The 100th Post

Last post I talked about life being an open book. But I have to expand on that once more.

When I became ill I suffered what could be described as a psychotic break. It's a colorful word but not entirely accurate. Most of the time a psychotic break is used to describe Schizophrenia or other forms of psychosis. The part of the word that is accurate is a psychotic break is the event or first occurrence of psychosis. It literally means the psyche is broken.

A had years of study in the field of psychology not to mention a great deal of emotional and mental fortitude. but all that didn't matter. I saw it coming and could do nothing. It hovered at the fringe of my mind, at the moment I was most vulnerable and emotionally weak it struck.

It was a disease of the body but it most severely affected my mind. At the time I began to manifest symptoms of Schizophrenia (Delusions, hallucinations etc) which honestly scared me more then anything. I will not detail the events of that night, even now it's too personal... and painful for me to talk about. My entire life has been about fighting whatever enemy or challenge was before me. I spent that night in a struggle I had no idea how to fight until I became tired, then depressed and finally I gave up.

My personality changed, on the outside everything appeared normal. 95% of people didn't notice the difference. But I was very different. I was ruthless, uncaring and vicious to many people. I didn't feel warm or open towards anyone, I became extremely paranoid and aggressive. At work I became even more successful, my ruthlessness increased the money I made by almost three times as much. But the dark and ruthless did not get a free ride.

I felt as though my personality had been fragmented or shattered between a good and evil half.
In hindsight I came to believe that the split had to do with my deep held belief in duality. Surely the evil that existed within me had always existed there. But when the whole became two parts the evil side overpowered the good. It doesn't matter if it's true or not. What I believed made it so.

When the infection was removed and I recovered... I felt different. I had literally lost everything and everyone I cared about in this time. Only one person stayed with me the entire time, no matter what she was there and never gave up on me. Had she not stopped me I would not be alive today, or worse I would've completely lost myself in the confusion of my mind. The kind of loyalty and love she showed me cannot be expressed with words and for it she is greater to me then any hero past or present.

Even after my recovery three things have lingered, One thing that I have struggled with and mentioned to few. In addition to my migraines I have lingering flashbacks. Certain things, certain people trigger me to relive that terrifying and painful day. Although I am perfectly fine now the memory of it still strikes terror into me, I get a cold sweat and lock up. If it's a memory of pain my chest begins to ache and I feel as if I am about to burst into tears.

The second is the physical symptoms. The migraines I mentioned before. But shortly before the infection was removed I suffered temporary paralysis. I was unable to move my hands very much and at one point my left hand essentially became a vice-like claw. My reflexes have never fully required until just recently. Although I am not anywhere near my peak my reflexes have improved enough for micro heavy classes in WoW and I'm able to use my sword without possibility of further injury. This makes me happy to no end... if only I could get rid of the migraines now.

The last is one I spoken about in veiled comments. The loss of my spiritual self.
If there was one thing that brought me the most pain, it was the feeling of losing my soul.
When I was disposed towards evil I was filled with malice towards everyone, contempt and paranoia. I have to admit at times I even enjoyed the freedom of those emotions without guilt. (Although the guilt that followed pretty much ruined even that.) But all they did was mask the fact that the core of what I was simply ceased to exist. I know the moment, the action that caused me to walk away from my beliefs. Had I not done that I would've had another shield, another layer of defense against the corrosion of those times. But I was desperate to make myself whole, I reached out to people and they rejected me. One person made me feel better and I was willing to throw away everything I believed in to win her affection. But it didn't work. She was terrified of me and rejected me out of hand.

I did something then that I had never done before. I changed a deep part of myself for someone else. When I was younger I watched as women manipulated my father and used him for their own designs. I saw the power they had and vowed never to let it control me. Afterwards the things I had believed in didn't mean anything to me, they became just words: Honor, Balance, Self and Honesty. In the confusion I felt then I believed that another person could make me whole. But I had forgotten my own beliefs. That a person is a whole unto himself. No person can cure me or make me whole other then me.

The person I was then was destroyed because I made mistakes, because I was arrogant and shortsighted. I realized that I am a whole, filled with divisions and factions. That something that appears as one piece can in truth be many pieces working as one. My inability to recognize that nuance lead me to attack things that were not the problem. Although I will never again suffer that particular series of events the odds are good I will never completely heal from it either.

I have to say these things because if I do not drag them into the harsh light of day I can never be rid of them. I have too many immediate goals and problems to remain forever anchored in a past I cannot change. This will be the last I speak of the situation for awhile, I feel the writing has helped me me a lot... but the time has come to shift to the story of a reborn person and not a dying one.

An open book

One of the things I love about writing fiction is how impersonal I can be. It's essentially making things up and getting paid for it. I often find however that writing about myself, ideas or experiences I am filled with a sense of dread or loathing. Part of me has always been paranoid about opening up to people, a paranoia that has been enforced by a lifetime of verbal abuse and neglect.

At one point in my life I decided that I didn't like keeping everything inside, internalizing my pain didn't make it feel any better and it was hardly protection from someone who actually did want to hurt me. So I decided I would be an open book. I wouldn't hide or lie about myself or my beliefs. For a long time I felt better about myself for being honest and open. Although I do admit on occasion to violate my own policy, but mostly my life is/was an open book.

