I am dead...

I am dead… :-O

Considering the price of cigarettes is soon to move up to the teens, I have been pondering about quitting smoking… at least, move to the stage of smoking cesstion.

Getting ready for bed, I Smoked the last cigarette in the pack, only to find the insurmountable amount of anxiety rising from within---

There are no more cigarettes when I lay in bed and when I wake up in the morning….

It was a kind of obsessive compulsive thinking.

I attempted thought stopping.

I attempted refocusing on something else.

However, I was more than aware of the real reason behind all these effortful trials.

Then, as I was stepping on to the ladder of the bunk bed, I came up with this brilliant idea...

In stead, I looked at myself and I said, “Assume you are dead.”

Yes, just assume that I am dead then no memory is to be recollected and no anxiety is to be triggered by any notion and any kind of “deprivation.”

So, I laid down in bed murmuring to myself silently… “I am dead. I am dead. I am dead….”

This morning, although I applied the patch on and physical withdraw was not yet an issue in concern, I still could not help thinking about cigarettes, either consciously or unconsciously.

As a result, I had to keep on reminding myself of the “fact” that I am dead.

Telling myself that I am dead did help me to live through the majority of first day on my mission to smoking cessation. However, it was before I came home did I walk into Duane Reade and bought me myself a pack of cigarettes.

Two hours after I unpatched myself, upon arrival chez moi, I sat down and lit a smoke... fixed that nicotine craving a bit but did not really get me that buzz.

Death…….

That seems to be a thought so very comforting and its sound uncovers all residues and dissipates it all.

My obsession with death doesn’t translate to my lack of fear for confrontating my or other’s death.

I am afraid of death.

The last thought I could endure is the notion of death associated with people I care about.

My own death, on the contrary, is a notion both too distant and too close for me to comprehend.

Surely, I had those nights…

Those were the days in which none was to come for my aid when assassins came attempting to kill me one after another and night after night.

They killed me with guns, knifes, poisons, and any means I could ever imagine.

I had been subjected to methods such as being crushed, drown, frozen, burnt, and all other ways of death.

One day at a time, I would be sitting in front of my desk or lying in my bed or the bed in the hospital, hearing the warnings about the secret service, the police, the special forces, the demons, the devils, the ghosts, and the everything else, getting ready to come take my life.

The expectation of the process of being killed and become dead marks the highlight of the nights.

One time, they missed me but took the life of the patients next to me.

I was lying there, listening to them, and waiting for my time.

I missed my own death that night.

At that point, it was all so clear to me that it was not my own death that is most torturing.

Rather, it was the possibility for me to be killed but not to die that is most exhausting (similar experiences is actually depicted pretty well in the movie Solaris).

It occurred to me that… for the many a time I was killed, I remained to live as a person, as a zombie, as a ghost, and as any other kinds of creatures.

Everyone else could die and remain dead, I remained to live and I could not die.

I was subjected to the cruel torture of living my zillion deaths, along.

This series of torture did not stop until I finally was told that I am only human…

What a lengthy detour one has to take to reclaim one’s humanhood! :-O lol sigh…

Perhaps, this is the reason why I have been so very anal retentive about death and its implications… shall anyone, such as me, every wonder why…

So, again, last night, before bed, I said to myself, “Assume you are dead.”

It was not a sense of irresponsibility that drove me into that thought.

Rather, I was counting on a state where all is dissolved and where there is nothing but Dasein.

It is a state when I could simply open all sensory channels of mine and experience existence as it is.

So, does it mean that it was nothing more than a morbid day I led today?

Quite the contrary, the state of being dead allows me for a new life, new routines and an ez-pass to view the world the way I like to see it.

Of course, my detached way of being also helps in helping me to believe in a life just like heaven…

I do not know whether it will work or not to help me cut down on smoking successfully, if not quitting it, since I did have 3 cigarettes today. Yet, think positively, it is better than one pack a day and all these dead talk is actually fairly anxiety-probing.… lol

At least, that would be a good way for me to conduct a case study about the implications of psychotic symptoms as well as the side effects of the antipsychotic medications. lol

I am dead but I remain alive.

The notion of death will not engender a sense of irresponsibility. Rather, as mentioned earlier, it should be used as a way to clear all background noise and focusing on what death could inspire… a relative and progressive view of equality in mankind (as long as you don’t ask me what that progressive view means).

At the same time, I am aware that a night’s mumble jumble on death is enough. Or else, I might as well be really dead if I were to let myself dwell on this BS for I would really be a even worse lost soul in limbo then… lol

Joy comes in the morning

This is actually the title of one of the audio books that I listened. Of course, like many other books, this book is about the pursuit of a sense of self.

As I was going down to the basement to check on my laundry, I found myself floating in a sea of joyful feeling.

Then, this thought occurred to me, “Joy comes in the morning.”

It was this morning when I finally did what I have longed to do for all these time.

I gave an abbreviated lesson on the information processing models and their implications on learning.

The powerpoint used in this class was actually the shortened version of the one I used for the Educational Psychology class.

The purpose of today’s lecture and the ensuing lectures is to share with the parents the current advances in our understanding about brain and learning.

It is my expectation that such an understanding will be of some help for the future learning with them and their children.

If you ask whether I have conducted some scientifically based studies to evaluate the effectiveness of the program, the answer is “No.”

Then, when am I feeling so happy shall there be not yet tangible and quantifiable evidence to prove the positive outcome of my efforts?

It might sound funny but it is true…

I have, in many previous postings, indicated my effortful attempt to be a disbeliever.

Due to the circumstances, I need to make myself disbelieve all perceptions regarding my personal being for the psychotic symptoms have made it impossible for me to distinguish between what is real and what is not real. I actually have to refrain myself from even thinking about such disbelief.

Essentially, it is the detachment from such a belief that is keeping me kicking.

I suspect that, the day I decide to let go of such an effortful act to remain detached would be the day when the symptoms start overtaking my being.

The I came to the realization that…

I do have beliefs.

It is OK to believe in something...

I am allowed to have beliefs!!!

I believe the importance of engaging parents in their children’s education.

I believe that parents should be given the same preparation and training as the teachers-in-training.

Such are my beliefs and I have no doubt about it.

In a sense, it is a relief to me to allow myself to be a believer in something…

It also makes me feel like walking in the cloud when I am given the opportunity to act on my belief.

Believe it or not, joy comes in the morning when I have to cut my sleep short to get ready for my teaching… lol :-)

And, yes, I had a dream that, one day, I could have beliefs.

Life is a piece of shit… (Oops, pardon me for my foul language)

Ever thought that I am permanently stable like a rock? Ya. The title of this posting was how I felt for most part of the day and I did voice it out loud enough…

It started with the fact that I need one more piece of paper work to process the legal document to enable me to teach two courses. That added to uncertainty and anxiety.

