misdiagnosis and being the crazy patient

This is my post for may’s Blog Carnival of Mental Health, developed by Astrid and hosted by the madosphere, on the theme ‘patients and professionals.

mental health professionals and i don’t have a very good track record.

ages ago, i remember my mother trying to get me to go to therapy. i declined, because i was sure at the time i was fine. this was after the hell that was middle school, but before the mental and psychotic hell that was high school. as far as i remember, the only reason she brought it up was because a psychic told her to. i remember her saying that the person insisted that i wasn’t crazy, but i still needed the help. i think she was just trying to reassure my mother that the stereotypes surrounding mental illness aren’t true, and while yes, my trauma did significantly impact my development and perspective of the world, by no means was i like society’s depiction of the crazy person that paces back and forth talking to themself(ves) [1]. that came later.

high school hit and things went to hell again. this time i became so drenched in my own darkness that i couldn’t see the reality outside of my own. this is what led to my hospitalization the year of my graduation.

that hospitalization is why i’m so skeptical of mental health professionals in regards to my own situation.

during my two week stay, i attempted to make it clear that i was hallucinating, i was delusional at the time, and yes even though because i’m crazy i knew this and could make people aware of such.

except that instead of listening to me, they went with their perspective of my health, diagnosed me with depression, fed me medication that i never needed and never worked, and forced me into social situations that made me incredibly uncomfortable. i was forced to participate in group therapy and group activities, despite my severe social anxiety, and any attempts to resist this would lead to me being written up. for those unfamiliar, being ‘written up’ is essentially like written warnings – you got only so many before your ‘privileges’ (see: group activities that i never wanted to be a part of in the first place, or use of colored pencils for drawing or writing) started to be revoked. being more afraid of confrontation than my peers at the time, i didn’t push any further. had i known the extent and reasoning behind my social anxiety, maybe i would have pushed harder.

needless to say, this was a problem. by instilling a hierarchy of power, and asserting that power in a way that worked on their perspective of the patient instead of accepting and working with input from that patient, they did not allow for the development of trust. any lack of trust, and thus any ‘acting out’ based on their perspective of the situation, resulted in the patient being punished for their ‘behavior’ instead of any acknowledgment for why they might be acting in the manner they are. not allowing for the development of trust means less communication between the patient and the mental health team (staff, nurses and psychologists/psychiatrists), and less willingness to work with each other. less communication means less progress, and can result in continuous spiraling or, like in my case, hiding every problem in order to be left the fuck alone, and eventually discharged on the idea of ‘improvement’ that was never actually there, just a farce i put up to be left the fuck alone.

now, because of that lack of development of trust in this first attempt, i have little to no trust of any mental health professional i come into contact with, meaning i’m less likely to seek help with coping with my illnesses. granted, i did eventually seek out help again, but it took an abusive relationship and psychotic breakdown to do it. that and DID – someone in our system seized control long enough to actually get us to push forward toward therapy and treatment, instead of ignoring it entirely. because we would have.

this story isn’t the first. far from it. there’s a lot of us with these horror stories, largely in part because of the stereotype that crazy people don’t know about their own mental distress and thus can’t be trusted to actually seek treatment, because obviously they’re not in touch with reality to know that they’re, well, not in touch with reality.

except for one small problem – uh, actually, frequently we do. the problem isn’t that we don’t know, though in some instances we may not. the problem is that when we do, people don’t listen to us. because in their eyes, we don’t actually know, the fact that we think we know must be a delusion. and thus they focus on their perspective of how we feel. WHAT THE FUCK?

see, treatment of one’s illnesses and disorders (be they mental or otherwise) is dependent on two factors – the professional treating the condition(s) and the patient being treated. the patient must articulate the symptoms and what they experience so the professional knows what to possibly treat, and what direction to look in when coming up with said treatment and diagnosis. the professional must listen to these described symptoms in order to come to a reasonable diagnosis that makes sense with the symptoms described. because, yanno, treatment won’t work if you’re treating a condition that’s not there.

no, just because we’re crazy doesn’t mean we’re making it up, or we’re wrong because we obviously perceive our symptoms differently than how the rest of the world does (hint: this concept doesn’t actually work, as how symptoms work is how we’re affected by them and thus perceive them). believing this creates that hierarchy, placing the ‘professionals’ above the patients instead of them working together on equal ground. and that hierarchy affects trust and how willing we are to work with those professionals in the first place. if we do not trust you, you cannot adequately treat us, and no, you can’t force treatment on the unwilling. that disconnect just makes things worse in the long run.

we might be the crazy patients, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know how we’re affected by our crazy. after all, that crazy is affecting us – we are the ones that live with it day in and day out, the hours of the days and the days of the years. we are the ones that see inside our heads, hear the thoughts racing through our minds, feel the emotions that roll up and down and inside and out. this isn’t something you can just put a hat on with shiny lights and see everything that we think and feel. you have to be able to trust us, that we’re the ones that know how mental illness affects our lives. but to know that, we have to trust you. and that doesn’t work out so well when the system and the people within work against us.

