calling after a week of no communication she had already been discharged. And, it turns out she had my phone number blocked.

Why was I so worried? Why did I risk my health again? Amanda talked about going to Tennessee where she might make a very poor choice that risked her own life. And, she had agreed to let me know wen she discharged and when she got home to New Mexico as a wellness check. She had discharged without telling me and I couldn’t reach her. My worst fears surfaced.

I had made decisions in her absence. I was going to ask for a break from our relationship so I could do what I needed for myself. Like the mania creeping up on me unnoticed last spring, a gradual and worsening bipolar depression was creeping up. This was noticed, and I needed to focus on myself for sure. But I had made assurances to her I’d be available when she got out for an agreed upon wellness check. So to honor my promise and obligation to the woman I love, I pushed through and right into depression , psychosis, and extreme suicidality. I hadn’t been this bad in seven years. Not since the week I met Mat at Kamp Kaseman. I got this bad because of my choices.

It’s that one week of forcing myself to stay “strong” to honor a promise where I pushed myself too far. Into crisis. Escalated by communication to complete communication silence from Amanda made this inevitable crash possible. I got this bad because of my choices.

As it happens, Amanda wrote me a letter from Texas that went unread by me. It was a hospital letterhead envelope without her name and because I get a lot of unsolicited mail from mental health treatment centers seeking STS peers for customers, it was placed in the “Maybe I’ll Read It Later” pile. Her attempt to reach me to communicate other than over the phone went unread.

I’d like to tell you about a CPTSD symptom I have that I’m becoming more and more aware of through continued therapy. I am with a new therapist more attuned to this work on a symptom he tells me is “confabulation”. I’ll leave it to you to google this for a description because it’s new to me and I don’t know if I understand it enough to give a useful description.

I can tell you how and why it manifests in me. The how is my brain creates elaborate realities that aren’t real and inflated recollections of true events. The why is my ex-wife abused me in every way possible and targeted my self-worth, understand of the world, and ultimately my realities. We hear the word “gaslighting”.” Yes. This was one of her favorite ways to abuse me.

The year we got divorced, my ex told me in front of a least a dozen of her friends “I only loved you when you were successful.” I was undiagnosed, heavily in a mixed episode that was at least a year long at that point, and I was completely removed from my friends. Even my best friend Derek since third grade thought I was dead. I was literally isolated with my only daily interaction being my son and my wife.

I wasn’t diagnosed yet and had gone at least five years continually being fired from jobs (usually when in a mixed episode), to the point where the newly formed eBay and a website of my own I used to sell mineral specimens online.

ebay was very useful. I reached an international market, I didn’t have to see anyone face to face, and… they had “free listing days” which allowed me to put up very high price specimens without the fear of losing big listing fees if a specimen didn’t sell. These free days lasted 24 hours, and I’d stay up for three days at a time to get stuff ready to make the most of the free listings. Mania fueled this. I would make a ton of sales. Thousands of dollars would roll in. The wife was happy.

And then I would crash into severe depression. And I couldn’t even feed myself most days. My wife would watch my ebay account from work. And would scream at me when she got home because I was “lazy” and “only worked for a few days and then just lied around doing nothing.” After much abuse, my brain started creating excuses. And the excuses became more elaborate. And more defensive, and more often, and then just reflexive. All Ito keep her from yelling about me and telling me I’m worthless. My brain crated reason I’m worthy and why I had value.

And my brain still does this. The closer and more comfortable I am with someone, the more I let down the rigid facade that is what I typically employ at group and in meetings. So much so that when I do let down my “mask” this confabulation expresses itself, and very scarily even when not provoked or triggered. It just … is. And just as scarily I don’t notice it when it happens.

Amanda has her own sensitivities and her own traumatic history and her own reactions to consequential triggers. This confabulation bothered her and she often would confront me when this happened. She shared she can’t tolerate lying. And she wrote this in the letter I missed until she emailed me two weeks later to tell me she wrote a letter. She stated that my “lies” and “exaggerations” were unacceptable and she had told me several times she didn’t like it.

The ironic thing, since all life is one irony after another, is the reason I wanted a break from our relationship was to explore this new revelation with my new therapist without feeling obligated to care for her as well. I wanted to help her but it was distracting me from my own treatment. Finding the right time to tell her this would have to wait to until her return from Texas. I didn’t want to burden her
with the appearance of abandonment while she was out of state healing. I chose to put off my health for a while.

