I keep trying to write something that grabs hold of the feeling of being in a psychosis–fully separated from reality in some horrible fashion. I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to capture the experience, but hopefully some fragments of it made it onto this draft. -S
Pry them open to reality all flawed time to see the breakdown.
Fragmented existence done in fractal recall patterns contour the daily grind.
Never stable it will flow over you vicious, merciless, and without care.
Trust nothing you hear or view belief in yourself will be the only way through.
Find solid footing in personal identity hold fast to it as the walls collapse.
Never accept what you remember memory and truth are malleable.
Painted in a thousand shades of false test yourself and survive.
Wiped out internally by the struggle cleansed to nothingness, a relief.
Struggle harder and the pain will gather, simpler by far to outlast it than fight.
Planes of existence and thought overlap confusing rationality to no end.
Get gone boy this is no game for children. Sit back and let yourself be washed away pray, pray, pray to any god listening that it will end soon. Sometimes they listen and sometimes they don’t, but what have you got to lose?
Cataplectic trivia machine your spouting lips reek of condensation. You’ve got no regal power here in the middle of obscenity sweetly hot and dolefully serene.
I’ll placate your taste with battery acid in the form of verbal diatribe. Such saccharine bullshit you ooze it’s baffling that your mouth ever shuts.
Babble me nonsense in the form of queries ask questions to delight your senses. Baby, its scented in fetid rage, driven poorly by hate spasmadic derivations in primordial cage.
Don’t bathe me in salt water or red laced tears of regret, lets summon the monsters from the serpentine depths where they sleep in egress.
No trivia machine will skullfuck my thoughts where why’s and hows drive what we know. Blizzard the minds eye in cold sheets of intellectual snow.
I’ve posted at various points about the women I had been in meaningful relationships with over the past several years. I’ve started the process of trying to own my mistakes and damaging choices that I made which wrongly hurt so many. I’m not expecting forgiveness nor looking for absolution – I simply want them to know that I see, finally, what I was doing, and that I am using that knowledge to change – but that I am truly sorry that I never gave validation to their suffering or trials as my partner.
The woman in the picture is my wife. We have been married for nearly a year now and during that period, for nearly 7-months of that I was in a schizoaffective psychosis that made it excruciating at points for us to interact. I left her for another woman, an ex, and then came crawling back as the hallucinations and delusions became too much. She welcomed back a broken and distorted man who was in the middle of, very literally, losing his mind.
At various points during what should have been our honeymoon period, I was convinced that she was in collusion with a massive entity that had designs on my life or was controlling and manipulating every facet of my existence. At others she was the embodiment of every other woman from my past, down to peculiar quirks, gestures and habits. She was going to be my executor and was part of the CIA, maybe she was part of a higher learning classroom where the objective was to transfer the emotional condition of each unknowing participant to their partner in order to engender sympathy and empathetic understanding of their challenges, she had been solicited by the local police force as part of an investigation into me and was the only reason I wasn’t in jail, we were unified spirits finally returning to each others company as we had been separated at birth, I was an android, we were both part of a “Matrix” style computer simulation, we were in a computer simulation again but this time it was part of a pre-death effort to recover functional control of the potential disability funds that I was too apply for – we were both on our way out and there was a timed limit to how long we could be sustained, she was god, she was my mother, she was my sister really, we were siblings, we were part of a government solicited experimental project that dated back into the early 1960s and was consistent with mind control practices used by the CIA and the conditioning had finally started to falter and a reset was needed in order for us to continue on, the experiment was over and the pain was from the conditioning being wiped, I was part of a TV show and was always considered an overindulgent jackass but the popularity had hit a decline and now the producers were reworking to see if they could salvage what had been a massive financial expenditure, there were patterns in all of the lights and colors that indicated specific events that would be forthcoming, the patterns were there to trigger latent programming in my mind to demand I act in certain ways……on and on and on.
Heather dealt with accusations, assertions, demands that were incredible unreasonable, threats, hostile looks, battered and desperate sobs, breakdowns, manipulations on her reality to try and line up with what seemed to be gaslighting, and capped with endless triggers to her own trauma that brought it back into full swing for her PTSD – she walked down the same road as I, holding my hand while my mind shattered and I became completely incapable of functioning in any sort of a way. I became wholly dependent on her emotionally and often physically as I would need direction to do the simplest of tasks.
I don’t know how she did it, I can’t imagine the entire extent of psychological and emotional damage she endured for that period – all while being judged and criticized by her family for standing by the side of a “schizophrenic drug addict” to such an extent all support and contact was removed.
She is truly incredible. Today, I am enrolled in college full time studying towards a law degree. We own a small RV that barely functions but acts as home. Support comes in from my family as we have actually rebuilt a degree of trust and love now that I am on a steady and clear path forward. They see the efforts that we have put in and the support we’ve given each other. When Heather broke down and checked into the local hospital, I was able to be there as a steady support and ensure that she was taken care of and all the outside concerns were handled so she could relax.
