The you you think you are

They say that it started

With just a single bite

Now it seems I’m self-conscious

And it’s become a fight

Who is this thing?

Who is floating on my surface?

Having all of these thoughts

Thinking “Do I deserve this?”

Am I like the ocean?

That thing’s dark in the deep

And impossible to be delved into

By any swimming sheep

You can’t fathom the depths

And it’s the same with the mind

Some things they stay hidden

(You might as well be blind)

Could I be a denial?

Some kind of creative fabrication?

Am I too scared to face up to me,

And handle the situation?

If only I could know -

But then maybe I can

Could this articulating mind

Belong to an imaginary man?

He thinks he runs the joint

And that it’s all about him

And his body is a slave

To his each and every whim

But wake up my friend

You’re not who you think

The you that you think is you

He’s superficial and he’s never going to sink.

Why I’m thankful for Hitler

Do you ever wonder why you weren’t born into a different body at a different time?

Children are natural dualists: they feel there is a body and a mind and that the two are separate, which is a difficult habit to break. I have now come to realise that we are our bodies and that there isn’t a ‘spirit’ that transcends our physical form.

I like this idea because it makes sense to me. It is impossible that I could be someone else because I am a bunch organic material pieced together by genes. I am unique because the sex cells that became me contained unique combinations of instructions and the environment I matured in whilst gestating, and then the environment I grew up in once born were and are both unique too.

The point is that without every tiny bit of history that led up to me being conceived (and that led my nurturing), I would not be here as I am now. And this is where Hitler comes into it; without him (and all other people throughout history for that matter) I would not exist and I find that amazing.

Creativity

http://sommer-sommer.com/braintest/

It turns out I am substantially right-brained. My being an artist you wouldn’t be blamed for imagining that I might be slightly thrown in discovering that I am not so much inclined toward creativity. But I have known for a long time that I do not have a good imagination.

Little things like the large amount of time it takes me to compose a witty text message - or any text for that matter - are good hints of this deficit. I have to really concentrate in order to fabricate anything; am I trying to be someone else? Should I have to strain to come up with a reply to a post on Facebook?

Or is it my illness that prevents me from processing things because I have fled my head as a way of dealing with (by which I mean avoiding) the distress of being in there?

I don’t know.

Should you embrace who you are? I realise that – for one reason or another – I am not very creative. I need to write things down in order to process them properly which, as you can imagine, isn’t very convenient for me; but it is simply how it must be at the moment.

I enjoy making art; I want to jog people out of the stupor of their everyday lives and help them see beyond their horizons. This is probably a very naïve way of looking at things but it is the way that they appear to me.

I see people who don’t have the mental capacity or even the natural inclination to realise that they have been blinkered. It saddens me but I do not blame them. It has crossed my mind that I may be able to observe things from a different vantage because my antipsychotic medication numbs my feeling and makes me more cold and logical; in which case were I not being medicated I would probably be as short-sighted as them!

That isn’t a bad thing but it is in a way. It seems to me that there is so much that is wrong with our world that could be solved if people were to simply wake up.

Or perhaps it is me who needs to wake up. What if we can’t run the world on renewable, clean energy? What if the government isn’t corrupted by the oil companies? Is it true that world hunger really cannot be solved? Is it a lie that advanced technology is being held back so that more money can be made? Do we even need money? Is the prescription of medication not just another money-making scheme? 

Welfare

When I was first diagnosed with clinical psychosis my dad was keen to impress on me the importance of not giving in. He was concerned that the mental health professionals were going to wrap me up in cotton wool and be over cautious to the point that I was hardly moving forward at all. His advice remained with me in a way whilst I fought to get better - even if only in a subconscious form.

It’s strange being mentally ill because it’s very easy to forget that you are unwell. Or rather you don’t like to admit it to be true and so every time you have a panic attack or a dark day where the voices overwhelm you, you are quite taken aback. So, as you can imagine, when it comes to benefits it is very easy to feel like a thief or a cheat.

At times I believed I’d get better and be able to have a full time job with all the trimmings (I guess my dad’s words were still resounding in the back of my mind somewhere), but recently I stopped thinking about working. There are a lot of big changes happening in my life at the moment and the stress is proving to be very disrupting.

(I wouldn’t call it admitting defeat because it is definitely not that; I just had my sights set unrealistically high this time and actually it is an achievement to be able to come to terms with my own limits).

Now I rely on the welfare state because I am ill – or it could be that our world is ill, either way I am struggling to live day to day so something must be up! Everyday things seem to take more of a toll on me when compared with most of the other people in my life. I become worn out very quickly – although it’s rarely easy to pinpoint why this is.

