Two Years of What-The-Fuck

It’s pretty ironic that a few weeks ago I made a post on here saying I wouldn’t be on here for a while and instead of leaving I’ve been pulled back towards this site.

It’s been a long road. I was skimming through some of my older posts and having a laugh at not only the content, my aggressive nature which quite obviously came through in biting satirical wit, but also the comments and the beautiful souls I’ve met through this blog.

One person commented: “Are you mentally stable?”

If you have to ask that question, the answer is probably no. And I saw how many posts I wrote at 3am, 4am, 5am, and then came back the next day with either no sleep or two hours of sleep. I was busting my ass in Calculus and trying to find a job that wasn’t complete ass while simultaneously losing my mind. I’m pretty sure this blog helped me keep some kind of attachment to reality.

Then I ripped Alex Gorsky a new one (here) because there is no way in hell that man should have any kind of award in any kind of “humankindness” category. He’s a straight monster, and if I ever get the chance to meet him in person it’s going to take all of my strength not to spit in his fucking face. He hasn’t done anything that any other C.E.O of a major pharmaceutical company hasn’t done. The difference is he got caught. And I read about it. And that’s where the real danger for him is.

People ate that post up back in the day before I disabled the like button and couldn’t figure out how to get it back up, and it launched me into the blogsphere at a tremendous velocity. I became known for not only tearing apart pharmaceutical companies, but tearing apart anything and anyone who seemed to throw ethics out the window. And people who park in the red zone outside of my apartment. Fuck those people.

Where is this blog now? I have no fucking idea you guys. I basically recorded my decent into madness (I said that in some post a couple years ago) and the large gaps in between posts are indicative of me either being comatose in bed, in the hospital, or running the streets all hours of the night.

Those times consisted of a lot of weird shit. Like, weird shit. Like . . .like this:

Cat-Fish.

That isn’t even weird enough to really explain all the weirdness. I remember a lot of horrible dreams, traumatic dreams, all of which were caused by some unseen forces, dark forces, demons, which followed me around during the day, crowded my bed at night, whispered in my ears, fucked up my thoughts, intercepted them really, possessed people around me, and somehow I went to class and took notes and took exams and went to work and I guess I just sort of let my body work from muscle memory while my mind drifted into a different dimension.

At one point I remember being in hell, literal hell, and I was strapped to a torture board where some demons–I finally saw their true form, rather than the disguises they use here on Earth–turned their dial and stretched my limbs, trying to rip them from my body. That part was a dream, I’m pretty sure, but when I woke up they were still screaming at me, hissing at me, and I don’t remember much after that, just a lot of them screaming and cursing me, and they promised I would die.

One of these fucking things

Eventually I couldn’t keep up with the classes. Eventually I wasn’t picking up shifts at work, and inevitably, I stopped writing on this blog. The last hospital visit I had followed the Las Vegas shooting. Because those demons were after me, (and still are in all truth, that hasn’t gone away) they were hell bent on—

God it’s so much to explain. It’s so much to explain mini explosions detonate across my cortex when I think about it.

I believed I was here for a reason, on earth I mean, and I still believe I am. I believe everyone is. But for whatever reason this was heightened during this time, and I believed the safety of the human race essentially depended on me, and that was why so many dark forces had surrounded me–they knew what I knew, and they had to stop me.

They couldn’t physically touch me because I had the protection of my ancestors–that’s what I believed and still believe. So instead, they entered others around me. Strangers, friends, coworkers, and everywhere I went I felt attacked and unwelcome. I couldn’t tell anyone because 1) they’d think I was crazy and 2) they were all fucking in on it anyway.

So when the Vegas shooting happened, I immediately knew it happened because of me. I waited and waited and watched videos and theories and news stories, waiting for a motive to come out, and when nothing was found that only confirmed my belief: he’d been possessed and the shooting was a message to me, specifically, that they were coming for me. And that’s when they attacked my thoughts and I remember always feeling confused and drained of energy and I couldn’t sleep and I just wanted to die. I wanted to die and happened to mention my plan (I guess I didn’t really want to die anyway) and got the sheriffs called on me yet again.

I wasn’t in the hospital as long as people would expect. I have this problem. It’s called functionality.

She seems functional, albeit stressed.