I tried to convince myself that I was cool about the situation by consciously reminding myself that I should treat this opportunities like my delusions. I also attempted to brain-wash myself by repeatedly telling myself, “Life is wonderful!” I further applied the biofeedback technique of putting a smile on my face, wishing that the happy expression will trick the brain.

All measures sort of calm me down a bit.

Unfortunately, when I found out that the color printer was not working and I could not fix it, the volcano exploded…. And, I started to go Meow Meow Meow….

As a result of these, I came back to the old office, picked up the paper shredder and started to fix it again.

By the time I was done fixing the shredder, it was also time to see my therapist.

It was a good thing that we had our meeting today because it helped me to keep my small rat brain in place.

Ended up, the issue that triggered my meowing was the parenting of my parents who are turning back into adolescence.

The two of them have been fighting about continuing to live in the city or to move to the suburban area up on the hill. Dad wants to move up to the mountain, growing his plants and chicken. Mom wants to live in the city, closer to every thing, provided she could, beyond a doubt, manage to climb up the hill on a daily basis.

The solution I provided when I went home was… “Then why doesn’t each of you go ahead and stay where you want to stay? I will try to really find a steady job to support your expenses.”

That sounded like a good idea then…

The only problem is that my dad is recently found to have an heart condition and he just had a small preventative surgery. The day I came back to New York and days after, he reportedly actually had some tough days as a result of his heart condition.

So, how could I not be concerned about leaving him alone up on the hill with his vegetables and chickens? :-O

This and many other things, apparently, were not too well-digested in my mind last night. As a result, it took me at least 2 and a half hours trying to fall asleep after I took my Seroquel last night (and that was the first time).

The inability to resolve the parenting issues (lol), inadequate amount of sleep, and uncertainty about the teaching position, plus a printer that does not work, all contributed to the showdown of Ratprincess’ King Kong.

If it is really true that depression is anger turning inwards, it might be healthiest to show my anger externally rather than putting a cap on it and let it secretly broil.

In order for me to continue the healthy expression of my externalized anger, there has to be a receiver of my vested attention so that it would be turned inwards towards and neither will it turn into Generalized Anger Disorder (Don’t think it’s available in DSM… lol).

After thoughtful deliberation, it is concluded that the helplessness that came with uncertainties is the root of the problem.

At the same time, the uncertainties are a result of situations and situations are situations.

With the legal issue regarding my work status, for instance, I find it absolutely understandable for a country to put forth legislation to set constraints on the aliens so as to protect the employment opportunities of its people.

It was me who chose to keep myself in a state of constraints, be it consciously or unconsciously.

In the mean while, since my parents have allowed me an insurmountable degree of freedom when I was growing up, I shall be in no place to say to either party whether they should live up on the hill or down by the city, regardless of the impacts that I perceived about their choices.

In a sense, I could see the situation clear… Yet, such clarity does not resolve the issue of locating an object for the lingering anger…

Putting the blame it on myself is no way to go (depression-related), I could only blame it on fate.

Yet, fate, in my definition, is made possible by my choices… It is me myself again that is incriminated in the trial…

Such dialectic and recursive discussion sort of adds to a sense of anxiety…. And, I have long known myself to have the propensity to experience my delusions and hallucinations in a state with higher degree of anxiety.

Since nothing could ever be so grand as the contents of my delusions of grandiosity, the loss of nothing material would be as great as that of the delusional sort.

So, to be able to teach or not able to teach; a match point.

To parent my parents; a position not for me.

The moral of the lesson: Life is not really a piece of shit. However, if it does make you feel shitty, think delusionally. lol

P.S. On my way back from my therapy session, someone mentioned, “She is not going to do work.” I am going back to do some more work regardless whether she was addressing my intention.
8:30 PM    

Noting

What is the use of all the B-ship-high-in-transit about the nothingness in real life?

Sometimes it might not be the best idea to have nothing since finance is a common issue in layman’s life.

So I did the share of my job today.

The end of this weekend’s Saturday session was supposed to be a benchmark for the temporary shut down of my brain for at least a couple of days, and, which, in my humble opinion, is what my brain wants.

After I got back home at around 4, I crashed in my bed and quickly fell asleep.

It was already 6:00 o’clock when I woke up from a dream about work…

While I was sitting on my chair, with my cigarette in hand, I heard the voice of my daytime boss telling me to relax and enjoy my vacation.

The voice stopped right after the message was delivered, leaving me in my room laughing at myself… (and I promise you that I will let her know about it, too. lol)

I did not really have much to pack. However, I was starting to be overcome by the emerging duckness.

As a result, I took out the list I made at lunch, started packing, checking off each every item that is necessary but not sufficient… Medications and retainer are two of the musts.

Just when I finally calmed down, watching a movie with a friend of mine, I got this phone call from my dear sister.

I love my sister to death. However, sometimes it is better to not hear from her for a long long time because no news is really the best news I could hear from her. :-X

What she had told me is something I would not have wanted to hear yet I would need to know.

Essentially, it has to do with people’s inability to accept the nothingness in life.

I was really really upset by all the negative possibilities that kept on pop up in my mind.

I actually had to take my Seroquel earlier to calm myself down and to prevent myself from going through a panic attack.

At same point, I said to myself…

This has to stop.

The mountains of possibilities will not help me getting settled with the inevitable confrontational moment.

Let me just put it down for as much as I could and let life’s encounters represent themselves.

Then, as I was washing my teeth, this thought occurred to me…

In life, we all deal with issues resulting from the nothingness complex.

It does not matter whether you are a teenager with budding propensity for abstract thinking, a lost soul in limbo under the attack of midlife crisis or someone in the golden age with a track record of achievements. As long as you are still kicking, this is something you would have to deal with either within yourself or in others.

There is not going to be a day when we could rest happily under the shade of “nothing” because it is the collective nothingness that determines everything.

This is why I am begging you… Accept your congenital nothingness and let’s move on to live!

How else could I request people to believe in nothingness is an essential part of life’s meanings?

Kafka

Finally got back to home, quarter to 11:00.

Right now, I am having this Kafka kind of feeling… Can’t really describe it to you… You have to figure it out yourself by either reading his writings or watch the movie “Kafka.”

I had thought that tonight I might be able to get off early for a change.

However, when unexpected events occur, we just need to deal with it…

So, instead of coming home straight to be a couch potato, I went back to the office to be the computer junky.

Just as I am starting typing, I got this phone from my mom, asking me when I will be landing on the day before my birthday.

I was happy to hear her voice. However, I am not quite sure about which flight and when. As her continued to ask me for details, after I told her that I would inform them tomorrow, I found myself starting to get agitated… That is.. within minutes.

