My Two Year Old Is Driving Me Further Insane

My two year old is probably like most two year olds, but I am not like most fathers and it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to tolerate her. The screaming causes me to scream. The mimicry causes me to smile, but get aggravated when she repeats it over and over again which leads to more screaming.

The thing that gets me fired up the most is when she openly defies her mother or me. That gets her a whipping and/or time out. Sometimes I send her to bed over it. I cannot tolerate it. It makes my blood boil. I hate to be disrespected and that is what she is doing. I have tried explaining it to her, but even though she seems to get it she does exactly what she just got in trouble for ten seconds later.

I know she is testing her boundaries, but she reached the end of them a long time ago. She does not respect us and she does not fear us (which is good), but I need something to change and quick because my hair is falling out AND turning grey and I am having to double up on my Klonopin (at the suggestion of my doctor).

My therapist thinks I need a break and I have taken them and they help, but it is back to the same when I return. I can’t take a permanent break as I can’t stand being away from her for more than a night or three (six has been the max and it sucked). So I miss her, but I want to get away from her. I love her, but I hate what she is doing. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Help me, please.


Not In A Good Place

Since medications were stolen, I am not only going through withdraw, but having major anxiety attacks. I am not sleeping and I can’t shake the feeling of large bugs crawling under my skin, just pushing and pushing their way out. My moods are all over the place and the paranoia is so bad that I am barricading the doors and widows and refusing to leave the house. I even tore the house apart today looking for audio or visual devices (I found none).

I didn’t react this bad when I came off of heroin 10 years ago. Suicide is not an option, well its an option just not a valid one – I wish it was at times.

My wife and I are also not seeing eye to eye. She can’t handle my issues right now and I don’t know what to do.

I need help and my psych and therapist just aren’t doing the job. My dog is helping, but only a bit. I did think about throwing her out the widow when she went and did her business on the floor but I stormed off, yelled, put a hole in the wall and cleaned it up.

Then I patched the hole. Then the guy I may or may not have killed came to talk to me about God.

Anger is not my forte. I don’t know what to do with it, how to handle it, or how to vent it so I don’t hurt anyone.

Do I need to check myself in?

Do I need that much help or will it go away in time?

Trying For Order or When Will I Burn Out

No matter what I do I do it with conviction and purpose (right or wrong). I do it with fervor and expect it to change someone’s outlook, life, etc. However, I usually lose interest in it or sputter out of steam quickly because I put so much into it so fast.

I hope this will not be the same, but I hope that about everything. This blog has lasted longer than most of my endeavors and I am striving for it to continue to last. I do so hope that some of you enjoy reading my daily musings.

Off track for a minute and then back to what I hope stays the course and goes the distance.

A question was asked, what defines writing as literature if all writing is not literature. My response was simple.

Literature is defined as: writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography, and essays.

So in short, writing that has a form (traditional or experimental) AND expresses an idea, concept, purpose, belief, or even a notion is Literature.

My opinion is that if something can be taken away from the reading experience that is worth more than the random thoughts of the writer than it is literature.

I also think that blogging can sometimes be considered literature, but only rarely. I believe some of my posts are just me writing what comes to mind, but I think others are actually literature. I am interested as to what your opinions are on the matter (audience participation is good).

Okay back to the thing (thanks for all those that stayed with me).

I started a daily schedule for myself. It is not all inclusive as I hate change and if I planned out every second and something happened I would be afraid that I would have a melt down.

The first day it went well. I added physical activity to it (another thing I want to stick to – not just physical activity, but I will get to that in a bit) and by the end of the day I had completed everything I set out to and I felt good, more energized than I have been in a very long time. My mood was also spectacular.

Today (second day) I followed my schedule as closely as I could, but my ability to adjust to change was called into question. I had errand after errand thrown at me, an appointment with my psychologist that I forgot about, and ran to pick up a gift for my wife (not to try to make up, but to try to make her happy because she needs to be happy). I had a minor blow up (internally) when I spoke to my wife at the end of the day and she was nothing but negative and I had a minor melt down about 30 minutes before toddler bedtime (due to toddler being toddler), but overall I was even happier and (hard to believe) even more energized.