Through all of this–and this built up over the course of a year, at least, maybe even two, of being out of my mind–I was still functional. I went to classes even though I had to drop them eventually. I went to work, some fucking how, and I wasn’t speaking strange or obviously disconnected from reality. I wasn’t walking down the street talking to myself or accusing people of things or anything. I was just . . . existing. A shell. My body moved, I responded to people when they spoke to me, and that was that–I was okay by mental health system standards.

And so the hospital just wanted to help me sleep. And that’s what they did. They gave me some Seroquel so I would sleep, waited for about a week, diagnosed me with Bipolar 1 this time, and tossed me to the county mental health system back in my town which gave other optional diagnoses (PTSD–which I’d already been diagnosed with, Schizoaffective–there’s a newbie, Psychosis NOS–okay?) no one ever came to a conclusion on, and then they outright rejected me. I didn’t last long enough in their system for them to conclude anything, really.

Now, the wonderful thing about all this is somehow it’s all worked out.

And the weird thing is now that I quit my medication in the worst fucking way possible, a way that almost cost me my life, I feel so much better. I still get confused by my thoughts often, but a lot of the time I feel wonderful, sparkly, like I’m connected to every inanimate and animate object on earth; sometimes I know what people are thinking, sometimes I know that they know that I’m connected to them.

I haven’t heard any voices since I abruptly stopped my medication–it’s been five months. That’s fucking unprecedented. I’ve been a conundrum in the mental health system since I was 5.

I’m back writing, and that’s a good fucking sign. Welcome to whatever the fuck this blog is now!

Perhaps I’ll find another C.E.O to drag through the dirt and hang by his/her ankles.

Quantum Biology and Hallucinations

I was on a TED talk binge this morning, and I watched Jim Al-Khalili talk about Quantum Biology. Although this is regarded as a relatively new field, it’s not. It’s been around since the 30’s/40’s and was really contemplated within Schrodinger’s book “What is life”.

Essentially Quantum Biology is the study of quantum properties acting within biological systems, like cells. Al-Khalili gave a pretty good summary of the way we have already provided some evidence of this, like the Robin which uses particles that are Quantum entangled in their retina to sense the magnetic poles around the earth–this is how they know which direction to fly during migration. I think this study is the most well known one. The other has to do with Quantum tunneling.

Quantum tunneling is this:

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Basically, a particle has the ability to pass through a physical barrier. This has been shown to be a process within the sun and is a prime occurrence in nuclear fusion, but it has also been shown to occur within enzyme processes. Enzymes are those little guys that help with digestion and metabolism. They keep processes speedy and accurate. It only makes sense that they would evolve a quantum process to help them keep up speed.

If you would like to watch the video and get a better summary/explanation than this, here is the link to Khalili’s Ted Talk. 

What I find so fascinating about this besides the quantum element is what it could mean were we to ever really understand what we’re seeing. Especially what it could mean for medicine. Could you imagine understanding the real quantum process within an enzyme that has been infected with a Cancer?

We’d obviously be dealing with a lot probability and uncertainty, but I think we’d have a greater chance at really understanding what’s going on with diseases like that were we to have somewhat of a better understanding of the process it goes through, and the processes it disrupts. I’m no doctor, and I’m certainly no physicist yet, but I do pride myself on being pretty logical and philosophical and there are a lot of ideas that come to mind when I watch videos like this.

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There are a few more lectures on YouTube about Quantum Tunneling if you’re interested. When I was in high school I got interested in physics and picked up a bunch of books on the subject. This was before I understood an ounce of math, so I didn’t really get that part of things, but I understood the theories. You don’t have to go to college to learn this kind of stuff if you’re dedicated.

Now that I have taken some physics classes, things are even more clearer. So, honestly, had I not read those books I did in high school, I probably would have had a much rougher time in the classes, and I still had a pretty rough time. Too much group work. I can’t group-think. I have to individual-think.

I think the point in all of this is don’t believe everything you see.

There are so many things out in this universe that we don’t understand.

I was listening to another Ted talk from a man talking about how consciousness is basically all of us hallucinating but agreeing on the hallucinations: that’s what we call reality. He said that the brain uses more information that it’s already gathered about the world to show you what you see, rather than actually seeing what’s in front of you, and therefore what we see and experience are kind of like “controlled” hallucinations. This got me thinking, as he mentioned psychosis and other altered states could then be considered “uncontrolled perceptions”. But because he is assuming that all perception comes from something we’ve already perceived, then what is it that the brain has perceived that makes some people see/hear demons, as yours truly does? What is it in this world, outside of our physical realm, that our brains can sense that we can’t?

