Reflections, Stories...

“In case of emergency…”

The sound of shattering glass brought him to full consciousness at last, feeling like a punch to the guts. In the confusion that followed such breathlessness, Thomas noticed his own hand hovering above the red handle, so recently shielded. Without further hesitation he closed the gap, bloodied knuckles capturing his complete attention as he pulled the red lever down…

Glancing anxiously about, he steeled himself to the decibels of repeating alert he had sounded. “Where is the fire?,” he asked himself. “I should be smelling smoke by now!”

Doors began opening down the empty hall; people began pouring out. Like worker drones abandoning the hive, they moved with one will to get outside. Caught up in the crowd, Thomas followed along; not thinking he might have another choice right now. Until he was free of the building and thought to turn back, expecting to see flames or a column of smoke…

But there was none…

Nothing…

Not a light in the sky, nor a cloud on the horizon. Just placid non-expressions standing all around him. “But what?…. But why?…,” he tried hard to remember. But there was nothing there to ignite recognition.

Not a spark, nor a flash. Not a boom, nor a whisper. Not a single clue presented itself to bear witness. “Why would I set off the fire alarm?,” he desperately questioned. But no answer came, other than the incessant din…

That urgent rhythm, that repeating ring… Like a heartbeat on steroids, or anxiety without treatment. Panic settled in as delusions often do, in a misplaced attempt to make sense where sense isn’t. “There must be a reason! I wouldn’t just… react?” No certainty, either, in this place without facts…

“In case of emergencies,…” he remembered reading the words.

“Ahh…. No fire, then,” he breathed his relief through his horror, surrounded by death and deafness in this world. And settling in to the mindlessness around him, Thomas surrendered his consciousness once more…

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Reflections

Empathy Breeds Sympathy? Not Necessarily…

So… I have a friend. She’s very much like I was when I was young. Full of life, seeking adventure, incredibly empathetic, and bat shit crazy! She does things that make sane people absolutely nuts. And then backs it up with acts of kindness so generous, you’re almost willing to forgive her. Almost…

To be fair, she’s had a rough year. Which kind of followed on the heels of another rough year. I mean last year she had a prolonged and erratic break-up to process, which had forced her to go home and live with her parents as an adult. And that was a storm of its own; needing them but resenting them every single day. So none of that can be discounted, especially when considering she already had a laundry list of mental illness diagnoses, with their associated treatment regiments that she might, or might not, follow at any given time…

Then this year her mother died of the Covid, early on, during the first lockdown. Middle aged and usually healthy, no one even suspected the infection, believing her dizzy spells had more to do with the concussion she’d suffered during a fall while cleaning the bathtub. And even though an ambulance had eventually been called, mom refused to go in it; she locked herself in the bathroom insisting she’d get sick at the hospital if they took her. Two days later she died. At home. Covid was confirmed. She couldn’t breathe…

Now my friend is locked down in her family home, quarantined with her grieving father, unable to make funeral arrangements, seek counsel, or properly grieve herself, while trying to figure out the family finances, etc., as her father clearly couldn’t. Her father eventually had to be hospitalized himself. Suicide attempt. Completely unhinged from reality. Unable to care for himself, much less anything else. And so began her journey of parent care, during a pandemic lockdown, with a recalcitrant patient. And her own issues unaddressed…

So she coped. Alcohol, a return to smoking, drugs if she could come across them (I suspect her mother had a stash). Then the hospital booted her father home, the lockdown ended, and she was expected to return to work. She tried. And failed. Apparently work was that one more thing, that final straw that broke this poor camel’s back. Tragic, really! And understandable that she couldn’t quite pull herself together. She had family leave available to help when the regular paychecks ended, and the freedom now to get out amongst others. Including drug users and dealers, and mental health practitioners (on virtual visits for safety, of course) only too willing to help her manage her anxiety.