I know this is going to help, that is plainly obvious. I just really hope I can keep it up as my wife won’t assist me (she has too much of her own stuff and she doesn’t believe she should have to help me), my mother is not good at that and is not enough in my life to really do any good and my friends fall under the “not in my life enough” category as well so I am stuck doing it on my own. WISH ME LUCK (seriously).

The other thing, that I said I would get back to, that I have started is something that my wife started with me and while she doesn’t want help and is going to be reluctant to give me help,at least we are doing it together and that is incentive enough (I hope) to continue it. It is Weight Watchers. I am 5’9” and 232 lbs. I am obese. I know there are people bigger than me, but I also know some who are smaller than me and are still considered fat. I need to do it and it will help my self-image.

The last thing is an acne treatment from my upper back and shoulders. I have horrible skin. It looks worse than a sixteen year old going through late puberty that works at a grease factory in which he/she washes themselves in.

So those are 3 things that I have started (not including the blog) that I really want to (and in some ways need to) stick with for as long as it takes. The question is how long before I burn out on it all or will this time be different because the meds are starting to level out.

If you pray, pay for me please. If not do your thing. If you have no thing, please think positively when you think of me.

Wanting Attention And A Cry For Help

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

She had no intention of killing herself. It was just to get attention. Ignore her and the behavior will go away.

He only took enough pills to land him in the hospital. It was just a cry for help. Why should I even pay attention to it? Isn’t that just feeding into it?

An attempt at suicide is not a joke. It is not something to take lightly. Even if you know that the individual had no intention of killing themselves, they felt the need to risk it all just to get some attention. And how do you know that the attempt wasn’t just that, an attempt to take their life.

Most people who fail at their attempt try to make a joke of it or blow it off in some way. Most of them try to get you to believe that they just needed attention because of anything from not getting enough love as a child or just being ignored in school, at work or in life in general.

Having attempted suicide many times, I know that some of the times I either pretend didn’t happen or lie through my teeth about them. At the time I had made my peace, gotten intoxicated enough, got so low that I could not find a way up or all of the above and more and ending it all seemed like the only thing to do.

The most common form of suicide is not self-suicide (taking one’s own life by themselves). It is actually what I refer to as life ending behaviors (LEBs). Doing things that “give a rush” by pushing the limits of life and death. These events include everything from skydiving, free climbing, bungee jumping and other inconspicuous activities to things like Russian roulette, experimenting with illegal drugs and abusing legal pharmaceuticals.

There are millions of websites out there telling you what the warning signs are and I encourage all of you to read them. If you see them in someone you love, do something about it. If you see it in yourself, seek help – immediately.

Self abuse is no better and can lead to suicide if not treated. To treat these things a mental health professional is required. Even if you are one yourself, seek out someone to assist you with therapy and pharmaceuticals, if needed.

No one tries to kill themselves just to garner attention (even if it seems that way) and no one swallows a bottle of Percocet just because they are crying out for help. An attempt is an attempt no matter the surface thought behind it, the seated thought is that life is not worth living because …

Here is a piece about a “cry for help”.

Sticking my finger down my throat,
I swallowed an entire bottle of them.
I realize life is worth living.
I don’t want to fucking die.
I just need to vomit and I’ll be better.
They’ve already been absorbed, I’m screwed.
I don’t want to go to the hospital.
Where’s my fucking phone?  It’s just three numbers.
I can feel my heart rate slowing down
Get excited, raise that blood pressure.
and my extremities are going numb.
They’re just cold, rub them a lot.
Back to the wall, ass on the ground, unmoving.
Get up!  Dance!  Punch something!  Anything!
The darkness takes me and I have one last thought:
I only thought I wanted to die, I swear.

Suicide Prevention Line: 1-800-273-TALK

National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-SUICIDE

The Confessions And Concerns Of A Liar

Disclaimer: I may lie about some of this, but I will make every effort not to.

I have lied about everything from stealing from my parents as a youth to how many times I have been camping. From the meaningful to the mundane and everything between and on either side; if you can think about it then I have lied about it.