You can watch that video here.

Consciousness and the world of quantum mechanics is so convoluted and complicated that anyone who claims to really understand any of it is certainly a liar. Anyone who claims they understand the process of hallucinations is also a liar.

Just food for thought: today’s mental truth.

Mystery Blogger Award

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Thanks yourenotaloneinthisworld for nominating me.

I haven’t participated in one of these things in a while, mostly because I live under what some people call “a rock”. I prefer to call them “small, safe spaces under which people never look because they’re afraid a snake or spider may live there”. I live there because I am both a snake and a spider. Jokes on you if you thought I was human.

Anyway, with chain blogging awards come rules. With rules, comes anarchy. With anarchy, comes me. So I will follow the guidelines in my own style. As you can tell.

If you’re wondering what a mystery blogger award is, you’re not alone. Apparently the creator of this is Okoto Enigma. Kind of jealous of the name. Check out their blog here. Their definition of their award is as follows:

“Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates, it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve any recognition they get. The award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging, and they do it with so much love and passion.

-Okoto Enigma

If you support anarchy, of which flows through my veins adamantly, do not follow these set of rules:

  • Put the award logo/image on your blog.
  • List the rules.
  • Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  • Mention the creator of the award and provide a link to their blog as well.
  • Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
  • Nominate 10-20 people.
  • Notify each of your nominees by commenting on their blog.
  • Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify).
  • Share your link to your best post(s).

I will reiterate my stance on nominees once more: I feel incredibly awkward nominating people. I feel incredibly awkward typing how incredibly awkward that is. That being said, whoever I nominate will probably be people who I see most often moseying around my blog, or people who’s blogs have given me (and others) insight to a different perspective. However, if you feel compelled to completely ignore my nomination, I won’t take it personally. If anything, I just want to list the blogs so others can click on them.

For those who are still wondering who I even am, or why exist in this world–well, I’ve been wondering that as well. But I probably have a little more insight on me than you have on me, so here are three things about myself:

  1. Giving fucks is not a characteristic of mine. This means, as I’ve stated in many posts, my fucks generally reside on the curb outside of my apartment. Still confused? Stay turned for a post I write later today on how I teamed up (I was on a team, guys!) with three men in line behind me to create a force-field around our line from, as one guy put it, “a bunch of rude motherfuckers”.
  2. I am not human. I come from the stars. If you look out on a clear sky in places where light pollution doesn’t exist to the extent it does in main-land America, you will see my homeland arching across the sky: the arm of the Milky Way. I descended on Earth with no purpose, and have instead found many purposes. Looking forward to the day I return to the stars.220px-milky_way_night_sky_black_rock_desert_nevada
  3. After many years of confusion, after many years of hopping from professional to professional,  after much anger, exhaustion, and hopelessness, I will be seeing soon yet another professional for a possible autism spectrum diagnosis. After many concluding opinions from those doubtful and those convinced, I’ve decided to launch down that rabbit hole. Diagnosis in general means nothing to me, but the implications of understanding my infancy, toddler-hood, childhood, and now adulthood, kind of means something to me for some reason.

As you can tell, I often spew words from my head with no end in sight. I’ll try and keep my answers to these next questions short:

  1. If you could switch lives with one famous person for one day each year, who would it be and why? This is kind of tough for me, as I don’t recognize many celebrities or famous people. If we’re talking about the years 1856-1943,I’d switch lives with Nikola Tesla, just to be inside of his brain. Then I’d time travel back to the present day, switch lives with Elon Musk, and re-create everything Tesla dreamed of.
  2. What would be the best present you could find under your tree this year? Anything with a processing system i7 or greater.
  3. Let’s say you just won the lottery and are now the richest person in the world. What are the first three things you will do? 1) I’d buy out all the electric companies to shut them down, so when I switch lives with Elon Musk and recreate Wardenclyffe, everyone will have free energy. In case you’re wondering, all those jobs will be replaced with jobs to run the free energy sites. 2) I’d buy out psychiatric hospitals across the globe and turn them into peer respites, some of which will offer similar hospital services, but only if you want that. 3) I’d buy a lot of chocolate.
  4. What’s your personal opinion of social media? Social media disturbs me. I use Facebook for science articles. To use it to put blurbs about your life seems like a waste of a learning opportunity.
  5. If you had to loose all of your senses except for one, which would you keep? Even though it gives me a lot of frustration, I would keep my hearing for the sake of music. Music is creation, and it’s all around us, even in the rotation of car tires against the road. Sound is also vibration, and vibrations are the universe, as Tesla says.