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1. i know my wording here seems awkward. basically, i use the term themself as a singular gender neutral term to refer to other individuals, while reserving the term ‘themselves’ for those of DID or plural systems. typically folks use ‘themselves’ even in reference to one individual, but due to my experiences with the DID and plural communities, and being nonbinary with a self-preference of the singular they for pronouns, that usage always feels awkward for me, so i avoid it. i understand that this isn’t typical usage, hence the clarification.

what lurks in the night

there is this Thing that happens to me when i try to sleep sometimes that terrifies the shit out of me.

i don’t know what it is, or why it happens. but my body goes numb, i start to feel like i’m moving but i can’t actually move my body – i have no control over it. i try to fight against it, but the weight against me is so strong that i barely budge. and i can see my body moving without me, the room at different angles as i twirl around in my bed or fall off.

and then my eyes open, and i realize it isn’t real.

but see, it looks so real. it feels so real. i can feel every second of it, and i panic. i panic and scream internally and i want to shout out and get help from anyone i possibly can, even though no one can see me or hear me and i can’t open my mouth to utter a word.

but sometimes, what’s even more terrifying is that even when i open my eyes, sometimes it happens again. i get a quick moment of relief, and then i’m out of control over my body again.

it cycles. it can cycle anywhere from four to five times before i realize after my eyes open again, that i have to move somehow or else it’ll happen again. i shift positions and my eyes close.

and then it comes back for me.

there is no way to make it go away. no amount of shifting, no amount of mental control or comfort. as long as i lay there, it will come after me. the only way i get relief is if i leave my bed and do something else, keeping myself up until i can’t stand it anymore and my body starts to sleep for me.

only then, only then will it leave me alone. until another night when it comes to terrorize me again.

this Thing, i call it that because it is something i can never reclaim for myself. this Thing, i have no control over when it happens or how or why. it decides my fate for me. and it terrifies me. every time it starts to happen, the shouts start in my head.

NO NO NO NO NO NOT AGAIN NO LEAVE ME ALONE

and then eventually, after it’s had its fun with me, it goes away. for how long, i never know. days, months, sometimes a year or two.

i never know. not until the panic starts. not until those screams start, as i feel the numbness take over my body.

every time, i hope that it’ll go away for good. that i’ll get some sort of peace.

but i never know.

Next Post

i feel like i’m floating.

laying on my back, staring at the sky as i drift upon this river of…. ???

i’m not sure. i can’t see it. i feel its waves splashing against my skin every so often, ice cold one moment and boiling the next. and each boiling wave leaves patches of scars, numb to sensation, numb to the world. until another wave splits them open, leaving the raw muscles and nerves exposed. waiting for the next wave, bracing myself for the pain to come as this unseen force jabs needles into the open wounds. waiting for another boiling wave to seal them, to numb me until the next assault comes.

but then i realize, in the fog of my mind that fractures and fades into abstract nothingness and yet pierces with such clarity for brief moments of obsession, that i do know what this river is. i know what these waves are, and why they assault me so.

can you sense it? the clattering of voices, family and friends, peers and coworkers, absorbed in their own worlds as, without their knowledge or understanding, their voices turn into those waves, those needles that pierce my exposed soul with such calculation.

this river, so carefully constructed by the structures of society, swallows up all of those it deems its victims, drifting them into nothingness one moment and screams of such intensity that one can’t see nor hear anything else the next. this river, which flows with such ferocity and yet delicacy, the master of the puppets within its currents, the puppets that attack us and yet have no understanding of why, or why we’re bleeding.

this river, which goes by the name of ableism.

this river, which goes by the name of psychophobia.

i feel it, its splashes against my limbs, the moist chill that remains as each wave fades away, the numbness of my skin as all warmth is sapped from me.

do you?

or do you sit along the banks, watching, waiting, as it swallows up another ‘neath its fangs?

will you work with us, as we fight against the current downstream, to build a dam and wrest its control? will you work with us, as we climb along the walls of this dam, limbs quivering as the pain drains every last drop of energy, to reach the top and try to find those still drifting?

or will you sit, watching, waiting, feeding this monster with each oblivious word, wondering why people are drifting away and seemingly not bothering to cry out for help?

blogging against disablism day: this divisive world we live in

The Blogging Against Disablism Day logo. It is a five by four grid of various color backgrounds and colored icons of people. One of the icons is of a wheelchair user, the standard icon that is used to mark accessibility services for people with disabilities. Another icon features a person with a cane. The image links to the official release of the Blogging Against Disablism carnival for 2011.

