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#psychosis

I’ve been pacing around arguing with the voices, it usually doesn’t get loud, which I guess is odd? I’m often told I have to be loud. Most the time I can’t talk, but communicate in quiet words or just noises. I make a lot of sounds that aren’t words. I try so hard when talking to people, often I fail, or I can’t talk at all. But when in any conversation with them they usually respond to what I say. Some hate it but they’re less obvious. The ones I’ve been arguing with recently have been more aggressive about the world ending stuff, a couple more connected to my mind which tell me that their own worlds will end and I have to save them if I don’t go but also if I do, they’re so inconsistent. The regular ones feel like they’ve been picking on everything I do, they’re like an audience watching my every move, whispering about it, sometimes coming up to me and telling me, being rude, making me want to go sooner, even though it has to be right, if it isn’t right then the bad can happen, there are rules to this I must follow for some reason. I’ve also been hitting myself more, noticing times pass where i forget which world is meant to be real, where I forget no one sees them, where streets from one town lead to another even though that shouldn’t happen. It’s been a mess. I’ve found myself wondering looking at a road which leads to a park but that is hundreds of miles away, confused how I could believe that, but knowing it must be true.

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1/18/21


Tw: drug abuse, eating disorder, physical assault, bullying, child abuse, child neglect, violence, systematic abuse, mental hospitals, gaslighting, suicidal ideation, abortion mentioned


9th grade part 1


Around the beginning of the school year, which I was still spending in a residential facility, there was a riot. I really can’t remember what started it, but I remember that someone had been stabbed a few days prior and the person who had done it was in my house.


A fight broke out in the evening and she ran away, as did another few girls from our house. One girl jumped out of a window and ran down the road, later recounting that someone (the staff claimed a neighboring farmer) shot at her. A staff member got a ceramic planter thrown at her face, busting her cheekbone open. As chaos ensued, the staff ushered the rest of us from my house outside, into the oval.


With pretty much no supervision, and with another girls’ house and two of the boys’ dormitories similarly rioting, we started making our way around the campus wherever we wanted. A friend of mine led me over to the one boy’s house, where a few girls were trying to get in to talk to their boyfriends. The boys were in the windows and on the porch, generally getting worked up.


One of the boys said something to me, and I just casually laughed and flipped them off, saying “I don’t fucking know, dude, I’m just here for the show. ” He laughed back and it was fine.


For some reason, his girlfriend took this offensively, however, and got up in my face. She was screaming that I disrespected her man and she wanted to fight me. I really didn’t want to, but my heart was pumping. She started acting like she was going to hit me, so all 5'8" of me walked up to 5'0", 110 pounds of her and I blacked out as she hit me.


Though I don’t remember it, I locked my hands around her throat, crossed my fingertips, and squeezed. The girl I was with started trying to rip my hands off of her neck, and the girl I was choking desperately hit and scratched at my arms. Soon two male and one female staff members joined in trying to get my hands unlocked, as the other girl turned purple. They said I had no facial expression and that I wasn’t there, until my hands unlocked and I had a seizure as they dragged me away.


For weeks after, I begged to go back to a hospital. The girl I had attacked kept trying to go after me, and I didn’t try to stop her. I felt like I deserved to die, to be beaten up, whatever. I asked the staff to stop restraining her and let her just hit me. When the therapist screamed that she was going to have me arrested for attempted murder and tried as an adult, I told her that I would cooperate with the investigation and plea guilty.


My therapist told me that she thought that this was the sign that I was suffiently “broken” and I was ready for real treatment. I just stopped asking questions and agreed with her.


A few weeks later, another incident happened between myself and another girl and a male staff member, who was about 6'5" and had previously been in the military, decided to restrain me by himself instead of getting assistance. While dragging me out of the kitchen by my hands, he dislocated my right wrist. I panicked and tried to pull away in pain, and he grabbed me by both my wrists and lifted me up until my feet couldn’t touch the floor, slamming me into the wall.