Nominees:

If anything, click on these links, you’ll find some great blogs. There’s a huge other list on my blog homepage. It shuffles every few times you refresh the page, so you can find new faces.

If you choose to do the nomination, my questions for you, I suppose, are:

1)If you had any supernatural power, what would it be?

2) What’s your greatest accomplishment and deepest regret?

3)Who or what, or  both, inspires you?

4)What would be your ideal fantasy world?

5)Describe yourself in five words.

Feel free to answer, regardless of whether you participate or not, or whether your blog is listed above or not. I think questions can be a great way to fuel a new blog post if you’ve been stuck in a writer’s block.

What Is Writing?

Good morning.

That reminds me of how I start my emails at work. Two words and a period. Is it strange that my monotony comes through even through written word to other humans? You should have read the email I sent to the psychiatrist. I read it back to myself a couple days later and confirmed that I did indeed sound like a confused sociopath.

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Which gets me thinking: how much of your true self shines through in your writing? How much of a veil do you place over your face when you’re in public versus when you’re blogging? When you’re writing fiction? When you’re sending emails? How much does your interaction with other people contort your personality?

I’m under the overwhelming perception that we all adopt a separate personality of some sorts to help us navigate through the social aspects of life. People smile when they’re depressed, they compliment you when they hate you; they present one person and behave as another, sometimes on purpose, sometimes inadvertently.

reset_brain1In some ways I’m sure this mechanism is kind of like a reboot system for our brain. We’re constantly updating, constantly uninstalling, installing, and reinstalling programs, and sometimes we need to run in the background behind other systems to stay sane. When all else fails, we grab our trusty paperclip and needle the hell out of the restart/reset button. Sometimes we wake up with a major update like “no more bitch-face”, sometimes we wake up with subtle changes that protect us from outside predators that we don’t really notice.

I think our personalities run in the background. I think they learn things as we learn things and they’re the subtle changes that protect us. Life in itself is traumatic; who’s to say we don’t all have a little taste of DID?

Obviously not as severe as others. Don’t take that out of context like “oh Golly Gosh Alucard, that’s like saying everyone experiences anxiety or depression”.

Well, don’t take this the wrong way politically correct individuals, but everyone does experience anxiety and even depression. Some people have different levels of severity, for different lengths of time, for different reasons. We’re all human. I hate when people get overly sensitive about that kind of stuff.

If I were saying it to invalidate your feelings of anxiety and depression, then I could see you getting angry.

 

That being said, yes, I did compare humans to computers. They’re all different systems and I have to learn their algorithms in order to interact with them. Unfortunately, they short circuit often and I have no idea how to fix computers on that level. Go figure.

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So I find it interesting that when people in my creative writing class read my work, widen their eyes, and stare at me like I’ve just snapped someone’s back in half with my mind. Then they say “you can convey and amazing amount of emotion through your writing”, “your descriptions are amazing”, “your characters are amazing”. And I stare back like they’ve just given birth to fifteen children with all the same hair and eye colors.

I honestly despise the majority of my writing. The curse of a writer, am I right, am I right? No? No one?

I only write what I see in people because I all ever do is watch. That has it’s advantages and disadvantages. And I write from a place not of compassion or love or anything positive; the majority of the time I write from a place of turmoil and struggle. That’s not to say I couldn’t write a soppy love story like The Notebook, or something motivational, and that’s not to say I couldn’t write something based on positivity rather than actual life.

But News flash: since when was a life without struggle interesting to read about? Even Luke Skywalker’s damn aunt and uncle were crispy bodies by the door.

I took that from a song. It’s on YouTube. “Bushes of love” or something. It’s hilarious.

But I can see the differences in myself when I write. Emails I feel are an inaccurate source because I will change my wording depending on who I’m talking to and therefore put up a pretty thick veil over their eyes and my eyes.

