Archive for the ‘fractured memory’ Category

I don’t belong in civilized society less my madness be spread to the masses. Over the last few years the madness has become impossible to hide let alone deny. If my madness is factual and cannot be denied than what Kierkegaard is saying is the acknowledgment of my madness will inevitable perpetuate the insanity. 

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the positive self talk advice which is usually followed by the statement “fake it until you make it.” This statement encourages denial and self deception. 

Prior to my complete mental breakdown I lived in a reality of self denial and false realities. 

Day after day I wore the mask of the masses, until I no longer had the strength to put one on. As I have stated in prior posts this shift occurred once I discovered emotions, the evil which lives in all of us. I cannot contain my crazy because I lack a social filter. This deficiency causes me to stay locked away alone in my home. Isolation is like throwing gasoline onto a fire. 

A recent example was getting thrown out of stamp dealer store. This dude was being a dick, what’s worse is I was fully aware of his strategy. To make a long story short this man was not expecting nor appreciated the verbal vomit of honesty spewing from my lips. I don’t know if it was my honesty or my liberal use of the word “fuck.” The end result is being permantely banned from this establishment. My honesty being without a filter almost got me arrested. 

The Pandora ‘s box of my insanity and the curse of seeing the truth of our society, a society blinded by complacency and ignorance. Most great minds are plagued with madness, they must have faced the facts of their reality and still have the courage to use it as a tool to enact change. 

The following link leads to the face of true evil.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search 

Advertisements

Behind my children’s eyes
They weep, they cry
Standing by while flowers die
No hope upon this stage
Locked away in my cage
They cry
Regardless of our futile tries
Seeing their eyes
Hearing their cries
Inside I slowly die
To know their pain
Daddy has gone insane
To be the cause, attacking with verbal claws
Suddenly I pause
Realizing a life of lies
Failed tries
All the things which bring tears to their eyes
The fractured parts lay bare to see
Hating myself for being me
With holy sighs
Wishing I couldn’t hear my children’s cries
Stop their tears
Ease all fears
The lies
The fights
Fucking sleepless nights
The lies
Sorrow in their eyes 

What I am about to write may be scattered and disorganized, but I need to recap the events prior to writing this. In an attempt to stay grounded and lesson the confusion I took notes along the way.

I couldn’t sleep last night, I took more than enough sedatives but still was unable to sleep. I had a physical this morning so I could get the ok from my doctor stating I am physically able to go through ECT treatments. I cannot recall much of last night not because of all the medicine I took to be honest it didn’t even phase me. I got lost in the dread of having to go to my physical because it’s not a part of my routine. 

On my way to my appointment I started to get sick, light headed, nauseous, skin burning, and my mind slowly shutting down. There was construction going on in the parking lot meaning I couldn’t Park in my normal spot I became sicker my panic grew stronger I checked into my appointment at this point I had my notebook in hand jotting down things going on around me because I knew I wouldn’t remember.

When I saw my doctor I explained why I was there to have a physical to be cleared to receive ECT treatments we engaged in conversation which I do not recall Beyond the scribbled notes in my book I got my flu shot then was sent to get my labs while I was waiting the doctor called the lab area and asked me to go back to see her she was concerned about something and then this person named Katie I think was there and I was talking to her and then for some reason I have an appointment with her tomorrow I think she’s a social worker when we were done I asked what should I do now and they said I was done so I left.

Going through my check-off sheet I did not get my blood drawn which I was supposed to do but now I see this person tomorrow I made sure I wrote it down.

My head is swimming just trying to make sense anything really trying to make sense so I don’t get lost in the fear of confusion this is very difficult for me because my mind my intelligence my ability to use my intelligence is not there and I don’t understand it don’t understand who I am or how I got here. 

I don’t even recognize the reflection in the mirror to go even further I don’t recognize my mind. It is seriously fucked up how much of who I am is no longer who I am. It is fucked up how not that long ago I was able to do complex data analytics without using analytical software, now I have a hard time processing the steps to do basic shit a child could do without a problem. 

