Diary of a Mad Man – Living with mental illness

“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” ― Aristotle

sagennext

They said to me, “Walk!”. My feet wouldn’t move, frozen by the accident. Appendages that are normally useful, mobile, and independent, I drag them along, taking care that I don’t injure them. The accident, as I call it, was not an accident, but a purposeful intended act, inspired by lust and hate. What they did to me I cannot tell, the acts so horrific. Regardless of the details of their brutal incursion, what I was left with is a handicap, one of the mind, not the body. Having to make do with a shredded normality, crawling through my life, instead of walking, never able to run. What was taken for granted, now became a challenge for me. While others run, leap, climb, and move about with impunity to mental mobility. I must develop new ways, ways that hurt, ways that require intense concentration, intense discipline. Still they taunt me, “get up and walk”, “why can’t you just be like the rest of us”. They can’t see I’m disabled, bound by forces that were neither chosen, nor desired, but forced on me in a cruel and harsh manner.


My injury cannot be seen, my useless legs are a shattered self-esteem, a mind crippled from ever thinking in a sane manner again. Insanity, psychosis, visions, voices, nightmares, self-deprecating thoughts, and accusations invade my every waking moment. Perceptions of reality and fantasy mix together, making the deciphering of fact and fiction a huge effort in itself. All day, every day, I roll around in a mental wheelchair, like one with paralyzed legs, committed to implements of bothersome necessity. I watch the heads wag, “Tsk, tsk. Quit being a pansy, just get up and walk”. Damn it! Can’t you see I can’t freaking walk? Can’t you see that it takes me longer to do normal things? I must make preparations for the ordinary, that which you do without an effort takes me great pains to produce, to perform, to succeed.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m a success and exceedingly happy, and in these I’ll continue, but the insensitivity of others upsets me. Refusing patience with, or acceptance of the fact, that I’m not like them. I cannot get up in the morning and be without fear, I cannot go into a crowd and relax, I cannot be in the dark. Paranoia haunts me, I sense conspiracies coming from everyone, from everything. Shame burns in me, flushing my cheeks at the least exposure of my faults or idiosyncrasies. My mind races with thousands of thoughts a minute, deep thoughts, all of them.

I ask for no special treatment, just for a bit of patience with me as you accompany me on my journey through this world. Please, not only with me, but with the many others afflicted in a like manner, be sure you understand that although the pain of mental illness is not visible, it does handicap us from doing things in a normal manner. Be patient with crazy people, we really are cool, even if it takes us awhile to work our way through the battlefields of life.

Also published in Broowaha

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All In – Reasons why I bet it all

“The value of a man resides in what he gives and not in what he is capable of receiving.” Albert Einstein

 pewpewlazerz

 You mock me when I place my whole being on a relationship you believe is a total loss. Let me tell you why I place all my chips on this roll of the dice…
I see the beauty overlooked by hasty and careless lovers

I see the hope in her intelligence, which she hid because she was told to be seen and not heard

I see the potential in her crazy wild rebellion, it chases the common fools away

I see the wonder in mischievous eyes, her wildness never tamed

I see the strength born from the violent men she has endured and survived

I see the determination to never give up, though the world laughs at her struggle

I see the passion that only a woman of character and spiritual vitality can bring

I see the scars that others gave her, trying to mar the beauty she wouldn’t give

I see the ravages that nature gave trying to lash her to the grave

I see the marvel of a woman, a companion, and a warrior by my side.

A woman, pure and undefiled, strong and wise, passionate and tender deserving of my gamble for the privilege to stand by her.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine




My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn youre there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you Id be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you wont listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.

My Worst Enemy – Self deprecation

“All the shitty stuff people do to themselves… it can all be the same thing, you know? Just a way to drown out your own voice. 
To kill your memories without having to kill yourself.” – Isaac Marion, Warm Bodies

Giggling, you see me. I was hiding and you found me, again. I ran but you took a short cut and found me. I yelled but you hid and wouldn’t let anyone see you. They say I’m crazy now. You always hide when I tell someone about you. You tormented me most of my life. At every turn youre there to talk your crap about me. Your sure to tell me what negative thing someone else is thinking about me, you won’t even give them a chance to say it first. You hurt me more than anyone I know. I finally gave up running and you found other ways to torment me. You love the chase. I partied so hard trying to get rid of you, I nearly died. I lost everything, all trying to hide from you. The times you beat me, I just cant count them. I relied on you to help me many, many times. You always let me down, and left me to my own escapes: drugs, parties, sex, and music. Damn if I could just live without you Id be better off. Quit talking to me, quit stealing my dreams, quit trying to make me feel guilty. Just quit it! I’m tired of you, get out of my life. But you wont listen, you just hide, waiting for the chance to shoot me in the foot again, then laugh as you see me trying to pick myself up. I know you well, my enemy. I know you well because you are me.