Being wrong

Being sick is being wrong.

When your version of reality has been demonstrated to you to be warped or unrealistic, or at the least, outvoted, its hard to take a stand and tell people that they are wrong. You know that the feelings that well up in you are responses to an environment that is internal more than external, and that environment is not necessarily a reflection of what is really going on to everyone else.

That is hard for the well person to really understand. When you have a mental disorder, you enter every conversation assuming you are wrong. The trouble is, that you don’t know where.

You see them staring at you in anger. You see them frustrated and rolling eyes, throwing up hands and walking away. You see the bewilderment, and you know you were being crazy. You think you have a point, some insight, but you know what you are perceiving is warped. Still, its real to you. Entirely and completely its your reality. The feelings you have. The slights you feel. The horrible insults you endure. You know that they were not intended and you know that they are probably a figment of your imagination, but you also know that your grip on reality, is outvoted. You are in the drastic minority, and as shamelful as it is to hear, you know they are right when they tell you that your perspective is crazy. If you want to be close to people, you accept blindly that what they say is true. You havent the apparatus to know the difference or to speak with conviction.

Eventually you lose the skill of analyzing people's behaviors. It atrophies. Bizarre as they may seem to you, hurtful or just wrong, you haven't the grounds to tell well people that they are inappropriate. Your feelings are your only guide and you acknowledge them. They are your reality, but you cannot impose that on anyone else so you steer away, because your feelings are probably wrong.

But its yours. Without it, what are you? Do you give it validation and credence? do you act on it? No. You don’t. You suck it up and you listen. And you swallow back the bile. And you hold back the recriminations. You listen and you do what they tell you, because, they are sane and if anyone is right, they are.

This is why I find it so important to be around people you trust. People who will never harm you, or ask you to do harmful things. This is why love is so hard when you are ill, becauase love makes people jealous, and angry. And your lover can be unreasonable, but you haven’t the perpective or the legs to tell them so. They can tell you things about you, because they are hurt, or want you to be a certain way. And you might not know who you are, and if you love them, you trust them, and you change and you pray that they had your and not their, best interests in mind. That they knew what they were doing.

so, you defer. you defer, you defer you defer. because so long as they have the franvchise on reality, you are wrong.

get used to it. I was once a smart guy. then I got sick. I still hate being wrong and feeling foolish, but that’s is, in the words of marcelous Wallace “pride fucking with you”. You might think all this sounds extreme. but guess what – you are wrong. get used to it.

darkness

It comes on like this. The dark times. This one not so black ans blue, or grey. But they descend and I feel just down and out. Today is one of those days. However, as testament either to its lightness or to my wellness its really not as paralyzing as in the past. Like the fog in SF, it just melts off, or rolls back. I think I have crested this one. Usually the rebound is a lot of fun. Not a high, but just that simple reminder that its all in your head.

Dont know who still reads this. The blog has devolved into a self indulgent affair. Still, I have an October appointment with the pfieffer center and that should wield something interesting about which to talk.

Back to the shrink

Ok.

As many of you know, or may know, or might care, I used to see a psychologist. I saw several, of course, over the years, in response to orders from Doctors who responded to my complaints as being psychological in nature.

you are just stressed.
You are wound up.
You need to speak to someone about this general anxiety.

Yes yes yes, thanks doc, its all very helpful to have someone investigate your family history and how you might relate to notions of ambition and failure when it is so highly unlikely that the fact that YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO READ might, MIGHT be at the center of your anxiety. Nasty inconvenience to be unable to read, or hold a computer, when in law school. Some people might find that stressful.

Still, I went, and in Virginia I worked with a great doctor/counselor. We did 2 years of intense therapy together, and I really unwound a lot of the issues and tensions in my life, investigated their sources and learned how to cope with them. I became a better person. It did fuck all for resolving my condition, but it was fun all the same.

Well, starting in Boston, I realized that as I neared health, as I neared wellness and a return to normalcy, I needed to adjust to life after death. It can do a number on your gourd to be a 25 year old invalid with transient suicidal depressions, severe panic attacks and of course, the aforementioned inability to read or make sense to people . Still, I saw two people in boston and thier respnoses were not what I was looking for. The second the Sz word came up, they punted me into a mental ward. Thanks.

But, its time again, and lets face things, I have some things to talk about. What to do to move on, to honor the illness, to make sens eof the missing time. Strangely, the chemical reorganization makes all these pressing issues less and less pressing every day, but still, there are some things that come up and stay up and warp and bend one's perspective that I need to address.

So I started.

I called my employer's "help desk" for a referral. They were very polite, but not erribly helpful. They gave me the names of three therapists in the area. No educational information, no emphases, no background. But I did a little research of my own, and thanks to Google, learned that not one of these people is younger than 55 and that they were all educated at public schools, and some other interesting tid bits. I called, and since I cannot do something so radiacl such as talk to a human being, I left messages. I am not at all enthusiastic based on my expereinces with thier answering machines. Its a shitty thing on which to judge a fellow, but its all I have.

Paying bills

the bills came late. After an absolutely exquisite weekend, that incorporated all of my favorite activities in abundance, including staying up really late and treating my body alternatively badly and well, I suspected a payback. Monday was suspiciously quiet, while my accomplice was feeling it. Hmm. Tuesday was fine also. Quiet. Too quiet. Feeling it today. We knew it would come. Feel kinda ripped up.

The reserves are still very low. But better than ever. This sort of a weekend would have put me back a long time, not too long ago. Now, its pretty tolerable. Rough voice, achy, bad balance, weakness, etc.

BTW- totally worth it.