Due to having lost almost 100 pounds by that point and not having access to new clothes, my pants and underwear fell to the floor in front of everyone. I started screaming and sobbing, and he dragged me pantsless into the time out room while calling for back up. When he threw me on the floor, I remembered the rule that all male staff had to leave if a female resident undressed, so I tore off my shirt, screaming “get the fuck out of the room! Female staff only, you rapist bitch!”


When it was just female staff and I was able to cover up with a blanket, I again begged them to send me back to a metal hospital. I told them that this place was making me worse. I was terrified of the staff hurting me and I knew that what was happening was wrong. I was told that it was just that I was too stupid to just obey, and that I was going to be on a 3 day punishment for taking my pants off in front of other kids and another 3 days after for accusing the staff member of being a rapist.


2 weeks later, the same staff member choke slammed a little boy into a brick wall, causing him to go into cardiac arrest and needing to be in the ICU for weeks. The staff sat down the entire house and said that this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t made him move houses, and that now, they had to spend time retraining on how to do restraints. They actually acted like it was my fault this dude attacked this other kid, and that it was hurting their job to learn how to not hurt children.


Around November, my therapist told me that my insurance company was refusing to pay for me to stay longer than a year, though “she had no idea why”, and that I was going to be discharged exactly one day before that year was up, which I begrudgingly accepted. I was honest with her that, while I certainly didn’t want to stay, I didn’t want to go home. I asked about other step down programs like I was offered in Allentown, and she told me that there was no step down in between.


I kept waiting, biding my time, and getting worse. By the time I finally got a new set of school clothes for when I would go home, my bra size was 34DD and my jeans were an 8. I was 135 pounds. I was doing heroin daily, and flipping shit on the rare occasions I was out, and Charlie would even occasionally drive past in his little blue Scion, since it was an alternate way between his house and his source in Baltimore, and since the living room window of my residence faced the road, it made me feel like someone cared.


Around Christmas, I had a day pass with my mom. It was a week before my big, 5-day Yule and Christmas break, and that was the last visit before I would go home. We were supposed to go do some more shopping for school clothes and Christmas gifts for family, but she wouldn’t talk to me. She just stared daggers at me and paid for whatever I picked. When we were in the car heading back, she started screaming at me all sorts of horrible shit.


“I don’t fucking know why I still visit you, or why I’m letting you come home. You look just like your father, that racist bastard. I should have aborted you and gone to law school then, you wasted so many years of my fucking life. I should have put you up for adoption, but nobody would have wanted you, even then. You really aren’t worth the child support, you’re just such a worthless fucking thing.”


When I got back to the residence, I just sat in a room with a few other girls and I just cried for hours. I started getting severely suicidal, but I just kept it to myself. The next day, I got a call that my mom was in a mental hospital because she was suicidal and had made a scene in front of her sister while giving my uncle her gun, claiming that she would kill herself if she kept it. She had also apparently relapsed, though she later said that “she smoked a joint and had a panic attack. ”


For about a week, I leaned on Calliope, and two girls from my residence, and I just tried to get comfortable with the idea of not going home. I actually realized that I didn’t want to go, because I was finally used to the way things worked there and home was worse. Calliope offered to sneak me out in a bag when she went home, and we exchanged Facebook and MySpace info to keep in touch.


Eventually, my grandparents agreed to take me over the holidays and I would go home with my mom after she left the hospital. The holiday visit was great and I got my lip repierced and did my upper ear. I visited my mom in the hospital and she apologized for saying so many awful things to me and agreed, finally, to take medications.


When I returned to the facility, I was met with a flu outbreak on campus. About half of the campus was quarantined in the on site chapel with fevers, but plenty of sick people who didn’t have 102° fevers or higher were still in the houses. It was only a few days before I got sick.


Due to my dysatonomy, I don’t get fevers and my normal temperature is around 96°, so while I was going through the hacking cough, vomiting, migraines, shakes, chills, and palor that came with the flu, I was expected to act normally. When my mom got out of the hospital, she visited me and saw how extremely sick I was and demanded that I be treated like everyone else who was sick. They told her to come get me, and discharged me a week before schedule.