So many hands. So many different hands. Yet, they’re all striving for the same thing.

Click.

Watch the screen flicker. Once. Twice. Three times. A wave of color, forever flowing. So many colors, and yet so few. Like a rose. The rose of sanity, pure white in color. Flicker. Watch the petals change, the colors of the rainbow morph into each other. Red to purple and back again. A never ending cycle.

What do you see today?

Look at the TV guide as zombies claw at the screen. Rotted skin, barely attached to bone. The broken nails, striving to get out. Flicker. Another zombie. Flicker. A third zombie. One, two, three. Three bodies of decaying flesh and bottled insanity, screeching as they try to climb out.

Click.

There goes a picture frame, flying across the room. This woman just found out her husband was cheating on her with her sister. Another picture frame. A lamp. A clock. Feel the gun out in the open, the bullets rushing through the air. One, two, three. Three bullets implanting themselves into a liveless body, blood staining the carpet as it tries to escape.

The rose of sanity, forever changing. Forever wilting as the petals crumble to dust. One, two, three…

Click.

One last flicker of the screen, and it goes black. Waiting until tomorrow to begin. Another day. Another rose.

this was written on October 4th of 2004, before my eventual hospitalization. typically i do not publish things that were written in my private journals. but today is my exception.

society’s concept of mental illness is connected to one idea – a starch lunacy that lacks any form of rationality, that no one ‘sane’ can connect with and understand. behaviors that seem without meaning, ideas that seem impossible, responses to worlds that do not exist to the senses of others. these are the ‘others’, the crazy ones, the insanity that cannot be trusted and must be locked away. these are the ones who, if they attempt to speak up and portray ‘rational’ thoughts, are not to be believed. after all, they’re crazy. right?

and then, for those who are able to present rational and coherent thoughts, who can articulate themselves in ways that make sense to both the person speaking and to those that are listening, their mental illness either isn’t as severe as others or as the person claims it is, or they’re faking. for attention. funnily enough, if you ask, many times us crazy folk will tell you we don’t even want the attention to begin with, we just want to be left alone!

this sort of mindset turns society’s concept of mental health into a dichotomy, where mental illness is irrationality and incoherency, and ‘sanity’ is when one is able to articulate rational, coherent thoughts while maintaining a suitable level of functionality in everyday life. and this dichotomy ignores any possible levels in-between these concepts, as well as failing to address the fact that it’s blatantly wrong to begin with. the quote above, in stark contrast to my typical posts, is an example of how rationality and coherency doesn’t determine levels of mental health, be it whether or not one is mentally ill or how ‘severe’ that mental illness is (for them).

this dichotomy is one of the reasons why so many people with mental illness aren’t taken seriously, because people assume that it’s all about raving madly, lack of control and throwing cats out windows. people ignore that when they’re communicating with people, they’re not communicating with the mental illness itself. it is a part of us, but it does not define the entirety of us, and it varies just as much as individuals themselves do. it’s also one of the many reasons why many people with mental illness do not receive adequate care. a lack of recognition for anything outside of one’s preconceived notion of what mental illness entails, and a lack of recognition for the people affected, both by mental illness and others’ asshattery.

we’re not taken seriously when we seem sane, and we’re not taken seriously when we seem insane. what kind of twisted irony is that?

kinky disability: emotional instability, sub space and sub drop

note: i won’t be talking about dom space/drop, largely because i can’t remember how it feels or how it affected me, as it was a long time ago. my experiences with sub space are much more recent.

i don’t typically talk about my emotional instability. partially because it’s not typically present and thus doesn’t affect the majority of my life and functionality. part of it is dependent on stress, other parts dependent on medication and menstruation. but when it is present, it can leave serious impacts on my relationships with people, how i interact with people, how i respond to the world and my overall functionality. for this reason i do not consider myself emovtypical, even though the majority of the time my emotions lie in a range that society deems typical, i do have episodes where my emotional instability flares and impacts my functionality and ability to interact with the world. i consider it a part of my mental illness, as schizophrenia is associated with emotional instability, and schizotypy impacts both schizophrenic and schizotypal individuals, just in varying degrees or intensities.

