Paranoid visions

Fear and confusion are increasing. I feel unable to describe what´s going on inside of me, and I´m not sure I want anything to do with it. I feel like I´m living in paranoid visions.

A vision of me seeking psychiatric help. A vision of everything I believed to know turning out to be false, of me having to learn that I´m thoroughly paranoid, that everyone I perceived as cruel only ever wanted to help me. The idea that my suspiciousness might be part of crazy.

It what I wrote in the last paragraph is really true, then I don´t want to live anymore. There seems to be no point in it. If all my feelings are completely dumb and paranoid and unrealistic, then I don´t see why I should stay alive. What for? To have a family, have a job, contribute something? If all my feelings and perceptions are nonsensical, then what exactly do I have to contribute? Intelligence? So others set the target, and I work on it? We have computers for that. If I fail in all that makes a person human, I don´t see what I´m supposed to be doing here anymore, goodbye. I´m not going to start some stupid cheesy “journey towards healing”, take pills throughout the last years in which I might pass as young, make myself dependent on so-called well-meaning people who tell me what is real and what isn´t and then work in some job that requires no qualification because that´s a mentally ill´s place in this world. It would be so bloody easy, wouldn´t it, if being insane automatically meant you have no wishes and ambitions anyway, right?

It would be so easy if only I could consistently stay sane and cover up what´s going on. Sanity IS covering up what´s going on on the inside. If you are me, then revealing it would be self-destructive, and self-destruction isn´t sane.

***

Not quite. What´s going on with me is that apparently I´m extremely angry, and that must have been building up for a while. I don´t know why I´m so angry. Maybe those visions make me so angry because their content makes me feel threatened. When I say visions, I mean: It´s like having a nightmare while I´m awake. I don´t believe I´m in some kind of hospital when in fact I´m sitting in my room, but in my head I can hear everything I assume the doctors would say. Most of the time I´m not thinking these thoughts on purpose, only sometimes, when I´m in the middle of such an internal argument, I mentally say what I believe they would say. Most of the time, those thoughts just come to me. They are intrusive and they cause me a lot of inner tension and aggression. I feel like lashing out against anyone who talks to me.

Good. So these visions…they make me angry. That´s most definitely crazy, thank fuck we have that settled. But they´re just visions. I don´t have to do this to myself. I don´t have to go out there and make people punish me like this. Because that, too, is something that goes with these visions: A nasty little belief that I have to make this happen to me. That I need it. That adds to the stress.

Now that I have this figured out, the vision changes. I go see a psychiatrist, I actually manage to tell her about these visions/voices, she thinks that just because I don´t believe they are coming from other people or because I can gain some minimal mental distance from them, they must be some kind of neurosis that can be resolved by looking at my inner conflicts. In other words: She might think there is some truth or some meaningful feeling behind these visions. She might think that I gain something from this, the primary gain that allegedly lies in neurosis, or that I´m just trying to evade something.

That vision makes me feel terrible because it 1) makes me feel like I´m being left alone in this inner chaos and 2) fuels the first kind of vision, the vision where everything is my own fault after all and I “just don´t want to see it”.

Actually, dealing with these visions as psychotic instead of traumatic in nature does not make such a terrible difference right now. It even helps me gain distance and tell myself this isn´t real. If my visions are madness, then what those voices say is madness. That´s quite comforting. It means, like I said, I don´t have to seek out this kind of treatment, this kind of mental breakdown that reduces me to a groveling hysteric sobbing what a moral swine she is.

I´ve heard in that long-ago lecture by Dr. Psych that delusions and delusional belief systems often rely on existing, fairly wide-spread belief systems. A textbook examply is religious mania, but there are also other examples: Alien abductions, current conspiracy theories, the Truman show… Mania attaches itself to whatever it finds. It´s no surprise that with me it was repressed memories and sexual abuse, since I had encountered two such cases some time before. Also, it´s no surprise that my visions deal with psychotherapy since many of its theories cannot be falsified, just like conspiracy theories. The ideas of Freud or Reich are questionable, and I´m by far not the only person to question them. I´m not completely off with the things I say about them. The problem is that I say them coming from a place of deep paranoia. I have voices in my head which interpret my thoughts, feelings and behaviors in a particularly cruel, pseudo-therapeutical fashion (though these voices are informed by what I read and experienced), and I have yet another voice in my head that tells me all this is what should happen to me.

What I feel when I write things like these is deep demotivation. So I´m merely crazy after all. And without some kind of mania my life is incredibly empty. I wrote that two days ago, how empty my life must have been for me to have a vision about the future, slip on another identity and forsake everything. It would be sane to go through with my plans. It would be sane to get a job that binds most of my intellectual capacities so I don´t have too much time to ruminate. It would be sane to get a job that forces me to work scientifically, that gains me recognition and a fair amount of money. It would not just look sane, it would keep me sane. I was my most sane when I was at school. It was always during the summer holidays that the breakdowns came. I need some outside structure that forces me to stay out of the twilight zone for eight hours at least. And yet recognizing how crazy I am deprives me of all motivation. Get a job just so I´m NOT myself? If I´m so bad, then why bother exist?

***

Again, madness is not myself, madness is not who I am. I´m defending something I´m not. The feelings I have because of my visions are part of who I am, but it is normal to respond with rage to the content of my visions. The visions themselves are something crazy, but my reaction is quite healthy and where ever I encounter such behaviors IRL I´d be a good person for responding with anger. Also, the fact that these visions aren´t real doesn´t mean anything that happened to me with Dr. Stoneface and Athena wasn´t real.

It´s useless. I cannot comfort myself like this, I don´t believe in it. It matters a damn whole lot just how crazy I am. If I´m completely nuts, if my perception was always distorted by such visions and voices and expectations, then maybe anything they ever did was brought onto me by myself.

***

Rage. Rage again, because I feel threatened and helpless again. I know no way out of this. All that might happen is that other visions, daydreams come to my aid, that a voice says: “Don´t worry, we´ll kill you!” That would be so damn nice of you, you have no idea. But that, too, is just a result of this inner tension. It is another outpouring of rage. Saying this doesn´t change anything, though.

Distraction, feeling like I can see through things, that´s the only thing that helps. Maybe my feeling in analogies is just the only way I can express my visions? I don´t know, I´m getting so tired.

I wonder if I should ask others what they think of my state. I feel like I need to keep it together in front of everyone IRL, because they cannot afford looking at me as a crazy person who needs help, for one reason or the other. They don´t want to lose me to a world of pills, institutions and big psychiatric terms. It should move me, but right now it only burdens me. And I cannot even be sure if that´s a realistic prediction based on experience and empathy, or if it´s just my paranoia speaking.

***

Embitterment, another tangible feeling, thank fuck. I´m tired of believing I´m crazy, I´m tired of visions of my own mental and intellectual deconstruction, I´m tired of ruminating, I´m tired of feeling attacked, I´m tired of BEING attacked in my visions, I´m tired of having no one to blame, I´m tired of having no one whose head I can bash in for this, I´m tired of being conscious of myself, I´m tired of myself, I´m tired of almost everything and remarkably enough some small little things can still make me want to live for another few days, weeks, maybe months. Overall, though, I wouldn´t mind to take a hammer and demolish all that I am.

 

 

 

 

 

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