http://www.amazon.com/Undercurrents-A-Life-Beneath-Surface/dp/006251184X
Jonathan Harnisch
Dear Readers,
I have been having many schizophrenic episodes and though I have been offering many inspiring posts, it's like the tears of a clown or the idea that it is often easier to help others than one's own self. I've felt that I've been crying out for help within my support team and medical team, but as I am currently in yet another episode, I feel that I am not in danger of hurting myself or others, thus I don't feel that hospitalization is necessary; that this is just the schizophrenia, but I have just posted this on my office door to let the staff here see this sign, my delusion, and disease while I do believe I am aware enough of my symptoms:
At the same time, knowing this is not true, I have to admit (sure it's the schizophrenia) but I wholeheartedly believe this ridiculous idea coming out of paranoia and other "crazy" effects of this devastating condition of schizophrenia. I also know that taping this to my front door, is an "out there" type of behavior. But again, I am "calling out for help," alone, upset, anxious, sometimes angry, and feeling left out. I post this on Porcelain Utopia so that I can let you know that this is all "real" to me, and that this illness is not offering me comfort. I have had another typed out "Reminder to Self" page on the inside of my office door--at my home--that simply reads:
I've had it there for a long time. This is an extremely difficult place to be--a difficult delusion or belief, but again, it is real to me, and schizophrenia is no joke, unless I am not feeling these feelings or believing these ideas 100%. The above quote came from a voice I kept hearing while aware, I think. Knowing it''s "crazy" and that I don't want to believe these things--it's just a ridiculous paradox. This illness is real-deal. Flat out schizophrenia. I wish I didn't have this darn thing.
You are not alone! Share this to raise awareness during Mental Health Month. I am still somewhere in here, in this otherwise disturbed mind. I am going to forward this by e-mail to the appropriate people on my team.
I am aware, but it can be extremely horrifying.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Harnisch
I wake up this morning not knowing what—not knowing anything. Maybe that’s a Zen Buddhist way to be—just that I am.
I had said before that I do what I do without worrying about my popularity, and not worrying about hit counts, and shares. It was and still is a large part of my own mental mission statement for all that I do these days—from my blogging, to podcasting to music, film, art, art, art…
I never look back at my still-open door to take over a very large financial firm whenever I might decide, and I have made my decision long ago. It won’t change. I do have a rare talent for making good financial decisions; I still own a million shares of the Google IPO, for example—it’s worth, well, a lot. It’s out of my control—the money—and that’s all I’ll say about that—money—but only to segue into the ‘out of my control’ part and combine it with ‘I am’—perhaps.
I could probably just come up with some well-thought out quote about love or purity and say that Gandhi or the Buddha said it—it would likely get shared and liked across he web much more than if it came from me, which is to say that this is a credibility issue [perhaps my own issue] or a matter of trusting sources. Integrity.
I do know that I both have a lot of talents and that my conditions with schizoaffective disorder, personality disorder [NOS] and PTSD hinder many of my talents from shining as much as I’d like them to—I’d really like them to.
I seem to never be satisfied. 27 million hits on Porcelain Utopia “should be” 127 million. If there were 10 it should be 1,000. Yet I stick to my mission, and do what I do—just to acknowledge that it was so much more thrilling when Porcelain Utopia was receiving 500,000 hits per day sometimes, and now just a couple thousand, if that much.
Depression sinks in. And there have been many times when the thought comes in that ‘I’m not suicidal, but I wish that I was.’ Does that make sense? It’s true. Not a death wish, but rather the continuously resurfacing feeling that I just want all the turmoil that my plethora of illnesses bring to stop. Not my life—not at all.
I’ve spent the majority of the weekend in a state of almost complete lethargy and apathy. I could barely talk, barely speak and barely get up.
Paranoia was there, yes, but other than that, if anything, the best way to describe my symptoms were, and actually still are quite a bit, that I was deeply disturbed and troubled. Not even confused, but sort of. I knew my surroundings. I knew what things were and where they were. I knew I had to take my medicine, eat, shower, and tend to my kittens. Yet, inside, as there were no voices, no hallucinations, nothing like that—a deep sense of feeling lost was ever-present and is just beginning to wane—yet hardly so. Not to depress you, or bring you down to where misery loves miserable company… No, I’m just blogging, just writing out my thoughts, trying to make sense of things, no rush, no rules, just writing. Nothing I need to worry about. Again, I’m self-helping. I’m choosing and deciding. I’m wanting, yearning and losing.
