Yesterday I did one of the hardest things in my life. I found an inner place that forced myself to do something I didn’t want to do. I admitted to myself that I do need medication after all, at least for now. Words cannot express how difficult that decision was but it felt so good to make it. When I left the hospital, I stopped taking medicine - partly because my doctors were fighting over what medicine I should be on, plus the one prescribed to me has a side effect of making me feel unusually hungry and I don’t want to gain weight with all the progress I’ve been making. I’m taking medicine called Invega, which is a treatment for schizophrenia. Up until this point, I denied denied denied I had schizophrenia. I mean, come on. My success defies the logic that I’ve got a mental illness. But after this spat with pneumonia, it appears that if I ever stay up longer than usual, the hallucinations start again. And I’m battling it with all the strength I have inside me and will do whatever it takes to get rid of this.
The thing is. Or at least from what I’ve observed from other people who have schizophrenia, most people when they get paranoid, think “people are after them.” That’s never been an issue with me. The opposite is true. I often think “people are supporting me.” It’s all positive thinking, thanks to lots of self-hypnosis. It only appears “bad” when I start believing I’m God (and everyone else is me) and believe it so much that when I meet someone, I have no idea who they are anymore. Many times, when I watch television, I’m able to dictate what Barack Obama says before he even says it. And 99% of the time, whatever I’m thinking is conveyed on the television screen by actors, commercials, or themes of tv shows. When trees fell down around my house during a bad storm, I felt I had control over the trees and protected my house with a shield (I’ve got photos of the trees, plus one that, if it had fell the opposite direction, would have killed me instantly). When lightning strikes, my body physically responds to them with extreme sensations. When I was in the hospital, I had over a hundred orgasms during a thunderstorm and they were so intense that they appeared to be seizures to the doctors because my body was convulsing with energy. It was easy for me to get confused when meeting new people. It was hard to determine if they are “different” people or if they’re merely people I’ve met before because I’m (or someone else) is inhabiting their bodies. I’ve channeled God inside me so many times that I’m even convinced I have real lottery numbers. If only I knew which day to play them *wink*. Which by the way, if I win, I’m giving the winning ticket to slave m so we can create charities together. And all my hypnosis recordings would be free forever and I could make more and more and never charge for them. I’ve channeled Jesus inside my body so many times that I was even convinced I could be the next “coming of the lord.” The responsibility of knowing that was unbelievable. It felt that in 2012, I would be the one walking the earth as Jesus and technically, I’ve already sounded my trumpets and come down from the sky (it was in the Apocalypse recording, which I took off the site a year ago) and the select few who heard it would be even more privileged later. It got so intense that everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING around me seem to show me signs that proved it. In the hospital, I channeled Jesus in my body as he was dying on the cross. I even remember looking out at people while they cried as I was dying. It’s impossible for me to forget that (and I’m not even a religious person!) It’s impossible to even go to the store and not see Jesus things reaching out to me. This all started in San Francisco when I met two people. One person claimed to be the son of God and made the sun brighter with his fist. The second person, a guy named Russell, read my mind for nearly 5 minutes and telephatically convinced me he was Jesus. If I told you the details, I doubt you’d believe me. I didn’t believe me either at first. I refuse to spend my time convincing others of things that *I seriously believe are real* when my logic tells me it’s impossible.
So anyway. Yesterday morning, according to slave m, I was screaming and kicking him in my sleep (something I’ve never done before). I was having a dream where police officers were stealing my money while doctors forced me into a mental institution. The dream ended when blood started coming through my pores of my skin and I saw several children staring at me with shock. Above their heads were blank lightbulbs and the voice of God (through telepathy) told me it was my duty to turn their lights on. I woke up instantly and argued that. It’s not my job to “impose beliefs” on someone and I refuse to do it. Within minutes, I asked slave m to take me to the pharmacy to pick up my $360 antipsychotic medicine. The one thing that called out to me was slave m’s daughter. I can’t wait to meet her and love her. I want to move to Virginia and sell my house so he can be close to her. During my manic episode, I felt it was important for me to reach out to her but could only do that if I’m sane and well. This is what convinced me to take the medicine. I want to be a great role model, not someone who is crazy. I’ll do whatever it takes to battle this illness. I’ll fight it with everything I have. It’s easy to see the beauty of surrendering to the universe. But when I did, I went crazy. Now I’m going to fight the surrender or at least stay in control of the surrender. I learned what I learned and now am letting some beliefs go. The spiritual oneness I experienced will always stay with me, but I gotta float back down from the clouds and come back to reality. Some people get so enlightened that they never make it back. My friends are helping me which is so beautiful because it lets me realize I’m not alone in this. My lifeline has pulled me back. And I want to do this because I love slave m so much that I’ll do whatever it takes so that we can live close to his daughter and he can have the things in life that he wants. I’ll do anything for him and am willing to even sell all my belongings if I have to. Belongings are stupid anyway. It’s all superficial happiness.
I’d like to share something from Rumi, which gave me hope in the hospital. Every time I’d open the pages, the words seem to be writing themselves specifically for me. He’s my all-time favorite poet (and person) and if you know the story of Rumi, then you already know how beautifully intense his work is and where it comes from. If you aren’t familiar with Rumi, I’d like to share a little bit about him. Rumi had a lover named Shams. The two of them had a love so intense that it was magical and highly spiritual. Rumi had students and a son who were insanely jealous of the love the two of them shared. The jealousy got so bad that they killed Shams in a fit of rage. Rumi was devastated beyond belief and thought he’d never recover. Then Shams began to “possess” Rumi’s body and they channeled each other, even from the grave - to write beautiful words of the deepest form of love. The poetry written turned out to be the most incredible unparalleled poetic literature ever created, in my opinion. Most of the poetry was written by Shams, using Rumi’s hand. During my schizophrenia, I channeled Shams inside me (which is the only thing that kept me alive). Shams is the silver lining that I see everywhere I look.
Here is a poem from Book IV available in Shams of Tabriz or The Soul of Rumi:
—-
Yes! The lover who hides in the orchard because of
the night patrol. He has no hope
of finding the beloved again. He has only descriptions,
remote as though they were
recalling the great Simurgh bird. He had one meeting,
lip-touched by honey, but when
the journey, the daily being inside the presence, began,
difficulties rose: the lover,
restless and fire-footed as a deer; the beloved growing
more and more elusive. As it
happens sometimes, though, the unlooked-for one appears again
in the orchard. She is there
with a lantern looking down in the creek for a ring she has
lost. In the delight of
her water-illumined face he feels praise coming through him
for God and the police!
“They brought me here! Set them free of policing!”
When word comes down
of new regulations, the police get very alive, but when
a king relaxes rules,
the police grow melancholy. The lover prays that
the night patrol he healed
of such rigid depravity, because in trying to avoid them he
has found his beloved. This is
how it goes in the time region. What’s foot to one fetters
another. Venom circulates
perfectly in a snake. The ocean water that nourishes fish
brings a painful death to land
animals. Anyone’s experience can multiply this common truth:
saint turns betrayer, the same act
can be both wound and shield. If you want to see the
beloved’s face, borrow
the beloved’s eyes. Look through them and you’ll see the
face everywhere. No tiredness, no boredom.
“I shall be your eye and your hand and your loving.”
Let that happen, and things
you have hated will become helpers.
—
Love
Isabella
xoxooxox