I, then, thought to myself… I am tired.

I had the realization when I was on the bus, on my way home.

When I found myself thinking about the Poem of Emily Dickinson, “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me,” I said to myself, I gotta be REALLY tired to find comfort in the construct called death.

Of course, that might be the depression talking as well since the construct of psychosomatic must have some contribution to my back condition.

My day started late…

I turned off the buzzard that went off at 9:00 only to find myself waking up again at almost 11:00 o’clock.

In a rush, I got to the office, trying to get the handout ready for today’s open house.

After hours of struggle, I finally got this printer cable and was able to start to put the print job to work.

The computer I was using must have sensed my anxiety for it all of a sudden started to act out and didn’t work to do work (so the computer was actually projecting my feelings lol).

The event was supposed to start at 3:00 and people have started tripling in.

Half an hour before the deadline of 3:00, I found myself struggling with the machines that I am supposed to maintain, having difficulties getting publisher to show pictures and unable to send the document to be printed.

Then, at that point, I heard myself calling the name of this trustee who was one of the first to fund this project, asking him for help...

In retrospective, there are two reasons why I was murmuring his name…

First, it was my cultural belief that, after people pass away, they actually still come out to hang out.

Second, the entire place was so busy that I could only insource myself to get my beautiful purple house printed out. lol

Either I got through with the computer, or, I got through with that gentleman and that gentleman got through with the computer, the purple houses came rolling out and time for me to breathe some fresh air.

I went down for a cigarette, and, ended up, I lit the second.

The guy walked past by when my second was lit… “Smoking could kill you.”

Assuming he was commenting on my chain smoking, I responded, “Won’t do it again…”

Thereafter, things went quite smooth and nothing much was going on.

There were many people in this full-house event.

I was introduced to Dr. Gordon whom the campus was named after and I also met the strong lady behind the gentleman (See, behind each great man, there is a great woman).

I gave Dr. Brunner a piece of chicken.

I was in the same house with Dr. Ziegler, who is the mentor of one of my professors (yet, it is such a shame that I did not know that he was there).

I also thought about Dr. Maxine Greene who signed on her book for me, “To my best teacher.”

These are all people with a long trail of scholarly contributions and who have live their life to fruition.

So, on my way home, struggling to keep my balance on the icy sidewalk, I thought of these people.

I thought of the question my daddy posed me once so very often…

“What is your goal in life? What is your career goal?”

I was a bit too tired to think and, at the same time, too focused on keeping my balance on the icy sidewalk to elaborate on my thinking.

In a vacuumed state, on the sidewalk where there are few pedestrians, I thought to myself… “Nothing.”

My steady gaits translate into slow pace and, before I crossed the street, four buses went past the bus station.

Crossing the street, I had another idea, “Donating my brain to run some fMRI studies.” However, nothing is still the main theme.

So I stood along at the bus stop for a while.

All of a sudden, there are all these people coming down the street.

On one side of the shelter the pavement was all icy. On the other side, there is a clear path without ice.

As the crowd coming down the street, I stood by the icy side of the bus stop, telling them to walk through the other side because it was icy and slippery.

Some people took the advice and some people did not.

Among those who did not, some crossed the icy without problem while one fell on his kneel.

When the bus arrived, all those came after me rushed to get on the bus.

I found myself standing there, not in a hurry, and, checking out the sidewalk to make sure there is no one at risk of falling on the ice as a result of rushing towards the bus.

It has nothing to do with me being good or not.

It has to do with I have only 9 blocks to go and, for this short distance, I don’t quite care whether I have a seat, as long as I could arrive at the destination.

The bus came empty and left loaded.

I got on the bus and found myself this spot to stand.

At some point, the couple in front of me, in their late 50s and early 60s, I think, gave each other a kiss.

I saw them kissed each other and commented, “So romantic!”

They must have found that comment funny.

So, sometime after 10:30, I got off a crowded bus on which many people were heading towards Lincoln center.

A guy came running towards the bus and asked me to stop it.

I stood there waving at the driver who wasn’t paying attention towards my direction.

The man finally caught up with the bus and banged on the door.

The driver let him in.

I stood there, watched it happen.

I, then, hastily walked back to my building, thinking along the way, “it’s so very Kafka.”

Along the trip back home, I struggled to keep my eyes open.

When I first sat down at my desk, I felt like simply go back to sleep.

However, I decided to type out this writing about nothing and the to be found importance about nothing.

Then, the phone rang and it was my mother who called.

I realized that it is not really about nothing.

It is about accepting nothing as baseline, accepting the nothingness so as to do something.

This way, each every things is a bonus for the nothingness in life.

This is why, rain or shine, I have to move myself one step at a time and step by step I move.

Nobody else might care about that beautiful purple house of mine with the gradient coloring produced by a printer that is not smart enough to do duplex-copying.

Not too many people would care about the unequal distribution of ice on the two sides of a bus stop.

People might not pay much attention to my e-greetings.

I will not let my boss to work into the night because the replacement of my shift is hard to find during this period of time and at a short notice.

Yours bitch from hell is not trying to represent herself as a good Samaritan.

Rather, all these deeds under the disguise of altruism are loaded with self interest.

It is these events in life that grants me the Kafka moments.

Sometimes I know I am stretching myself too much, but, I kept on stretching if I could because, if there is nothing in the end, there is nothing to lose. Then, instead of sitting there waiting for the nothing to arrive, I might as well have some fun while I have time (ya, if I need to participate in a race, it would be the race with time and I need to remember that.)

Kafka moments are fun to experience and, backed by my birth right called death, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong for me to enjoy my Kafka moments.

(There is no guarantee that the pursuit for Kafka moments would rid me of my bitchiness though... lol)

At the same time, it was today that I asked another boss of mine whether I could work from home tomorrow should the MTA go on strike.

She told me that since I have been working into the grave yard shift the past few days, there is nothing wrong with me taking a break.

Little did she know that the work I want to get done is to compensate for the inevitable break in the airplane and it doesn’t really have anything to do with the work itself… 8-O.

Also, I have the propensity to make the best use of resources… and this includes the brain of mine that have the predilection of doing its own thing without my informed consent. (As a result, let me make the best use of it before it wants to retire itself prematurely lol )

If the long term goal is nothing expedite-able and nothing I intend to expedite, at least, I have my short term expectation.

In less than 3 days, I will be busy finding way to kill time in the airplane on my flight home. I think I could move myself to get some more things done before I could legitimately put my brain at rest.

To end this lengthy ratological discussion… I just want to say… Let me go night night now, which is something I should have done two hours ago, and terminate my Kafka thing in the half awakening state.