I am not sure when it started or why, but I have been lying for as long as I can remember about one thing or another. When it began it may have been by choice or for personal gain, but now it is difficult not to lie and most of the time, as far as I can tell, it does not benefit me in anyway. When writing this blog it started off difficult because I was determined not to lie about anything, it just seems to get harder over time. In my daily life I have been working hard to not lie or correct myself when I do because the lie just spouts forth from my mouth without me realizing what I am saying until I actually say it. Then is when I realize I have lied and I try to correct myself; in the past I may not have realized I lied until minutes, hours, days later – if ever. I also believe that if I did realize it I didn’t care enough about the other people because of my lack of emotional responses and lock of respect for others and myself.

When emotions came flooding back in I started to feel regret and shame for all the lies I have told. I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to make amends. Something. But my life was built on lies. I couldn’t even tell what was true and what was a lie, I still can’t. I thought about it hard. I wrote down everything I could. I never talked to anyone about it and I still haven’t – not sure I ever will. What I realized is that over 70% of my life is a lie. If I come out with the truth I am not sure I would have anyone, including my wife, in my life anymore – who she knows doesn’t really exist, who everyone knows (except those who read this) doesn’t exist. I will never publicly list the lies that I know I have told, but I have thought of sealing them somewhere (in a safe deposit box or something) and having it released upon my death, but I believe that would hurt too many people and I have no interest in doing that anymore.

I do not believe in heaven or hell so I do not believe that if I don’t “repent” I will burn forever, but it does weigh heavy on me.

So I was curious about whether or not lying was considered a illness in and of itself or if it was just another symptom of the lovely illness I have. I do personally know of cases where the lying is there but little to no other symptoms. I know of three. One is a little bereft of emotion, but the other two are well adjusted. I think one does it to benefit herself and does it by choice but gets an almost high with it. The other is also a female (not sure if that matters) and, I believe, she doesn’t even realize she is lying. At first I thought it was a poor memory, but she would tell several different version of the same situations and even the real situation; that’s when I knew it was a lying situation.

Lying has typically been categorized into Compulsive and Pathological.

  • Compulsive is considered to be a habitual and automatic response. Something that is unplanned, impulsive, has no purpose, and it is thought that the individual has no control over the lies that are told.
  • Pathological is thought to be associated with little to no empathy and the lies are often used to manipulate a situation and others. The individual is often very self-involved.

Neither Compulsive nor Pathological Lying is considered a disease in the DSM (Diagnostic & Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). A disease is widely thought to be something that is uncontrolled by natural means. Pathological Lying seems to be something that could be controlled, but Compulsive Lying is involuntary, habitual and the individual has no control of the lies that spew forth from them.

This is a concern of mine as nothing is being done to curb the uncontrolled lying in so many individuals. Until is is declared a disease or illness little to no research will be done to correct it. No drugs will be invented to assist the individuals and mental heath professions will have no standard on how to respond to the situation.

Dr. Charles Dike is a forensic psychiatrist and a professor at Yale who is working to have compulsive lying (which he renames Pathological Lying because it sounds more clinical) included in the next edition of the DSM. He has plenty of opposition and it is unlikely that it will be included, but at least someone is shining a light on something that has been ignored for too long.

My Name Is W And I’m Mentally Ill

Rethink Mental IllnessI was officially diagnosed as bipolar sometime around 1990. I don’t remember the first time I got married, but I don’t remember a lot of things from those 15 or so years. Drugs were a huge factor for my memory loss, mental illness was another. My son was born October 28, 2005. My divorce from his mother was finalized in April of 2006. I got remarried on June 15, 2007. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 2008. My daughter was born on March 3, 2010.

My son was not planned. We found out that my soon-to-be ex-wife was pregnant when we filed for divorce, a pregnancy test was a mandatory part of the divorce proceedings. My ex,along with my current partner and all of our respective families knew I would not be a good father because of the many issues I was having (I was drug free at that time, but there were many other issues that turned out to be one big issue), but I was determined to be a better dad than I ever had. I have no contact with my father anymore and when I did it was not the best. He encouraged me to continue using a lot of the drugs I was using – not a father and a horrible dad. I had more custody of my son than I probably should have had, but instead of giving up rights to him, which would have been better (read: easier) for me, I did everything I could and more.

My swinging moods, increasing anxiety, building fears, and growing paranoia made caring for just myself difficult. It made showing the love that I had for my partner nearly impossible at times due to the lack of emotion and, regretfully, that little boy took so much of a back seat in my life that he was barely in the car.