of course, the other reason why i don’t like to talk about it is partially out of shame, feeling ashamed of its impact on my functionality, feeling ashamed of the things it results in, how much i can change during such moments and how badly it can impact my relationships with people – and myself. i suspect that there is a reason why i was originally diagnosed with depression – while i don’t consider it an accurate diagnosis, the people that were making that judgment and being in control of my care at the time did not know of the complexities of my mind and its relation to schizotypy, and likely the complexities of schizotypy itself. it is a vast and complicated subject, with many intersections and many misconceptions. neurology is tricky and complex, and not something many know about or understand without professional experience and education with the matter.

all of this probably doesn’t seem like an appropriate precursor to conversation about sub space and sub drop, but it is. because many folks with submissive tendencies [1] such as myself are neuroatypical and/or emovatypical, and mental disabilities have just as much of an impact on kink activities as physical disabilities do. sub space and sub drop are highly intense examples of this.

i read an article at leather and roses at one point about the connections between sub space and dissociation (note: i cannot vouch for the expertise of the individual writing the article). while i’m unsure of the specifics of their connection, due to my intimate experience with dissociation, i immediately understood the reasoning for relating the two, and can relate to descriptions and similarities as i enter sub space.

sub space, for those who do not know, is a state of mind where a person with submissive tendencies feels the world around them fade away, and the only things that seem to exist are them and the person(s) that they are submitting to. i would liken it to a moment where no desires exist other than to serve, and when one feels like they will go to any means necessary in order to serve in a way asked of them. it is a highly intense moment, rife with pleasure and emotion, a combination of contentment and a lack of anything all at once.

the point here is that while it can be one of the most enjoyable moments of the individual’s kink experiences, one that is frequently sought after or yearned for (even if not actively seeking it), it can also be very dangerous if taken advantage of by an outside source or if not taken care of properly during and after the scene. this is even more important for those of us who are emovatypical, because the emotional peaks can reach incredible levels (think of mania – and then multiply it several times) and then drop rapidly to incredible lows and possibly severe depression. it is a roller coaster of emotion and mental intensity and because of its direct relationship to the individuals in the scene, the scene itself and any instances where it can have an impact outside of these moments (such as 24/7 power exchange lifestyles), must be addressed with utmost care in order to bring the submissive down from high peaks at a careful, steady and controllable pace to help prevent emotional spiraling.

a few suggestions i have from personal experience:

note: do not take these word for word, as everyone is different and thus their responses to scenes, sub space/drop and emotions will be different. all examples are just that, examples, meant to get a person thinking about individual experiences and responses, and thus ideas that will best suit them and their given experiences.

before a scene:

• plan scenes ahead of time in order to adequately prepare for possible circumstances; do not just go into the moment head-first (pun not intended >>) when dealing with mental and emotional complexities because it can leave one caught off-guard should something go off-kilter
• prepare soothing or comforting things for each individual involved for easy access after the scene (or possibly during, depending on circumstance), such as calming scents or hot water ready for a favorite kind of tea.
• plan out ahead of time how individuals participating should respond in given situations such as flashbacks or sudden changes in emotion
• if preferable, only do scenes with people one knows and trusts, and thus individuals who are more likely to know how to respond to unexpected emotional changes (i say if preferable because some individuals may feel comfortable with doing scenes with people they don’t know as well based on rational confidence with their emotional stability, which is perfectly valid)
• if possible, try to keep scenes confined to where the people involved feel both comfortable and familiar
• for subs: if one has prior experience with sub space/drop and how it affects them, take into consideration these effects and behaviors or mindsets that can have notable impact or possible hazardous results (personal example: i dissociate heavily while in sub space, making me less aware of hazardous surroundings, esp. in regards to my physical disabilities. i can also find myself in a mindset where i will be willing to serve even in ways that are triggering for me due to past trauma, thus making me more prone to flashbacks and panic attacks if i pull out of sub space suddenly and realize this connection. i also have a tendency to strip completely, which may not exactly be a viable option depending on things like weather or environment). if possible, let others involved aware of these possibilities in case they need to respond or intervene.

during a scene:

• have options for emergency outs such as safe words/signals, red light/green light (pay close attention to yellow if brought up, as this can be a major flag), or objects at hand to drop, tug or ring at necessary stop or warning points such as a ball or a small bell
• periodically ask for input of the other people involved regarding their overall mental state, to know whether to keep going, to be cautious or to end the scene
• pay attention to possible warning signals or behavioral changes that may indicate a change in mental state in the individuals involved (this tends to be easier with people that know each other well, as every person’s body language and trigger signals are different)
• if someone is in sub space, do not take full advantage of this in hazardous ways. this includes having them submit or serve in dangerous ways or ways that could trigger them, esp. if warning signs have been present prior.