This is by far the worst part of this entire shit show. I can handle the depression, anxiety, suicidal ideologies, and all sorts of fucked up broken fragmentation. Because throughout all of that I was still able to tap into my intelligence and cognitive functioning properly. The only good quality in me is gone. I don’t know how to accept this. 

 

Decaying Faces

Decaying faces

Buried in decaying places

Chasing dreams in empty spaces

Stench of death embraces

That which the light erases

Displaying those decaying faces

Replacing the traces

Of those decaying places

Those rearranged decaying faces

Lost alone in decaying places

Those dreams you chased in empty spaces

Reluctant to believe in warm embraces

Popping pills to find something that erases

A lonely walk that leaves no traces

The decay displacing those funny faces

Oddly drawn to those dark places

Where decaying faces erase the traces

Of empty spaces

Where death embraces

The places and empty spaces

Where light erases

The truth behind the decaying faces

Faces changing places

The memories it erases

Funny faces

Empty spaces

Decaying faces

Hidden in decaying places

Embracing those empty spaces

Erasing the traces of happy faces

By: TimLundmark

 

Do you remember the feeling you had after watching movies such as “Shutter Island,” “The Sixth Sense, or “The Others?” This feeling where the whole story just seems to flip on you, where everything that was is now wasn’t. These types of twists are mind fucking adventures, and I love them. I remember thinking to myself after watching “Shutter Island” that nothing of this magnitude could ever happen to me… I was wrong.

I just discovered the greatest mind fuck of my life. My wife made a comment on a post I did last week where I said I was basically kicked out of Crown College. My wife sent me an e-mail and said I was never kicked out of that school so why would I say that? I sent her an e-mail back going over the situation which occurred and questioned her memories of this situation. She then informed me I dropped out because my mental status had worsened to the most dangerous of levels. I immediately told her to stop messing with me, and relayed that this is not a funny joke. She proceeds to tell me she is not joking, and is indeed very serious. This was my Shutter Island moment.

I am really bent by this because I have no recollection of what she is talking about. I literally have no memories of this scenario she had laid out, and what’s worse is my reality which once was is now wasn’t. One of my symptoms of my mental illness is memory loss and or confusion with my thoughts. My thoughts can get jumbled and I will interpret what I hear or see differently than most. I know I have had issues in the past where the combination of dreams, media, and real life get melded together to form an altered reality. I am now in a state of what is, and what is not. This causes me to blur these alternate realities together where I cannot tell one from the other. Perhaps I was in such a state and took memories from my dreams and supplanted them into what I now know as reality. This is really twisting me up inside because this calls to question how much of my memories are even real memories, or which ones were supplanted into my mind. I then need to question the reality I am in at this moment while I am writing this. Is this what is, or is it what is not? Is what I remembered from yesterday what is, or what wasn’t?  

I try not to think of this very often because frankly it is mind numbing. I enjoy this topic on a philosophical level, just not on a personal one. It is as if I am looking at hundreds of puzzle pieces from many different puzzles mixed together. I then have to somehow put these pieces together to form one puzzle. This is hard to explain if you have never experienced it or lived with someone who has, but it’s almost like déjà vu, but what you think you have already done before, really happened on television, in a movie, a dream, or something that has happened to someone else. It is almost as if this cross fires my brain into creating something that is not.

I have had this fractured memory in my head for seven years. This means for the last seven years I have been living a lie. I want to sit down with everyone who is close to me and unload my memories to see what is and what isn’t. I am haunted by not knowing my true reality. I wish I knew the exact reasons my mind created this alternate reality in my head, and was strong enough to have me forget months of my life. I was in a panic and called my therapist a few times to get some advice on this. She finally called me back on Friday to council me. I laid out the situation to her, and explained I was in a panic not knowing what is real and what isn’t. She told me this scenario was normal for people who reach intense mental breakdowns, and often causes the subject to create false memories.

I felt better after the call to at least know what I was experiencing was normal on a mental illness level. I am still left wondering what reality is, and which other of my memories are not real. I suppose I will only be able to find the right pieces of the puzzle by checking with those who are close to me regarding memories I have. This still does not cure the way I shape reality. I think what it comes down to is I will always be in a state of what is not, but I suppose since this is reality to me, then what is real is; so I shouldn’t worry about it.