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Take A Moment To Notice Which Traits the ONLY FEMALE has . . . I suppose prestige could be female, but they don’t give her hair and she has more of a male profile. Wtf kind of stupid ass picture is this. 

But in blogs I notice the difference dramatically. Particularly this one. My ideas aren’t usually as concise or organized as they are this morning, and usually I’m stuck in a perpetual state of suffocation. But today I am neither. In fact, I’m nothing. And that’s a sign to me that 1) I’m more stressed than I believe and that 2) my brain has come to the rescue the best way it knows how.

I base my characters off my observations, my experiences, but most of all these separate personalities. I consider them separate regardless of the “idea” that having “personalities” means you’re “crazy”.

I reject that hypothesis like I reject that picture above. I think it means I’ve been through a lot, I think it means my brain actually gives a damn and is trying to sort things out because I’ve failed majorly at doing so. I think it means it’s giving me a break so I can study and make it through work tonight and tomorrow morning. I think it means I actually got good sleep last night. I think it means, much to my dismay, that I am indeed human. I think that’s what having different personalities means.

This current me can be very prudent and conceited at times. It makes me laugh. I come across as arrogant but absent; at this point I’d walk into a store, avoid eye contact with everyone, grab my things, go up to the counter without responding to their “hi, how are you?” comment, and get the fuck out. Anxiety wouldn’t play as large of a factor. That’s why I consider this personality “the break”.

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It’s also the personality where I’d fuck with you. Oh I’d fuck with you so majorly, just for some amusement. That’s kind of how I wrote that psychiatric note I think. It’s how I wrote the note to the guest speaker when I had detention in high school for skipping class. It was all a joke: being put into groups to discuss our “feelings” because we were all troubled kids heading down the highway to hell. At the end we were required to write a reflection about the whole process and the poor speaker wrote me back a frantic note worried I was a mental case about to slash my wrists vertically, spray a gun through the school, or murder a teacher. I never said any of those things blatantly (for obvious reasons) but the darkness and thoughts I described were indicative of a disturbed mind, disturbed enough to scare the shit out of him and the school.

Little did they know I was rolling on the floor crying from laughter while I wrote it and while I read the guy’s response. Poor guy.

If I find something to be stupid, this is the part of me that will put a sarcastic twist on every little ounce of your feelings. Who knows why I/we do that.

Writing, any creative outlet really, is a way for our brain to bring together all the different parts of our humankind selves so that they all have a say. It’s a form of checks and balances for our sanity. So when people ask me why I enjoy writing, I simply smile; that’s a question that would take eons to fully explain.

“So what I’ve come to realize is, I will NEVER fit in, so it’s my duty to make sure, that I stand. The fuck. Out.” -Tech N9ne 2016 baby. 

It’s The Thought That Counts

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I tried ya’ll.

I tried so hard to ignore it.

But everyone is posting about it, I’m seeing articles on major magazine websites pouring their heart into it, and as much as I respect their excitement and their enthusiasm for totally real, hardcore science, I must push my way through the crowd and get a little word in.

“New Imaging  Study Shows How Schizophrenic Brains Regenerate”.

“Science may have moved much closer to curing Schizophrenia”. 

“Imaging study shows promising results for patients with Schizophrenia”

“Brains of people with Schizophrenia attempt self-repair:study”.

One categorized schizophrenia s a “neurological disorder”.

I . . .

Look ya’ll, I’m going to be frank. I know I’ve been in sort of a professional, formal sounding haze these last few weeks, but this kind of shit just pisses me off.

 

 

A neurological disorder? When was this concluded? NEVER, THAT’S WHEN.

*breathe*

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There are such things as hallucinations caused by neurological issues. For example, often elder people in nursing homes who are blind have visual hallucinations. I recall hearing a story of one woman in her nineties who had lost her vision for many years but was steadily seeing people walking past her. She saw napkins floating in mid-air. None of these interacted with her, none of them acknowledged her, and if you fucking ask Oliver Sacks what the difference between a psychotic hallucination and a neurological hallucination is, he’ll tell you in your fucking face that psychotic hallucinations tend to interact with you. They tend to recognize you are there, even if that means just looking over at you. They are (generally) not just a scene in front of your eyes that are pretty to look at. They are (generally) not a cute little movie based on the real world that you get to watch and smile at.