Sometimes I need to give myself the leisure of dreaming about trying to keep myself awake instead of sleep talking… lol

The contribution of medications

The day started alright.

I stayed in bed for a little bit more because I sort of got a cold, my gum did not feel too well and I, to be honest, did not really want to wake up.

Got out of the bus, I found myself not yet able to think.

I figured that it is either I was still in a state of sleep walking or the effect of the morning pill, Zoloft, had not kicked in.

Arriving at my office, I found myself not quite sure how to get the engine started.

After the consumption of a full cup of coffee, a chocolate scorn, and a smoke later, I found the inner meow awaken, ready to tackle the tasks at hand with no reservation.

With the help of my second coffee of the day, I found my brain firing away and my mood elevated.

Later in the afternoon, I finally made it to the class. The body getting tired though the brain was still working.

Getting back to work, I was back to feeling the ordinary sense of hyperactivity.

The only difference observed was… I could not stop crave for food. I searched through the refrigeration looking for food.

Food was the only thing in my mind… I want food.

When I finally got settled down and when people in the office were gone for the day, I sat down to do my time for the night shift.

Gradually, I found myself getting more and more tired.

I wanted to go home. I was ready to crash.

Despite of the sense of amotivation, I strived to hold on the last thing I have called “discipline.”

Interventions applied to human beings need to be grounded on theories.

Research questions, hypotheses and evaluation measures have to be derived from sound theoretical framework.

I could see the skeleton and now is the time to beef it up with meat.

“Attachment” is the key word submitted. Using attachment as a key word returned thousands and thousands of publications.

It was a long long time ago when I last touched the attachment topic, in theory and in practice.

The last time I tried to search for literature about attachment, I had not crossed the boundary of sanity and insanity.

It was the same feeling I had the other day when I put on that bright orange t-shirt of mine with words writing across--- “Fugitive (You never saw me). The same feeling I got, the day before, when I found the picture of mine as the bride’s maid at my best friend’s wedding.

The last time I walked down the street with this shirt was in 2001. The text written on the shirt was my statement for all those people who were watching (both in reality and in imagination).

In the picture taken at my friend’s wedding, I was the replacement bride’s maid who happened to fit into the dress my friend’s parents brought from Taiwan while the other friend could not fit into it.

The last time I touched the attachment theory was long before I walked down the street with that orange shirt and before my friend’s cousin, after the wedding ceremony, described me as a geisha because of the heavy makeup applied to the face above that overseas dress.

Both the shirt and the wedding picture were acquired at a precious time of ignorance.

It was a time when I did not know that I could be psychotic. It was also a time when I was in the dire of the onset of my psychotic episode. It was a time when I thought I knew something about psychopathology.

At the same time, it is amazing to see my mind generating nonsensical questions such as, “Is God trying to tell me something.” It is even more interesting to see how a mind could group a bunch of insignificant events together to come up with some indicator of some sort of significance.

Let me get back to my ordinary chore of the day so that tangential thoughts could not lead me off the track of reality…

After I reshelf my babies (I mean laptops and their accessories), I hurriedly packed up my stuff so as to head back to my rat nest for I felt that I was about to crash.

Carrying my heavy backpack plus a bug full of 5 pairs of shoes doesn’t really make it easy to walk (courtesy of my beloved boss and her ever growing daughter lol).

I found myself dragging my two feet and all the weights above them worse than usual.

It almost feels like I was the hunchback in Notre Dame, sluggishly moving down Broadway, when the weight of the backpack could no longer help to adjust the posture.

Dragging myself down the road, I moved passed these two lady carrying a conversation on the sidewalk.

I overheard one said, “… and a short career.”

I thought to myself… “Are they talking about my short career at my new position?”

I, immediately, corrected myself, “Delusional.”

I was able to immediately let go of that incidence because I found myself starting to be crushed by the invisible weight placed… overall.

1-2 more blocks later… An image came into my mind and revealed to me the key to the puzzle.

Why have I been feeling this way?

I saw the remaining part of the Zoloft before I placed it into the pill cutter this morning.

I could see the 50% line on the remaining portion of Zoloft when I was putting it down.

I must have thought to myself then… “Today is a lower dosage day.”

It also occurred to me that I had skipped my dosage on Sunday because I woke up late and did not rush to go anywhere. That day, I did feel pretty depressed and did get caught by the benchmark though of depression… “Am I but wasting the resources on this planet?”

More over, it has been a week or two since the dosage of Zoloft is cut back down.

That explains why I have been feeling so very tired so easily and so frequently recently.

In my mind, I heard myself saying, “I’d rather be a happy psychotic than a depressed neurotic.”

That had almost turned to be one of my motto.

The only minor problem now is… Unfortunately, I might have to go through sometime being a depressed psychotic.

The system, again, is trying to reach a state of equilibrium. Just I don’t know when… and I will not allow myself to talk like this again for there is food, exercise, coffee, cigarette and etc that would eventually help me to reinvent… (got the feeling that I gotta give my positive self a chance to throw in its two cents.. lol)

Never promised you a rose garden, eh….


  

Million Dollar Baby

It is a strange feeling.

When I was waiting for the bus to go to work, I had a sudden realization…

It is Thursday again and soon it will be the weekend.

Time just flies and I am not even quite sure what I have accomplished the entire week…

I went about my daily chore and soon it was about the evening.

Knowing that four of the movies I borrowed from the library were actually due yesterday, I, unfortunately, had to shuffle the studious students out earlier so that I could bring the videos back to the library before closing.

In a rush, I got back home, got back out and arrived at the library on time.

The fastest way to deal with the adrenaline rush was the cancer stick.

Getting home early for a change is actually fairly relaxing.

I fixed myself some veggies with noodles and put on the movie “Million Dollar Baby.”

I had thought the movie to be one with a good ending… In my expectation, the million dollar baby will finally, after all the obstacles, win that championship and get that money. I thought, after the movie “π” I saw yesterday, tonight, the movie will bring the mood up for a change.

But, alas, another sad movie…

Legally blonde might have been a safer bet to ensure the stability of the swinging mood.

In a season when the exposure to sunlight is cut short, this would not really be on my recommendation list for people with the propensity for seasonal mood disorder. lol

At some point, in the movie, the million dollar baby went back home to visit her family.

Her mother said to her, “They know what you do. They all laugh at you.”

I thought about myself and my blog.

“Will they feel the same about my blog?”

Non-sensical a question again since “they” is a third person pronoun and it is we who really constitutes my reality.

Lucky enough, my daddy would even pull money out of his own pocket if I were to publish a book about my psychotic existence for this is not a book for me.

Rather, it is a book for people I know who could not have lived a life with my degree of functionality.

I know, if my uncles who lived their life as schizophrenics could know or comprehend, they would be more than happy for me, if not, proud of me, simply because I live.