Luckily I had and have a wonderful support system. My partner was number one. My ex would not let me have my son unless my girlfriend turned wife was going to be with us for the entire time. She never took this or any other issue to court as I never gave her a reason by arguing with her. I don’t want to know what would have happened if she did and I find it is best not to dwell on it. Next came my now mother-in-law and by extension her husband. They were there even more than my own mother. It was more than I could have asked or expected from them. What I did get from my mother was more than was expected, but less than what was wanted; however, she came next. Then was my little sister and finally my partner’s sister (not that her contribution was small). I had others helping me, both mentally and physically (not including my mental health professionals), but those were the primary individuals. That amount of people assisting me was more than most people ever have in their lives to assist with their kids or their lives in general; I know that and I am grateful to them all.

The reason my ex would not let me have my son alone was because she knew I had mental issues (i.e. bipolar disorder, megalomania, compulsive lying, hallucinations and more). She believed that I was one day going to snap and, without someone else around, hurt our son – which was never going to happen. My ex also believed that I just needed to work hard enough (at a paying job) and I would be cured because hard work cures everything (except cancer, diabetes and anything there is a blood test for – other than migraines which she had so that made them real unlike mental illness).

Just like cancer, those with a mental illness can’t just magically “get over it” by wishing it away or “just not thinking about it”, but like the cancer patient that braves through it and doesn’t overreact, the mentally ill patient needs to take a page out of the cancer patient’s book and stop overreacting and attempting to get sympathy for their illnesses (if they are able to).

Another big misnomer is that every one with a major metal illness (especially schizophrenia) is violent and if they are not currently violent then the violence is just below the surface waiting to strike out at anyone and anything. I have a ton of anxiety and sometimes need to walk away from a situation or feel like I am going to have a heart attack, but I am less likely to explode in a fit of rage than the average parent of a two-year old who gets overly frustrated.

Some mental illnesses are brought on and caused by environmental factors such as a parent with wild mood swings or abuse of any kind or any number of things, but it is not always about “blaming mommy”. People whine and complain that people with mental illnesses constantly are blaming other people and they are right. Some of it is justified and some of it is just ridiculous. Most mental illnesses are the subject of constant study, but have not been completely unlocked. It is believed that the brain chemistry has something to do with a lot of the mental disorders (proven by scans and such) and genetics are suspected to also be a factor, especially in patients with schizophrenia. Drug use and self harm are also thought to be causes, but the causes why that is present in the first place is another unknown. Most illnesses, mental and otherwise, are still being studied to determine the cause and origin. Many may never be discovered, but we are working to fix what we do know about. The only mental patient that should be ever begin to be browbeaten is one who does not seek help. There are programs out there so anyone of any class can receive help. I did when I was broke, nearly homeless and completely beaten down. Even physical illness have a similar situation only sometimes it is not as easy for them to get the help they need.

So the big difference between the severely and permanently physically ill patient and a mentally ill patient is that one is more accepted than the other and the other can receive help easier. An illness is an illness and should be treated as such. Most of us do not wish to be treated any differently, however some of us have to be treated with a bit more caution and ease.

I will die will my illness, but my treatment will hopefully prevent me from falling into a world where my illness rules me and I lose control of my mental facilities.

To all those out there that share my situation, just remember to not only take one day at a time (minute by minute), but also keep goals and dreams in mind and share them with a partner or close friend so they can help you reach/achieve them.

Hallucinations-The Past And The Present

I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia (as is obvious if you are reading my blog) and with that disease/illness comes a wide range of possible symptoms.

According to the revised fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-IV-TR), to be diagnosed with schizophrenia, three diagnostic criteria must be met:

  • Characteristic symptoms: Two or more of the following, each present for much of the time during a one-month period (or less, if symptoms remitted with treatment).
    • Delusions
    • Hallucinations
    • Disorganized speech, which is a manifestation of formal thought disorder
    • Grossly disorganized behavior (e.g. dressing inappropriately, crying frequently) or catatonic behavior
    • Negative symptoms: Blunted affect (lack or decline in emotional response), alogia (lack or decline in speech), or avolition (lack or decline in motivation)
      If the delusions are judged to be bizarre, or hallucinations consist of hearing one voice participating in a running commentary of the patient’s actions or of hearing two or more voices conversing with each other, only that symptom is required above. The speech disorganization criterion is only met if it is severe enough to substantially impair communication.
  • Social or occupational dysfunction: For a significant portion of the time since the onset of the disturbance, one or more major areas of functioning such as work, interpersonal relations, or self-care, are markedly below the level achieved prior to the onset.
  • Significant duration: Continuous signs of the disturbance persist for at least six months. This six-month period must include at least one month of symptoms (or less, if symptoms remitted with treatment).

