Flirting With Insanity

Surrounding all of this was my getting involved in the mental health discussion groups on the Internet.  I scoured the mailing lists for some good schizophrenia, schizoaffective, bipolar, paranoid, and voice-hearer groups.  I found several good ones.  I picked three or four groups to work closely with.  I found most of the people were much more lost than I was.  Most of the people could relate to my problems and had some different coping pointers, and that was refreshing.  But there were a few people who had really good insight.   

One lady was very intelligent.  She was not schizophrenic, but dealt with many schizophrenics as a home-care agent.  Many of her clients were so intensely afflicted that they could not perform simple tasks.  She always had god advice for people dealing with symptoms, or dealing with loved ones who are affected,  She also was good with finding dosage suggestions, cross-medication complications, withdrawal rates and symptoms, and so on.  She originally was against psychotropic medication, but through years of her own personal research, she became pro-med.  This helped her credibility with me: that she did not just blindly accept medication as being the best solution.  She fought against it and felt she had to accept it as the best alternative, in spite of the downsides.   

We had lengthy discussions about the science behind the "illnesses" and the reasons these problems are believed to exist.  One thing we discussed scared me shitless, and still scares me, though I tend to ignore it now.  To put it simply, the symptoms that I experience - and usually enjoy - are a result of an over-excitement of brain cells in key areas.  Ultimately, the continued over-stimulation of these cells could cause their premature death, possibly dulling or disabling certain brain functions.  I could become a vegetable, or lose my ability to enjoy anything, or die young, or lose my memory, or many other possibilities.  Since my memory is so bad already, that was a stark realization for me.  She said a person can deteriorate very rapidly, and without apparent cause. 

My memory and ability to function seem to be worse after an episode of "joy", so this caused even more concern.  My memory affects every area of my life.  If I can't remember from one minute to the next, I can't do any job I have ever done, so I can't picture myself being productive.  Being productive is very important for me.  I very closely relate productivity with self-worth.  If I cannot earn an income, my self-esteem will plummet.  And, I am the type who would strongly consider suicide as a solution to my self-esteem problems, even though I know that is not a good choice.  

I wish I could bring myself to act on this, but I can't give up what I have.  I can't live in a box.  If medication makes me unable to enjoy life as much as I do now, so I can enjoy it a little more later, it is not worth it.  If the medication keeps me alive but miserable, it is not worth it.  If the medication causes me to lose bodily function so I can enjoy life mentally, it is not worth it.  The medications are still too experimental.  Taking the medication is no guarantee that I won't deteriorate just as fast.  And I have been in therapy way too long to volunteer for more therapy.  I want to live my life on my own, now.  I am done living in a box.  If that means life becomes unbearable by the time I am 50 as a result of my decision now, then so be it. 

Also, I am much too addicted to my "button" to give it up.  I recognize several traits in my attitude towards my ability to manufacture joy that are the same as the attitudes of hard-core drug users.  I can see myself making bad choices to keep my pleasure center.  If it cost money, I would gladly be broke to enjoy it, even though I am an extreme tightwad.

After processing things in mental health forums, I can see the trends in my paranoia (and all my other symptoms) much more clearly now.  It took facing it all head-on to see it so clearly.  I understand the reasons I am paranoid now, and mostly it comes down to feeling important.    A paranoid person "must be" important because someone is out to get them.  My paranoia pretty much went away when my wife placed me on a pedestal.  When times are tough, it comes back.

[ Home ] [ Resources ] [ My Story ] [ Search ] [ Feedback ] [ Whats New ] [ Opinions ]

Send mail to chronkyrios@comcast.net with questions or comments about this web site.
Last modified: March 21, 2004