after a scene:

• make use of things that people involved find comforting (some of which can be prepared ahead of time) in order to help bring oneself into a state of calm and contentment
• if applicable, remind the people involved of how one cares about or loves one another to help avoid feelings of loneliness or abandonment that can lead to sub/dom drop
• cuddles and snuggles can be totally awesome here, and help give a feeling of comfort and reminder of care
• do not just stop abruptly and move on to doing something else – this can very easily lead to sub/dom drop as no aftercare is aiding in coming down from the intensity of one’s mental state and the scene itself

but the most important thing i can say is be aware. pay mind to everything around you, both one’s surroundings and the language and behaviors of the people involved. otherwise one can miss important cues that can result in emotional episodes, and they can be harder to respond to. and pay mind to the people’s responses to various things, both during the scene and not, in case one needs to change how they react to episodes or emergencies in case they occur. try to stay calm if possible, try to avoid panic if possible, and remember that people are people that need to be treated with respect, and that everyone is different and has their own struggles to face and what helps with them. they are still the same people you knew before, and being emovatypical is a part of who they are – respect this and treat them that way. and recognize that it’s not a matter of them just being overemotional or oversensitive. it is who they are, an intricate part of their being, and thus a part of their overall wellbeing. they just happen to have kink and subby tendencies to go with it :)

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1. the reasoning for this wording is because i do not feel as if sub or dom space are specific to those who identify strictly as submissive or dominant, and thus that they can be experienced by anyone who identifies with submissive or dominant periods such as switches.

[tw] the bullshit of ‘gypsy magic’ in the pagan community

trigger warning for the inclusion of racial/ethnic slurs in a deconstructionalist manner, and short discussion and links of hate crimes.

EXTERNAL LINKS ARE NOT SAFE SPACES, DO NOT READ THE COMMENTS

i used to consider myself a part of the pagan community. i admit, i was originally one of those obnoxious teens that read generic ‘paganism 101′ books and called myself wiccan without actually understanding the depth and complexity of religion and spirituality as a whole. i felt out of place with the christianity that i grew up with, my mother recognized this (and also wanted to expose me to other options instead of just the majority) and gave me books to read (that were probably published by the company Llewellyn, which is full of bullshit – but that’s for later). it took me several years to start looking into various religions in a more in-depth fashion, learning the various perspectives, traditions, beliefs and structures of branches of christianity, various pagan and other non-christian paths. and most importantly, i started to learn about their origins and history.

and that’s when i learned that a lot of it is fucking bullshit.

now, this is not to say that the beliefs are bullshit – religious and spiritual beliefs of various sorts can be completely valid and an intricate part of a person’s life and identity. but the problem starts when those beliefs are derived from culture appropriation, unethical tactics and exploitation.

the thing that i want to target specifically, and one of the things that bothers me the most personally, is the use of the concept of ‘gypsy magic’ or ‘gypsy tarot’ in pagan practices.

first, what many people don’t realize (especially when they’re in positions of privilege, such as living in western countries and being a part of the dominant culture and/or society) is that the term ‘gypsy’ is a racial/ethnic slur. as i mentioned in a previous post, the term is used to both target and represent traveler peoples, of which are frequently stereotyped based on society’s perception of the romani and dom. it is based on a misconception that they originated from egypt, hence the ‘gyp’ portion. while the term can be reclaimed by individual people as a form of personal empowerment against racism and other forms of institutionalized oppression, it is widely regarded as a slur when used by folks of privilege who are not themselves traveler peoples (ex: the majority of white people throughout europe, where the slur is most widely used). in such a case, calling something ‘gypsy magic’ is blatantly offensive when used by those from a position of privilege, and stems from racism.

second, it is not possible for romani or dom traditions to be taught and practiced by outsiders of the culture. these traditions are passed down through family and community. and people are only considered part of these communities if they adhere to various traditional connections to their ethnic communities. just throwing things together and calling them ‘gypsy traditions’ doesn’t work – the community has to welcome you and feel that connection between you and their culture. otherwise, you are gadje - an outsider. even those brought into the community through marriage or birth may not be considered part of the culture if they are detached from various aspects that make up that culture. yes, even with romani or dom heritage, you can be gadje. on top of that, the majority of romani and dom are christian because of the (white, christian, often focusing on conversion) dominant cultures they live in. so some of the folk traditions and beliefs are beginning to slowly die out, only maintained by the few. painting all romani and dom with these traditions and beliefs ignores the slow erasure of folklore and culture through cultural assimilation.