Losing, I’m thinking more in the New Age way, that perhaps—and perhaps this is just another whimsical thought—but that my ego might be surrendering. God, would I love to lose that damn ego. The ego in the sense that no past, no future—just thoughts—unwanted thoughts—all gone—the ones that are basically nonsense and not needed.
I just have to keep on going, and as I preach, to see it all as an adventure.
This depression, the fear, the deeply-rooted ‘I don’t understand…’ anything—I have my self, and for now, I might be depressed, but at least…
I am.
I am Jonathan.
May we all remain as centered as possible.
Jonathan Harnisch
―Gretchen Rubin
—Earl of Chesterfield
The sequencing in this post might be a bit difficult to follow due to my exacerbated and disorganized thinking—executive order of thought due to my condition with schizophrenia. I present this writing as it is and with best intentions, as usual.
My goal: to attain an ounce, a moment of seemingly impossible peace of mind, through complete honesty, self-love, acceptance and self-forgiveness, and by any means necessary.
"We often stumble through life trying to force miracles, when there are miracles happening around us all the time."
— Charles Holt
I began to ‘think that I’m thinking,’ while in the midst of schizophrenic upheaval, that my only option might be for now, and to remember upon the next day, and those that follow: to do my best, even better than my best, perhaps acting at first so that I shall become afterwards. While I see no way out at the moment, I trust I will get “out” and return, even if to only have another day like today again, but just not tomorrow.
Positivity, an “overload” of it, almost forcing it just as much as I force these words out—I mean I’m really going through it now, and part of what I do—rather try to do—is to really get in there when the times are tough thus to portray these states of mind, schizoaffective, mentally ill, anxious, disturbed mindscapes, and so to bring it all to the surface… Stemming from my need to write, to write as much as I can, to “force” it out— the letters, choosing to get out of this current state of mind to then impart what I can from the non-disturbed mind once I’m there and ultimately back to usual. The usual experiences with which I’m better acquainted.
As I sit here in complete solitude—100%. I still know that I am literally not alone.
Therefore, neither are you.
Always…never.
Details and specific introspection might not be accessible for me to write out, as I am currently way deep, since this morning, in a spell. A sensitive schizoaffective spell—an episode; one that I will one day, very soon poke fun at in order to cope, though it sure feels like no joke right now. Yet as I write this out, an inner laughter dawns on me—a sensitivity-based, “OMG!” kind of laughter—“Wow, this is one hand of cards I’m holding today and the worst poker face possible...”
But I've got to win this one.
Am I seen but not heard? Heard but not seen? I’m in complete privacy, here and now at home. Dealing with this hand of cards. My ‘Joker’ is Schizophrenia. Might have to bluff here. Well, I’m ready to throw it all in. All my chips. Taking the chance.
I’m going to win. I know it. This evening, I am going to take my chips and gracefully walk out of this well-fixed casino rigged in favor of the casino, not the player. I'm playing. But this this is like live TV, and I’m "on the air." Live and real-deal. Playing the 'Reality' version. It’s the only way I can see it happening. And that, my friends is my ‘bluff’ face. However it comes out. I can’t bluff the truth. I just can’t. Not these days. No way at all.
“Can I see the complete absurdity yet pure “possession” that this illness has on me?”
-Silence
“Come to think of it, my mind is the problem. The disease.“
-Remain Silent
...Indeed, those are just thought patterns. Thoughts—that’s it. Not the Word of God we’re talking about.
But, wait; my mind plays tricks on me. I might not be able to trick Schizophrenia, but I can play with my mind. I'm creative and I have a wild imagination, to say the least. Let me give it a shot.... Let me try to laugh.
OK, I cannot.
Literally, on the fly, I’m smiling now. That's a sure start. One player out of the game. Wow, I did it! But it didn’t feel genuine. (I am writing this, as I come out of this episode, as I would on The Real Me podcast. I‘m live. I’m in real-time.)
Huh, time: it’s coming upon 9:00 PM. I can see. A clock. Senses. I have senses. Random thoughts coming and going like bubbles in the air. I laugh (inside)—Bubbles! Now, as weird as this is, and as real as it is, I’m now smiling… Believing it’s real, and that the smile is on my face because I am happy. That’s it. OK, I’m getting there. Alone, it seems, but nonetheless… Another player at the table folds.
