Through the looking glass….

Terror and fascination of the mind that illuminates the invisible and casts a shadow over reality is the toll demanded by the disease that refracts the spectrum of all I understand during my schizophrenic episodes; this last one, a two month journey through the looking-glass.

It seems that a common scenario during my free fall into delirium is that eventually I come to the conclusion that my medicine is something, for one reason or another, I should no longer be taking which perpetuates the depth of my sojourn into the lair of the Cheshire and a myriad of adventures Alice would never have survived.

I can’t say that I enjoy this in any way at all, but I must admit that my mind creates such involved and intricate fantasies that I become enticed and then obsessed with the drama as it unfolds, unable to avail my freedom from the story I find myself both writing and living day after day.  Then, at some point my addictions become an issue and this only serves to bring my dilemma to new and more frightening forms of the fantastic and impossible.

There is always a cost….usually, it involves alienation of others, a fractured sense of reality that takes me years to piece back together, isolation from society, family, and friends (as they are unfortunately always involved in the misadventure and I can’t help but be suspicious of them afterwards), and sometimes it involves a more serious intervention and I have to pay the ferryman to get myself out of trouble (so to speak).

This time, yes the tax owed for the journey is high, but I found a certain freedom during my payment and isolation that I never have known before.  I rediscovered old dreams and desires that I had left behind and made new goals for life.  Usually, for the longest time, I have been depressed and angry that I had to be alive.  This time I’m not frustrated that I made it through again, and sunrise isn’t the ominous omen of another day that must be trodden in my life that never ends.  I’ve made some plans, and if all works out right I’ll be moving to another city soon, and rediscovering myself and attempting to live the life that I’m meant to live.

I accept that I have a disability that demands my continued dependence on medical oversight and dependence upon medication to keep me sane.  I can’t run away from this, but I can run to a new life of pursuits that increase my self-esteem, and help me value each day I’m allowed to have from here on out.  I know I will struggle again, but I embrace this freedom as it’s here, and will do my best to put myself in the best circumstances to prepare for the future, expecting the rabbit hole to still exist in my path.