Archive for the ‘Schizoaffective Disorder’ Category

 

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

 

Never Ending Night Frame 3Puppet Master Frame 4

 

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

Both drawings are limited numbered and signed, and come with a free signed copy of the poem.

 

Check it out

First off I would like to apologize for my abnormal gap between posts. Not to sound like a Catholic in confession, but it has been six days since my last post. This is by far a record for me, and I feel terrible about it. I would like to try something different for today’s post. This has actually been an idea I wanted to try for some time now, but I always get anxiety when it comes to trying something new in fear of failure. So here it goes; I hope you enjoy!

I am a huge fan of music, because of my job I am able to listen to music in my office for eight hours a day five days a week. This is one of the many fantastic parts of my job. I just throw my iPod in and continue to try to listen to every song on it; which has become a two plus year’s process (I am 4k songs away from accomplishing this feat.)

I am a fan of all music types. In fact I have a little bit of everything on my iPod. I have often thought that these songwriters have somehow gotten into my head and wrote a song specifically for me. Everything just seems to fall into place. The musical arrangement is set up perfectly for the feelings I have on the subject, and like I said the words are pulled directly from my mind and experiences. I am by no means a crier, in fact crying is something which does not come easy to me, but there are certain songs which will bring tears to my eyes because of how emotionally powerful they are.

The song lyrics I would like to post today is Pink Floyds “The Final Cut” off of their Final Cut album. This song is the perfect combination between lyrics and musical arrangements. Together they form one of the most beautiful songs of all time.

The Final Cut (Waters)

Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priest hole
And if I’m in I’ll tell you what’s behind the wall.

There’s a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you’re sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wzwF3upH-A     ***okay so I added link to song. Let me know if it doesnt work***

This song speaks of my depression, the fortified walls I have built around myself, and my fears of what will happen if I let anybody in. I could go on and on discussing how this song is pertinent to my life, considering this song fits me perfectly line for line I am choosing to not break it down that way. Instead I am just going to touch on some key points.

The first verse touches on how I feel when I hit a depression. The place I go to hide away from the world. This is the dark hole far away from the light of day. The next verse discuss the fortifications I have built to keep people out, and hiding who I really am and how I really feel. If you notice it touches on layers of protection used to keep people out. I have built my wall around minefields, cold eyes, shotguns, and combinations. The final line of these selected verses touches on how my fortifications keep myself locked away from the world. Even if you get past my many obstacles I may be so locked away inside myself I may not be there to answer.  

The following three lines are the only part of the song which has no correlation to my life, but the following two lines are rather powerful. I often times feel I am not worthy of love, and the concept that anyone can truly love me unconditionally is just a crazy dream. The next twelve lines touch on my fears of showing people my vulnerable sides my dark side and my weak side. If I open up to you will you screw me over? Will you take my children away and lock me up, or will you take me home and comfort me in your arms. Will I end up alone and broken if I open up to you?

The final verse is the complete collapse I have when I do open up and let people see me in my vulnerable state. If I keep everything locked away from other people then I suffer in silence, and things don’t seem so real. But once I open up then all the pain and suffering rushes out like a broken floodgate. This rush of negativity drives me to suicidal thoughts, but I never have the nerve or strength to make that final cut.  

I am always nervous about trying something different on here so I would like to ask my readers if this was an enjoyable read or not. I apologize my writing skills have decreased quite a bit since I started my leave, so I am a bit rusty and out of my normal routine making it extremely difficult to stay focused enough to put complete thoughts together.

Please feedback would be great.

“Sometimes the glue that binds us together can be the same glue that rips us apart.”

Tim Lundmark

This thought came to my head this morning while I was in a deep reflection on my current mental status. February begins tomorrow and this just happens to be the most evil month. This has never been a very good month for me in the past and is usually when my winter cycle comes to a damaging head. I am not sure why this is the case. My “cycles” can be rather predictable. I tend to cycle with every changing of the seasons like clock work. Spring and summer bring mania psychosis, while fall and winter deliver depressive psychosis. This usually doesn’t just hit right away it is a gradual fall from grace, usually two to three months in the making. When I think about this it makes me sad because this means I am only “normal” one maybe two months a year if I am lucky.

The way my mind works is there are times when it is clear and I am high functioning (the one or two months.) When I hit this point I am at my greatest. I am present in the moment and I am receptive and give out understanding and love. It is during this period I am unable to write poetry, but I am able to write my “Dylan Thomas” books. In time my mind slowly starts to worsen, and as time progresses I start to fall apart. When a piece of my sanity falls off I quickly grab it; throw some glue on and stick it back into place. This is fine and I am sure perfectly normal, but it seems as time passes more and more pieces fall off each day, to where I spend all my psychological energy just picking up the pieces and trying to put it all back together. The end result is I run out of glue giving me no means to put the pieces back together.