I need to return. To come out of this episode. The smile—it’s still on my face. Now I really believe in it.
That’s a good thing!
Going to try for a “lonely giggle” now—to see if I can turn this smile and giggle, into an honest-to-God laugh—here in my office, the Hot Club, with nobody in sight, just doing this because I want it. I want to come back. Weird? Creepy?
Heck, it’s been a minute now, and this smile is still on my face. Holy cow, I’m remembering—from some guided meditation I did a few weeks ago, the narrator suggested turning a smile into a full-on laugh and just keep it going until the laughter becomes me.
This would be such a bizarre series of events for me to post publically, but to hell with it. I am self-helping and sharing it, to perhaps thousands of people whom I cannot and will likely never even see, for real, face to face. In this comfort zone, I have everything to gain. A moment of peace, if that alone—that will do. I feel like I’m watching a hilarious stand-up comedy show now—just right now. I am laughing out loud just because I want to. I need to. No matter how long I laugh.
Next: the “stay in the moment” idea swirls, asking me, and I reply…
“Yes!”
Out loud—I’m saying:
Nothing to lose. Nothing.
I’m going for it. Going to say, to shout, I shout and laugh, ‘Yes,’ to this present moment and then just say whatever comes next. If I can, I’ll shout out anything, as long as it’s positive and for my own good.
A minute has now passed and I’ve been sitting here on my green couch, and I feel it—believing in all of it. I ranted, smiling and laughing—I said, I yelled, such things, “I am a person. I love who I am right now. I don’t care if I have schizophrenia. I am a good person. I care about my self. I feel great. Right now, I am terrific. Right now, I don’t care how weird this sounds. I’m doing my part in this, my way, and I want a mirror now. I feel happy. Now. Now. I am now. I am in the moment. I love this moment. I sitting here talking to myself, and now I want a mirror to actually follow some of the suggestions I read about in self-improvement books, being myself and being exceptionally weird, and I want to talk to myself—visually!”
I often narrate aloud my moment-by-moment experiences, to myself. But not like another personality. The same one, in fact, perhaps just slightly dissociating, which is actually quite common with affective disorders such as schizoaffective disorder and bipolar disorder. No matter. Now another 5 minutes have passed and I honest-to-God just talked to myself in the mirror, in the blue bathroom. I’ve got to say, it was hard and beyond “weird,” but I did it. I did it because I felt it was simply what to do and you know what? I’ll have another episode—I can play around with that likelihood. I mean, I have schizophrenia for crying out loud, but I just did what I did. And I admit I feel a bit better.
I call out, now back on the couch, “I am Jonathan and I feel terrific! I love my life. I love. I am!“ Et cetera.
About 20 minutes earlier before my most bizarre of all behaviors, looking into my eyes, in the mirror, 100% sure I was going to be sharing all of this on Porcelain Utopia for all to see. To see whatever ‘they’ [you] might, or might not see. No worries, no judgments. This is how I’m coping. And I am succeeding. Again. I’m proud. Certainly not a committable offense, is it?
Text message from my wife just came in: “Hey J, wanted to know how you were feeling, any better? I love you.”
I typed back, “Getting there, can you wait for the next post on Porcelain Utopia?" I hope to show it—in words. Words. Weird. Words. I am being myself. I’m kicking butt. This all started after I woke up from a disastrously disturbed nap—spells, and whispers of paranoia, disjointedness. Then I got to where I am now, as I’ve written so far, bringing me to: This is why I do it—
What I’m learning from this day-long episode of paranoia, depression (after a manic morning), voices, hallucinations, side effects, and onslaughts of disturbances and thus the last two blog posts I truly believe in, even if I can’t be better tomorrow than I am today, even if “God” was not the right metaphor, I trust what I posted, and this is why I run Porcelain Utopia, The Real Me podcast, and so on. I do it for myself, for my state of mind, my own meditations on the human condition, while mine—my condition—is exacerbated with schizophrenia, I then, with nothing to lose, do my best and that’s all I can do, to put it out there. My assumption is that many other people might have too much shame, or fear, or a job on the line, or… something holding them back. I understand completely if that’s the case.
