Monday 23 February 2015

All schizophrenics go to hell


For as long as I can remember I’ve always been very creative; but also sensitive to the world around me (as many others are I'd imagine). This was okay when I was young because I was a child then and it’s a fact that children are nuts.

However at some point I found the world around me was too much to cope with and as a result I imagined and created a reality for myself where I was in a kind of coma and the world and everybody in it was a figment of my imagination.

At the time this helped a lot, although I was only living a half-life I suppose.

This coping mechanism probably had something to do with my imaginative capabilities, but unfortunately I got so messed up in trying to marry up my nature with a world that is fundamentally unnatural, that in the end I literally shut down everything, leaving just a shell with nothing inside.

Eventually I was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic.

Recently, though, I was introduced to the idea of auditory hallucinations, and because the things in my head do feel external to what I would consider ‘my’ thinking, it seemed to fit that this was what I was experiencing.

There was now a line between the true me and the evil 'voices'.

Of late, I’m starting to wonder if these voices are nothing more sinister than my own imagination. Have I been making a distinction with them simply because they can be pretty nasty and distressing and go against what I would consider to be my personal values?

I’ve also been noting with interest that, often, when I am thinking of something to write, I will just sit back and wait for a voice to pipe up with an idea - of course I don’t always jump on the first thing to be thrown up, since all manner of things appear before me.

The interesting thing is that these ideas feel as though they are coming from the same place as do the voices which plague me especially at darker times.

That’s why I’ve started to wonder if the so called hallucinations aren’t a symptom of a problem with me, but are in fact the imagination which I never learned to cope with and so shut away and abandoned along with everything else.

I suppose it now follows that my new challenge is to re-engage with my imagination.

I can see that the thoughts which - thanks to my religious upbringing (also known as child abuse) - I would have perceived as sins and so tried to suppress, are not evil and do not make me hell worthy.

I am now atheist, as it happens, and so free of the fear of this kind of thought transgression anyway. Unfortunately I am the person I am today because of my experiences, so it is going to be difficult to change – not impossible, but definitely difficult.

At least now I am not afraid to be around people whilst hearing voices and seeing images telling me that I want to rape/punch/kiss/kick/etc them. It is still difficult to be around people because I’m not always on the ball like I am now and tiredness (among other things) plays a major factor in hampering my ability to cope.


The content of the ideas may be troubling but I believe it stems from the fact that my brain is not only a primeval one and not suited to the modern world, but also an extra sensitive and creative one too.

Monday 16 February 2015

Metamorphosis Felinus

...rain pounds the window pane. I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m so warm and fuzzy; I could remain like this for the rest of my life. The rumbling of my stomach is quick to subdue this whim: time for breakfast! I slowly peel back my eyelids, but the room doesn’t want to come into focus. From what I can see, grey light is filtering through the window; unusually drab light considering my bedroom is south facing – wait a second, this is not my room!
Gradually the room comes into focus - the utility room that is, where the cats sleep. Great, how on earth did I end up here? Sleep-walking maybe? Or perhaps thanks to a night of heavy drinking? Just to make doubly sure of where I am, I rub my eyes – but ouch! I really aught to cut my nails. Blinking the sudden rush of tears away, I gaze down at two tiny, black, furry paws.
I don’t believe my eyes (although I resist the urge to rub them again). The important thing is not to panic. Needless to say, this is exactly what I proceed to do…

…rain pounds against the window pane. This time I really don’t want to open my eyes. A longer deeper rumble issues from my stomach; I’m a growing kitten after all. How could this get any worse? But of course, now I need the toilet. I make my exit using the cat flap – straight into an horrendous downpour. Oh well, it’s too late to turn back now.
After completing my business without the slightest of ease, I return to the house. I am soaked to the bone. My little escapade has done nothing to silence my belly. At least I should have my breakfast before too long. No sooner have I thought this, than the utility door opens, I trill with delight. However, instead of going to the worktop, in order to prepare my breakfast, the figure enters and darts for the back door. ‘Click’ goes the lock of the cat flap.
I make a dash for the open utility door, but just as I make to move, another figure sidles into the room carrying something, and quickly closes the door to prevent my escape. I have been cornered, either way I turn the other person is behind me. Oh well, I decide to submit to their supremacy. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I am bundled into the cat box.

The entire duration of the car journey I am thrown around inside the box. Then, at the vets, a large dog eyes me up hungrily, obviously somebody else who hasn’t had any breakfast. Finally, the moment I have dreaded arrives; my name is called.

I am carried through. My leg is shaved and I am stabbed with a needle, I hiss in disgust. However I soon feel the calming effect of the sleeping cocktail entering my veins. The final words I hear before I lose conciseness are: “He won’t be a Tom for much longer”…

Tuesday 10 February 2015

Don't let them get away with it

Our landlord is evicting my wife and I in two months. This is not because we are noisy or messy or uncooperative tenants who don't pay the rent on time. We are simply too much of a bother because we haven't been so easy to hold under his thumb.

Our flat is part of a converted building, which itself is very old and so contains no damp proof course. This has lead to rising damp and problems with mould (not to mention many other problems besides).

We went to the landlord with these complaints but he was unresponsive. We also went to the council since, as we were housed through one of their schemes (due to me struggling with a mental health diagnosis), we thought that they might be able to help. 

That didn't seem so be going anywhere so we sought the help of the citizens advice bureau. In the end the CAB pressed and got things rolling.

Not long after we heard that the Environmental Health Team were to get involved we were served our notice by the landlord.

All we are guilty of is not allowing a person to get away with being a bad human being. I guess that is the way of the world though - you can either compromise, play by the rules and accept the way things are, or hold with your values and get struck down at every turn.