I’ve had my medication changed.
It’s not a big deal in the big picture, meaning that life goes on no matter what medication I’m on, and that from one medication status to another I’m presented with the same external situations and challenges. But, in the small pictures, it can be a huge change.
We keep lowering my Lamictal. This is because, according to the nurse practitioner, I was on a non-approved dosage (higher) than should be encountered with my condition. We’ve been reducing for months now, very slowly. At first it was 100 mg, and then it was 50 mg. Now, this last week, it was 50 mg again. She told me that her goal eventually was to not have me on Lamictal at all. She considers it a somewhat unnecessary medication at the moment, in the long run.
I’m okay with this, but it doesn’t occur without it’s own problems. The reduction in Lamictal is meant to reduce some effects on the brain such as ‘fuzziness,’ memory, and creativity. Captain was talking to me one day about the effects of medications on individuals, and how she knows that there are some individuals who feel, after taking certain medication long term, more stupid. Yes! I have felt this same way, and when I was on a really high dosage of Lamictal, now that I think about it I had extreme difficulty thinking abstractly. At the time it was a huge combination of factors, but I believe, and suspected then, that the medication was part of it. The reduction of hindering effects is a positive.
But there is a negative. The first two reductions enabled me to have more ‘feelings’, at least that’s what I considered them. Ever since I got ‘better’ I’ve noticed more and more that I don’t really feel anything. As a case in point, I seem to have lost the ability and responsiveness to cry. I don’t know if this is purely psychological, or also related some to medication, but I don’t seem to be able to cry anymore. Perhaps not feeling anything was part of why I got better? But the thing is, not feeling anything can get kind of dull and lonely.
With the first reduction I gained the ability back to feel a sense of emotional continuity. This is good, as I’ve professed to Maus before that I’m always feeling something all the time, or at least that I used to. Emotional continuity allows me to more position the events in my life in a certain psychological narrative, which is useful. It allows me to see the world in a richer sense, interpreting my reality with an inner texture. This is all well and good, when the feeling is good.
But what happens when it’s bad?
I’ve been reading a lot lately, I go through these bouts where I read a ton. However, I’ve been doing something a bit different than I have in the past. Instead of focusing on one particular book and then intensely reading it cover to cover all in ‘one go’ so to speak, I’ve been picking up various different books and reading each of them a part at a time. Whenever I get tired of reading one, which I used to do but plugged on, I just read another one. This has actually improved my appreciation of topics and lets my brain exercise better. I also think that I read about more things and topics faster.
In my dreams I have encountered three books. I know what the first book is, and it actually existed in my life. I tend to regard it as the only book I’ve ever encountered that is actually evil in and of itself. I don’t normally hold this opinion, I believe words, books, etc. are morally neutral, seeing as they aren’t alive. Anyone can read them, and act in any way; disbelieving, believing, using, ignoring, etc. Books in themselves don’t have intrinsic moral qualities, much like any other ‘inanimate’ object in our physical existence. This book does. I won’t even write what it is, because I don’t want the book to inflict itsef upon anyone else. It is the only book I literally threw away, even, if I had a place for it I would’ve burned it.
I read this book when I was a young child, and honestly I believe it is one of the external magnifiers and exacerbating elements in my naturally formed disturbance.
The other two books, I’ve read some of them and know what some of them are in my dreams, but I can never hold on to them. I have no idea what they are, and I’ve never encountered them in my current life up until now. All I know is that they are counterpart to the original book of evil.
I read a book recently about how to recover from a certain type of abuse. I did this at about the same time as the latest medication reduction. Turns out, that wasn’t exactly the best timing.
I believe that either myself, or maybe even a different fragment of my entity, experienced something so horrible to my/our psyche that indelibly fastened the already natural tendency towards disturbance as potentially permanent in my identity.
What do I mean by this disturbance? I’ve come to the realization that I am a disturbed individual. Now, that doesn’t excuse me from anything, my disturbance is my responsibility. Being disturbed means not working right. That the conventional mechanisms of psyche and personality are molested and function inappropriately, hindering further healthy development. I have no intentions of identifying with this disturbance, I do not proudly proclaim that I am deserving because I have Borderline Personality Disorder. If I found joy in my disturbance, I wouldn’t be disturbed, that’s the point. I’ve realized that there are elements to my emotional landscape, to my personal expectations, to my natural tendencies, to my setting of boundaries, that of ‘thought intrusion’, that of obsessional thinking, and ultimately of transformation, that don’t work right. I know that everybody is different, and I’m not saying that I’m special-different; that doesn’t really matter, it’s really a matter of hindrance. You can have any emotional reaction to a stimuli that you want, but when it hinders your ability to function responsibly then it’s a problem.