third, the distribution of traditions painted as ‘gypsy magic’ to outside audiences en masse is a form of culture appropriation. as mentioned in the previous paragraph, the cultures of the romani and dom people are closed to those they do not welcome. taking these traditions, or even things that one labels as ‘gypsy traditions’ (even if they have no actual relation and are thus compromised of stereotypical bullshit), is appropriation of their culture for one’s own personal gain. that is stealing. and feeling entitled to doing so through excuses of ‘how do we learn about other cultures if we segregate them?’, ‘no one owns beliefs’, ‘i have a right to my beliefs’, et al, is derailing privileged bullshit. they are attempts to excuse one’s problematic behaviors, or behaviors/beliefs that stem from the problematic behaviors of others (i’m looking at you, scott cunningham and raymond buckland), and they are used to silence and destroy the voices of people calling them out or those directly affected, namely people of color (romani and dom in this case). such excuses contribute to the overall oppression of people of minorities by adding to the bullshit of the majority, while dismissing both the identities and experiences of minorities. and people believe it, because that’s what they’re told, that’s what they’re never told to question, and that’s what ‘everyone’ (see: those they’re actually exposed to) says.

and it’s fucking bullshit.

fourth, many of the traditions of ‘gypsy magic’ or tarot is based off of ethnic stereotypes, romanticizing images and ideas that are far from representative of the people these stereotypes are attached to. after all, many of those that are slandered as ‘gypsies’ aren’t even romani! folks like the pavee may even be white and have their own traditions, thus hardly the depiction of dark skinned ethnic beauties in their golden jewelry and brightly colored clothes. what’s worse, these popular depictions of ‘gypsies’ in fantasy worlds such as games, books and movies suggest that they don’t even exist anymore! like they’re some sort of magical fairies that add color and excitement (or theft and deception, like that’s so much better!) to such environments and then magically disappear from the world during the medieval times. yeah, the folks that are suffering from racial, class and cultural oppression throughout europe and various other locations throughout the world? don’t exist, apparently. those molotov cocktails being thrown into their homes and fascist organizations terrorizing entire communities just for existing? fiction, apparently. and their voices shouting at the world to stop these assaults on their peoples? just whispers in the wind.

and i am reminded of all of this every time i participate in pagan communities and someone brings up their association to ‘gypsy’ bullshit of whatever sort, when they’re first world white middle class privileged asshats filled with a personal sense of entitlement.

it’s no wonder i stopped. so many of us are unwelcome, even in communities that parade themselves as welcoming to people of all beliefs and cultures. because so often, that really means people who agree with them, and who will share their privilege and entitlement in such environments. so often, if someone speaks up about problematic appropriation or stereotyping, their voices are drowned out by excuses from positions of power.

i don’t bother arguing anymore. so i speak up in environments where words will be heard for what they are, and identity and heritage can be respected. because maybe then people will listen and respect those that are being harmed.

other

every word you speak
feels like a knife to the chest
every assumption, every erasure
makes me feel alien, like i don’t belong
like i shouldn’t exist
tears come near my eyes, but you cannot see
i cannot let you see, because you isolate me
and you won’t understand
just why you sting me so
i dare not speak up, for fear of those words
the words that seem so benign at first
without meaning, without intention
out of fear that they will change
from lack of concern to laughter
from ignorance to denial
from welcoming to hostility
those tears, they never fade
but they become diamond
encasing my body
shielding me, numbing me
from the poison that is words
from the dagger that is language
wielded by society, culture
and this construct assigned to me
without will, just for existing
for this crime i’ve committed
of attempting to be me
these words, they wash off me
cast to the side, with their roles
and assignments of sex
of femininity and masculinity
of mother or father
of ma’am or sir
and yet, these tears remain
waiting, quietly, for that moment
when i sit alone and see
this form that you gave me
but what should be me.

supernatural or schizotypal? what does it matter?

yesterday, my car told me her name.

after an evening storm, the roads were coated with fog. when driving on the unlighted side roads that twisted and turned every few yards, the only thing one could see was about a foot of pavement underneath a dense blanket. nights like these are rare, but when they do happen, my body and mind merge with her. more precise navigation, more communication, more connection. we are no longer a team but one entity.

