My head swivels like bullet ants. Down in it I go. Moment by moment into oblivion. Last I heard was that my freaky sexuality was an issue. The doctor said being gay is illness. And I believed him for a second. I had no choice as I was placed in a loony bin against my wishes. Anything the doctor says is true in those circumstances.
My condition? Oh, wait whats my diagnosis dear doctor? She replied with, ‘‘ We’re still in the process of figuring it out’’
My last doctor diagnosed me with Schizophrenia. Simple schizophrenia as a matter of being precise. That is schizophrenia without the positive symptoms of halllucinations and hearing voices. My condition was that I have no free will whatsover, and anhedonia, a lack of pleasure in anything I do. Plus my fears and worries which stem from loneliness and fatigue.
How does it feel to be dealing with such an infamous illness. Remember that great story Seattlesnowflake wrote about the chick who was harrassed by the marlboro man. The schizophrenic man who’s eyes gauge with cockroaches coming out of them. I’m 1 inch closer into being in that state of mind every hour of the day. Gosh, I wish for Seattlesnowflake to write a fitting ending to that Marlboro man, perhaps I will if her or she would give me permission.
It takes immense effort for me to merely be normal. Talk normal and walk normal. The meds help too. Although my mother would disagree of course.
Why she would disagree that meds help? In her mind, I’m actually possessed by some djini who whispers homosexual thoughts to me. Oh, mother! You are so stupid.
I like both and men and women. That makes me Bisexual and in this part of the world, WE don’t exist. And it drives me mad.
Not sure what I’m rambling about here, just the urge to write hit me and I wanted to scribble something out.
I’m Younes aka Rabbi-Iblis, a schizophrenic man who manages his days like a worm walking on a needle. The slightest mishap or misjudgment and back again the sickness wants to come back.
Half the stories I wrote here on this substack was while I was in some mania.
God knows, wait god doesn’t exist. We all know of the link between madness and creativity. And the crazy part is that deeply I wish If I can experience that mania and that schizphrenic episode again just so I can be able to write as freely and as lovingly as possible.
Madness can be fun.
I haven’t met (in person) anyone with your condition yet, but from the outside all I can tell is that I would choose a clear mind over a shady one anytime. It hurts oftentimes but I prefer to be in control of myself, than being at someone else’s mercy (doctors, family, shity society). I have no intention to lecture you in any way. Your choices are yours and yours only. All I can tell is that when being young I did hurt myself repeatedly (physically). I don’t know what diagnosis to put to myself as I never went to a doctor. If nobody knows your pain you pass as a sane person and you don’t loose your rights, condition being to survive this way without others noticing 😉. Twenty years since then I managed to get in control of myself and have a normal life. Sometimes luckily it is just a matter of choices. Sometimes it is not.
What I suggest you (having no medical experience, so no knowledge if this is achievable) is to take your life in your hands, don’t run away from pain, embrace it (it is part of who some of us are) and poor it into words (write without the result in mind), and try to create your own discipline. Mask the pain, play with it, experiment and never let a bit of vulnerability be seen in the outside because the smell of blood, well, it attracts predators.
Lastly but not the least I saw that Chuck posted a very good article that could inspire you called “Try This On: Phone It In” 😉. Good luck!