Schizoaffective

by Jay Paul Strange things keep happening to me, and they are not my imagination. The other day, I ordered breakfast at a diner, then stepped out for a cigarette. In the early morning darkness, I struck up a conversation with a man who happened to be standing outside the diner. He had a skateboard. After joshing me about being high on cocaine the previous night, we exchanged pleasantries about our family and work situations. At that point it got strange, but in a pleasant manner. He asked me if I were eating at the restaurant. When I answered in the positive, he said he would pay for me. He never asked my name, and I never asked his. He followed me into the restaurant. I ignored him. After I finished eating, the waitress informed me, "that guy paid for your meal." I say this only to illustrate that my life is often odd, filled with off-the-wall occurrences and coincidences. Perhaps what happened to my earrings was not a coincidence. Perhaps there was a message hidden in both ...

  by Jay Paul To all my fellow schizophrenics— Fuck it! Fuck it, all— you are fine as is— some idiots made you this way— they are the nutty ones, not you. My advice is this— if you have been made schizophrenic, think schizophrenic all the way, think the way bequeathed to you by idiots you cannot control, but who tried to control you, and succeeded, but only for a time— until you seized the glory they accidentally handed you— Sanity is the side effect of schizophrenia, carpe diem , sisters and brothers,             carpe diem— the day has always been OURS

by Jay Paul They were volunteers for the day at a community center I go to for people with mental health issues. I was giving them a tour before they started their tasks. One woman seemed twitchy and nervous and looked at me with wide eyes. She knew I was a member, which meant she knew that I had a diagnosis of a mental illness. At the end of the tour, I asked if there were any questions. Apparently, her fear overcame her courtesy. She rudely asked me what my diagnosis was. I considered her for a second, and then decided to tell her, if for no other reason than to show her a schizophrenic can be calm, reasonable, and together. I told her. Then she continued to be rude. She asked about the threat of violence at the center. I considered going into a long-winded explanation about the harmful myths connecting mental illness and violence. But I decided a little shock would be best. I simply said, "Once, a few years ago, I saw someone give another member a little push. That's it....

 At my most rational, I approach being diagnosed with a mental illness as a chance event that happened to me. Based on what I know of current research, it had a lot to do with genetics and with something in my environment—perhaps a virus, perhaps stress, nobody knows for sure. But what is clear is that it is not my fault. I hardly intended this, and I have been trying to deal with its arising in a responsible way. So far so good. But I, like most people, am not always rational. Since having a bad bout of delusions and hallucinations five to seven years ago from which I've recovered, I have moments of searing shame. They are usually triggered by a memory of some minor rudeness or inconsideration on my part from years ago. I first cringe at my minor failing and then think, "Everybody hates me." I may partly think this from paranoia, I don't know. But then I need to work myself out of the hole. I was talking to my therapist about this last time we met. We concluded that ...

by Jay Paul   What am I going to make of being schizoaffective? Certainly, I don't choose to wallow in self pity and self negation, mirroring the greater society's poor opinion of people in my category. I want to contribute what I can; specifically, I would like to contribute what I can from the openings provided me by my very schizoaffective. Yes, schizoaffective is horrible and horrifying in many ways. But it also reveals aspects of experience that would otherwise stay hidden. It is a view from terrific loss, when seen from the conventional notion of success, but it is a unique view that offers a lot to humanity. Schizoaffective has taken so much from me. I had a respectable middle-class career, and that is no longer. In fact, my career, prep school teacher, was not even the career I had trained for. I'm a Ph.D. in English, and when I went to grad school in the late 80's, professorship looked like a promising career. The G.I. Bill Ph.D.'s were going to be retiring...

 When things are difficult for me, I can tend to get down on myself. I blame myself wholly for my predicament, thinking that I was completely and utterly responsible for it. As this happens, I try to remember what the 13th century Japanese monk Dogen counseled: treat yourself as you would a baby. By this he certainly didn't mean to infantilize yourself and act childish. Instead, he was suggesting we treat ourselves with tenderness, affection, and understanding. We don't judge babies. We respond to them according to the needs of the moment. Ideally, we always do that with tenderness, affection, and understanding. I need to remind myself of this because I, like a lot of people, assume I have more control over my life than I do. I judge and blame myself for feelings and actions that stem from circumstances I never formed. For instance, I could have anxious feelings because of my biology and genetics, my personal history, current events, and even my relation to the natural world. C...