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I finally got the discharging date! I’m so excited!! Its been 15 months of involuntarily hospitalisation and I’m finally stable enough to get discharged!!

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I was thinking about my weird psych shit and I thought it was something along the lines of schizophrenia but I had a real bad flashback and trigger last night for my ptsd and it’s possible that all this is coming from unprocessed trauma that my brain is finally not letting me ignore.

Either way I need therapy to find out and I’m too poor and paranoid for that so I guess we won’t figure it out until 3 breakdowns from now.

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I’m fucking losing my mind and no one really notices it. I don’t matter. I don’t matter. Honestly I never had mattered to anyone.

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Talk talk.

Post
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Day 3 on psychiatric ward.

I got my 2nd Abilify injection today which should stabilize me abit. I’ve heard voices and got Quetiapine and Levomepromazine for that twice today. My roommate braided my hair and we played cards for couple of hours.

Food here is okay, except todays broccoli soup. Waiting for evening medication and evening snack atm. Tomorrow I have a doctors appointment.

Thank you so much for all of you for sending support and cheering me on ❤️

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<div> —  Karl Stern, <i>The Third Revolution: A Study of Psychiatry and Religion</i><br> </div><span><p>If we applied to the actions of creative artists the word “compulsive” it would be quite meaningless clinically. A mechanism which might signify a serious character disturbance if we encountered it in the business of everyday life has achieved an entirely different meaning rediscovered in this different setting, the creative process. </p><p>To go one step further, there are reliable witnesses who tell us that Mozart heard his works before he composed them. He not only heard them in the way most composers hear before or while they write. He heard all the physical qualities as well–strings, woodwinds, brasses, and so on. He wrote down what he heard. If this is true, and from Mozart’s creative pattern it might well be true, he was hallucinated. A hallucination is the “sensory perception of an object which is not present.” If he was hallucinated, was a he sick man?</p><p>Nobody would call Mozart’s symphonies the creations of a sick mind, even if it were historically proved that he heard them with all the qualities of acoustic perception, as our psychotic patients hear voices. Thus we see that something which is phenomenologically abnormal (to be hallucinated is not the norm) is not necessarily pathological. It may be supra-normal, above the norm. There are features which distinguish Mozart from an insane man: he was remarkably well integrated in his environment; none of his actions were “crazy.” Moreover, the things which he did hear were significant and beautiful to a great number of people, though perhaps not to everybody. He did not insist that what he heard could be heard by everybody else, nor did the mystics. For example, it can be said of Saint Teresa that she was, apart from her supranatural experiences, a practical woman with a sense of humour, quite different from a schizophrenic. And so were many other geniuses of art and the life of the spirit. All this shows that a person can see things or hear things which nobody else sees and yet be healthy–or even “healthier” than most  of us; the word “health” is etymologically related to “whole” and to “holy.</p></span>
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I’m so fed up with people telling me:

  • It’s all in my head
  • I don’t look ill
  • I just have to think positively/try yoga/eat healthier etc.
  • I did this to myself
  • I wanna be special
  • Western medicine isn’t necessarily correct
  • I’m gifted
  • There’s a cure…

Etc.

Please shut up and consider when someone opens up about their mental illness, maybe they know more about it than someone who never experienced it. These sentences aren’t just offensive but also harmful. Before making assumptions, try asking the person about their thoughts, feelings and experience.

Please be kind.

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Lines between reality and not? What lines? I don’t see any lines. All I see are figures following me haha………..