Yes, at times, this though would sneak up my mind…

My blogging has nothing to do with letting people know that mentals could also be functional.

Rather, it is a way for me to persuade myself by making the implicit thoughts explicit, and, to reinforce their impacts via feedback through the heptic (typing), auditory (my thoughts are presented in auditory format in case yours are different lol), and visual (text are visual inputs) channels.

Which is the real cause is again a non-sensical question to be addressed.

So, what else have I done recently?

I see myself to start finding meanings again in attachment theory.

Since information stored in my long term memory might not be as accurate and complete as could be, after I got home, I browsed through the book shelves looking for the old texts addressing the issue of attachment theory and its implications.

Unfortunately, can’t find any.

It is not because I have never had texts of this sort… Rather, it’s a result of the exit strategy…

When my parents went back home this time, they brought back with them most of the materials relating to the psychology discipline.

Well, shall I not find a full time job, this, at least, would cut down much cost on shipping and handling… lol

Unfortunately, that smart move is now sort of back firing at me for no reference is available in need.

I won’t be bothered though in the face of the inconvenience for the pendulum of outcomes swings… sometimes in the favorable direction while other times in the less well received direction.

Could only leave it to time to balance out the spreadsheet…

By the way, I think in another 2 weeks or so I could start considering cutting down on the dosage again based on the following two observations:

1. First, the degree of obsession about other people seems to have become mitigated 
2. Second, I am becoming more bitchy, which is an indicator of the breaking down of the belief system about being monitored moment-to-moment. (Yes. The only time when I am totally understanding and all angelic is when I am psychotic. In a “normal” state of mind, I am actually reasonably bitchy. meow meow meow lol)

The Patterns: Re-thought

Yet, I see the patterns and I can't yet let go look for The Pattern.

Easier to say than to do...eh... lol 

Pattern

Pattern

After I got home, I decided to take a break and watch a film.

The film I chose to was “Π” (Pi).

What a smart choice.. lol

In case you don’t know, this is a movie about some genius mathematician who was well endowed with psychotic symptoms.

The scary thing was… I could connect with the experiences of the lead actor through out the film.

The delusions. The hallucinations. The lost in the twilight zone between reality and imagination.

The obsession about the patterns and the pattern.

I watched the film and I felt sorry for him.

The medications did not seem to work too well and the side effects were too strong.

He needed modern antipsychotic medication and hospitalization.

His brain worked and he would not let go.

I thought to myself…

This is the reason why I promise myself to be dumb down to the lowest common denominator for I am and will not be him.

I will take a bath and smell the roses.

He finally realized that it was his brain that he had to let go…

Yes. When the time comes, one needs to let go.

Genius or not.

Entering the gate towards psychosis, genius or non-genius, all equal.

All that one could hold on to is to be—functional.

All else is vain and non-sensical...

Well, except for being human and do the humanly deeds such as caring for those who care for you....

Sweet Charity

When Lucy came over last week, she bought me a full-price ticket to see the show Sweet Charity. (Oops... I feel heartache... lol)

I met Lucy in Vancouver where after I took on the identify of a Lucy.

She is among the ones that I could call a friend for life.

You could leave them along for thousand years. Those whom you could go without contact for thousand years and would reconnect immediately after you get back together.

(She and her sister, whom now have two kids, have been such wonderful friends to help me through the time when I was going through the magaimact experiences from that big time jack ass from hell and the drama after drama invoked by the thing called love invented from my pre-psychotic piece of mind lol).

It must have been late 1996 or early 1997 when I last saw her.

It must have been 4-5 email correspondence we had before we met again with each other.

She has now grown to be a real business woman though she hasn’t lost her style of being spent-thrift when she knows how to.

I remained to be the cheapskate from hell through all the years due to the life’s lessons.

The show she eventually decided to see was Sweet Charity featuring Christina Applegate whom was the gorgeous blond in Married with Children.

The pinky theme would have not been one of my first choices for the in-line status for box offices.

Funny enough… This production was one of the very few productions I could relate to in too many a perspective… and in too many a song.

To sum it up in power point format:
§ Somebody loves me.
§ There is a better life out there…. I will get out.
§ I am the bravest individual.

Check out this link for clips of the songs http://www.sweetcharityrewards.com/content/themusic.html
(Sorry, dial up connection at home doesn't allow me the leisure of browsing through items that require broadband connection... :-x)

Believe it or not, there is gonna be one of this day when I find someone to love me, when I am finally out there with a job that gives me insurance that even covers the teeth, and when I could look at myself and say, “Gee, you are one of the bravest individual that I have ever seen.”

I don’t want a tragedy like the love promised by dying together found in Aida.

I want a comedy that allows me to reinvent myself from who I am regardless of anything (be it what others could accept or what I really could accept.)

And, yes, quoting what I eavesdropped from the street this evening... I am done playing and it's time to grow up to do.......

P.S. I was gonna buy this shirt for Lucy for it was much like her style.

    

Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.


We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.


We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.


Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.


We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.


Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
--- Death by Emily Dickinson


I heard myself reciting the first part of this poem on a daily basis (it might have something to do with the fact that it is the first two sentences that I memorized lol)

Death does frighten me for it sets an arbitrary end to all that I could do in this life.

In other words, I am racing with nothing but the time… the limited amount of time granted to me by both life and death.

I believe in reincarnation (my cultural indoctrination).

However, what I have fears for is the failure to contribute anything to the collective good and do nothing more than wasting the limited resources on this planet. (BTW, such fear might be either the manifestation and/or the origin of depression. lol)

Next life is next life and what about this?

Ever wonder what mental health conditions could teach you? lol

Gotta get back to the task list and try to get done with the to-do list before I forget it... :-x

Now I am compact

But now I am compact. Now I am gathered together this fine morning.


I still move. I still live.


I will not be afraid.


Let the silent army of the dead descend. I march forward.


I read one poem. On poem is enough.


Oh, Western wind. When will thou blow?


What is my destiny being?


I am just a single, passing being.


I said, “Consume me. Carry me to the furthest limit.”

From The Waves, Virginia Woolf

Let me not speak for myself

Let me not speak for myself and let the big bad wolf speak for me for resonance could be an indicator of projection.

I am not included.


If I speak, they put their ears, waiting for me to speak again, in order that they may place me.


I am alien. External.


Yes. I will reduce you to order.


I look straight back at you, men and women. I am one of you. This is my world.


It doesn’t matter what I say.


I am also a girl. Here in this room.


Because we have only one desire, to arrive at the station.


Without desire. Without envy.


I have arrived. I am accepted. I ask nothing.


To be loved by Susan…

Constrained yet focused

My dear Seroquel has gotten me pretty well drugged out. I have been having this feeling that there is a helmet over my head again.


