Since I am not to bet on my part time jobs to turn full time in time, I have to go on and do this self-sponsoring thing.
This project, interesting, forced me to look back at my past and revisit some places I would rather not to revisit.
Isn't it so interesting? Just when I think that I am down with being psychotic-- the outcome of my mental health condition, the past brought back the process of getting to my current state of being, and, I, unfortunately, could still hear my dear heart breeding.
Upon my initial episode, I thought the whole world knew about me-- they were gonna give me a honorary degree, a full time job, and, a green card. Such belief remained strong months after I got discharged from my first hospitalization. Since I had no access to the computer, let along the Internet, I was unable to perform my TA duties for some online courses for almost a week. When I got back online the day I was discharged and till today, the only excuse I gave to my boss was that I was sick and could not find a way to reach him (and he surely was not too happy and is untitled to not be happy about it.)
Just when I thought I knew what it meant to be psychotic and I was doing a pretty adequate job in self-monitoring, I got hit with the second major episode while under the treatment of medication.
The second time I finally got shipped back to the 8th floor-the coo coo’s nest, I was supposed to teach at another college in the morning. The night before, I was busy being killed in all different way, revived by all different means and, despite all, I remained undead and, telepathically, communicate with Gods, ghosts, demons, CIA, FBI as well as the presidents of the college I taught at and that of the University I was attending.
During our telepathically communication, I indicated to the president of the college that I might not be able to teach that day and I hoped he could relay the message to the department. He told me to stay put. He told me that he understood. He also indicated that he would relay the message.
Much more happened that day. Essentially, the day started with me informed that I was no Buddha and I was only human. Later on, the apocalyptic. Gods died. Spirits died. Ghosts died. People died. Demons died. Everyone died. All because of me.
The people on the street were not real people. Some of them were dead and had turned zombies.
When talking on the phone, the voices were real except for they were recording.
Early in the evening, I felt I was about to die... more correctly, to dissipate and evaporate. I felt my heart was stopping to beat and I finally could leave.
My sister insisted on escorting me to the hospital, knowing it was not my heart that had the problem. However, she and I stayed in the emergency room over night and in the cardiac ward for an additional night rather than being treated as a mental health patient.
They came for me every night and I was always informed in advance, before sleep. Unfortunately, instead of taking my life, they, by mistake, often attacked patients next to me or they would kill me while leaving me undead.
So many a night, I laid there, waiting and waiting for the inevitable to occur--- with the wishful thinking that I could finally be able to be killed and eventially die, rather than to be killed so many a time, yet, remaining to live.
I could go on and on with these mumble jumbles. The only thing with any significance was that, unfortunately, the message that I was unable to perform my teaching job was never relayed (guess that would be the short-coming of wireless communication lol).
It took me, again, a few months after my discharge, to unwilling come to the understanding and appreciation that-- all was vain except for there went a full time position with potential tenure track plus green card sponsorship. It was then, as well, did I went, "Oops... what happened to the class I was supposed to teach..."
Unable to face the reality, it took me a long long time and a lot of courage to pick up the phone and called the person that hired me.
Over the phone, I apologized and told him, "I was under the weather" and that was why I disappeared irresponsibly.
Today, back to the immigration topic, I came face to face to a past that I have no intention of revisiting. I unwillingly sent out emails to ask for their letters of recommendations while thinking to myself--- how come the only thing I remembered was my irresponsibility.
The theme, here, I see--- immigration. lol sigh
Life does play tricks. Doesn’t it?
At the same time, so many things happened; yet, there was nothing. Nichts.
Doesn't it mean this is all that anything I do could amount to-- nichts?
No wonder disassociation shall be one of the side effects of the medication.