people tend to get confused when i explain these concepts, thinking that it must be some elaborate metaphor – after all, it’s not possible to connect with technology. to communicate with it on an intimate level, feeling a living essence in your hands when you touch a cherished computer case or the wheel of one’s beloved vehicle. when i attempt to explain that it’s not a metaphor, it’s very real, two general assumptions tend to result. one is that the connection is spiritual or supernatural. granted, that assumption is actually fairly uncommon. the more common of the two, and the one that leads to much frustration and rage, is “that’s crazy talk”.

see, the thing about being psychotic, be it a part of the schizophrenic spectrum or another disorder, is that when people argue that religion and spiritual beliefs are irrational, they frequently use us to do it. our personhood is stripped, and instead we become a strawperson argument used to attack people for having different religious and/or spiritual beliefs, whether they be neurotypical or not. and typically, people who conflate religion and spirituality with psychosis haven’t the slightest clue about the psychosis, psychology or neurology that they’re spattering on about.

while there is a link between religious and spiritual beliefs and mental illnesses of various sorts, the reason for that link is far from what people assert it to be based on their preconceived notions. several psychology journals have found that folks with mental illness are more likely to be religious or spiritual, but not because they are more delusional – rather, because it helps them cope with severe symptoms.

some disorders, such as those within the schizophrenic spectrum, are known to often be accompanied with ‘odd or peculiar beliefs’. these beliefs could be stemmed from delusions or hallucinations, or perhaps a combination of both (like my thinking that i was chosen by the sprites i saw to pass on their legacy). or, another possibility that is often ignored (after all we crazy people are crazy, and thus not to be listened to due to being silly and irrational), is personal bias among peers or medical professionals. if someone already thinks that certain religious or spiritual beliefs are wrong or delusional, they’re more likely to pass off the religious or spiritual beliefs of someone with mental illness as being a part of that illness. that their illness is making them believe these wacky things, and thus they’re not to be taken seriously.

with former in-depth exposure to the pagan community and thus a wide variety of religious and spiritual beliefs that differ from the ‘norm’ that people are accustomed to (typically watered down forms of christianity), certain personal beliefs are harder to distinguish between one’s predisposition to delusion and the supernatural. my affinity with technology would be among these. it could be argued that the affinity i feel is from the life essence that flows in its wiry little veins, the electricity powering various gears and switches and breakers. or that it’s related to the living essence within the elements that make up the technology such as copper.

but in truth, these arguments are simply speculation. i do not know the cause behind my affinity, why that connection feels more than just holding an object in my hand. i don’t know why i thought in various mixtures of programming code throughout high school, having to translate what people were saying into pseudo-code in my head just so i could understand what they were saying. i don’t know why my artwork feels like an extension of my mind, heart and soul, every part of my emotions and being seeping into the pixels under the shadow of my cursor. i don’t know why i feel the soul of ‘my’ car, who now trusts me enough to call her by her name donna, staring back at me when i touch her steering wheel or dashboard. i simply know that i do, and that some part of me feels at peace through these connections. so what if it could be because of my tendency to delusion and psychosis during times of stress? or that it could be a part of something bigger that i choose not to explore? if they bring me peace and help me cope with the stress of living in a world built by the neurotypical, what does it matter?

funnily enough, i’ve found it matters most to those not directly affected by it, whose sense of self-security is shaken just by the existence of those of us who are neurodiverse.

i wonder why that could be. donna and satin wish to say hello.

playing one’s cards and patience

winter is finally over. i can tell, because the weather is yoyoing between bright and sunny to cloudy and dreary with rain (or freezing rain, joy), between unusually warm to bitterly cold. this yoyoing is the real marker of the weather finally changing, because it means the snow is (slowly) melting, the rivers are flooding from the frost, and my joints are killing me.

i think that’s something that people aren’t used to, the fact that one’s body can be so dependent on one’s surroundings. weather has had impacts on health, physical, mental and emotional alike, for thousands of years. and yet, the underlying reason behind it is still under speculation. we know it to be true, from personal experiences to old wives’ tales, and yet science still can’t find means of ‘proving’ it throughout their plethora of studies. anything from barometric pressure to humidity, the exact reasons are still a mystery, leaving room for skepticism and pseudo-science leeches.

with more directed awareness of how my body is affected by things like environment and activity, i’m starting to understand the patterns behind my aches and pains and thus how to circumvent them. manual dexterity is hardest when it’s cold out, because of high tension and lessened threshold in my joints. so even small things like using less frequent shifts in writing [1] and relying less on jobs that require both gripping and lifting together make a noticeable impact. areas and seasons prone to precipitation seem to equal more body-wide joint aches than others, so it’s becoming clear that living in areas where it rains or snows on a regular basis is not in my best interest. this includes the state i’m living in now. granted, i’ve known that for a while, as i’ve been trying to leave on multiple occasions, but each try didn’t turn out so well. probably due to a lack of planning.