 Psychiatrists are like car mechanics who don't know how to drive—they've never actually used what they give to us people with mental health issues to purportedly "fix" us. They are like car mechanics who never felt their foot depress a gas pedal or allowed a steering wheel to ease back into the straight ahead position after a turn. Such car mechanics may very well know what books say about cars, but they have no idea what it is like to operate one. They don't fix cars from experience, but from what they have been told. Psychiatrists, I have found, are woefully naîve about medications, particularly when it comes to side effects and withdrawal. Sometimes, I think they are willfully naîve. I say this because they dismissed me and refused to listen to me when I tried to tell them about side effects and withdrawal. I guess they believed the books and classes they took more than they believed the evidence of my own body. Their body certainly couldn't tell them anyt...

Meditation is in vogue. Various people representing divergent interests frequently tout its health benefits. I have no doubt that there are benefits to meditation, but that is not why I do it. At this point, I feel I do it for the same reason I breathe: it is part of my make-up and the way I am in the world. I meditate frequently: twice a day, 50 minutes a session. That's 100 minutes a day on my chair. The type of meditation I do is called "shikantaza" and is based in Zen. I simply sit quietly, and when a thought or feeling comes up, I notice it, acknowledge it, and let it go. Sometimes, of course, I get caught in my thoughts and daydream for a while. When I notice I am doing this, again, I acknowledge it and get back to just sitting, noticing thoughts, and letting them go. I have meditated off and on my whole adult life, but I only got truly serious about it in early 2019. Soon, I was meditating twice a day for 40 minutes a sitting. I became quite devoted to meditation a...

The term "dementia praecox" was first used in 1887 by Emile Kraepelin. It isolated a type of "madness" that exhibited hallucinations and delusions and later became known as schizophrenia. Since the English poet and visual artist William Blake lived from 1757-1827, he could not have been so diagnosed. However, according to his biographers Peter Ackroyd and Leo Damrosch, Blake exhibited symptoms consistent with what we now call schizophrenia. He had what he called visions, heard voices, and had command hallucinations. Some others thought him "mad." In his lifetime, Blake received almost no recognition. His reputation began to be built decades after his death, and he is now considered one of the greatest of the English poets. His reputation largely rests on his "illuminated books"—engraved books that combine Blake's stunning and dramatic visual art with his poetry. You can see pictures of his longest illuminated book,  Jerusalem , at this link ....

When I go looking for my self, my own personal "I," all my own, I keep finding other people. For instance, I am right this instant sitting in front of a computer typing in this blog post. Why can I do this? Why, because I can type. Why can I type? I can type because about 40 years ago in a business class in high school Mr. Moran taught me to type.  So who is typing this? me or Mr. Moran? or both of us? I am not sure of the answer to this question. Certainly, my fingertips are making contact with the keys. So on the surface, I am typing. But this typing is wholly dependent on my having learned how to type, which is Mr. Moran's doing—in that strange windowless room with 35 other students banging away on manual typewriters. I went looking for my self and found Mr. Moran and my fellow typing students. And what am I typing? I'm typing words. And where do the words come from? I don't remember my first words, but I imagine I spoke them to my parents. I assume I learned l...

by Jay Paul   The last two weeks on this blog I have discussed visions that I have when I lay down on my living room floor and follow the path of an initiatory image. Strange things happen in these visions, which are like waking dreams. Prepare yourself for what I'm about to say. In some of them, I have even been eaten by giants, traveled through their intestines, and come out alive on the other end. Interestingly, some biologists believe that fish came to populate isolated mountain lakes in a similar manner: eggs survived being eaten by waterfowl who then left the eggs in those lakes when defecating. Visions such as this one have caused me to reflect on death and immortality. I have also been helped by reading Thich Nhat Hanh on "interbeing," especially in his discussion of The Heart Sutra . I have come to believe in a kind of immortality that does not invoke a spiritual realm of any sort—no heaven, no hell, no reincarnation. I want to think through what death is by atte...

