I´m having this terrible feeling again, the feeling that some inescapable truth will destroy me. I feel disturbed when I do normal stuff like chat with an Internet friend. We´re working on a horror story and I´m much more sensitive to the material than usually.

I feel disturbed when I do normal stuff. This should tell me something important. Because, even though the narrative of my life was broken and my sense of normalcy heavily attacked, over the last few years a new normalcy has developed. Probably not completely new, but at any rate a sense of normalcy. Part of that normalcy is that I write my Internet friend. If I suddenly feel disturbed by the fact that I do this, then something is happening to me that undermines my sense of normalcy.

I wouldn´t want this to happen again. I have a sense of urgency that seems to forbid me to be normal, that demands something should happen. This sense of urgency is part of the crazy states. I had when I was desperate to find out if I had amnesia and what had happened to me. This feeling that I cannot continue with life until something important has happened or until I´ve had a major insight.

I have that feeling all the time on some level. Sometimes I really get important insights or so I believe. Still, it is a dangerous feeling. It threatens my sense of normalcy.

It´s quite natural that I have this feeling. Yesterday´s insights were frightening. What could undermine your sense of normalcy more than coming to the conclusion that you are crazy?

I´m still rewriting the past. While I do not invent events, I interpret them and I try to find out what happened inside of me and what caused these events. I´m trying to repair my narrative, and by doing so I´m constantly fucking with my sense of who I am.

Some of my old personality has always stayed with me or at least returned. Such as sense of humor, dark and dadaistic. Or that I love puns, but if they´re too stupid they make me physically cringe. Both not terrifically original, but as long as I´m joking I know I´m sane.

I need something to occupy my brain. This blog, this whole trying to find out what´s wrong with me – is part of “crazy”. When I started this blog I was in the throes of my second abuse mania, I had just learned to be a lot more careful and objective. Maybe there is hope after all, because giving in to my obsession under the strictest rational supervision I was capable of led me here. I do feel a sense of peace with regards to my behavior towards Lola. I just feel a lot of distress regarding what followed, but maybe that, too, will pass.

In my sane state of mind I have no problems having rational opinions on things, even when they´re controversial. I have no problems evaluating arguments and evidence. I sometimes reach the conclusion that I should stop trying to figure myself out and start pouring my mental energy into some entirely different subject, something scientific. There´s something to it, but I don´t think I can look away from myself for the rest of my life. I want to reach a state where I don´t have to be afraid of myself and I´m not sure if suppressing my craziness is going to get me there. Why would I suppress it, after all, if I wasn´t afraid of it? Suppression is different from “keeping in check”.

I´m not sure right now if my craziness is pathologically crazy or if it is normal irrationality. Maybe even what people call feelings. This “feeling in analogies” thing: If I feel through stories I make up in my head, then maybe I am crazy of sorts, and maybe it is no surprise that I come up with crazy ideas which feel real and important. Would it make any sense, though, to analyse this craziness? I don´t think so.

I tried to analyze the pictures and thoughts I came up with. Especially during the abuse mania. I tried to conclude what had happened to me from them, I thought they symbolized something. That was a dangerous way of dealing with them, though apparently it resembles some of Freud´s methods. I should not try to use my daydreams and stories as sources of personal insight. I´m fairly sure I did that on this blog here, too. I guess a lot of my theories here ought to be revised or even deleted. I wonder if I will become more creative again if I stop analyzing my crazy ideas and just let them float by.

I think one thing that contributed to me becoming so troubled was that at some point I started to make myself responsible for the crazy ideas. I was always deeply in touch with the creative chaos in my head, and maybe too deep, but what I came up with wasn´t my fault. Sometimes you have a violent fantasy, or rape fantasies, or whatever else, and the moment you start to believe this says anything about you you´re on the path to madness. You might start to become obsessed with the thought that you are a potential serial killer, or you might feel like unless your fantasies are caused by a history of abuse they mean you are indecent, disrespectful and self-important. I don´t mean sexual rape fantasies, but when you´re making up stories in your head in which you are a rape victim.

This doesn´t sound acceptable to me. It surely must say something about you if you enjoy such stories. Still, reason tells me that it shouldn´t. It must be allowed to relax and let your thoughts run wild without having to feel like a bad person because of the outcome. What, though, if you get the same thoughts over and over again and they intrude into your daily life?

I don´t know. I feel much too vulnerable right now to think about that question. I think that there is a close connection between repulsion and allure. At least in sadism there is. Perversion is, to some extent, being lured by the repulsive. I think some therapies try to exorcise perversion. They look for a human being who can let his thoughts wander without coming up with such things. Other kinds of therapies try to battle obsessive thoughts by prescribing them. You are supposed to consciously think about how you´re going to stab your toddler. I think I, being the person I am, would start to enjoy the thought in a dreadful way. Maybe the solution is to make it less personal. Exorcise it by writing a story about a mother who stabs her toddler, but most definitely someone who isn´t me. Not that I have a baby anyway. Or any definite answers here.

The thing with feelings and craziness is: The moment they set in, it´s like getting drunk. You know that tomorrow you will feel very different about your behavior, but somehow that doesn´t matter because this drunkness is something that feels right and necessary now. Similarly do feelings feel justified and mania true. Both can, in some ways, be intoxicating, and in those cases your rational self can only run along and try to limit the damage. And there can be a similar moment in perversion: Few things are more powerful than the feeling of “I know this is wrong, I know exactly how wrong this is, but somehow this knowledge has lost its power…I´m free!” Free to do absolutely anything. That damn sure is a state of intoxication.

Since I´m just in a process of defragmentation or something the like, this post is horribly incoherent. Never mind. It will get better. Hopefully.


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