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“All children see different shapes in the clouds. Some of us simply haven’t learned we’re not supposed to anymore.” -Anonymous
Let me unpeel the layers of my mind for you. Perhaps for the very last time, I’m saddened to say Because the tale I now unfold is complete and true From the time of my childhood until this very day
From very early in my youth I guess you could say I’ve seen things that aren’t there; or were they? It seemed my mind could create any vision, on land as well as in the sky that my brain would concoct at any given time. Like an overactive imagination set to eleven, car rides or excursions into the woods or visits to beaches weren’t mundane childhood and family pursuits. To me they were journeys to different worlds and times. Filled with sand castles and dragons, great spaceships made of cloud and forests that breathed and spoke as surely as I did.
Not all I saw seemed to be a benevolent creation of my own desires. Driving past the many farmlands where I grew up, head hanging from my mother’s station wagon like a happy dog, I would see images of tanks rolling over hilly fields. Pastures full of cows would become charnel plains of battle and fire. More detailed and horrid than my young mind should have been able to conjure, though I do admit to a prior enjoyment of the old war movies my father used to watch. These flash visions seemed so much more visceral than those movies should have produced.
This affected me in profoundly bad ways in my early schooling. Too many times friends and I would take a “short cut” through the woods to kindergarten, which would of course take us hours. I would stare out the window at my mind movies during early grammar school and nearly never complete homework due to similar distractions when I was home. My early handwriting and English skills, verbal and written, were so poor that my parents thought me possibly mentally challenged and sent me to some special institute in Montreal for some motor and comprehension tests.
The doctor’s assessment was basically that I did have some hand-eye coordination problems which was affecting my writing and attention span, but that I was actually reading at about a third grade level when I was six years old and had considerable intellectual potential, but would probably always have trouble with penmanship and basic balance and grace. He apparently suggested that my parents should get me a full time secretary to take dictation of whatever I might say. I took that as a compliment when I first heard it later in life from my mother.
I used the term “flash visions” because that’s the best way I can describe the state of my perception and they continue to this day. Sometimes they will be parts of dreams I’m just realizing I had. Other times intense feelings of deja vu where it seemed I would live a lifetime in my head in a matter of seconds as I passed places in my family’s travels that I couldn’t possibly have seen before. Some are horrible scenes of tragedy not known yet. I’ve watched loved ones die in a hundred different ways and indeed viewed the effects of my own demise from the point of view of others.
Before I ever took an illegal drug, and I’ve done my share, I’ve had intense experiences involving both sights and feelings that could only be considered “other worldly”. In my advancing age I try in vain to sort out what is actual memory or simply memories of hallucinations. Or even events completely created by my adult mind that are mingling with real childhood experiences. This is the fractured state I live in now.
And my imagination is still set at “eleven”. My mind works overtime to fill any empty spaces. Imagine, if you can, dreaming before you’re even asleep. I mean literally as soon as you close your eyes the images start. Some simply waves of color and fleeting pictures, and at other times scenes of such intensity and detail that it is impossible for your mind to slip into the REM sleep it should have to be in to even have these “pre-dreams”. I’ve had severe insomnia for much of my life because of this that thankfully has been cured to an extent with some medication. Mostly though that still entails staying up until I’m at a point of absolute exhaustion so I can go unconscious the second I hit that pillow.
Bedtime is not the only occurrence of these annoying sleepless dreams I have. Again I’ll refer to them as flash visions, but sometimes they last longer. I’ll go into an almost catatonic state, for usually no longer than a minute or so, and some scene will play out in my mind. Completely sucking me into the reality of it and yet I’m always also a “fly on the wall” observer of it all. Many times they’re simply conversations with people I intend on having, or perhaps it’s a dress rehearsal of it, but the problem with that is that my brain seems to log it as reality; as already having taken place, so many times I never remember to say what I wanted to the person in question. Other times they are people I don’t recognize, as are most of the people in my regular dreams, which is a whole other column in itself. This brings me to the next aspect of my particular kind of insanity: Absorption.
It seems my agoraphobia has increased in recent years because it started to feel like whenever I went among people I would be mentally assaulted by what I can only call their essences. Imagine entering a crowd of people and feeling a palpable physical discomfort just being around them. Like a cacophony of images and sounds filling an already jumbled mind with the raw energy of every life form around you. Senses go berserk and distant voices seem right next to you. The person talking to you is drowned out and their speech becomes gibberish. A clinking of a glass or the flick of a lighter can sound like a thunder clap and any conversation you have is lost to memory as soon as you speak the words. Names are impossible to remember if you shake hands with the person you’re meeting because the intensity of touch overrides your retention capabilities. Imagine being too afraid to look into someone’s eyes, even your own wife’s, for fear that you will be sucked into their eyes and absorb their very soul or they take a piece of yours.
Unfocused crowds are Hell. Emotions swirl around like wind and find me. Grief not my own incapacitates me and everyone I meet or even see for a moment haunts my memories and dreams from that point on sometimes even erasing my own to make space for these unwitting usurpers.
I now find it hard to grasp time or reality in any linear fashion. Strange faces and places float through my head. I see shadows walking on sunny streets attached to no one. Auras of energy surround all living beings and I always see them. I also hear the whispers of past and future things; my mind flashing from ancient ages where nothing human lives to future wastelands untold where nothing human lives. Not that I don’t love a good free movie, but I like to be in control of the DVD player.
So finally I’ve found someone to declare me “Officially Crazy”, which is tougher than you might think it would be. Believe me I still wish it weren’t so. I’ve obviously had depression issues along with the above mentioned symptoms, but until the recent therapist I’m seeing everyone else in the field I’ve seen was convinced I only had massive depressive disorder and possibly some anxiety issues (ya think?).
So my label on paper now is schizoaffective disorder, with an unhealthy mix of depression and anxiety of course, and sadly I must be “Officially Crazy” in order to get any continued help for it. I am, to my shame, pursuing disability for my condition because my wife simply can’t support us both and I’m simply not yet fit to work with other people in any constructive capacity. I’m not sure why I shared this with all of you except for the reasons I usually write which are for my own catharsis and, if possible to let a fellow “crazy” know they aren’t alone. If it helps to relieve some of the stigma of mental illness that even still exists here, that would be great too.
The bright side of my somewhat sad story is that I’ve been inspired by my own struggles and by some of the people I’ve met since starting down this long road of healing. When and if I do finally find a place of stability and peace before the fates take my body, I will probably be looking into going back to school to become a counselor of some kind. If there’s one thing I’ve learned that could be a potential boon of my “illness” it is my empathic tendencies, and in my opinion it would be the most good I could do with my remaining time if I could also help others like me. Thank you for your attention. -S
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