Eventually the family leave ended, resources began to dry up, and the sheer necessity of returning to work took center stage. So now, she’s back in my world…

Enter the post-lockdown cast of characters she must now deal with 5 days a week. There’s the supervisor (and best friend outside work) who lost her father during the quarantine; she’s dealing with the loss of a parent while helping her mom process through it, all while catering to her mom’s near paranoid anxiety about the virus. And the co-worker (sometimes outside work social friend) whose partner had a massive manic, paranoid meltdown during or following the shutdown; she’s trying to manage the resultant financial crisis while barely holding on to the man who is actively and brutally trying to push her away, all while managing her own (previously diagnosed) anxiety issues. And there’s me; I know this young lady almost as well as I know myself, watching her through eyes blinded by my own history. She doesn’t have much to say to me, though we were friends once, but then, she doesn’t really like what I have to say to her…

And work is simply too much to expect from this child-adult. All she wants to do is throw in the towel, give up, escape (responsibility in all shapes and forms). Completely understandable. But “wrong” nonetheless. And she is torturing these other women – demanding “help” while refusing to accept it, crying wolf when it’s easier than dealing with what’s in front of her, expecting everyone to indulge her instability in the name of sympathy (or empathy), while allowing them to pick up her slack. And they do. Until they can’t anymore…

And management finally catches up to her, and calls her out. The late arrivals (hours, usually, and every day). The emotional meltdowns in a retail environment. The physical uselessness that comes with being over-medicated on the job. They ask how they can help her through this while minimizing the harm to their business. She starts screaming bloody murder. And quits…

Now she wants unemployment. She wants independent contractor covid assistance. She wants medicaid. She wants…

But she’s not entitled to any of it… She’s alone in her head, refusing to acknowledge the consequences of her own actions. It sounds incredibly familiar. In so many ways…

I want to feel sorry for her. Better yet, I’d like to find some compassion in my heart. But I have none. I have only my memories of being her, and an understanding (based solely on my own experience) of how it must play out. I choose to step away from such toxicity, understanding that nothing I do will fix her, or her situation; that she can only do herself. I refuse to be manipulated…

And these are the confessions of a late 2020 empath – inglorious, unkind, uncompassionate. Living in a much smaller world of my own choosing. I have nothing left to offer the outside world; life has mostly become a spectator sport.

Entertainment in the current age. Sad, isn’t it?

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Reflections

Laughing at myself today…

… but not out loud, I’m afraid.

Not sure why, really, unless it’s just that – I’m afraid. Afraid, but not fearful. Is there even a true distinction between the two? I don’t know, but my internal vocabulary coach seems to think there is. At least for today, anyway…

I’m laughing at myself today because I cannot name my own feelings. Me?! The person who frequently preaches the need to expand our emotional vocabulary? The person who believes that accurately identifying such feelings lead naturally to resolving the foundations of them? Me?! Seriously?!

Oh yeah… Dead serious. I’m playing the cop-out game today: tired, numb, depressed(?), apathetic, detached, unmotivated, peaceful, still, nonreactive… They all feel the same to me. L, but not OL…

Change is happening. Necessary. Wanted. Expected. Hoped for. But not happy making… L, but not OL…

I am exactly where I want to be. But I am restless in the extreme. So long as I don’t have to physically move, that is… L, but not OL…

I can feel the creative impetus stirring deep within, rising up as pure potential waiting to be formed and shaped into something shareable. A cauldron boiling, glimpses of possibilities in clouds of steam, liquid manifestation just reaching the lip, poised to spill upon the world. But it is nothing attempting to influence nothingness… L, but not OL…

I am complete. My true, authentic self. Yet I am completely empty inside… L, but not OL…

How is this even real?

How can it even be real?

But if it’s not real, then that laughter echoing in silence is nothing more than madness. Perhaps that is why I am afraid…?

Laughing at my self today. But not out loud, I’m afraid…

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Reflections

Permission to Cry…

So often we are told, from youth through adulthood, to “suck it up!” To “deal with it!” To “feel it and move on…” And I get that. I get why that needs to happen. We cannot live our lives, meet our responsibilities, or accomplish our goals if we indulge too frequently in moments of unproductive emotional excess.

But sometimes…

Sometimes, I think, we need that time to express that pent-up emotional excess. And for me, today is that day.

There is nothing specifically “wrong” today (that hasn’t been wrong every other day this week). There is nothing unusual about the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the disappointment, the regret… There is no ebbing or deepening of the waves of loneliness, hatred (toward self or others), injustice, or suffering washing over me from countless others coexisting in this world.

