Psychic or Psychotic?

I was reading a topic on psychforums.com called “Social anxiety or psychosis?” where a man shared he was hearing people’s thoughts on the subway when close to a lot of people. Many people responded they thought it was psychosis. I did not so in his defense, I posted the following.

Dear Distorted,
I took a Spiritual Depth class at One Spirit Interfaith, a seminary I applied to. I was rejected because of social problems so I took a class to see if I could get along in an educational setting.

While everyone was having an experience of the divine, I was taking a journey in to hell. During meditation I saw disturbing visions. When I relaxed and had fun I had severe shoulder/neck pain and say past lives of torture. One day we did an exercise where we sat across from another student and discussed some feelings. There was a noisy hub-bub in the room. Next we were instructed to share our feelings again, but silently. I heard the same hub-bub and got angry at the people who didn’t listen to the instructions. I looked around to glare at the violators and realized their mouths were shut. It was very upsetting and I thought I must be mad. Luckily the teachers were pretty hip, one was a shrink, two were therapists. They did not find it unusual.

I had some friends who are psychics and they did not think me nuts. I often “sense” other’s thoughts very clearly. I especially know when people fear me, which is more often than I would like. When I have an issue like this I do not let ANYONE diagnose me. I get several opinions from people I trust, some doctors, some not. What is “crazy” in a shrink’s office might be “gifted” in a psychic’s. It is important for me to tell someone professional and get a few opinions then trust my gut. I recommend reading The Holographic Universe by Talbot for a perspective on the incredible possibilities and Carl Jung.

NOTE: There is much discussion about the Anti-Psychiatry Movement and the opposition to forced treatment and hospitalization as well as the belief that Psychiatric Medication does more harm than good. This has been my experience. If I would have told my shrinks “yes” when they asked if I heard voices or saw visions, I would still be in a locked ward today.

Going to School with Asperger’s Syndrome

When I realized I had Asperger’s syndrome, one of several autism spectrum disorders characterized by difficulties in social interaction, I was quite relieved to have a socially acceptable disability I could name and claim that would explain my behaviors without making excuses. I’ve often felt a wall around me socially as I watch others interact pleasantly, make and keep friends, and generally keep from offending or even frightening others.

This has never been the case for me. Though I crave contact, possibly more than most people, I just feel clueless how to do it. I’m petrified of people and most of them say they feared me when they met me. I’ve been feared by the head of the Hell’s Angels who gave me a wide berth, great spiritual leaders who have banned me from their classrooms, and tough business men who have been in prison.

I don’t know when people are joking, I take things literally, I go off on tangents, I talk too much and sometime speak so fast people’s eyes glaze over. I spent 6 months training with an ADD coach just to learn how to watch people for signs boredom, embarrassment or discomfort. I have to be conscious all the time of what I say so I don’t hurt people. I have to edit my emails over and over often reducing a full page down to one question or comment. I’m highly extroverted but I really can be draining to be with people. I feel like I watch them on TV trying to see where and if I can fit in. I “dumb down” my thoughts to where others will understand me and try to keep to “safe topics” socially.

With individuals I do better than groups but I don’t seem to ever develop friends. I call them but they never call me. I’m intense and get bored with people who are ordinary. I’m drawn to dramatic personalities but they usually are not the best relationship people.

I try not to compare myself to my NT (Neurotypical) wife who still gets visits from high school chums at the old age of 63. I really love being with people and sometimes I really get tired of making “new” friends who think I’m so interesting but fall away after a few weeks. I get depressed when I spend time alone so I wander into Brooklyn delis striking up conversations with loose cigarette dealers and alcoholics.

I’ve been thinking about going to seminary for years and the closer I get, the more anxious I feel. I’m petrified of ongoing group activities. I’ve taken classes before and dropped out because I could not process auditory information during lectures and could not connect with my group in experiential activities. The teachers and books often bored me and I could not seem to follow through on assignments. I went to an orientation last Sunday and I an amazing time and was all set to join and then I asked a few questions. I felt like I could not communicate my concerns and freaked out when I thought someone was making fun of me. I have not left the house for a few days since.

If anyone with social problems has gone to school, or seminary and has any advice, please share it!

Some New Favorite Words

Many of the words I’m interested in seem to relate to psychology and pathology, but then that’s my life.

ne·ol·o·gism–noun
1. a new word, meaning, usage, or phrase.
2. the introduction or use of new words or new senses of existing words.
3. a new doctrine, esp. a new interpretation of sacred writings.
4. Psychiatry. a new word, often consisting of a combination of other words, that is understood only by the speaker: occurring most often in the speech of schizophrenics.

