It can get better: advice from mouse

Spring 2017
In a Long-Awaited Period of Remission from Insanity

It is with great sadness that I must write a narrative of two mornings from life, as this is mainly a document for psychological/psychiatric health purposes, as I am now seeing clearly, thinking rationally, thinking based on evidence and reason, and experiencing reality instead of unreality. This is also a document which serves as a vehicle to process psychological trauma.

Let me bring you into my two worlds, my sun and moon, the Yin and Yang, so to speak. You are sitting up in a bed, in a room with a poster on the opposite wall reading “Keep Calm and Carry On”, in white letters on red. You look down at your torso, which is covered in spots of some sort of dermatological condition, deduced by a self-inflicted crash course in medicine the month prior. You cannot make sense of what you are thinking; you begin thoughts and end up in what appear to be alternative realities, where anyone and everyone is truly trying their best to make sure that you first suffer and then die. A rush of blood reaches your head, pounding in your chest- you know that you need to take the handful of pills on the nightstand. You feel your heart pound, and you salivate for the drugs. In the palm of your hand is a Xanax, two propranolol pills, an antipsychotic, and antidepressant, and the nausea drug you forgot the night before, because you went to sleep on half of a bottle of vodka, thinking of taking a whole bottle of narcotic from when you had insomnia and ending the ■■■■. Your psychopathic black kitten emerges from the blankets and greets you with a bite and a quick retreat, pricking your right forearm, which is covered in scratches from the damned cat. The cat is obviously a true psychopath, because you graduated with an honors degree in psychology, with an honors thesis in psychotherapy and the highest GPA in your psych class. You know your ■■■■, but the ■■■■ is too heavy for mere smarts to manage.

You feel like you have to move, because the neighbors above you are talking about you, calling you horrible things, narrating your miserable existence just above you, while they repeatedly hit the century-old floors with what sounds like a hammer, at 8 in the morning. They continue to call you a psychopath and a child molester and a former gang member all day, despite you not actually being any of those things. You feel like you need to do something, and then it hits you; you are extremely addicted to nicotine, caffeine, and sugar, so you grab a mug of sweetened, cold-brew coffee from the fridge and then go back to bed to drink the drugged sugar-water and huff a vaporizer. The vaporizer burns your throat and makes you cough, and you then hock up a handful of caramel-colored vape juice from your lungs. You are quite overweight, but about 2/3 of it is excessive muscle. You look down at the floor and see two Krav Maga textbooks which you memorized at age 17. You are a 23-year-old, unemployed, disabled, targeted individual, as far as you can tell.

You cannot follow a conversation without it being about a plot to kill you. You hear the birds chirping outside, as you hear your neighbors loudly rant about how you are an evil, narcissistic, psychopathic killer. The birds outside are now calling you a pedophile. It just could not get any worse. You need to do something about your 15$ in your bank account. You need money from your mom, so you get in the car. That is, you get in the car after getting dressed into clothes that barely fit your food baby, and you then eat a bowl of frosted, chocolate shredded wheat in whole milk, which is fortified with protein to keep you strong enough to break an average human body into fragmented bones in about five seconds. That is, completely compounded fractures in a meat and skin suit.

In the car, you listen to a playlist, and you notice that the playlist from your phone is automatically feeding you songs with lyrics which try to make you feel guilt for no reason. This is a carefully measured psychological attack; it is to make you internalize what your neighbors say all day and night. You arrive at your parents’ house, and you have to argue until your mom kicks you out with a 20 dollar bill. You must fight for everything you get. You realize that there is not enough gas to make it home in the tank.

Wake up months later, to a world where you have a job, take medication when you get in bed and when you leave bed for an illness which you do not notice, and you are on zero neurotoxic drugs. You feel your body drain the cortisol from the night before, and you listen to the birds, then you remember when you woke up from nightmares to a waking nightmare. You do not check your bank account, it is healthy, you do not look down at fungi on your skin because they aren’t there, you instead take a few drags from your designer vaporizer with the lower nicotine and low vapor flow, it is on the way out with the taper on the milligram strength of nicotine, and you do not cough because the inhale of vapor is less than a typical vaporizer. You then feel perky, and you remember that you need the handful of pills on the nightstand to survive and be well- you forget what they even are, but you know when asked down to the miniscule effects on brain receptors- they not only treat the brain disease, they enhance the brain and body. You step on the scale and see you are stuck at 170lb in the morning, but you see your abdominal muscles showing in the mirror, and you figure it was from indulging in a second paleolithic meal the night before with family. You then grab an organic, sugar-free, black cold brew mug, a smaller mug, and then meditate in bed while drinking the coffee and puffing the vaporizer, which tastes like a perfect amount of cool mint. You reflect on what your brain has been being fed by your hands, and it is mostly books on theoretical physics. You flash back to when you could not even follow a conversation while buying a bottle of alcohol, and now you read theoretical physics, neuroscience advancements, and articles your family forwards you. You remember that before the unreality, you were an academic elite and also an advanced Krav Maga fighter, with a prodigious memory as well as writing ability, at an international school. You realize something; you were an academic elite while on seven doses of either benzodiazepine or barbiturate, multiple doses of ethanol, and other, failed psychiatric medications, while surviving on adrenaline and also an overdose of propranolol, which cancel each other out and destroy memory, but you graduated with superior honors, in fact, the 1st place winner of both research and grade point average. You realize that you have unhacked your brain and body since then, and you wake up to a world which you strongly influence with superior planning into the future, an enormously reinforced sense of delayed gratification, and a high general intelligence quotient to polish it off. They called you every name in the DSM-5, but you have your own identity; you are a ■■■■■■■ scientist. You went to hell, found the exit, and then arrived in a world where the human brain can directly bend the fabric of space and time, like no other creature can, and you happen to have all of the makings of a very powerful, effective human being, with the whole brain disease thing rationalized and assimilated into your existence as credentials to say what is what in the new frontier of humanity; the brain. You review your list of things to do, and you see that your final letter of recommendation writer for a neuroscience graduate program messaged you that he is well on his way to reconciling his forgetfulness with the admissions staff, which is fine because he is former faculty at the institution. You remember what the other two recommenders said, as they are friends as well as academic superiors; they strongly emphasized your superior scientific thinking.

You realize that in a world on unreality, the best thing is to not ask questions, but to see for yourself, as the questions you ask are opportunities for you to discover what is not actually known. By this, I mean to stress not asking others for answers, because they will conjure instead of state; you are a scientist, and you always see for yourself instead of relying on the intuition that a doctoral degree and/or a lab coat confer. You inherently disrespect authority, because you know, not just think, that you are the authority in the story of your life.

“…Science. It works, bitches.” - Richard Dawkins

From testing the waters with what we can handle, to furthering an education, to making your own discoveries about life as a human being, science is where the answers are. Every time you find something you know instead of just think is true by testing it for yourself, you are using science. We can all do this. Do this, and save yourself.


pixel would agree on that.

hey mouse/AUQuack, long time no see.

Mortimouse? You have changed your username. It is nice to see you again.