In simple terms, today is just another day…

But as the cold rain spills down outside, as I contemplate another seemingly endless day of discomfort followed by a night too short on pleasant dreams, I hear these words echoing softly in my brain:

“You can cry. It’s ok. If you need permission, consider it granted. Cry at will. Indulge your tears. All will be waiting for you when you are done, exactly as it was before you started…”

So…

If any of you are also feeling this need, please consider this post as your permission to cry as well…

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Essay, Reflections

A Schizophrenic’s Guide to Navigating Through “Alternative Facts”

NOTE (TRIGGER WARNING): this post is intended as satire, for those unsure how to react, but like most satire, it is firmly founded on kernels of truth…  I only mention this because I know that many who follow this blog (whether they read its content regularly or not) are, or have in the past, dealt intimately with mental illness.  I am NOT mocking you, or your struggles; rather I am mocking a world where such “illness” has become the “norm” now…

You know, given the state of the world these days, I’ve discovered that many of my past ramblings have taken on new context.  I mean, “What is Real?” after all?  Are there still baseline, foundational “facts” to support a shared reality?  Are we still living in a consensually constructed world with recognizable, even “provable” laws existing independently of (or in spite of) individuals’ preferences?

I keep hearing the musical intro from Rod Sterling’s (or is it Serling now?) Twilight Zone running through my head, as every day brings new disillusionment to light.  What with the White House and their followers’ reliance upon “alternative facts” to explain away their disappointments, and the current onslaught of diametrically opposed “fake news” stories, coupled with a rousing call for “fact checking” everyone and everything (still with no agreements, by the way), it would appear that “reality” has become quite malleable and personal.  And no two versions of it are quite the same…

So…  Acknowledging this state of uncertainty as the new “norm,” I’ve decided to offer you all the “wisdom” of my experience as a functional schizophrenic in a formerly consensus based reality.  My qualifications are easy to fact check (if you know where to look), as I was diagnosed a “paranoid” schizophrenic some 37 years ago or so, and have been living side-by-side with “sane” people in society (whether they knew it or not) for all that time, institution and medication free for the last 32 years of it or so.

I know what it is to have “weird” experiences, to sense shifts in reality that no one else seems to notice, to feel ungrounded and free flowing in a world that prides itself on its gravity and solid structures.  I understand the sudden panic that threatens when the people around you are discussing something seriously, all in alignment, and everything within you cries out “what the f**k are they talking about?!  Do they honestly believe what they’re saying?!”  I have felt that deep sense of disorientation that occurs when something “not right” happens, or keeps happening, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming it all…

And yes, I know the pressures of trying to “fit in,” of being the proverbial round peg trying to get comfortable in a square hole (this version more accurately describes my experience than the traditional analogy).  Because I have no trouble pretending to be “normal,” most of the time anyway, but it becomes so uncomfortable over the long run, that I frequently revert to my own ways, just to alleviate the bruising that occurs getting banged around in an irrational, unfriendly reality.  And I certainly know the frustration that happens when you try to convince others of your truth, when they are neither interested in, nor willing to consider, a different perspective.  (There’s a reason schizophrenics get violent, and most often it is borne of this very frustration, and the labels the “norms” impose on us to explain our insistence in defending our point of view; think “paranoia” here.)

So…  Please accept the following guidelines (yes – suggestions, not demands) in the spirit in which they are offered: as an attempt to promote peaceful interactions in a world where no one can agree on the simplest or most basic “facts” defining “reality.”

Guideline #1:  There are no such things as facts…

Let’s be real here, friends.  Facts are, by definition, data that is observed, measured, quantified and verified; in essence they are empirically based truths.  But even someone with the most crude understanding of quantum mechanics (like myself) knows that the mere act of observing anything alters it, even creates it.  Therefore, there logically can be no “true facts,” only biased, expectation-driven observations that amount to little more than opinion.  Accept that, and some of your cognitive dissonance should ease…

Guideline #2:  Don’t argue opinions!

Opinions are based on belief, and belief requires no proof.  Therefore, no proof exists that can alter someone else’s opinion.  It’s simple, really.  Accept that each of us lives in our own version of reality, and that, while some overlap (shared beliefs) are to be expected and exploited, it is neither necessary, nor helpful, to try to force expansion of that overlap; identify the commonalities and focus on those.

Example:  Try commenting on the weather when first engaging someone else, or the color of the sky (“wow, that’s the bluest sky, I think I’ve ever seen!”)  Then watch for reactions.  If the person agrees, feel free to move the conversation forward, in slow, testing steps.  If they look around, confused, or stare at you like you have two heads, wish them a good day and move on; you clearly do not share enough reality overlap to converse!  Feel free to move on at any point in the conversation where your realities begin to substantially diverge; it is the kindest and “sanest” thing you can do.