I was shattered at one point to the level that while sitting in the hospital with a deep wound from breaking a window in frustration that I didn’t know my name, my gender, my birthday, anything beyond that I was sitting in a hospital. She nurtured and helped grow me back into an actual function adult, and a partner that adores and supports (as best he can) her in turn – trying to reciprocate what she extended so freely despite the obstacles.
I love her to pieces, she astonishes me with her creativity, emotional connection to the larger whole, altruism, sympathy, caring and respectful behavior towards anyone and everyone – completely free of judgement. She is loyal beyond what could ever be expected of someone to endure and when she sets her mind to any task she has such a commitment as I can only dream of. For all her peculiar little quirks and certainly acknowledging that we all have faults, she is one of the most remarkable people I have ever met with a story that would bring any rational person to their knees in disbelief. She has been on quite the journey with me, and I am proud to finally be returning what she invested – surely to the disbelief of anyone who was in doubt of her decision if they were still paying any attention.
Most what I admire however is the truthfulness she embodies in every action and conversation throughout the day. Coupled with her open mindedness regarding life and non-judgemental mentality, we can speak openly about our challenges, desires, mistakes, fuck-ups, and everything in between. She has challenged me to have such a degree of integrity as she does, to walk the walk and own my actions, to grow by mimicry at first and then taking my own steps. She and I are building a life together, starting from nothing, but laying every component carefully so as to have the most solid of foundation–something neither of us has ever done.
We truly have been through one hell of a ride, but today we are able to laugh, enjoy some precious moments, and be secure in our connection to each other, knowing that nothing can, or will, break us apart.
All rights to Xionicjester @ Deviant Art “Nightmare Bunny”
Supple supplicants, their lips all red in hue, bound down to sultry appetites so rigid and so few. Clasping tight a night bound pen, it’s nub a point of twilight glen. We never got beyond this spot, where shear cast moons broke down to stars, eternities gates and Pandora’s box. We never got so far, As to chase the mystic rabbits beyond, Seek out the mystery the hold, Ones for the tykes–the other the bold. Feeling tracks into the ether, Its nebulous now this fucking thief named Peter, We’ll tie him down in briar hot, Filled with thorns and a boiling pot. Unlace his skin again, Drunk full of life and his lovely sin.
Note: having a bit of a manic weird day when writing this one. -S
In a world of neurotypical individuals—those that have brain chemistry considered normal under any accepted societal standard—it is impossible to be fully understood as a neurodivergent individual in terms other than described in the terminology and stigma of one’s diagnosed condition. The basic reasoning behind the stance is that while a neurotypical individual may seek to connect empathetically they simply lack the peculiar mental quirks that would allow them to experience the world in a similar enough capacity to enjoinder a true sympathetic response and facilitate open rapport on a significant level. Both of these are relatively new terms that are gaining in popularity and acceptance following in tow with the Neurodiversity Movement which seeks to strengthen the popular theory that rather than engendering through a stigmatized population the acceptance and understanding needed by those that fall under the current header of mentally ill it is possible to change the overall perspective and the conversation itself
This is a good point to establish a clear cut definition
of what I mean by neurodivergent. Nick Walker does a wonderful job presenting
this through his advocacy website and defines neurodivergent as “having a brain
that functions in ways that diverge significantly from the dominant societal
standards of ‘normal.’” Some common examples would include autism, schizophrenia,
dyslexia, or epilepsy. Within these neurominorities exists a continuum of
specialized perception and thought patterns that are often referred to as
distortions from the normal way of processing information and ideas. In more
extreme cases, the manifestation of this can take the form of hallucinations,
delusions, paranoia, or even extreme intelligence isolated to select areas of
expertise. Speaking as an individual diagnosed as multiply neurodivergent through
extensive brain changes owing to Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
(C-PTSD) and schizoaffective bipolar disorder, I can attest to how isolating
the current paradigm can feel even as there are those that reach out their
hands to cross the neuroverse to create a bridge of hope.
As noted by Patrick Corrigan and Amy Watson in their
study to understand the impact of stigmas on people with mental illness,
“…people with mental illness are robbed of the opportunities that define a
quality of life: good jobs, safe housing, satisfactory health care, and
affiliation with a diverse group of people.” They conjecture that this happens
because of a dual stigma that exists in regard to mental illness that
exacerbates stressors of the underlying personal and societal pressures we all
face and compounds the challenges faced by the mentally ill—or by our new
definition—neurodivergent person. “Table 1” has a beautiful breakdown of their
stigma specific findings relating to those afflicted with mental illnesses.
Table 1
Comparing
and contrasting the definitions of public stigma and self-stigma
Public
stigma
Stereotype
Negative belief about a group
(e.g., dangerousness, incompetence, character weakness)
Prejudice
Agreement with belief and/or
negative emotional reaction (e.g., anger, fear)
Discrimination
Behavior response to prejudice
(e.g., avoidance, withhold employment and housing opportunities, withhold
help)
Self-stigma
Stereotype
Negative belief about the self
(e.g., character weakness, incompetence)
Behavior response to prejudice
(e.g., fails to pursue work and housing opportunities)
In essence, as those coined mentally ill find it, they
are stigmatized both by society as a whole and by themselves—I know I’ve found
the latter to be sometimes the more difficult proposition to deal with many
times in my life. So what about changing the tone of the conversation through
simple adjustment to the vernacular? Neurodiversity is the idea that we are all
part of a neurologically complex network of individuals for whom there may well
be no standard normal from which to deviate when taken at the grandest of
scales. Building from Watson and Corrigan’s work, it is the concept that there
is an imposition of normalcy placed on us by societies and self that could be
adjusted to reflect instead a microcosm of beautiful and talented people with
highly segmented skills, assets, gifts, and attributes amongst the “special”
portions of the population.