I also observed today that the span of my short-term memory has gotten shorter and shorter. I, thus, have to use the mnemonic strategy commonly used by people experiencing memory loss… notes taking.

I also found myself to start my single tasking state of being. My limited cognitive capacity is sufficient for me to perform one task at a time. As a result, there might not be sufficient processing power left for me to think about other tasks and causing me to tunnel into whatever I am focus on, absolutely undistracted.

This is actually a very interesting experience.

You see, today at work, it was found that a camera was missing. Blessed with a delusional state of being, my brain was more than willing to start building up any workable conspiracy theory.

However, my predilection for psychotic symptoms has taught me to stop the built up of any mental model of that sort and I will neutralize my worldview with all efforts.

As I was walking back to school with my new boss, I had to focus on discussing about whatever we were talking about. The constrained cognitive capacity, thus, required me to shift my limited processing power to issues other than that missing object.

My conversation with my lawyer, my almost 2 hour long class and the technical issues with the computing equipment at work all push things happened earlier in the day so far that things happened this morning seemed to be thousand year old history. (Could this be termed the distorted sense of time? :-O lol)

At the same time, I did not feel tired all that easily today.

If you have seen me these past few days, you would have found me yarning up a storm every so often.

However, after the class, as I was coming back to the office, I had the realization that the tiredness has gone back to the “normal” level. I was more than happy as I was climbing up the stairs. That was the point when I happily said to myself, “Now the system is used to the dosage!”

Even since the dosage was up again, I have tried with my best effort to see whether I am failing to do for myself the things they do for me in the hospital.

I have, since, tried make sure I go to sleep early enough so that I could get at least 9-hour sleep.

I also make sure I take my vitamins and get some sort of exercise on a daily basis.

Most importantly, I have to make sure I eat well for I saw in my empirical experiences the importance of dieting and nutrition.

It was the other day when I posed this question to my therapist that I have now acquired this method of dealing by viewing many things as delusions and hallucinations. The good thing with this psychotic worldview is that there is only one way of handling… ignore it and forget about it.

At the same time, it is my fear that, with this strategy, I might simply try to avoid process the issues that might worth processing. Also, is it really me or is it the artifact of medications that is directing my dealings?

I believe this is a good enough question to ask and, if I could test it out one day, I would sincerely wish that, like results found in the numerous hypotheses of my dissertation, I would not be able to reject the null hypothesis.

I would like to also bring up here one of the things that happened as I was on my way home last night.

Walking down the block, these two people passed me by. I heard one of them saying something like, “… there are people jumping off the building.”

The story built up in my beautiful mind (lol) was that… “She is referring to me and she is saying that my condition could not be compared with those people with suicidal ideologies or who, sadly, act on these ideologies.”

Some questions are not worth addressing.

Yet, there are issues worth addressing.

When it comes to mental health condition, all mentals are equal because nobody’s suffering is less than the others, even though some people’s experiences might be more damaging than the others.

I, yet, will no longer suffer because there is no point for me to believe such experiences as suffering. Otherwise, my life might be too miserable. Also, as what I told this friend of mine, gotta make use of the Zoloft that I have to pay for given that there is not yet a way for me to go off it. (Here speaks the cheapskate from hell… lol).

The first time I had a psychotic episode, I institutionalized myself. That was absolutely necessary because the academic preparations did not prepare me to be a psychotic patient.

The second time I had a psychotic episode, I was involuntarily institutionalized. It was also absolutely necessary because I had the attitude that I knew what it means to be psychotic.

The third time I had my psychotic episode, I could have gone into the hospital for a vacation. However, due to the scheduling of the commencement, there was not enough time for me to enjoy my vocational therapy.

The third time had never gone away, just as the symptoms of the second round had never cease.

The intensified degree of psychotic symptom could be counted as the continuation of the second or the third episode. However, that is discussion absolutely non-sensual (sp: adj of none sense lol).

Regardless, I am sort of proud of my performance so far in living with myselves (lol). I have to make sure I don’t become too cocky for life seems to have the tendency to takes its toll as the half glass makes too much noise.

Last night was the night when I listened to the last chapter of The Castle by Kafka. I was very mad at Kafka for he had left the book unfinished.

Given that I am no Kafka and I don’t really think anyone is gonna all of sudden discover the worthiness of my writing when I am six feet under, I am making my blog be the storytelling of Ratology where the process is what worth focusing because there would only be one ending (oops and ya, I have no intention of being a highlander lol).

It is my presence that I could contribute because, while the past is often overrated, the future will never come. (By the way, I also have no problem contributing more to the IRS if possible lol)

Some might wonder why I am not being more aggressive in building a career, etc.

Well, this is one of my careers to research my own state of being to death (and literally lol) with the wishful thinking that it might add something to people’s understanding.

Don’t worry too much for I am estimating the timing… the timing for change. Before the arrival of change, each everyday, I build a little bit and I see the building stone in everything.

I will also refrain myself to pick up Proust' way --- lifelong procrastination (and I shall keep that in mind, too).

Enough of the Ratprincess Meow for the day (as opposed to Virginia Wolf lol)...

Epiphany

Sunday, September 18, 2005

I had an epiphany late this afternoon…. which actually made me feel really dumb… :-O

The thing is… I never really woke up today even though I was supposed to be at work before 9:00.

I did manage to finish reviewing some proposals that have been submitted to a prestige conference in education. However, I was so not awake that, in order for me to finish reading these papers, I had to use the text to speech function of Dragon to let the computer read the proposals to me, rather than having to use my own eyes to read the text.

It is interesting that it seems to be so much easier to listen with my ears than to read with my eyes. This leads me to suspect that my extensive experiences with auditory hallucinations might have contributed to my bettered listening comprehension skills, rather than that of listening. lol

After I finally got back home, I had to take a nap before going out to see a play with my friend.

The idea of taking a nap had started forming while I was walking down Broadway on my way home.

I, all of a sudden, had this extremely dumb epiphany that it has to be the increase dosage of Seroquel that contributes to my tiredness and the need to take naps in order to keep me awake.

I felt so very dumb down by this epiphany because this should have been a common sense, rather than an epiphany.

While parts of me feel that it wouldn’t be bad for me to go into the hospital since everything would be taken cared of, another part of me do enjoy the freedom of living at large and not having to be kept on the gated 8th floor and be deprived of computing equipments.

I, then, tried to figure out whether there are things they do for me in the hospital that could not be done outside of the hospital.

The blog is equivalent to the journal we are encouraged to keep. The proposals I evaluated is equivalent to the discussion session about the daily news. My encounter with the new computer-related toys is equivalent to my beloved vocational therapy sessions. Furthermore, preparing donuts and coffee for students at my new job is equivalent to me volunteering to prepare the night time snack (i.e., sandwich) for my fellows in the coocoo’s nest.