  by Jay Paul Last week on this blog I distinguished between psychiatric hallucinations and visions. The former entail a confusion between what the hallucinator sees or hears and what is commonly taken to be reality. For instance, I once hallucinated that I could converse with people who were reading my thoughts through the intermediary of a medical device I believed was put in my head during a diagnostic test. I believed I was really  communicating with people. I was not. I was making it all up. A vision, on the other hand, does recognize the bounds between what is considered conventionally real and the actions in the vision. A visionary can end the vision at any time by focusing elsewhere;  hallucinators cannot get away from their pictures or sounds because they believe them to be reality. To do so would, in the hallucinator's mind, be the same as trying to get away from gravity. On the other hand, visionaries know that their visions take place in an alternate reality f...

Can we include a number of central biblical figures, including Christ, among the severely mentally ill? Three psychiatrists in their article “ The Role of Psychotic Disorders in Religious History Considered ”   argue that Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and St. Paul all exhibited what we would now call psychosis. As just one example, Moses reported seeing and hearing God in the form of a burning bush. These psychiatrists have a point. If someone told a psychiatrist today that they saw and heard God in a burning bush, he or she would be on their way to a diagnosis. For a couple years, these psychiatrists had me convinced. I thought there was some sort of link between schizophrenia and religion. I still do, but I doubt these figures in the Bible had what we now call psychosis. Rather, I think they had visions, and there’s a difference. I know because I have had both psychosis and visions. Based on my personal experience, they are very different. Today, I believe that when Moses saw and h...

 Strange insights can come up when you meditate, and I meditate a fair amount: 50 minutes twice a day. Over the last four or five months, a series of insights has revealed to me that I, and probably all people, hold deep, subconscious beliefs that our conscious self would never agree with. For instance, I was recently sitting when I heard some people talking in the parking lot outside my apartment windows. These people talk out there a lot. It hit me quite suddenly that "this is my life, to sit in this apartment overhearing the same people talking in the parking lot." It washed over me that this here, now existence is all I have. Even if I moved from this apartment, my life would not be substantively different. I would just overhear different people outside my apartment. The insight continued. I realized in this flash that I harbored a fundamental belief/feeling/hope that was quite delusional. I believed that somehow, somewhere, my problems would be solved and I would live in...

It occurred to me that I may have appeared to contradict myself in the course of the last several postings on this blog. On August 13, in a post entitled "Skin," I explained how the skin does not have to be viewed as the boundary between the self and the rest of the world. In fact, skin is one of the ways we reach out into the world, connecting with it, being in relationship with it. I went on to say that consciousness is not inside us, especially not in the neural workings of the brain, but all over the place, both inside and outside. The things of the world we are conscious of, such as birds and piles of sand, are also conscious, though not to the extent a human being is. After arguing for this perspective, I proceeded to write several posts that detailed my recent experiences with antipsychotics. I related how getting off risperidone caused withdrawal symptoms that included anxiety. Anxiety is a mood that, like all moods, affects consciousness by causing us to focus on som...

by Jay Paul I have posted here for the last several weeks about my recent struggles with medication. I am happy to say that, for now, things are resolved. I am on a low dose of olanzapine that does not play havoc with my blood and does not make me feel woozy. Unfortunately, I am having some minor problems with weight gain and sleepiness. I hope they get better as time goes on. But for now, my serious problems are behind me. Now on to this week's essay. _________________________________________________ In his essay “Moral Luck” Thomas Nagel notes that we blame a drunk driver for recklessly driving up onto a curb and hurting a pedestrian much more so than we blame her if she just went up on the curb and nobody was there. This is a case of moral luck. If nobody was there, the drunk driver’s moral, and legal, standing results from her being lucky that the sidewalk was empty.   Nagel’s point seems irrefutable. Much of our moral standing in our own and in other people’s eyes results...