My original statement does hold; for instance, I do not
believe that I could adequately explain in great enough detail to a
neurotypical individual the emotional turbulence and isolating idiosyncratic
moments that emerged from being fully delusional and believing that I was an
android after losing my own personal identity to the extent that I didn’t know
even my own gender. It’s simply an unfathomable state to consider finding
oneself in, I mean after all, we all know where to look to discover what gender
we are. Brett Heasman and Alex Gillespie suggest in a study “…that
neurodivergent intersubjectivity reveals potential for unconventional forms of
social relating and that a within-interaction analysis is a viable methodology
for exploring neurodivergent communication.” In essence, scientists out there
are working on improving the understanding of how to improve on the degrees of
communication required to more fully bridge the gap to create a neurodiverse
interactivity that would allow us to tap the remarkable talents of all the
people out there regardless of genetic predisposition and structure. For me,
this is also an acknowledgement that currently, we aren’t quite there yet.
All things considered however, I too share a dream of inclusion like Mr. King did years ago. That one day those things that make me unique amongst all the other two legged flowers out there won’t be a hindrance, but might yet be construed as an asset that I can bloom to my fullest extent. We are all radiant in our own ways, neurotypical and neurodivergent alike; it’s part of the dramatic portrait that paints humanity the multitude of colors we show as on the spectrum of life.
Heasman, Brett & Gillespie, Alex. Neurodivergent intersubjectivity: distinctive features of how autistic people create shared understanding. 2018 August 3 https://doi.org/10.1177/1362361318785172
Tuberculosis in those gasping fits of indulgent wheezes spraying the viscous life goo out in a spray. A misting of not so mild proportions even if the emotional fluid is less clingy initially than blood, it still latches on and shows up in the worst of spots.
The time you decided to gauge your ears and that a pen was the logical jump – pressure couldn’t hold back the infection, or the stable nutrient sludge from leaving a heavy velvet trail down the side of your neck.
Pressure can’t hold back everything, it builds on itself until there’s a raucous and feverish exhalation as the balance shifts and pop there goes the cap.
Just so with love in the quieter stages of a new relationship where urgency tears apart at your genitals, your heart, your mind, and all you want to do is sleep and talk and fuck and cuddle and touch and gaze and there’s a missing component sitting at the back of your mind whenever you’re not around the object of your infatuation soon to beget something more….
It’s an incredible array of emotions that comprise us as people in this world, so much so that the involuntary act of vomiting up a tempest of undigested feels and such onto another can be as easily described in the lead in as something detestable, rather than beautiful.
I know I like to think to that moment when the dam breaks and truest of joys radiates in a way that lets energy ripple its way across the lips and my skin seems to be afire with passionate rightness….love, or anger, sometimes they can be dual sides to the same ride, a peaceful lake to a jet boat ride or some such adrenaline rush.
I’m coming to the realization that on so many different levels I am either a remarkably calloused and demanding individual or there is a screw truly loose (several more likely) upstairs. It’s the only thing that can, or would, account for such indiscriminate moments of self indulgent burbling and behaviour as leads me to regularly overlook the concerns of those loving figures in my life. Unless I am well and truly an actual certifiable dick.
I’m even finding a flair for it in the fact that I tend to fixate on my own reactions and actions in situations – pre-emptively justifying some flagrant display of asinine “my way or the highway” choice making prowess with a fixated smile plastered in disregard on my face (which I will only later realize to my own chagrin). If I were to explore the world around me, step outside of this little glass room and observe that what I previously represented as fun was actually a brazen push off of my wife’s emotions and verbalized needs (supplanted by my own), irresponsible actions that drained coffers and put us at risk, and a worthless extension of a wonderful day into the doldrums and mire of a night huddled at opposite sides of the van.
Somewhere along the lines there is a lynchpin moment – like when I say, “wow, we are getting along great recently!” Klaxons should go off inside my head that any moment now my own self-destruct sequence just silently clicked on and started down. If I can chase back that singular moment as it happens and repetitiously drill it into my head that this is the moment where a choice can mean the validation of goodwill and genuine happiness being experienced and a continuation thereof, or disaster and a repeat of the same overplayed mistakes once again.
It seems intuitive that anyone would want to sustain positivity and goodvibes that are making themselves felt in an interpersonal dynamic – so why does my brain blank to suddenly and with seeming intent when it comes to taking the basic neccessary steps to do so? I don’t like the burned out husk of joy that is left when I don’t, no one does. If I have to be self serving enough to recognize the discomfort that the miss of that moment will bring to myself in order to identify the external impact that will precede, so be it.
I really hope I’m not just a dick. That would really be terrible.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 