Unless you count hundreds of bugs crawling on the wall or shadow figures sitting at a table with red eyes with little movie based on the real world that you smile at.

Obviously there are exceptions to the rule, everyone experiences such things differently. But if you want to get “Sciencey”, if you want to act like a textbook has all the answers, there’s the scientific/textbook difference between a psychotic hallucination and a neurologically-caused one for you.

child-abuse1Could there be a reason for this difference? Oh absolutely. Could you think of a reason? I could think of one huge one: environment. How you grew up. Where you grew up. What you were told. How you were exposed to the world. Trauma.

For example I’ve learned from talking with people who are in the state of mind where they walk up to you very boldly, very furious, and say “stop stealing my thoughts. I hate it, get out of my head, stop stealing my thoughts!” 

And at first you’re a little taken aback. You go on the defense and your first reaction is “I’m not” or “calm down” or “here, take these”. You might even be fearful as we’ve all been taught people sucked within delusions or hallucinations are unpredictable. And in some cases that has been truth. But has anyone ever paid attention how we react to them? Does anyone care about that? 

Because I’ve learned to react a different way. I’ve learned to sit and speak with them about why they feel someone is stealing their thoughts. And you know what I’ve discovered in a few? They have a history of feeling invaded. Of feeling their privacy means nothing, as if they had none to begin with. How their brain reacts to that?: People are stealing my thoughts. 

Is that neurological?

After speaking with them, after steadily extracting a whole new story from them, have I convinced them someone is not stealing their thoughts? No. But we just spent an hour talking about their restrictive childhood and suddenly I’m not the one stealing their thoughts anymore.

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Often in these articles I read they support the idea that you are born with schizophrenia, that you are born with a broken mind, one that it (this cracks me up) needs to be repaired.

Is childhood psychosis something of interest? Absolutely. There are tons of children who seem to hallucinate before they turn 3 years old. Does that warrant some interesting neuroscience? I think so. But it doesn’t mean you only speak to them in clinical terms, it doesn’t mean you constantly reassure them they are sick and “damaged” as one article put it. How much of a difference does self-esteem make? Has this been studied as well?

But when it comes to adults, when it comes to people with troubled pasts, or  even un-troubled pasts but just experiences where they may have been constantly controlled, invaded, or verbally abused once in a while, it warrants we take a look at their entire life and not only their neurology.

“It’s been suggested that neural degeneration in this region is at the root of Schizophrenia, though this is still widely debated . . .”

It is very widely debated. But you don’t hear much about the side debating, do you? 

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Everyone loves NAMI. Oh they’re raising so much awareness, they’re doing this, they’re doing that. Well, if you go on the NAMI or NIMH website, whichever hosts research articles I forget, and download their studies on Schizophrenia, and you search for the word “Trauma” you won’t find it once.

Not. Once.

That tells me this is a one-sided conversation. This tells me we’re hunting after schizophrenia like it’s going to be a crack in the brain somewhere, that as soon as we find that hole all we’ll have to do is patch it up with a little super-glue and it’ll be gone.

I feel we do that with many “disorders” we characterize.

As someone studying in the psychiatric field, as someone with lived experience of mental health issues, I can confirm heavily for you that as an industry we set up a batch of symptoms, we analyze you without taking into consideration who you are or where you’re from, and then we stick you with a label and tell you, well, this is for the rest of your life.

I love that one article which talks about “self-repair”, as if there is a leak to stop somewhere.

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“The researchers’ main finding is that, in terms of overall grey matter volume, schizophrenic brains become more “normal” the longer they’re schizophrenic. That is, the largest deviations occur early in the illnesses onset. Moreover, patients with the most dramatic deviations from normal early in the illness were not necessarily the most likely to be better or worse off later in the illness than patients with less deviations.”

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Love the “schizophrenic brains”and “longer they’re schizophrenic” rather than  “brains with schizophrenia” or “the longer they experience schizophrenia”.

They depersonalize these articles on purpose. These findings are meant to generalize an entire population, they’re meant to isolate an illness. They’re not meant to speak on behalf of the people going through these experiences. And that’s where the biological model falls short.

Yes, I can’t deny they have found differences in grey matter in people with schizophrenia versus people without. But the thing is, they can’t prove whether it’s because of the way people react to the world around them or because of the physical matter of the brain. They act like it’s because of the way the physical matter is developed, but they have no proof. No one has any proof either way.