It has been a really tough go as of late, but I feel lucky I was able to have a relaxing weekend. I had to take Friday off because my son didn’t have daycare, so I ended up having a three day weekend. Although this weekend was relaxing I still wish I had more time off, because I don’t feel ready to jump back into the daily grind. I am not prepared for this; I am having trouble gluing myself back together. I worry I will not be able to do this. I have thought about talking to my boss about what is going on. I need the comfort of knowing that if I end up in the hospital I will not lose my job.

It felt good this weekend because I relieved much of the pressure inside of me by just going with things. I just went with it, and this may have been a mistake. When I talked with my mother and sister they thought I was on drugs. I think this is just further evidence I shouldn’t really share the truth with what is really going on. My symptoms are still pretty intense and I feel myself sliding further away from sanity. I wish I could log on here and just go off about all the things I am feeling and thinking, but my family does not think this is the appropriate forum for such things, yet It felt good posting my last two pieces. I have received many responses from people who have felt or who are going through something similar to what I am dealing with. There encouraging words and their ability to relate to my plight made me feel a bit better about things. It felt good knowing I could put my words out there like that and have an emotional impact on another person. This simple thing is what motivated me to become a writer in the first place, so this is awesome.     

I am so embarrassed with what is really going on in my head I do not feel I would be met well if I went into everything that was going on inside of me. I feel if I were to just jump on here and free write it may end up making me feel a little bit better, but then everything that I am will be exposed. It is this exposure I am afraid of. It is the rejection I am afraid of. No one is ready for what is going on. I feel if I were to just grab somebody on the streets and put my mind inside of theirs they would kill themselves in less than a week. They wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I suppose like anything else you just get used to it, but I am sick of being used to it. I am so tired of the pretending. What was great about this weekend was I let go and stopped pretending.

I realized after looking over some of my comments I received that I have picked up many Christian readers. I am so appreciative of their readership. I enjoyed reading their comments and wondered if my exposure as of late means something or not. I am afraid once I do a piece which is anti-religious I will piss them all off, and lose their readership. I feel I am at a crucial point in my spiritual journey, and I do not want to hold back my feelings on this topic. If the God of the Bible exists I need to work through my anger towards him, but at the same time I have found that Taoism is giving me a level of spiritual peace. Needless to say I am concerned about this.

I only have thirteen hours left to finish my book “Trapped Within My Illness.” I have to have the manuscript submitted by the end of today to meet their open submission period. I am so excited about this project and I really want to get it out there, but their response time is six months and I am unsure if I want to wait that long just to get the rejection letter. I want to put it out there, but wonder what the point is in that. I am embarrassed to say I have sold zero copies of “Yin” and “Yang.” I really think this one is better than the last three that I wrote. I blame my lack of sales on the fact I haven’t done any readings, if I submit it to this publisher I can’t do any readings until after I get the rejection letter because then I can just self publish.  

To sum the whole thing up I am just not ready for today. I am not ready for tomorrow and the start of February. I am working hard to glue my mind back together. My symptoms are getting worse, and although it was liberating to just let loose I still have other things going on which I am embarrassed to talk about. I just hope I make it through this month. I really just need this to stop because it is getting to the point where I just can’t fight it anymore.

Inside My Wall

Brick by brick

This wall I built

In empty space

Alone I am placed

Look into my hazel eyes

A lonely man afraid to cry

Joy escapes me

An illusion

A lie

Straight faced

I live the daily grind

No one sees me

No one cares

Unlock my office door

And alone I sit

Holding back tears

Living in my fear

This man of rhyme

Just doing’ my time

At home I smile

Just so they don’t see

That pain and suffering

That engulfs me

Silently they sleep

Alone I weep

Afraid to say

How I truly feel

I don’t want locked doors

Hospital meals

I want to be able to choose

How and when I will lose

No fake love can save me

The choice is made

Dig my grave

By: Tim Lundmark

It is amazing to me how the smallest thing can finally sever the last thread of sanity which is holding me together. For the last few months I have been struggling with some moderate to sever MI (mental illness) issues, which seem to be getting progressively worse. It has been difficult keeping everything looking nice and wrapped in a tidy little bow. How does one hide such intense turmoil without it spilling out unto the world?

Until about a few weeks ago I have done a great job hiding my issues, but then the irritation kicked in. I get so exhausted holding it together and as a result I get irritable. I get irritable because I cannot deal with the pressure anymore. I know at this point I can’t completely shut down to the world so I get irritable. This irritability only makes the situation worse. It is like I am on the outside looking in. My irritability is usually followed by a complete mental collapse. This collapse is almost entirely done internally, which writing is my only outlet.

I haven’t been able to write a quality post in some time, and my outlet has always been poetry yet my psyche is not allowing the words to come. I am being denied the one channel which keeps me sane. I think this has been the longest writer’s block I have been through. I am still writing but it just comes out as shit. I am stuck inside my head and I am lost within it. I cannot get out and it is getting crazy as fuck in here. I just want to get out. I am a prisoner in my own head.

