Do you ever feel like you're a pot boiling over, and you just need someone to lift the lid and turn down the heat? That's how I can explain my (hopefully momentary) lapse back into Scientology-delusion world. Sometimes, when I'm really stressed out, and when my meds (yes, I do hold them responsible for doing their job) don't seem to be working, and I have too much on my plate, the delusions come to me like a pied piper, and I want them back. That is the only way I can explain my going to see The Master, when I knew, I really knew, that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea for me. But I went. Because, as someone in a book I read on Schizophrenia and recovery once stated, "What would you rather be if you had the choice, a mental patient, or a CIA agent?" I'd rather be a CIA agent sometimes. So am I to blame for my delusions? Not entirely. I don't create them, and I don't really enjoy them at all. But they're kind of a distraction that can be enticing as ice cream on a hot day. It's like a thing that takes away the ugliness of reality and replaces it with something more complicated, and therefore, more interesting. I'm not saying I bring it on myself, because I will never say that. I don't think I am stupid enough to choose to be delusional. I just sometimes cave in a little.
So thanks Kate, and thanks Mary for your advice, and I understand what you're saying.
I talked to my therapist about going to the movie, and about driving around Scientologistville afterwards, and she seemed to think that this was generally a really bad idea on my part. I agree.
There is also this obsession I had with a guy I never met, which went on for twelve years, and for some reason I started thinking about him again too, which is plainly stupid because there is nothing really to think about; we haven't spoken in years. I know that he wouldn't speak to me even if I had a way to reach him. So I don't know how to explain that, other than to tell you, that sometimes I have truly had all I can take, and I decide to give in to the enticing world of alternative reality for a little while. I'm aware that this is not a good way to behave if you're in recovery and trying to have a balanced, actually happy life. But I don't do it all the time. Just once in a while.
I am really, really, really aware that pills don't solve everything. I'm also really aware that my own ability to solve psychosis is extremely limited. I feel that going to therapy and psychiatry visits weekly, keeping a job and a routine with work and college, doing volunteer work and attending board meetings for NOW and NAMI, and keeping my cats fed, well, that means I'm functioning pretty well. I think the whole problem my new doctor has with understanding me is precisely that. She thinks I function too well to be psychotic. But she doesn't know me well enough to understand the facts about me and how I am when I am not psychotic at all (rare though those times may be). I really don't think the pills are the only answer and that I can sit and be a lazy ass loser doing nothing to get better. I can't go to support groups because the only one there is where I live for mental illness is the NAMI group that meets when I'm at work. Support groups also tend to do me much more harm than good, because when I'm the least bit psychotic, in a group of people like that I think they are all talking about me and the Holocaust, and sending people like me to concentration camps. This is why I stepped down from the role I had been asked to take in running a NAMI support group at my former community college.
I told my therapist today that I had been thinking about this guy again, which is a sign something is off with me, because there is no logical reason to think about him other than my past obsession with him which no longer exists, and she said, basically, "Maybe you're lonely". This could be true. I haven't dated anyone at all in the nearly five years since Jim - my ex - moved out and left me in the dust. I don't date because I'm convinced that I'm too obese and ugly to be attractive to anyone. That's really it. I got that idea from Jim telling me, "You're really fat and you're not attractive anymore", on numerous occassions. It's not his fault that I gained weight, but it's really be the meds that led to the weight gain. Considering he knew that it was the meds, I have to say he was a bit of an asshole. I am really glad he left me; it was the nicest thing he ever did for me, leaving me crying in my bed, wishing he would marry me. I would have one hell of a miserable life married to that guy, and I am far, far, far better off alone than I was with him.
But sometimes you just don't want to be alone for your whole life. Sometimes you want to belong to something (Scientology/New World Order/CIA/NSA/OSA/FBI) or someone (guy who never even liked me as a true friend in the first place), or whatever. I know that one reason I want to travel abroad next year is simply to have something to look forward to next year. My life is a bit lacking in that area.
So sometimes I think, "what if Brad the librarian hadn't moved away to get his PhD and I had stayed with him" (he was my last boyfriend before Jim, back around 2004). Or "what if I could still talk to KH on email. Or what if I had actually been able to go to Smith and gotten a Master's degree by now instead of what I'm doing. What if everything was different because of one significant change?
But everything is the way it is. I do try to do my best sometimes, but not all the time, admittedly. I do have happiness in my life, and it's real and not delusional. I do have goals that I do know I can attain. If only I could lose weight, keep my apartment clean, get enough sleep, get to work on time every day and never late, and read my textbooks.......If only. Since we all must deal with the hands we're dealt, there's no real point in doing the whole "what if" thing, and generally I do realize that fact. Just sometimes I forget.
So thank you all for your advice in the comments on my last post. I am not sure if I will go to a different doctor just yet, because I found out that my doctor had a close family member pass away the same day that I last saw her, and I think this could explain her rather illogical statements to me about severe OCD and how people with OCD and Schizophrenia are more bothered by their egocentric delusions than people without OCD. I know I have OCD; it's just that I know very well it isn't my main problem. But I could cut her some slack and give her another chance considering that she has a difficulty in her personal life, or I could say adios and go on elsewhere. I'm not sure yet what I'll do. But I will figure it out. There are always options, other avenues to take, other places to go for help. All is not lost. And this is not lost on me.