So each side spends all their time trying to convince us either way instead of taking time to speak with the people they’re degrading. 

I guess the DSM-5 made an attempt: they did put out a call to the general public to see if anyone had a disorder they wanted published before they finalized the DSM-5 in 2013.

Can anyone see how that’s a bad idea?

Can anyone see just how fabricated a lot of these characterizations are made now? 

 

How I see Myself

 

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How many times in a day do you confuse yourself? 

It’s a strange question,  I know.

I don’t mean confuse yourself by picking up an item, putting it down, and then asking yourself “where did I just put that?”

I mean in terms of personality. In terms of defining why your depressed, why you’re anxious, what situations make you anxious, what situations make you depressed.

How times a day do you have trouble managing your emotions?

Mine get mixed up so heavily I feel I’m on the cusp of insanity. I can’t focus on anything, I can’t identify any feeling, every sound infuriates me and I can’t even listen to music without feeling like the lyrics are confusing my thoughts.

Like right now. Which Is why I’m struggling to write at the moment.

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When I get this way, the only emotion I can truly identify with is anger and frustration. So I listen to aggressive music and think about how happy I’d be if I saw that one Laundry worker from the healthcare center on his knees in front of the three APS agents in business suits and sunglasses.

I switch personalities quite frequently. Not in a DID sense, and not in the average sense where you switch on your “charm” to go confidently into an interview and switch off your “bitch” so the interviewer doesn’t throw you out of her office. In public, we all switch certain traits of ourselves on and off. That’s average behavior.

I switch from generally content to unbelievably aggressive/disinterested to generally depressed and suicidal and each of them have a separate personality attached to them.

My content personality is the average, one. It’s anxious and unsure and insecure about the majority of decisions I make in my life, including if someone asks me “what do you want to eat?” That personality will always beat the rest of me to the punch and say “I don’t know” in fear of insulting the other person if I pick something they don’t like. That personality gets offended to the point of tears if someone says “No, I don’t want that”. That personality feels like it’s done something equal to the social crimes of Hitler. Yes, that is my content self. 

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The depressed personality is lethargic and generally not anxious. It may be brought on by the anxiety but generally that personality will keep me locked in my room, in bed, and ignore the anxiety of missing class and ignore the anger of missing class. I might cry out of anger or sensitivity.

Contrary to what many people believe, my emotions do not have a wide range. When someone asks me what makes me happy . . . I don’t really have an answer. I have to think very hard. When someone asks me what makes me sad . . . I don’t really have an answer for it, I have to think very hard. I know the things that typically make people happy or sad, so I just say those things. Things don’t make me happy or sad, they just make me satisfied or unsatisfied.

The truth is, I’m just really good at faking it. 

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The personality of “unbelievably aggressive/disinterested” is my baseline personality. It’s completely separate from the other two. It was never developed like the others, it was always with me, therefore I consider it the baseline.

The older I’ve gotten the more I’ve realized my “disinterest” is in . . . well, everything.

I don’t care much about other people’s opinions. I don’t care much about what they like nor do I care to discuss their interests in length. That, to me, is “chit-chat”. I hate chit-chat.

I listen to other people’s opinions. I give them respect when they’re based on fact. I do things they like or give them things they like because I know that’s normal.

And I know as you’re reading this, perhaps your eyebrows rose and you’re thinking “and you want to be a psychiatrist? You want to listen to people?”

Here’s the thing.

How many psychologists do you know who have given up therapy because listening to the horror stories of other’s lives took a toll on their own mental health? I personally know a few.

I might not convince you, but trust me: you want someone who is capable of separating their emotions from your emotions. You want someone who can help you find logic in your illogical thought patterns.  You want someone who understands what you’re saying, and can think outside of the box you can’t for ways to use your strengths and weaknesses to your advantage. You don’t want someone who will bathe you in sympathy and be just a friend. You want a helpful friend you can trust. 

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Helpful, Motherfucker!

I am a nice person. I’ve learned to be nice. I’ve learned social customs, I’ve learned how to make people laugh, and I’ve learned to tolerate things. I know that I have a gift in terms of the way I can relate to people (it’s a one-way street in this case, I don’t feel I relate/connect to anyone), the way they flock to me for advice or just so I can be an ear for them. Since I have this gift, I might as well put it to use right? That’s the logical thing to do.