I was doing my best to hold this fucked up mess together, but a situation which happened yesterday just caused me to crack. I feel completely unable to keep it together. I need to quickly put this broken doll back together before it’s too late. I cannot see my therapist until February so I have to just keep all this shit inside. The most fucked up thing is I cannot even articulate what is exactly wrong with me. I just know the deep depression and psychosis is here, and I need to battle it. It just gets so tiring fighting this bullshit all the time. I hate being good and then slowly transforming into mental breakdown. This has been the cycle my whole life and I need to ask myself how long I can continue this predictable scenario.

What sucks the most is my family gets dragged into this mess. This is by far the most painful thing about this. I can deal with my inner turmoil because Lord knows I have been doing it my entire life. I feel as if they would be better off without my bullshit fucking up their lives. These are innocent bystanders who get dragged in the mud because of my issues. I infect them with my disease and I wish they knew how sorry I am because of this. I can’t very well sit them down and explain daddy has issues and he is so sorry he can’t be a good father or husband. I just feel so ashamed. I feel so alone.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m schizophrenic, and so am I.”
Oscar Levant

Due to the shooting in Arizona; schizophrenia has become a hot topic. It is sad that this illness is brought to the forefront in such a negative light, all because of one person. I am certain many people out there believe those who suffer from schizophrenia are nothing but raving lunatics walking the streets talking to themselves while wearing tinfoil helmets to shield the government from stealing their thoughts. I think this is the image most Americans think of when they hear the word schizophrenia. Yes there are some of us out there, who unfortunately may fall under this generalization, but for the most part this is simply not the case, and in my opinion is a form of discrimination. These types of sweeping statements are the same as saying “all Muslims are terrorists.” Yes there are those who deteriorate to the point of madness such as Jared Loughner had, but this one man does not define how everyone else with this disease acts. There are many high functioning schizophrenics out there who work have families and contribute to society. It is sad that as a society, those of us who suffer from mental illness need to still carry that stigma around with us.

I know society does not deal well with mental illness. There are so many uneducated people out there with discrimination in their heads. I can tell you a personal story of such discrimination. I was working at a company which shall remain nameless. I was employed there for a while, and I was excelling at my job. I would go out to lunch with my co-workers and shoot the shit. Business was good, and there were no complaints against my job performance. I shared a cubicle with two other guys and we worked together to make sure projects were getting done. We were all in the cube one day when the topic of mental illness was brought up. They were talking about how those who have bi-polar disorder are drug addicts and completely useless to society. They went on to say how they are all violent criminals who are completely out of control. At first I bit my lip, just hoping they would go on to the next topic. About twenty minutes into MI (mental Illness) bashing I final had to interject. I told them their comments were offending me since I am bi-polar (diagnosis at the time but later changed.) I told them I am able to contribute to society and I am by no means violent or a drug addict. The cube became awkwardly silent and rather uncomfortable. They apologized for offending me, and I accepted. We went back to work with no other issues. Two days later I was “laid off.”

Schizophrenia is a progressive brain disease where as time passes symptoms of this disease seem to get worse and worse. I am only thirty-one years old so I am in the infancy stages of my illness. I am able to manage it properly so I can function within society.  My doctors have done a great job with managing my symptoms with medication. I have a job, which suites my illness perfectly allowing me to be a productive member of society. I am able to be a husband, father, and friend. I still have episodes where I fall apart and need daily living assistance, but I am able to get out of my head and find sanity. The progressive part is what scares me though. I am afraid of where my mind will be in five or ten years. I worry about slipping so far into my head I become completely detached. What scares me is I won’t even know what is going on. The shitty thing about this is I cannot control this inevitable outcome. I just need to have hope and faith I will always be high functioning.   

With all the negativity going around about this illness I thought I should speak out about it. Yes there are those who completely lose touch with reality. The sad part is they can be reeled back in with medication along with the proper support system. This shooting in Arizona could have been avoided if Loughner’s friends and family had been monitoring him more. From interviews I have seen it sounds like his friends knew he was off his rocker, yet stood by and did nothing. There are millions of us out there who suffer from one form of MI or another, yet I feel that we hide it in shame. Many of us are high functioning adults who seem in control of our illness.

I am not embarrassed or ashamed of whom I am, and I am not embarrassed or ashamed of my illness. I am proud that I am high functioning considering my diagnosis. I am proud I can hold down a job and raise a family. I may have a mental illness, but this illness does not define me as a person. I need to learn to live within my limitations and accept who I am illness and all. I wouldn’t need to hide or be ashamed if my illness was MS, but for some reason I should feel differently because it is MI? I think people hide their MI like a dirty little secret because they are scared of being judged. Does anyone else hear how sad that sounds?

Black

Black

Black is not a color

By definition it is the absence of light

A dark void

Cold

A suffocating black hole

How come black is what I see

It is everywhere inside of me

Where is MY ray of light?

To guide me through this cold dark night

I wonder alone

In this bankrupt mind

Hoping to find, a light inside

Reaching towards the heavens

Praying someone will answer

The black is a cancer

Eating at my will to live

I need some relief

To make it through

Without it

I am certainly doomed

No answers to my prayers

Black is what I know

My mind is color blind

“When he shall be judged, let him be condemned: and let his prayer become sin.”

Psalms Chapter 109 Verse 7

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.