The only difference is… I have the freedom of hopping on the train or subway. I also have the leisure of going to see a Friday night play rather than playing bingo, watching a video, and enjoying the Friday night party behind a locked door (This is the part that I have problem with).

I was not gonna drink alcoholic beverage since, in theory, one is not supposed to drink alcohol when taking medication.

However, after the play, I went with my friend to a bar for a quick drink.

I ordered Malibu with some kinds of juice.

It is not about the drink. It is about me having the ability to order a drink and drink it.

I have no intention is consuming more alcohol in the near future. However, I reserve my right to take a drink

What worse could it be?

I already have hallucinations and delusions. I am also already loaded with the highest dosage I could take.

Since the increase of the dosage, the hallucinations have been granted me with more breaks from them.

However, it would take a bit more time when I am so very drugged out by the controlled substance that I shall be too cognitively incapable to even dream about hallucinations and delusions.

Laugh all you could laugh and joke all you could joke. At least that would prove my mental condition to serve a purpose... lol

With or without a highly capable brain, I will still stand on my two feet and move on without hesitations.

Some days I might be not as quick and other days I might not be as competent to multitask. However, I will be functional either days (So am I trying to brainwash myself? Maybe. Yet, as long as it works and I shall see).

By the way, after my last posting, I turned around, not able to fall asleep.

All of a sudden, I had an insight. The posting was motivated by anger.. The anger that is associated with my inability to control the occurrences of the symptoms.

The anger is not even anything worse addressing. It is like the question, “who are they?” Non-sensical.

Dosage up, but, I promise you that I will not fall

Upping the dosage.... again...…

Thursdays are the day for me to get my check out on my mental health condition.

Used to be, I only have to walk a few blocks to get to the 8th floor of the student activity building where my beloved psychiatrist and therapist are located. Since I took on another part time job this past week, the trip has turned much longer since I actually have to take a bus to get to my dear professionals and to get back to work.

During the meeting with my psychiatrist, we came to the agreement that I have to up my dosage again. Essentially, I have started to acquire this telepathic capability (which could be translated into hallucinations). It also doesn't really help when I am sort driven up the wall by the anxiety induced by the auditory hallucinations that makes me feel like haunted by the spirits of speech.

Following are some of the delusions I observed today:

1. They are taking this laptop away (:-O) 
2. They are upset by my comments about the importance of validity in measurement and evaluation 
3. The guy who cheated me by selling me the 5 dollar cigarettes (instead of the 3-4 dollar market price) got busted by the police 
4. They are not going to give me an interview 

How do I perceive the whole situation?

The first thing I said to my therapist as I entered her office tells it all:…

"I have been busy commuting between the 8th floor here and the 8th floor at work.. as long as I don't go to the 8th floor there (the hospital) since I sort of enjoying being out there."

At the same time, do not ask who "they" are because that is a question quite non-sensical.

So, I went on about my business waiting for the night to fall.

The condition might fluctuate and the dosage might have to be adjusted. I will have to face the annoyance caused by the symptoms.

However, I will not fall for I have now determined that the only thing that could take me down is life itself.

All else in life is but delusions and hallucinations. Contents associated with these symptoms do not worth my attention for I have promised myself to live my life to the fullest any given today because, even though tomorrow is another day, nobody knows what will happen tomorrow.
Yes, Ratprincess reiterate... the ephemeral nature of life does not grant us unlimited resources and time to spare (at least, not everyone is lucky like Marcel Proust so that his procrastinating nature also procrastinate the arrival of death).

This might be a statement too strong to make... Yet, the terminal divide is, guess what, life and death.

Changes

Having changes in the dosage is never easy.

Last night, yours truly, Missy Fatty, decided to reduce the dosage of Seroquel by 1/4 because I have been feeling like a walking zombie for the past week or so. I have also started to get hit by cognitive constipations. Amotivation, flat affect and the sense of disassociation are some other added values.

It is a good excuse to say that one should always prioritize one’s health above all other pursuits. However, there comes to a time when cost-benefit analysis needs to be reconducted and alternative measures have to be taken.

I know this is about the time when I have to recalibrate myself and refocus on my long term goals. However, please don’t ask me how I know it. It is because the delusionals just have a way of knowing. (lol )

I woke up this morning with a headache.

It could be due to the fact that I had to wake up earlier than I normally would since I had to take my daddy to the airport. It could also be the cold that I caught or the weather is too hot. It could also have been contributed by the reduced level of Seroquel in me.

When I was sitting outside of the gym, being annoyed by my headache, I all of a sudden discovered that I could think, I could feel, and, I am back living in this world.

I could feel happy and really feel that sense of happiness again!

However, little did I know that the headache was the precursor of the roller-coaster kind of emotional ups and downs that I was bound to experience for the remaining part of the day.

When I was on the exercise machine, I was happy… very happy.

The regained ability to experience feelings and to think in sentences made me feel happy…. Of course, credits might also need to be given to endorphins.

When I arrived at work, I felt the resurge of motivations… to learn, to work, and, most importantly, to seriously start looking for a job again!

At that point, I had gone from a walking zombie to a headless chicken….

Well, I am not quite sure whether it is better to be a zombie or a chicken without a head. However, I think I might vote for a decapped chick at this time. lol

The auditory hallucinations did come back and they were causing some mild annoyance. However, they did not go nuts….

After I was high on drug (ya, Seroquel it is) for about 5 hours, I started to get hit by anxiety and more anxiety. At the same time, anxiety often manifests itself in me as high level of irritability.

This is why I do not claim myself to be angelic and would rather admit myself to be a b-from-hell. This way, when I am nice to people, people would recognize my niceness due to the deviation from the norm. lol

The highlight took place when my mama and I were shopping for some shampoo and conditioner.

At some point, I started getting really irritated by my mom’s questions and talked to her in a really loud voice.

I did not want to be nasty. However, it was really difficult for me to control it.

I apologized to my mom as we were walking back home. I told her I did not mean to be so… Just the change in my brain chemistry makes it difficult for my self-control.

She listened to me… and tried to make fun of it…

However, I could not appreciate her good will… I sighed…

I know it is too lame an excuse to blame everything on brain chemistry.

What about self-control, self-determination, and all those terms depicting how one’s will could weather it all?

Unfortunately, sometimes we might have to subdue to the forces of nature (or artificial nature lol) before we can take it back to ourselves.

I don’t know how long it will take before the neurochemistry arrives to a state of homeostasis. The only thing I know is that I hope this is not to be a long wait.

On the Street, a few things about delusions..