It’s still May: Mental Health Month. This kind of thing is my calling—all that I do—is. It’s my purpose. Yes, my “calling.” This—on a personal note—this schizophrenia, with personality disorder—not otherwise specified, autistic features, Tourette’s, compulsivity, and trauma issues have plagued me for the better part of my life—this can become so difficult. So… so… so extremely difficult. Not only for me, but for those who care about me, and all others who suffer and their loved ones, too.
This time, I’m learning that I am more shame-based, at heart—for whatever reason, and that it takes an extremely gentle person to deal with me. I can behave in ways that might hurt others’ feelings, or cause them distress. This is all derived from my being, I believe, an extremely sensitive individual—I mean to the n-th degree.
I learn through these horrible episodes and I let you all in on them when I’m able, because just knowing for myself that if even one person on the other side of the earth might read this and, I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot—if only one person, time and space making no difference—is comforted, if anybody might not feel as alone as they might have before, and who might not feel completely foreign to their own selves, and experiences, whether he or she is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, the President of a country, or a homeless person on the Internet in a shelter in a Third World country.
This LSD-effect-like episode I am literally enduring right now—I’m not venting, that’s not my attempt. I just want to—need to—share my experiences when others who might, just might, have the same kinds of experiences, and might not be able to or want to share them. This is still who I am, with schizophrenia or not, and no matter what. I come through, and I will, always. I will, and I trust that you will, too. If not? You are, at least not and never will be alone—even if we never know each other. I just feel it.
I just know.
Please excuse any formatting errors as I post this from my mobile device.
Sz can get real tough. Apathetic day here, feeling lonely and stuck but Hope is still alive.
I am doing my best and encourage you all to, as well. That's all for now. But thank you for all your support. A good person is somewhere in here. We all need him to shine.
I miss him. Medicated for Sz as a child. Please be careful if you are a parent and considering medicating your child.
Thank you.
Currently in discussion of "last alternative" for Sz medication management, either newer meds out during the last 6 months or Clozaril: http://www.clozaril.com/index.jsp?usertrack.filter_applied=true&NovaId=4029462041662342088
Jonathan Harnisch
Jonathan Harnisch
We are all One. We have all made a spiritual commitment to each other to recall and express this. There is nothing that we experience that is not a function of this goal. When you are in the process of offering love, forgiveness, and compassion to yourself and others, you are expressing this goal and being an example of it. When you express anger, frustration, and judgment you are in the process of experiencing your illusion, and remembering that who you are not brings you a step closer to realizing who you truly are. Thus every single moment is helpful and of use to us. Regardless how your brother or sister expresses this, the proper response to them for their effort is that of gratitude. Gratitude, because through their example, they are assisting you in remembering who you are, and who you are not. Your offer of gratitude will bring you back into your natural state, the state of peace.
There is only One of us here. Thus let us recall that whatever a brother or sister said or did was something that some part of us needed to hear or see. And because it was something that we needed to hear or see, then in actuality it is a gift that we are presenting ourselves with. The gift is allowing us the opportunity to remember our truth within the illusion. The truth reminds us that every moment offers us an opportunity for growth and healing.
Thus the next time a brother or sister says or does something that raises your ego’s call for anger, frustration, and judgment, please consider asking yourself: Where has the ego’s reaction ever taken me? What has it ever offered me? How has following the ego’s insistence ever made me feel? Why do I keep on supporting such a self-destructive and unproductive thought process in my life? And then instead, recall, experience the eternal internal smile, and say to yourself ”From the bottom of my heart, from all that is my soul, thank you brother for helping me remember who I am not, who we are not. Thank you for this moment and for this offering of remembrance. Today, together we heal. I now choose to offer gratitude, I now choose to experience and become an example of our true home, the state of peace”
Peace, Health, Happiness, Love, Laughter and Light.
-James Blanchard Cisneros
www.chosentoremember.com
Link: Rethinking Madness, a webinar presented by Dr. Paris Williams
New understandings of the mind and of madness can open new doors to full recovery - thoughts from way outside the straightjacket of the "medical model." By Ron Unger LCSW
"Deceptively easy to understand, yet thought provoking and challenging, his work offers plausible reasons to overcome the too simple historical medical approaches that ignore the richness of the human experience and the positive potential inherent in one's journey through madness." - Ronald Bassman, Ph.D., author of A Fight to Be: A Psychologist's Experience of Both Sides of the Locked Door—
Jonathan Harnisch
—Osho