(Interesting to see a possible connection above between fundamentalist preachers and psychotics using “a new interpretation of sacred writings understood only by the speaker” used to make people feel like sinners. A little anger there.)

id·i·o·glos·si·a–noun
1. a private form of speech invented by one child or by children who are in close contact, as twins.
2. a pathological condition characterized by speech so distorted as to be unintelligible.
3. (by KIT KAPLAN) the secret language of 12 step programs where a person strings together a few dozen slogans making no sense at all and saying nothing but still maintain the ability to inspire.

Neurotypical (or NT) is a neologism used to describe people whose neurological development and state are consistent with what most people would perceive as normal in their ability to process linguistic information and social cues. While originally coined among the autistic community as a label for non-autistic persons, the concept was later adopted by both the neurodiversity movement and the scientific community. In the United Kingdom, the National Autistic Society recommends the use of the term in its advice to journalists.

And my favorite word since I discovered I had Asperger’s Syndrome…

Neurodiversity is an idea that asserts that atypical (neurodivergent) neurological development is a normal human difference that is to be tolerated and respected as any other human difference. The concept of neurodiversity is embraced by some autistic individuals and people with related conditions, who believe that autism is not a disorder, but a part of their identity, so that curing autistic people would be the same as destroying their original personalities. Proponents prefer the term over such labels as “abnormal” and “disabled”. Some groups apply the concept of neurodiversity to ADHD, developmental speech disorders as well as dyslexic, dyspraxic, hyperactive people, and Parkinson’s.

If I have a secret, you have a weapon.

On anonymity:

I’ve been using this quote from the Tao Te Ching for years when I speak on anonymity and recently found that I had made it up because it is not in fact in the Tao though it should be. I have for years felt that the modern obsession with anonymity was building more shame than pride in ourselves.

The tradition reads “We need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio and films.” It does not say run around your life in fear that someone will find out you are sober, or abstinent, or solvent, or clean.

My recovery is the best thing there is about me and the most important and I’m proud of it. If I keep it a secret, others can hurt me by exposing me and I might miss an opportunity to help someone.

Anything can make us feel closer or farther apart from each other depending on how we see ourselves. If the fact that I am in recovery makes me feel like an outsider, it is only because I felt like an outsider to begin with and I needed an excuse.

The fact is, millions of people are in recovery and those who are not, care about someone who is. A friend, family member, spouse or coworker. Usually these people have sadly watched us drowning in our addictions and are happy to see up succeed and get well. TV has made 12 Step recovery not just acceptable, but stylish.

In the beginning days of AA, Bill and Bob were Evangelist Alcoholics going out of their way to spread the word and anonymity was a concern only on the level of press and radio. If you had a problem, you know who was sober in town.

If a friend had not told me 25 years ago about the local hairdresser who was sober, I would not have found the program because though she was drinking, she got me to my first meeting. Later she returned to the program.

Most of my family is in some program today and if we did not break anonymity in the family, we would be sitting around at family dinners wishing we had something to say. Now we all go to meetings together. I look forward to family gossip like “look how great Aunt Marge is doing with her health” or “isn’t it great uncle John stopped gambling?”

Recently I spoke to a friend who hides the covers of any book with a spiritual title or the word GOD when she reads on the subway. Why are we so afraid to be who we are?

Just to get in a Biblical reference…Matthew 5:15
Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house,

An Apolitical Voter

I didn’t know how angry and upset I was about Bush until I got an email from Barak Obama today telling me that his campaign has raised nearly One Million Dollars from 900,000 individuals donating as little as $5 each. Unlike Senator Clinton or Senator McCain, he hasn’t taken a dime from Washington lobbyists or special interest groups.

I gave up all news media as a spiritual practice many years ago because I incredibly sensitive and felt so powerless. If I see a scene from the war on a TV in a bar by accident I cry for days. If I accidentally see a drunken celebrity on a tabloid I pray for them for days worrying if they will get help. Water does not roll off my back like a duck, it stings like acid.

That is why I have been staunchly apolitical until Obama. I don’t know if he will do any of the things he says if he gets elected but he is like a preacher, motivating people to care again with his thoughts and ideas. Bush has generated nothing but anger and cynicism for our government and since the death of JFK on my birthday November 22, 1963, we have not been moved enough to stand behind our leaders. We have never had a president who could really speak for the diverse mix of people in this country.

Barak’s father is African Muslim and his mother was from Kansas, he freely admits that he used alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine during his teenage years, he is a civil rights advocate, and has accepted – with criticism – the support of someone with known links to transvestite prostitutes (Eddie Murphy) and has an LGBT agenda. He’s cute, well spoken and won’t embarrass us with his illiteracy. How could you not love the guy?

Most people vote on the issues which is a good thing but I know that people get elected and things don’t go the way they planned and they don’t always do what they say they will. So I’m voting for someone who I can relate to. I live in Brooklyn in an African American/Carribean/Muslim neighborhood, my daughter is half black, most of the people I know are recovering addicts, I’m not transgendered but I’m pretty butch and gay.