My aggression got me interested in psychiatry. The blatant disregard for logic in the world of business and medicine also got me interested in psychiatry. The people get helped in the process and that’s my main goal.

This is how I see myself. A shoddy integration of three distinct personalities. How do you see yourself?

Liebster Awarrdddd

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I haven’t done one of these things in a while, but tonight seems like a lax night and these awards can be fun, so I figured eh, it’ll give me something creative to write about. So thanks to Youarenotaloneinthisworld for the nomination. Check out the link to her blog if you haven’t visited her already, she’s fantabulous!

As far as other nominations go, I love all my followers and suck at making decisions. I usually spend way too much time stressing out over who to pick for these things and therefore I say if you want to participate, go ahead, particularly if you follow me. I nominate thee.

Yes, you.

You reading this right now.

You’re nominated.

Anywhoo, down to business.

  1. How is your day going so far? Fantabulous. Extraordinary. Not that extraordinary, I lied. It’s also over, so I guess you could take that to the bank and cash it. I woke up, took a shower (that’s an accomplishment), embarrassed myself at the college “Wellness Center” known to the rest of the world as a Gym, found out I’m more unfit than a doughnut, and made some plans to increase my endurance before I start working on my strength. Then I ate a salad. Fantabulous. fantabulous-1001346
  2. Where’s your happy place? Man lives in a sunlit world of what he believes to be . . . reality. But there is unseen by most an underworld that is just as real, but not as brightly lit: a dark side. That’s my happy place. Which is counter-intuitive, but that’s not for you to worry about. In my happy place I’m as twisted as I want to be, as curious and assertive as I want to be. That’s what keeps me from developing homicidal tendencies. 
  3. Any blogs you’d recommend to follow? I’m horrible at making decisions and can’t single anyone out. For that reason, there’s a randomly generated list of lovelies on my main page from mostly followers, but also people who just click the like button. I’d recommend you scroll through them, they’re all just as fantabulous as I am. 
  4. How many animals do you have; what are they? I have my alter egos. They are mostly active at night, like some other pets, and eat off the floor because I don’t want them making a weird animal mess at the table. They sleep in cages in which I lock with two padlocks and an electrically charged door. Sometimes they get crafty and slip a long finger through the cracks in the cage, hence the electricity, and I had to chop the fingertip off of one for that very reason. He doesn’t like me anymore. Other than that, I have no animals unfortunately. I’d love to get a Chinchilla. baby-chinchilla
  5. What country do you live in? ‘MERICA. BURGERS AND FRIED CHICKEN AND BIG TRUCKS. merica_b5b23b318d7bd630e59c71d520c17632
  6. Favorite childhood memory? Not quite sure. Luckily I don’t have a gun to my head. I have satisfactory memories and unsatisfactory memories, but none of them out do any of the others.
  7. When is your birthday and how old are you turning? My birthday is on June 15th and I’ll be turning 21. It’s all downhill from here. 
  8. Quick, what’s behind you?! *Swings two Katanas and swivels on my heels. Surveys damage.* No one and nothing now. twd_gp_301_0507_0278
  9. Do you believe in life on other planets? What kind of life? Microscopic? Intelligent? Ethereal? Something in between it all? Something I can’t even imagine? I believe my imagination, as quirky as it is, isn’t expanded enough to fathom what could be out there. But yes, it’s all out there. Everything and nothing. 
  10. Favorite Hobby? Writing. And Katana swinging.
  11. Biggest Fear?  Disappointing myself. 

I know I’ve been nominated for a few others over the last few months and I apologize that I did not get to them, I either forgot or just didn’t feel like doing it. But as always, thanks to everyone who nominates me for things, I appreciate it. If you want to answer these questions, I’d say it’s a good way to make a blog post whether you’re doing it for an award or not. If you don’t want to answer the same questions I did, here are some more:

  1. What’s the meaning of life?
  2. What’s your most memorable memory?
  3. Favorite vacation?
  4. If humans weren’t on Earth, what would be different?
  5. Most embarrassing encounter with a stranger?
  6. How curious about the world are you?
  7. What’s the point of blogging?
  8. What’s your best and worst coping mechanism for when you’re stressed?
  9. If given the chance, would you travel to space?
  10. Your greatest personal victory?
  11. Immortality: hell yeah or hell naw?