I used to want to erase my body completely. I would dance, rocking back and forth, and if I was lucky and in the right kind of phase, I would transcend the physical and become one with everything which surrounded me.
Sometimes these feelings would arrive of their own accord, with an overwhelming sense of peace, and accompanying symbols and imagery. These were usually the best days. No meditation could ever take you that far, not that I was into the sanitised school of meditation anyhow. Give me a scrying mirror and some weed (thanks Brion) anyday. The rest of it is kid's stuff.
I variously characterised these moments of ecstasy as communication with angelic beings, data from some sentient computer, visitations from various goddesses and howling delusions. It seems the last of these was correct.
Now I don't feel these things anymore. I get echoes, but I'll never feel the urge to climb out of my window and salute the morning sun again. The meds are keeping me away from these things, but they're also keeping me away from the really bad days, and the really bad days aren't something I even wish to decribe in what's already been a rambling post.
Since I can no longer erase my body, I desperately want to erase my thoughts, or at least my feelings. I don't want fucking feelings anymore, not even those within the 'normal' range. Without feelings, I could accept my lot and just get on with being an increasingly-cynical and semi-marginalised mentally ill person. As it is, I'm tricked into thinking things could be better, and I know this is the road to disappointment.
I asked for my meds to be increased. I want to be a zombie. I do not want emotions. She said no, because I'm drinking too much and I'm continuing to struggle through. Why do you think I'm fucking drinking too much?
Apologies to anybody who read that. I just needed to, and everybody else is bored of listening. I expect you're bored of reading now too.
Poor auld me.
XXXX big hug from a thick Irish Bogman Sammy,
