They say that if you think you've gone insane, then you are probably sane having had the thought to begin with. But what if after 36 years of visions, voices, manic creativity, and flights of fancy that you believed to be "you" turned out to be what doctors are calling schizophrenia? How would you have separated that which is your experience every moment, having known no other, from that which is termed sane reality? This is my purgatory.
Having come to terms with my logic, having always been slightly off that of the average person, and seeing these things that I think and feel in the light of a chemical disease, I am not sure that I am a better person for it. I have refused medication at this point, knowing that my functioning levels are high. In this society where everything needs a scientific label, a categorization that allows us to deal with an idea through a further categorized system of language, I am reduced to a chemical process that causes patterns of thinking. In olden times (not that I was there per se) the visionary was termed an artist, a dreamer, an eccentric.
When I first began telling people that I believe I may be schizophrenic, the general consensus was that I was "ok." That I was and have always been different, a melancholic artist who sees the world through different glasses. I laughed, because even though their view was just as valid, even how I learned of my schizophrenia was by following one of my insane visionary trails down the rabbit hole!
I wanted to write a book about a serial killer who got away written from his point of view. In my vision the killer is a paranoid schizophrenic whose particular paranoia centers around religious themes. I study esoteric subjects, and had been reading Alexandro Jodorowsky's book on the Tarot. While describing The Hermit, I came to realize that the energy behind the image had parallels to the story of the temptation of Saint Anthony. A man, who believes he is touched by God or entrusted with something sacred, must hide in the wilderness away from those who wish to harm him or cause him to sin. Whether real or delusional, the man believes this to the point of complete isolation. I imagined this man in modern times, and realized that this is schizophrenia. I have a friend who has been officially diagnosed, and have worked with low functioning schizophrenics briefly in a work capacity. I began researching the specific visions and delusions through reading books and articles about schizophrenia in order to build up my characters profile and possible motives for my book.
And there, in proverbial black and white, was my schizophrenia. All those thoughts and beliefs that I had held dear, those experiences that had enriched my life, and the battles with depression mixed with manic creative euphoria, were reduced to a word, an idea, a scientific certainty that can be "controlled." I didn't know I needed controlling, but worse, I didn't ever want to know that I wasn't special. I want to believe that I am unique, and yes, touched by God, in a way that allows me to glimpse a world most don't even dream about.
They say that eventually if untreated that the odds are that I will be hospitalized at least once in my lifetime for this "disease." Before I am modified, I would like to share my world with you, even if just for a little while. I am not a champion for changing hearts and minds about the negative perceptions of schizophrenics. I am only an artist, a dreamer, and a visionary.
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