Naturally I guess I’d have flown the nest by now; but unfortunately our world is far from natural. Maybe it is me who is ill; I may have a malformed brain – but what caused it to be so? It seems to me that the unnaturalness of our world may have had a part to play. If so then the natural process of child rearing simply goes out the window; which means that another system of support must take its place. Enter welfare.

But am I giving in too easily? I will keep on pushing of course but for the minute I must be sensible and embrace my limits and play the hand that I have been dealt. I guess that it’s disheartening but luckily I have the state to support me whilst I figure out a different route through this life.

Avoidance

It’s frustrating being smacked in the face by your own limits. Each time they catch you off guard; is it a denial that there isn’t anything wrong? Or is it because they come out of nowhere and are unpredictable? The situation you may have been in a thousand times before can randomly trigger a negative reaction and it is subjectively unpredictable!

Take tonight. There’s a Zumba class that I would like to go to with my fiancée but guess who reared their ugly head? That’s right, my limits. I was fine all day – it wasn’t a particularly busy day either – but right at the last minute I felt that regrettably familiar sensation of panic in my chest and then my mind began to shut down.

So what to do?

The staff at my CMHT would tell me that I need to push through; anxiety has never killed anybody and it can’t stay at that high level they’d say. Also once I get to the other side I’ll see that it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

I’ve had many panic attacks over the years and I really don’t want to experience one around people I am unfamiliar with. But maybe that is what must be done? Or should I take smaller steps?

Should I take care of myself and recognise my limits?

It’s hard to accept the fact that you’re mentally unwell (I still don’t believe it sometimes) and that you’re limits are far narrower than those possessed by a lot of others. I see the things my fiancée can do and it amazes me.

When she tried to persuade me to go tonight I got annoyed that she didn’t seem to understand me. I really wanted to go but there was something stopping me that I had no control over and wasn’t even able to put into words; I was annoyed but I also recognised that she has no idea how it feels to experience these things.

There is someone else with me in here. He can’t speak but he can take over my body; stiffening up my legs so that I can’t walk or shutting down my brain so that I can’t think.

So I chose avoidance (although I think that ‘chose’ is a long way from being an appropriate word), and have stayed home.

I hated seeing the look in my fiancées eyes as she left without giving me a kiss goodbye. I hated feeling that whoever it is that’s in me had let me down. I felt anger and frustration and had the desire to lash out but, having felt that way many times before, self-control pervaded and I managed not to.

The frustration has mostly evaporated now but will I learn my lesson for next time?

Be yourself

When I was growing up I was always encouraged at home or at school to “be yourself”. I got a bit muddled somewhere along the way though; I’d watch films and instead of recognising characteristics that were already part of me, I found myself thinking “I want to be like that and I will be!”

That just plain isn’t healthy, so now I’m beginning to embrace who I am.

My dad was eager for me not to succumb to my diagnosis. He would always talk of how the service mollycoddles me. How they are being extra cautious and I that mustn’t allow myself to take on their cotton-wooling approach.

But I’m beginning to think that they’ve got a point.

I now see that am ill adjusted to the world around me; I don’t seem to fit in to the traditional niche. This is annoying because I would like to get a job to support and raise my family. It is now obvious that I must find a different way of achieving this goal.

I am an animal that hasn’t adapted to its environment.

Then there’s medication; I know that has changed who I am. I would like to lower my dose but I am worried that I’ll change for the worst if I do so. I feel quite numb at the moment so it would be great to experience a wider range of emotions. But this could come at a price which I don’t know if I’m willing to pay.

So I will be myself and learn to know what I think and develop confidence in my own opinions. I will embrace my limitations and make use of what help is out there for me. I will not measure myself by the rule of others. 

Religion

I have to die. I can’t bare the doubt anymore. If I die then two things will happen;

1.       Nothing

2.       Something

Either way I’ll feel better. If nothing happens then I won’t know any different, but if something happens then it will all be resolved.

This was my thinking when I was twenty years old. I have been told it is psychotic and I no longer agree with my reasoning back then. For one, based on what I’ve been taught, I’d be going straight to hell for sure - so it wasn’t the best thought out plan.

Luckily I don’t believe in heaven and hell anymore. I am now happy I didn’t kill myself because all I have at the end of the day is my life and so that would have been an awful waste.

But was my thinking any more psychotic than that of the millions who believe in God and are prepared to die and kill for that belief (probably not in that order)?

But then if they are not psychotic then does that mean I’m not either? If I based my idea to kill myself on the beliefs of many then is it a psychotic idea?

Hold on…. am I normal?

Have I tailored my life to my diagnosis? The boot does seem to fit: I hear voices talking in my head independently of my thoughts and I also have horrible images in my head that seem to be inserted somehow.

But could these be normal, everyday experiences? And if I had never been labelled would they have paled into insignificance a long time ago? Or would I have killed myself from sheer frustration many times over by now?

Who knows?

I am starting to understand that I am not my label.