I read this book in the hopes of possibly gaining further understanding of one aspect of my condition, as well as perhaps helping me see how it can be further expressed artistically. These are fine goals.
It’s possible that this aspect of my condition happened to me and I have completely dissociated it to the point that I can’t even remember it. I have dissociated before, pretty badly (lost weight, couldn’t exist physically in my head, couldn’t watch TV because it would mess with my thought processes, couldn’t maintain a train of thought outside of a conversation, and was eventually hospitalized), and so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. However, it’s also possible that something of this nature only happened psychically; that in my realm of past possibilities, this was a possibility so strong that it ‘bled out’ to everything else.
This book brought up a lot of emotional struggle and emotional problems that I’ve encountered in the past, particularly when I was really really ill and couldn’t take care of myself. But the problem is, I don’t know where they come from. I don’t have any definite place to stay, “This is where they come from.” Was it when I was watching the adult channels (like HBO, not really pornographic) at 3 in the morning when I was nine? Was it when I read the book of evil? Was it when I could’ve been the abuser?
Is this bleak pain guilt? At one point in my life I believe that I was the abuser, even though this possibility has disappeared into the obscure annals of time. Do I feel guilty for not feeling guilt about what maybe happened, that I’m entirely ambivalent towards it, or in fact, even the tiniest entertainment of it’s empowerment in any shape or form?
That in some ways, some part of me is this monster that doesn’t care, is this helpless puppet set to reenact the passion play over and over emotionally with no resolution until I die?
I’ve been reading more Seth, I’ve finished Seth Speaks, and The Nature of Personal Reality, and it’s a good read. I’m working on The Seth Material now (the first Seth book before the official series). He communicates that violence comes from powerlessness. That when people are violent, it is because they sense they are truly powerless. When people do ‘bad’ things, like steal, aggress, kill, or abuse it is in some way due to powerlessness, even if the release is enjoyable. It is an interesting idea.
This place of fragile monstrosity is a hard place to be in, and its a somewhat lonely place to be sometimes. The book I read told of the therapeutic reality of being able to get something off your chest. To be able to tell people something, and in that, find it objectified, codified, and put-away-able. Maybe, this is the first step to putting it all away.
I’m feeling better today, but for several days I found myself in an almost total reboot. I was having trouble focusing on anything, and finding value in anything. All I could think about was painful stuff. And I was sad. And I wanted to cry… but I can’t cry anymore.
That’s why I’m titling this entry a remaster. Because, in a certain way it is. I got distracted by a lot of negativity and pain to the point that I was lying in bed, letting the cool air run over my body so that I didn’t transform. I don’t want to go to the hospital, I don’t belong there right now, but at the same time I feel like that’s where I could go to be safe. This only means that I need to remaster my life. Take a bit and figure some stuff out, let myself heal.
I have something lodged in my ear that I think I inadvertently pushed in there this evening. Now it’s stuck near my ear drum and muffling all the sound coming in from the left side. I’ve tried to wash it out, both with water and with a foaming solution, but to no avail for now. It’s a pain too, because we were scheduled to see Civil War with Captain. Unfortunately, Captain couldn’t make it, which was as well because we ended up going late after dealing with this ear thing. At the end of it I turned to Maus and said, “And that’s how you do Batman vs. Superman.”
Honestly, if they could’ve put as much content and dynamics in Batman v Superman as they did in Civil War, they would’ve had an amazing movie. But, all I can think of is… “Martha!!!”
In other news, I finished my art project. It was the giant Willy I wrote of before. I posted a pic on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook, but I don’t have access to it right now to put here in the blog. It’s HUGE! Like serious artist huge. It’s 96″ by 48″. It’s too big to display in our apartment! It took days to sort through 100 hours of video, about 225 pictures, and 6 bottles of glue, but I got ‘er done!
I also consider this post a bit of a reboot, to fit in line with the remaster, in that I’m wiping the slate clean with what I haven’t posted. This means I won’t feel like I have a giant back log of stuff that I have to get to the screen. What’s ‘lost’ is lost, but I can move forward with more great amazing things!
I’m learning to program in Prolog. It’s fascinating! And, I see how it can be used for knowledge representation and reasoning in an artificially intelligent system.
I’ve decided I want to make everything in my life. I want to make a game, I want to write a story, I want to draw a comic, I want to learn how to compose, I want to build a robot. I want to DO IT ALL! But, alas, you can’t do it all at one time, instantaneously.
You just have to take it one day at a time.