So for the first time in many years, I care. And I’m going to vote.

I’m a Balabusta, not a Ball Buster

Tonight I made thin sliced chicken breast on a bed sauteed spinach and leeks sprinkled with sesames seeds and tamari. I sauteed fresh garlic, 4 hot peppers and 1/2 of a vadalia onion until caramelized then added fresh baby spinach which I put on a plate. I sauteed the chicken strips in light olive oil. As a side I made oven roasted tomatoe halves with Italian spices on top and home made cole slaw with raisins as salad. For dressing I used fresh smashed garlic, lemons, limes, tamari, course salt and spices with a bit of olive oil. Just another simple meal.

When my spiritual adviser suggested I stop working for my health the idea was repugnant to me. I lived to work. I was a photographer and designer and business owner working on what I wanted when I wanted. But as any business owner knows, you pay for that freedom with the loss of another. The freedom to go home at the end of the day and not worry. I worried all the time and worked all the time and hardly made any money.

It took three solid months of weekly talks to even consider the idea so he suggested I work to support my wife who has a blossoming fundraising business. I began to do simple office tasks and make her lunch.

In our wedding vows I promised to recycle the garbage, do manly things, adore my wife and always let her be the boss. In exchange, she promised be be a good house wife. She had always done all the light housework, taking out garbage, doing dishes, cooking and shopping but I had started a very strict nutritional healing program and needed food to be very fresh and prepared very cleanly so I began to shop and cook. I began to make the bed and shovel snow and I found a satisfaction I had never known.

I pick up a new vegetable every week and try new recipes every other day. There is always a healthy stew or soup hot in the crock pot and fresh fruit vegetables on hand. The counters are covered with fresh herbs and bowls of condiments.

I come home every day with flowers, new sheets or fresh herbs to try. I get the car washed and the oil changed and as spring approaches I am planning a meditation and art space for the back yard. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to work.

Good housewifery is an honor in the Jewish community. They even have a name for it: Being a Balabusta. A Balabusta is a woman who is not only a great homemaker, Mom, wife, Bubbie, cook, baker or seamstress, she is also a woman of valor, and a motivator. A Balabusta can be the family glue, the one who helps to hold everything together. The traditional role also includes, besides fulfilling the household duties for the family, spiritual bonding of the family and helping its members hold together.

Recently my daughter announced she and her fiancé have set a date and I have offered to be the wedding planner. Who would of thought the one person in the family with ADHD and a serious illness would be the one to have the honor?

My daughter’s family lives with us and her and my wife always comment on what a good influence my eating habits have been on all of us and I try not to watch over her shoulder to read labels on food. While my wife writes proposals all day I constantly ask, “Did you drink water today? Want to do a little yoga to relax? Are you breathing?” I’m not a ball buster, I’m just a Balabusta.

Dogma at the Diner

Dogma: a religious doctrine that is proclaimed as true without proof, a set of beliefs
Dogmatic: the arrogant assertion of unproved or unprovable principles

I went to lunch with a group of about 6 friends after an Overeater Anonymous meeting as I have done for many years. I’ve been in OA for 25 years and recently began to attend Greysheeters Anonymous, a program focused on a specific food plan with a more life or death attitude towards staying on the plan. Their slogan is “No Matter What.”

OA dropped the food plans many years ago citing food was a personal choice.

Greysheet in Brooklyn has a lot of black church women and there is a feeling similar to fundamentalist  churches not just in attitude but spirit and conviction.

As it often does, the conversation came around to food plans and eventually Greysheet. The usual negative comments were made like “Greeysheeters are rigid, the plan make people sick I hear, fanatics, etc.” I mentioned that Greysheeters do not criticize OA’ers this way but I was assured by a long time GSA attendee that they do.

So here we are, a group of OA people in a program that’s principles and traditions affirm a person’s right to chose their food dissing a group who’s food plan and beliefs are different. Are we in OA who consider ourselves so much more open minded so different from the fundamentalist bible thumpers when we thump our big books, puling out selected quotes, real or imagined, to bolster our point of view?

Are we any less dogmatic when we say, “this program is right and that one is wrong?”

We claim not to be religious but we are not so different than a church. There are things done in churches today that were considered holy in the years after Christ and heretical hundreds of years later. In Pentecostal churches today, talking in tongues is a good sign of the holy spirit as it was at Pentacost. In the dark ages and later, you got burned at the stake for it.

The idea that “We are right/good and they are wrong/bad?” is called sometimes Tribal Consciousness. For some reason it is a big part of our genetic makeup. If you believe that God made us in his image and perfect, it must be part of that perfection. On some level we must need it. There must be a reason for tribal drives. The instinct is for us to bind together in groups which will help us survive. But at some time in the development of man it went wrong and we began the feel there was not enough to go around. We became threatened by people who were different from us.

