posted on Oct, 21 2018 @ 11:02 PM
I emphasize the "should" because all of us are structured by stories that make us think reality is exactly as the stories say.
Why is this? Why are stories so powerful? If I hadn't lived such a painful life, the story would be just as real to me as it probably is for most
people - the vast, vast horde who live life without a shred of understanding of how they exist within it.
But to break apart and "pull yourself back together"? Even the idea of "pulling yourself" back together sounds pretentious to me. My mom, my dad,
my sister, my brother, my family. Love put me together. That is, the "Me" (2nd person) I (1st person) thought I was, was not real, and had to die.
Was it painful? And does it even end? Yes and no, both answers I'd imagine the undeveloped person wouldn't want to hear; and yet, paradoxically
enough, I am blessedly happy - with an unfathomable capacity to regulate myself and also regulate those I interact with. How can a person not be
astonished by such a power, when years of torment are "explained" by a feeling of reality that comes straight from the heart?
Mike number 1
I don't think revealing my name is much of a problem, given there are probably hundreds of thousands of people with this name, maybe millions. I know
for a fact there exist other people with my exact name - first, middle, and last. And I marvel at how he and I both experience our name as "ours",
and find it equally weird to look at another person who has "our name".
I was a brat as a kid. This "brattiness", if left in its simplistic state, is a dangerous phenomenon. Every brat is made a brat by a past
relational interaction. The mindbrain is fundamentally sensitive to intentionality. Mother senses Bobby is intended to direct her attention; he is
adopting a state to "get something". But mother, strangely enough, interprets a normal dyadic interaction between baby and mother as an act of
manipulation. Trauma does this to the human mind. It shapes its interpretations according to the experiences of the past. A child's natural
proclivity - nevermind this being a natural proclivity in all animals - to adopt a state conducive to achieving its own good is interpreted in about
as insecure a way as can be imagined. The body presents a feeling ("what is he doing?"), her eyes squint, and she reacts with irritation. She
experiences the 'manipulation' of a profoundly undeveloped being as if it were a fully-grown adult. It is the unconscious imposition of one context
into another, extremely inappropriate context. How often does this happen? Everyday, in everyway, almost all the time.
Mike # 2
Mike number 1 never died. He has a boisterous energy about him that I still completely own as "mine". But he took things too far. He stole; he
cheated; he was selfish, greedy, whiney, resentful, and above all, idealistic and dissociative.
At age 21, I got into the habit of "car-hopping", where you move from one car to another, checking to see if they're open, and if so, ransacking it
for whatever goods you can find - ideally money, but also phones, weed (especially!), and whatever gadgets I could find. I also encouraged my younger
brother to do this with me.
Night after night after night, I'd do my "shopping" across the town. Sometimes I'd get caught, and the rush of running away (I'm extremely
quick/fast/athletic from basketball compared to most people) would make me feel simultaneously big ("I'm so athletic; I can't be caught!") and
small ("you're pathetic; what you're doing is wrong").
That very summer, I was walking in the night with my brother a bit away from our house. We were smoking, and I was high. I had a history of unresolved
trauma that was sitting in my unconscious, and then suddenly, everything seemed unreal. The world around me lost its substance; my brother lost his
substance; my being, walking, moving, felt profoundly unreal.
Having a history of paranoia, I immediately interpreted this experience as harkening the onset of a psychotic breakdown. I began to fear that I'd
hear voices; every second that I was aware, I was personally dreading the voices. This fear of insanity came from my mom's own nervous breakdown.
Just 7 or 8 years from that time period, my mind was once again tormenting me with paranoia - a paranoia that was, paradoxically, perhaps coherently
maintaining an "egoic" defense. By stating my fear to myself - as well as my brother - I was "nipping the bud" from forming in an unconscious way.
I came home that night absolutely flooded in anxiety. With egoic consciousness of what one fears comes anxiety. These two processes are inextricably
entwined. Fear is a very subtle prelude to the subsequent anxiety: my experiences from this horrible trauma have shown me quite well how much the body
can torment the mind.
In order to be conscious, I had to defend against my fears. I had to hold off the voices, know that I feared them. I did this, but with every agitated
reflection, I depleted my body of yet a bit more cortisol - a massive, gargantuan molecule - which breaks down fats to release glucose for energy. My
fear was eating my body. My body was feeding my fears.
This tormenting nightmare went on for not one day, but 21 days exactly. As the days progressed, I watched as my coherency faded, my mind becoming more
cloody, more 'flighty', more intense. Electrical pulses were occuring in my head: I was being electrocuted within my mind by my own body! I saw
flashes as they occurred, and each one felt like a trauma.
If not for antipsychotics - for the powerful tranquilizing effects that it had - my mind would not have lasted, and the nightmare would have
persisted. God bless antipsychotics!
Mike Number 3
The level of fear and anxiety and depression during those 3 weeks of hell is just too grueling to think of, yet I recall it all the time, because I
feel it taught me a very important lesson about reality.
That lesson wasn't immediately learned, of course, but it did lead me on the road towards that discovery, through the gateway 'drug' of Judaism.
Somehow, I think Judaism, in its own time, and Catholicism, in the middle ages, played similar roles in constructing 'counter-philosophies' to the
"heresies" of their days. The world of the ancient middle east was extremely religious, withe everything about "what is" being ascribed to a god
or force independent of the actual processes that existed between themselves and others.
There was, in other words, what philosophers call "hypostatic abstraction", of taking what is an emergent phenomenon, an epiphenomenon of
distributed dynamics, as being 'sufficient in itself', without reference to the lower levels it builds from.
Judaism brought me into a profound world of thinking that till this day I am profoundly appreciative of. Yet, there is an "orthodoxy" that is
absurdly literal and absurdly extreme which I find in every major religion - Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, etc. This quality of getting "lost"
in the symbolizations of things in terms of 'divinity', and away from the very processes which make us, allows delusion to grow.
Mike number 3 was religious, but still broken. Kabbalah didn't give him the understanding that he actually needed; and conversion to Judaism seemed -
and was - too extreme a change to make. What mattered, it seemed, was understanding my history. My actual lived experience. If my views of things...