I have several symptoms, at least I did before the current regiment of medications (they are not completely gone, just significantly dulled). I believe I have delusions and what I mean by ‘I believe’ is delusions are defined in many ways. I do have delusions of grandeur and that falls under, in some cases, the definition of delusion. Hallucinations are something that I am very familiar with as I have had them most of my life. Hallucinations are not solely a characteristic of schizophrenia. Hallucinations can be the result of drug use or many other illnesses including sub-types of bi-polar disorder. I have had and still do in extreme anxiety situations (meeting someone new, etc.) extremely disorganized speech and my thoughts have never been linear or organized in anyway (including now – it is better than it has need however). Just those three symptoms are enough for a diagnosis, but they are not the only symptoms I have had and still have.

I had little to no emotions and had not cried since I was a small child until very recently (weeks). The rush of emotions is too much at times and I cry at the most inconvenient of times (standing in line at the grocery). So I definitely suffered from blunted affect. Alogia, a verbal expression decline, is not something I had an issue with. I stutter started and had issues getting words out, but I always talked – people said too much at times. The big problem was that it would take me two minutes to greet someone, not because I used so many words, but because the four words that I did use took that long to get out. If I was meeting someone new and was not under the influence of narcotics I would not speak at all, run away (literally), or, if forced, shake, sweat, and it would sound like I was either in severe pain or ecstasy trying to release the H from my throat. I, like so many, also had a severe lack of motivation – none at times, lying in bed or on the couch not moving for days (voiding and defecating on myself and the furniture holding me). Not all of these symptoms occurred after I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Prior to that time my diagnosis was bi-polar disorder and because they are so closely related I am not sure if it was a misdiagnosis or if the schizophrenia just reared it head after my breakdown in late 2007.

So I have established that I have the disease/illness and that I have multiple symptoms, but I only really want to focus on the one symptom that, to me, is misconceived the most. Hallucinations.

Prior to 2007

In my youth I had been diagnosed with PTSD, ADD and then Bipolar Disorder in my late teens/early twenties (my mother tells me there were others, but her memory is worse than mine). I was medicinally treated the entire time except for a period of four years where I heavily self-medicated; I self-medicated while being medicated, but during that period my part was the only part and it was more than drastic (I nearly died more times than I can count and I lived more times than I should have).

When I was young I had a friend that only I could see and hear, my imaginary friend. That was not a hallucination associated with an illness by with an overactive imagination, bored and with a need to be loved and to garner more attention than I was getting.

I started using LSD at a very young age and contrary to popular belief there are very few incidents of hallucinations regarding what popular belief of them are associated with it. Primarily there is a sense of altered reality. Meaning nothing new appears; what is already present is altered. Tracers, fisheye effect, ‘melting’ or the running of surfaces and more. I can only think of one time that I believe LSD was contributing factor (but not the only one) to a hallucination that created something entirely new. It was the beginning of a significant amount of hallucinations and at the end of my LSD use. Some say it was a result of the residual LSD in my system, others think it was associated with the bipolar disorder and then others believe it is a mixture of the two. I am prone to believe it is the later of the three.

I was about twenty years old and was in the car with a friend coming home from a party when I heard a voice come from the back seat, shouting over the blaring sound of Depeche Mode coming through the speakers of his Ford Probe.

What the fuck are you doing asshat?

I whipped around and there was no one there. I asked my friend if he heard anything and I got laughter in response. We pulled up to my house and there was someone sitting on the front porch swing. My chest tightened because I was extremely intoxicated and it was three in the morning so whoever it was must have been waiting on me for some unknown reason. I sat in the car for a few moments until my buddy asked me if I was going to sit in his car all night or get out any any point. I said my goodbye’s and reluctantly got out of the car, never taking my eyes off the swing. I walked up the driveway and turned to glimpse at my cohort driving toward the stop sign at the head of the street. When I turned back I hit the ground from surprise. My dead uncle was standing in front of me, fake leg, cane and all. He was murdered several years prior and I was extremely close to him. He stood over me and put his can in the middle of my chest. I could feel the weight of it getting heavier and heavier.