It may seem like a small thing, but when we diss people with different programs or beliefs, no matter what those beliefs are, we are dipping into the dangerous waters of dogmatism that caused the crusades, most wars and 9/11. And those waters are deep and seductive. Am I arrogantly asserting my rightness in even writing this story? Probably so. For me to assert that dogmatic people are wrong is dogmatic in itself.

The best I can do is to try to remain open minded and conscious. To say, “I don’t believe the way you do but I affirm your right to believe that way.

Fun with the Fundamentalists

My wife and I often attend he mother’s Evangelical mega church Grace Chapel in Lexington Mass. In the basement during coffee hour there is a table for people to sign a petition against gay marriage. I often wander up innocently and wait for one of the fresh-faced young men to ask me if I want to sign it. I tell them, “I’m not sure, I’ll have to ask my lesbian wife.” I walk away from a circle of dropped jaws.

My family asks me why I go to that church. It is because I like sharing worship with my wife’s family. It is also a great church that does a lot of good works. The sermons are great, music is terrific, classes are informative. I agree with their values, I just don’t agree with their theology. I don’t believe the way they do, but I affirm their right to believe that way.

Recently we got a CD from mom of a sermon she thought we would like because near the end the Preacher said, “People ask us if we welcome gays and we say loudly, yes!” But she must have been in the bathroom for the rest of the talk because afterwards he said “Welcome ALL sinners including ex-cons, alcoholics and homosexuals.” They want to be a place for them to repent and get right with God. When we told her mom about it she was shocked and embarrassed. She said she did not feel that way now though she did at one time.

She is a right-wing Republican Evangelist and in spite of that she has supported our relationship and has welcomed me into her family as a daughter-in-law, not a sinner. I have always affirmed her right to feel how she feels about gays and as a result, it has changed the way she feels about us.

Pit Bull Lady

Taking groceries out of the car, I notice a woman walking her dogs.

She rumbles down the street elephantoid, rocking her 300 pounds from side to side. She has the bearing of a mammoth and is escorted by two muscle-bound white pit bulls with spiked collars. They are held at bay by 2 inch thick leashes. They waddle in the same rocking stride as hers. All three of them are dirty and tattered and I can image how they smell from across the street in my drive way. Her dark black skin shows through several holes in her light sweat pants and there is a large rip just next to her crotch that I am sure attracts attention.

She is scowling at nothing in particular, sullen and angry looking. In comparison, the tough guard dogs look like sweet puppies though I know better.  These two look like fighting dogs and I know the sport is still practiced regularly here in Crown Heights.

I wonder what circumstances in her life brought her to this day, to this place. I have often known that place of not caring what I wore. I often intentionally wear tattered clothes so people will know how battered I feel inside. I have also hated the world with “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on” as my standard approach to life and the people in it.

I don’t feel that way today and am grateful but as I look down at my sweat shirt I see some unidentified goop all over the front and wonder when that last time I washed it was. It reminds me to be grateful for the warmth and sunshine today because a dark place can be right around the corner.

Hope Can Happen in a Moment

I have been reading an amazing book called 60 Seconds, One Moment Changes Everything by Phil Bolsta which contains dozens of short stories, mostly by famous people like Deepak Chopra. In each a moment in time changed their lives. Everything from magical manifestations from Sai Baba for Carolyn Myss to visions and visitations. From children’s deaths to near fatal accidents fro sports figures. In each story, an event, often tragic, changed their lives for the better and in many, made them who they are today.

Each story has made me weep, sometimes almost violently, they are so moving. Some are very upsetting. All however are hopeful.

Today I was reading another book, Molecules of Emotion by Candace Pert, a groundbreaking mind-body healing leader and neuroscientist who was cheated out of a Nobel prize by an Old Boy network in the 70’s. Her anger prompted a highly-criticized and publicized exposure of the experience and caused her great cost professionally but the incident prompted her to start Women in Science (WIN) for women to support each other and she has done a lot to move women forward in science and change lab environments from competitive to nurturing. She would not have done this if not for her experience and her anger about it and how she used it positively for change.

I found my self thinking her story is my story. I may in fact be losing my faculties due to my illness. I was devastated by the events 2.5 years ago when I nearly died from medications, was rejected by my church, lost my faith, my wife was fired and we nearly lost our home and our marriage. I feel deeply damaged by my childhood of abuse and how it still effects my life today. I’m worn out but my ongoing health issues and dealing with 25 years of chronic depression.

Yet I saw this morning how tragedy, loss, suffering, illness and pain can be transformed into good, even greatness. How it seems almost to go hand-in-hand with creating a life of magnificence. They call this hope and I have not felt it for years. Thank you God for this moment.