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Arianny Celeste sells Mezcal heavy alcohol for Diageo

Arianny Celeste sells Mezcal heavy alcohol for Diageo

ariannycelesteVerified

Mezcal over eggnog anyday, especially Mezcal Monday’s! @elsilencio@runwayinfluence–#mezcalmonday#mezcal#elsilencio#ad#tequila3w


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youd think it would go without saying but if you come to an agreement with a mentally ill person about the best way to avoid and manage their attacks dont forget to.. actually follow through on that when push comes to shove

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Oh this sucks, psychosis and anxiety have made it really difficult to concentrate, I’ve tried to study my online class but I can’t, and yesterday I said hey, why don’t I answer some questions on my inbox!! Like I usually did on Saturdays when I was ok and not busy studying, and I just couldn’t. Just trying to read them gave me a headache and the words just didn’t make sense. I’m so sorry 😞. Also I had a weird reaction, since my anxiety is so severe, instead of having a panic attack I felt like my body was soft, like a marshmallow, idk how to explain it, but my muscles had no consistency and I had no balance walking so I was very clumsy. I’m usually clumsy but this was way more than usual.

Tomorrow I see a new psychologist and I’m gonna explain her this situation because it was really weird.

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I feel like I’m a ghost. My eyes have been glitching again like I’m in a stimulantion. My body doesn’t belong to me or did it ever? My head moves back and forth without me controlling it. Is this how it was meant to be? The funny thing is I’m use to it now. I feel like I have eyes at the back of my head but they are blind. My eyes they don’t feel real. Why does my body not feel like it belongs to me? It’s meant to belong to me right? The thing is I’m just a passing ghost. I feel hunted but I’m hunted by my own ghost. I’m my own worse nightmare and this wrinting is just as chaotic as my mind

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WCW Uncensored 1997 | WCW Sunday Night Retro View

On March 16th, 1997 WCW presented WCW Uncensored 1997 | #WCW Sunday Night #RetroView with @cdye56

Have no fear, WCW fans; the latest RetroView is here.  And let me tell you, I got a doozy for you today. Today we look back at WCW Uncensored 1997. This was a monumental pay-per-view for the company during the height of the nWo. The three-team main event match has huge stakes. If Team WCW (Lex Luger, Steiner Brothers, The Giant) wins, then the nWo has to return all the championships they…


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Text

At the same time, she said that she was distressed by the feeling that her life was no longer hers to lead…She had no life of her own, she was just existing. She had no purpose…no point to herself. She felt, as she said, that ‘she’ had recently 'gone right down’ and she wanted to get out of 'it’ now, before it was too late, and yet she had a feeling that things had gone too far and that she 'could not hold on to herself for much longer’ and that 'it’ was 'slipping away’ from her…

[…]

The impression that she was killing herself came to be translated into the conviction that she had killed herself. She maintained almost constantly that she had actually killed herself or sometimes that she had lost herself. On the occasions when she did not feel that she was entirely 'lost’ or 'dead’ she felt 'strange’ to herself, and both she and other things no longer had the same realness about them…

[…]

She now talked of being two. 'There are two mes.’ 'She’s me, and I’m her all the time.’ She heard a voice telling her to murder her mother and she knew that this voice belonged to 'one of my mes’. 'From up here [indicating her temples] it’s just cotton wool. I’ve no thoughts of my own; I’m awfully confused, me, me, me all the time, me and me, me and myself, when I say myself, I know there’s something wrong, something’s happening to me, I don’t know what.’

R.D. Lang, The Divided Self

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yall what are some middle aged snobby liberal dude names.

i’m giving my 2 main hallucinations snobby middle aged person names for comedic relief because they’re unpleasant and fucking annoying and i wanna be able to laugh at them instead of get upset by them when im trying to sleep

the woman’s comedic relief name is gonna be Karen for obvious reasons… unless anyone has any other ideas. btw Bob’s off the table it doesn’t fit the man’s voice. 

naming them would also make it easier to keep track of my hallucinations

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Daily reminder that psychotic people, bipolar people, people with violent intrusive thoughts and people who can’t feel empathy aren’t evil and deserve love and respect.

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yes, i did write a post about 0 representation on media, but now that i think about, media always demonize us, people with psychosis, personality disorders, DID, ‘’terrifying disorders’’ were always the ‘’freaks’’, shit, i cant even count how many movies ive watched with a character who hallucinate and people treat them like a freak, or a demon, were not bad people, were not fucking demons or some shit, WERE NORMAL PEOPLE, no, were not going to kill u, no im not a manipulator, im just like u

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