of course, the problem with larger life changes such as moving and changing jobs is that it can take a good deal of time. time that either feels too long or too short due to my memory issues, and which wears on me with the struggles remaining in both the waiting period and amount of time until noticeable effects occur. it feels good to be finally moving forward, but my patience is thin from having to wait for so long just to have access to the resources enabling me to move forward.

in good news, my fiance’s family has found a house that totes itself to be ‘handicap friendly’ (the wording makes me twitch, but i suppose it could be worse, like ‘handicapable’). i haven’t been able to see it for myself, nor He [2], but the climate it’s in is much calmer and warmer than up here. there are plenty of rooms, so there would be some to spare after He and His parents move into their respective rooms. which is awesome, because computers and gaming consoles should be kept away from my sleeping area for better management of insomnia. and it’s close to a state university that i’m hoping to apply to for next fall, when i have access to more federal financial aid due to age. by then i’m hoping to know a bit more about the causes of my health issues and thus knowledge of how to treat them, so that maybe i can survive more than a semester and preferably without the accompaniment of a psychotic breakdown and spiraling physical health. of course, this would mean moving in with Him and His parents, which He is hoping they will be okay with.

the rate at which everything is going feels excruciating, and yet i know there is very little time, all things considered. one of the things that frustrates me though is that if all of these cards are to work out, another will have to be put aside until better circumstances. as His mother is severely allergic to pets of practically any sort, my plans of eventually obtaining a service animal has been put on hold. while it would be beneficial for me now, and give me more independence in my daily life, i would not be able to just give that up all of a sudden for the sake of moving. as this was something i was really looking forward to, the frustration is hard on me. i’m hoping it will still be an option in the future, though.

here’s hoping for more agreeable weather and conclusive results from next week’s rheumatologist appointment. i do not see my pcp again until june, but more information from specialists could aid in my personal attempts to track my health and its responses to internal and external factors. though i need to become more accustomed to utilizing my color coded charts. they really are helpful, if one can look past all the blank days. oops.

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1. yeah, i know it makes things look less ‘professional’, but i’m finding that speech recognition software isn’t proving to be a workable solution right now. the less key strokes the better.
2. of all of the capitalization that i’ve abandoned, this one will not be let go of. it’s too important to me.

March’s Blog Carnival of Mental Health!

Blog Carnival of Mental Health

Note: if I got anyone’s pronouns wrong, please do not hesitate to let me know!

Greetings! This is Static Nonsense, hosting March’s Blog Carnival of Mental Health. The theme this month is relationships.

From Mental Fool, we have Relationships and Rejection (CBT 1), where she relays what happened during her CBT session about how she deals with rejection within her relationships with people.

I have a tendency to look up to certain people and idolize them to the extent that no one else matters and no one else’s opinion matters.  I do it with most of the people in my life, but there is usually that one person who stands above the rest and they are god.

From Astrid et al of A Multitude of Musings, we have DID, Trust and the Therapeutic Relationship, where Astrid talks about trust and DID affects her ability to develop professional relationships with therapists.

It took me more than half a year after that before one of my parts dared to ask to be allowed at front in therapy. She was, ironically, Jane, one of my most mistrusting parts. From then on, we all trusted the therapist enough to ask her if we could come forward.

From Sharon of After Gadget, we have Service Dog for Body and Mind: A New Skill, where she talks about how MCS, chronic Lyme and other tick-borne diseases impacted her mental health and her relationships with people and her service animal partners, and her journey in training her service animal partners for psychological comfort and support.

My saving grace was Gadget. He was always his same, normal, doggy self, and he didn’t seem bothered by my moods. When I was suicidal and had convinced myself that I was a burden to everyone, that they would be relieved if I died, I reminded myself that I was not a burden to Gadget, that he needed me as much as I needed him. I told myself that I had to stick around for him.

And then my own post, Kinky Disability: This Dangerous Line I Walk, where I talk about my journey in reclaiming sexual relationships through BDSM and how that’s been impacted by DID and sexual abuse and assault.

In my particular journey, I explored age regression and AB/DL in-depth because I could feel its connection to me at my core, though I didn’t know why. It gave me a reason to grow comfortable with this aspect of myself that I had been ignoring for so long, not even aware that it existed although it appeared for others that made me aware later.

Make sure to make note of upcoming carnival announcements! Looking forward to seeing next month’s!