I was supposed to meet with my lawyer today. However, earlier in the morning, her assistant called me to reschedule our meeting.

Since I am on my way to return the demonstration unit (laptop), I decided to sit in the shade and start to do some typing.

This is the same spot I sat at about one month ago when I started trying to learn to deal with the auditory hallucinations and delusions.

I decide to start doing some experiment on myself and try to see how I am viewing the world surrounding me.

As I turned on my laptop, I realize that there are quite a few wireless hotspots nearby. As a result, I decided to get connected to the campus access point nearby.

While I am sitting here, rambling away, and looking at the pedestrians walking by, I am also sending IM messages to a friend of mine about going to shop for a vacuum cleaner for him.

The coolest thing was that I actually could tune into one of the net radios and start playing music on my machine. Well, with the heavy traffic in the background, it is sometimes close to impossible for me to really hear the music… Yet, just for the sake of trying it out..… lol

So, is there anything new that I hear and see?

Nichts.

Except for the heavy traffic on the street, there is not much going on in the vicinity.

Well, it is over-exaggeration to say that I perceive nothing going on the environment.

Once in a while, when I see people in group of more than 1 person (lol) engaging in conversations, I would still have the sense that they are talking about me? However, I do have to admit that the sense of paranoia has reduced drastically since weeks ago. In other words, I think or, at least, hope that this is a positive sign of my recovery from my positive symptoms.

When I was recovering from my first psychotic episode, it was very difficult to deal with the gradual break down of my delusional system.

As I mentioned before, at the point, I thought people knew me and were constantly discussing about my conditions. I thought many a thing has been promised to me including employment and green card sponsorship.

When I eventually realized that those were but my delusions, it was not too easy for me to handle.

Even though these were not real. For me, those promises were real for all those times.

It is a real sense of loss that I had encountered and the intensity of grieve is no less than what one might feel in real life situations.

I asked my psychiatrist whether there was any way to help me deal with the sense of loss. He told me that I just had to live though it, just like any other experiences in life.

That day, after I went back to school, I went online, trying to look for some support groups that specifically deal with the issue of recovery for patients with delusions. Unfortunately, my attempts were not successful.

There were and still are support groups for patients with depression, with addiction, and with many other things. However, at that point of time, I did not find too much facility provided to help people with the given condition.

Maybe people with delusions just don't walk to talk about their delusions, especially when they realize those beliefs were just their delusions (Believe me, it took me years to finally stop feeling ashame of those delusions of mine).

It is an interesting idea to be discussing about the issue of virtual loss. The loss of materials, fame, etc, as a result of delusions are just like the loss of gains that could have been materialized shall one be smart enough as to sell the equities at the highest point. Unfortunately, there is no gain shall there be no transactions.

If you want to understand the feeling of loss associated with delusions, just think about that sense of grievance you had to go through the last time you failed to buy low or sell high on the stock market… lol

Unfortunately, not all losses are virtual, and, when these losses are materialized, the truth might be far too cruel for the recovering patient to handle.

A lady I met in the psychiatric ward in Taiwan had a loss that could never be recovered.

I was having my internship for my bachelor’s degree then. Among the patients, there was this lady who was extreme eloquent and well educated. It was over 10 years ago now and, at the point, she had obtained her master’s degree in special education.

She was working at some school before she was committed to the hospital.

She seemed all fine during our conversation and I saw nothing wrong in her based on my observations.

One day, I asked the staffs about her condition as I was trying to go over her chart. I was informed that I could choose anyone else as my case study except for her.

She had delusional disorder.

In her delusion, Satan was coming down to take over the world. She observed the clues from everywhere… including the messages hidden on TV shows.

Satan wanted to use her baby daughter as a vehicle to destroy the world.

To prevent Satan from achieving this demonic goal, one Saturday afternoon, she crushed some anti-hypertension medications and mixed the powder in ice cream. She fed her daughter with the ice cream and she, herself, downed the remaining.

There are other details that I wouldn’t go into and what I have provided you with were actually in the news.

The bottom line was that she lived and her daughter died.

During time when she was in the hospital, she still had that delusional belief about the Satan’s intents and she had no regret about her own deeds.

It was not like she was a psychotath and she was being relentless and lack of remorse. She was just entrapped in her delusional system.

One day, she came out howling from her meeting with the psychiatrist.

The staff members came running after her and put her on extreme degree of monitoring.

Ya. That was the day when the medications and the interventions finally broke through her delusional systems.

She finally realized that the price that was paid for her mental health problems.

Could you blame her for what she has done? Yes and no.

Before we even come in to make a blame, she has her own grieve and self-blame to be taken cared of.

For the past few weeks, I have been trying to look at the positive side of the positive symptoms.

Why am I telling this story today?

The reason is simple.

Don’t discount the suffering of people have to go through to cope with their mental health problems.

At the same time, please also don’t discount the damages that could be done as a result of mental health problems.

Real harm could be done even though the beliefs are unreal. The best way to prevent virtual losses from being materialized is by self-understanding and professional intervention.

So have I had any real loss as a result of my psychotic episodes?

Yes. I was offered once a full-time position years ago and I was supposed to teach a class before my full time appointment.

Then I went through my full-blown psychotic episode the second time.

I went to teach a class or two and I never went back.

The first few sessions, I did not go because I thought that the president of the school had channeled with me and he had made arrangements to cover for me. After my delusional system was dissolved, I finally contacted the dean to apologize for my sudden disappearance.

Could I blame them for blaming me? No, because they have a school to run and I was the one who was being irresponsible.

Am I going to blame myself? Yes and no.

If I were to blame myself.. it would be my ignorance that is to be blamed.

When feeling down

When feeling down

Trend of thoughts…

Do nothing
Think about nothing
Feel lonely
Want to cry for nothing
Want to stay in bed doing nothing
Smoke
No boy friend
No job
No future
No life
Lost soul in limbo
Useless on this planet
Amounting to nothing
Time to quit
I should stop trying
End of discussion

飛蛾扑火

John Doe

The other day, as I was waiting for the green light on Broadway, I saw a homeless guy sleeping on the bench in the middle of the street.

This is the guy that I thought to have passed away and, all of a sudden, reappeared in the neighborhood back a month or two ago.

He was sound asleep… like a baby.

When I was looking at him, I fell really happy because he seemed content and happy in his dream. He still had that plastic thing around his wrist, which is a trace of hospitalization.

His condition seems to have worsened since his first appearance in the neighborhood (of course if my perception is correct...).

On a good day, I wonder whether there is anything that I could help him with… Unfortunately, it is difficult to help people unless they want help.

On a bad day, I wonder whether I am any better off than him… thinking how content he looked in his sleep (I know, this is a thought too very ungrateful given the amount of support provided to me. It is just my depressive trend of thought).