I am a bit worried this post may set the cat amongst the pigeons – indeed, I asked permission from a family member if they would object to me putting a post up here about the subject I am going to write about. The subject of Mental Health is still a taboo subject and, in many cases, still an elephant in the room; mental health, there said it again. In this blog post, I intend to put into words and rationalise the emotions and sensations that have been keeping me down in this most recent episode of my head.

Things have taken a bit of a dip here at Chateaux Backhouse – I am worried my brain is turning in to something akin to a dystopian science fiction novel penned by Philip K. Dick. I have around the same level of paranoia as the aforementioned author; just slightly blunted by the good doctors I have seen.

At the minute, if you shake me; I rattle – I am on a lot of medication and feel bloated and on a continual comedown. Today, I’m vacant.

I do not know if you are familiar with Simulation Theory, Dear Reader. It is the belief that all that we inhabit is a simulation – an alternative reality to the core reality where your cells inhabit. Indeed there are an infinite number of simulations and an infinite number of outcomes. Last night I thought I inhabited my brother’s simulation. I thought his back was better and he had attained deserved recognition from his peer group, that he had enough of an income to keep a roof over his young family’s head and, should he so wish, he could go out and buy a CD with enough disposable income to get some fancy coffee on the way home. I was convinced of all of these things. I was convinced I died in China in 1999 from malaria and the sum of my existence was only in this reality; my brother’s simulation. This may seem like tripe – but for a good four hours, I was tilting at windmills. You can’t tell from the calm, measured fashion I just recounted last night – but – I was really climbing the walls.

The ‘alternate reality/simulation theory’ has been a long standing theme through my health (yes, it is a matter of health … Malaria or Schizophrenia or a reaction to anti-malaria medication (I was on Larium)).

This simulation theory was the crux of my spirituality. Even when I was bothering God, I could not shake the spiritual metaphor that “we are all but feather’s ‘pon the breath of God,” as attributed to Julian of Norwich. This feather is spiralling to the ground and needs some extra ‘puff.’ I do not know if this blip in health is because I have been neglecting my inner dramas. I admit I have been neglecting my spiritual side – and, “Man cannot live by bread alone.” Inherently, we are spiritual creatures – Do I need a constant trickle of crazy to keep the floodwater from smashing the levee? In other words; “Do I need to have a ‘Prayer life’ to stop the spikes in a psychosis?” I admit I am not in a position to get out of the house much at the minute, so heading off on a Spiritual Quest seems a bit too much (first thing I would need to do is shower …). But, what do I mean by ‘Prayer Life?” The begging of the Universe to forgive me eating all the pork pies? No, it will be a dialogue between me and what goes on in my head; as prescribed by a Doctor I saw back in 2010.

I would quote Aleister Crowley; something about creating your own system or being enslaved by another man’s. But, instead, the quote on this post will be ….

Love Is The Only Principle Which Makes Life Tolerable.

  • Aleister Crowley

And that is how I will ride this Blip out. I am grateful for the confused help I am receiving and I will try and be a nice person, despite what adversity and tortures my mind throws at me. I will offer my psychosis ‘cake’ and that generally shuts it up. If the hallucinations are happy then I do not think I will get a full-blown psychotic episode like I did last night.

Ensure a gentle trickle of crazy to stop the dam being breached.

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