Guideline #3:  Flexibility and balance are going to prove much more useful to you than strength; work on developing them.

Remember that your reality is yours; own it but don’t bemoan it.  The same is true of everyone else.  To maintain a sense of sanity in a world where no two realities overlap completely, you must be able to dance and dodge effectively.  You can actually learn a lot from listening to Others’ versions, but only if you retain your sense of self.  It’s a balancing act.

A good rule of thumb to keep in mind is this: Insistence breeds Conviction which leads to Resistance, the hallmark of Affliction, the spawn of Conflict(tion? – lol!)…  In other words, stubbornness creates unnecessary conflict (see Guidelines #1 and #2)…

Guideline #4: Value is defined by usefulness rather than “right-ness”…

In a world where reality shifts and founders, and consensus leaches away more each day, the very concept of “right” and “wrong” alters.  Keep in mind that these people doing or saying incomprehensible (to you) things are NOT sharing the same reality as you; that very incomprehensibilty tells you that.  Take comfort in that knowledge.  And understand that there is still some value to be had in observing and/or interacting with them.

Because our realities are self-defined, it is easy to trap ourselves, to get stuck in a self-perpetuating loop.  Allowing yourself to be open to other possibilities (available only by interacting with Others), gives you opportunities to devise new pathways and understandings.  These are necessary to grow your reality in new directions.  Unless, of course, you prefer to just keep spinning that hamster wheel of yours…

Guideline #5: The absolutely most important tool in your toolbox is a sense of humor!

Illusion occurs when you are convinced that something is “real” when it isn’t, even for you.  Delusion is what everyone else believes to be true when it doesn’t coincide with your own point of view.  So when someone accuses you of being delusional, it is most likely true (no need to argue about it – see Guideline #2).  But that accusation is all the “proof” you need that they are as delusional as you!

Even two (or more) diagnosed schizophrenics cannot understand each other’s delusions; what we can do is be kind to each other, listen to each other’s point of view, and celebrate the uniqueness of our personal experiences.

Often times, I’ve found, the very best medicine is a good laugh, not in mockery of others, but in a shared understanding of the irony and absurdity of trying to co-exist in a world where we cannot agree on the simplest of observations.  But that truly is the beauty of this existence in the end; so many possibilities to explore, so limited our time to do so.  Thank goodness there are so many Others to explore the paths I cannot travel myself!

That is how we help each other – love and respect.  Nothing else truly matters in the end, as none of it is factually real after all…

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Poetry, Reflections

“Peace…”

Peace arrives on silent, soft-tipped wings…

Not the flight of Doves this time,

but the nocturnal journey of Owl.

For there is wisdom to be gained,

and treasures to be sought

in the times when others sleep.

And I have travelled much too far,

and sacrificed too much

to come away with naught…

So, sitting here in early morn,

all birds silent but the Crow

my late-night labors left behind,

my Being feeling Whole…

And peace settles all around me,

deep within each pore,

knowing I have done all I could,

and should,

and Time requires nothing more…

***

May such peace find you all this day…

 

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Reflections

Mixed Messages…

People I deeply respect have told me quite frequently in recent months that emotions are a crutch, a delusion, and detrimental to my soul’s growth into self-empowerment…

More recently, and coming from multiple sources, has been the message that we are vibrational beings living in a vibrational universe, and that our emotions are our best, and most accurate, interpreters of those vibrations…

So…  Today I wake feeling a heavy burden of Grief, complete with its related emotional states of sadness, irritability, hopelessness, and fatigue, with a repeated message that I’m in some sort of Denial about something…  But I cannot find a single “reason” for me to feel this way…

Question: Am I deluding myself by acknowledging these melancholy feelings and granting them significance, or am I deluding myself by saying they’re just feelings that can, and should be, ignored?

Addendum:  The question asked is mostly rhetorical, and has more to do with exploring our perceptions and how we define “truth” in our mundane existence.  Experience tells me that in a dilemma such as this, one of two things will occur: either events will unfold in such a way that a valid “reason” for these feelings will manifest, proving they were accurate, albeit caused by some unknown (as yet) trigger; or the feelings will pass without consequence, becoming no more than a “mood” swing I am glad to let go of.

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