What are you doing with your life that you are coming home at 3:00 am smelling like weed, with blown pupils and walking erratically? You are better than this dickhead. You need to clean up. You are seriously disappointing me. You realize I can see everything you do, right?

I stuttered and had issues breathing, from the pressure of the cane and the shock of the situation.

I … I … I … I … I don’t want to change right now. I … I li … li … li … like living like I ammmm right now.

Then do it little at a time – for me. No more acid. No more drinking.

I nodded. Somehow I knew that I would never trip again. I knew I would never get drunk again (I was wrong, but I didn’t know that at the time – it wasn’t often though). My dead uncle removed his can and helped me up. He was as solid as I was. He lead me up to the porch where we sat and talked on the swing until my little sister woke me up in the morning. I will never forget that and yet I have never told the story before. I always felt it was something that was just for me.

That’s when the voices started. They were not familiar in any way and they did not tell me what to do. They gave me a running commentary of my life, like I was living in a book and they were reading it out loud. I did see things, but I don’t know how much as I was always afraid to ask if someone else saw what I did after being told that I was crazy several times, by family and friends.

That stayed the same until the breakdown in late 2007. It wasn’t my first or last breakdown, but it was the most significant.

The Breakdown

I was married and my wife and me were living at her parents to save money. I was between jobs and on the mend from major back surgery – okay, I thought it was major. I was interested in getting back into photography as I did some work in my early twenties and was interested in doing something creative again that was not writing.

EyesFarmhouseTapping the Vein1Watching Waiting

I had sold all of my camera equipment not long after I started to pay rent and buy marijuana so I needed new equipment. We had little to no money and what we did have we were trying hard to save and failing. I went into a high manic state and decided I needed to do absolutely anything to get that equipment. I thought about stealing it, but I knew I would easily be caught so I struck that. After removing quite a few ideas from my list I cam to credit card theft. I looked in trash cans for info and found nothing. I finally found information on my sister-in-law’s husband who was a marine fighting in Iraq at the time. I applied for a card online in his name and got a significant amount of credit. I ordered the equipment from a store that I knew had a blind pickup system and had it shipped there. Avoiding their cameras I picked up the equipment and returned home. I got rid of all the boxes and such and even scuffed it up a bit to make it look old. When everyone came home I told them that a friend gave it to me to get it out of his apartment because his wife was tired of looking at it. They all bought it as they had no reason not to trust me because they had no idea that I had been lying to them since I met them about every little thing (I lied just to lie at times).

I was in the clear for four months when my father-in-law called me out and showed me statements that he had been receiving. I denied it at first, but it was obvious I was to blame. I broke down and cried. They kicked me out and my wife came with me (there is no one that can compare to her). I cried for three days. It was the only time I had cried since I was very young until just recently.

My mother took us in and I was not charged with anything as my brother-in-law knew the police and a judge. He was nice enough to get it wiped and somehow transferred the debt to my name. I started seeing a new psychiatrist days after we moved into my mother’s basement.

Several psychiatrists and a barrage of medications later brings me to the present, but what about the hallucinations during that time.

They continuously got worse until I had people following me around convincing me that everyone was watching me and they were all trying to steal my identity. I was convinced people were trying to kill me as I had been shot at several times (hallucinations). I spent a lot of time on the ground in a corner curled up in the fetal position – but no crying, just shaking and rocking. I thought I was going to end up in a home or something for the rest of my life. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to push everyone in my life away from me, but my wife stood by me. She gave me strength to figure out that the cat that I thought I owned was not real and the birds that constantly chased me around were also not actually there. She helped me get to where I am now. Without her I would have ended up in a mental health facility long before I did and I would have stayed there instead only visiting for a couple of weeks. She is my savior.


I hear whispers. I see flashes and glimpses. The paranoia is strong at times. The anxiety is uncontrollable. I am better. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I would not be writing this if I were not.