To have the woman I love confront me in a letter about a wonderful acquired habit I picked up as a gift from my CTPSD abuser was the last of it. I fractured.

So here is the exposition condensed:

1.) Already feeling weakened in November.
2.) Learning of a symptom I was unaware was so important – confabulation
3.) Agreeing to be available to Amanda while she was in Texas.
4.) Communication and then no communication.
5.) Waiting for over a week to go inpatient myself.
6.) Worsening bipolar depression.
7.) Extreme anxiety for Amanda’s anxiety.
8.) Reading letter from Amanda challenging my trustworthiness.
9.) NEVER REACHING OUT FOR HELP THE WHOLE TIME.

I want to make two things very clear.

1.) I never felt I had to save Amanda. Not since the first day she walked out of group. She is strong enough on her own. I wanted to help her, not fix her. My relationship with her does not mirror Carlee and Clare. This made Amanda very attractive to me, her innate strength.
2.) It is my choices that led to me being in such a rough state of being currently.

So, finally, now that you know the “why”, here’s where I’m going to imposing on your kindness.

– I’d like help reminding me to go to my provider appointment. My time awareness is off.

– I’d like help monitoring my new medication regimen. My seven year regimen losing efficacy greatly contributed to my mania and depression all year.

– Daily emails, texts, calls, whatever. One horrible confluence is the same week I heard nothing from Amanda was a week where the only three phone calls were one from my Dad about my broken furnace and two spam calls. No texts, either.

– Force me out of the house. isolating and this is making it worse.

– Plea.se tell me if you see confabulation. This has a bad effect of becoming a recalled reality.

– If you know Amanda, please do the same for her if she needs it. I’d like to not be aware of this, though.

I feel very needy and pathetic. However, as my bruv Mat in England so kindly told me, I help others so much, it’s okay for me to ask for help when I need it. I’ll remember those words even when I feel it’s an imposition to reach out for my own wellness.

Below is an email I sent to Amanda . I include it as an example of what I feel I must do to take some re-empowerment steps for myself. I know Amanda would never hurt me purposely. Still, her letter has sparked feelings of guilt, being trapped, worthlessness, damaged confidence, etc, specifically because I’m confronted with a symptom that makes me very defensive by reflex. I might send any of you a similar email. And I apologize and ask for understanding in advance.

Thank you. I’ve spent tree hours writing this email and I’m not going to edit it. I’m emotionally wiped.

Thank you. So much. Thank you. This is excruciating.

Steve

Amanda,

As you know, in order to be an effective therapist, the therapist must be able to step away from one’s experience and sensitivities to best support the peer. Above all, the closest proximity to objectivity is key. A therapist should never judge the peer they are partnered with.

That you saw “lying” and “exaggeration” as a character flaw and not a symptom is hurtful. That you treated a symptomatic reflex to protect myself as a “giving me a chance to come clean” and a “gotcha!” success is equally hurtful.

You speak of being a pyschological motivationalist, yet you never looked behind my offensive behavior to understand why I manifest this otherwise out of character behavior. There were many opportunities; I’ve explicitly stated “I’m triggered” and “This is too much like my wife back off.”

It feels your expectation is I should at all times be both aware of and capable of controlling a reflexive, ingrained, and programmed need to prove myself, to justify my worth, and to recognize the difference between “safe’ and “unsafe” environments. Effectively, I must be able to predict when I will be triggered and be prepared to do something about it immediately.

You understand the unpredictable effects of CPTSD as well as I do. And still, you have condemned me as someone incapable of trust and respect. 

Again, you have mistaken a symptom as a character flaw. Further, this character flaw must be explained in words and proportional shame. In short terms, I must be prepared to apologize for symptomatic behavior. Which I’ve done with you time and again

I apologized for having a mental illness.

It’s fair that my symptomatic behavior is a non-negotiable for you. For the sake of my self-empowerment, I must share the way you approached confronting this non-negotiable was escalating and just plain wrong. 

I asked for only one thng from my romantic partner

Have my back above all else.

Please examine if you feel you did this for me. It will be an excellent skill to carry with you in your therapy career.

Steve