The troubles it has gotten me into are sometimes funny, and other times very very depressing.
I have missed so many opportunities in my life because I was unwilling to lie or compromise my personal ethics. It's particularly funny in regards to relationships. One time I fell in love with two girls. At the time I didn't know which I liked more and when they asked me that's what I told them. It hurt both of them and it blew up in my face.

Being an open book and having a code of ethics does not make me a fool however. In battle, competition and any other contest of wills a lie is a tactical move. It costs you honor and respect but if you have extra to spare then go for it. My rivals and enemies are more then willing to lie, I should be prepared to do the same.

After some of the things that have happened to me it's difficult to remain an open book. If I told some people how I felt it would destroy them, and they may even deserve it. But I don't want to be that kind of person. It is an uneasy balance between being open and not unleashing a flood of anger and assorted negative feelings. I have to accept that a lot of people abandoned me when things didn't look good, But I learned from it who I can really trust in the long run.
It's difficult to get closure with people when you cannot speak to them anymore. A catch-22 that the most dangerous hurtful elements in life must be faced head on. If you do not face them head on they fester inside you forever like a disease.

I say these things because there were moments I was weak.

I forgot about my honor, I forgot about the condition of my soul and sank into an emo-filled pit of apathy. A lack of honesty about my condition and feelings drove me into it too. If I had told people something was wrong I may have been able to avert it, or at least prepare them for it when it came. I was ashamed and I concealed it. It wasn't until I stood on the brink between life and death that I was able to admit to anyone... especially myself that I did not have control.

Someday I will be able to talk about the things that happened, and the things that I felt... and still feel. But for the moment it's too dangerous, a special exemption to the open-book policy in my life. There are some people I can talk to, very special trusted people in the meantime. And someday I will be able to write about it here.

I have to air these things. To show my shame and weakness because I don't want them to be my shame and weakness forever. I'm starting to awaken, not just to who I was but to who I should be.

Great Simplicity

I've had time recently to reflect on my writing.

When I write on this blog I'm often doing it to work out something. My thoughts or my feelings are confused and I need to try to make sense of them. It really does help... but doesn't make for really good writing. That's a moot point however since my talents are found within fiction.

It's easy to look at my blog and think "god he's just an emo little bastard isn't he?". It might even be true. This is a modest attempt at correcting that; I make no promises for the future however.

It's funny. When I was young I thought I was such a great writer. I was actually pretty good. But not for the reasons I thought. I had a natural talent, words and concepts came easily to me. I was far better then my peers (Some would argue that's hardly worth merit.) and devoted huge amounts of time to reading and practice.

Around 12 or so I started to get into heavy lit. Shakespeare, Voltaire, Hemingway, Poe etc. That was when I first started to realize that my gift was less then I had imagined. The first serious brick wall I hit as a reader was Kant's Critique of pure reason. I was intellectually unprepared for the power of his ideas. A child can understand Shakespeare or Voltaire. But it takes a mature intellect to grasp the complexities of Kant's work.

During this time of my life I would 6 or more books a week; sometimes as many as 12. I learned very quickly how to duplicate another writers style, I was able to find patterns that acted as a "tell" into the authors mind. With all this study I became good at understanding writers, but I didn't really feel like a writer anymore. You see I never had my own "style".

I could duplicate another writers style, but I never felt comfortable with my own words. The style was awkward and seemed to reach. My natural gift had taken me as far as it could. My personal life was often chaotic and my interests started to wander more as I got older... I never really became comfortable with any one style and instead used a nearly schizophrenic smattering.

The way I write now is completely different and it's thanks to one thing. Religion.
Taoism is itself a simple religion and yet it applies to virtually everything in life. Many writers fill page after page without saying anything of worth. Some writers pack their writing in too tight making it feel rushed. I want to say exactly what I mean with just the right words and at just the right pace. Kant spoke about topics of such complexity that it would seem to be at odds with my personal beliefs. But when I read the book again I understood what Kant was saying. I will tell you a simple truth. Kant wrote about a topic of great complexity in the simplest way possible.

Great simplicity hides complexity. Things that are subtle delight the mind and invite the imagination. I struggle with style sometimes, I wrestle with the fickle muse for the perfect word, I listen in the dark of the night for the perfect thought and the elusive feeling. It is this simple, chaotic, terrifying and beautiful act of creation that I have devoted my life to and I would have it no other way.

My natural talent and inclination was a gift from my mother. It's entirely my challenge where it takes me from here.

Till my last breath

Somes in trauma a memory becomes burned into the psyche; a smell, sound or taste brings back memories of betryal, heartbreak, deep sadness and guilt. We seek escape and release in new memories, in fantasy, in denial or by shutting ourselves off completely from the world.

I have my entire life been master of fantasy. I have dwelled in the richness of my imagination from the unfairness and cruelty of my early life. I learned as I grew older to shape it and use it for performance and writing. Even some of my hobbies dwell within the realms of fantasy: books, games and anime. But never have been slave to it.

It is for this same reason I refuse to drink to excess, I fear the loss of control.
I have seen what the loss of control does to a person, what addiction does to the mind. How the soul dies in stagnation when it is not fed. I could've ran into the world of fantasy and been a slave. This path is different but perhaps the reward greater.

It is an eerie feeling as I realize that I am trapped. The contridictions themselves appear almost absurd. I want to undo damage from a time I was behaving irrationally from illness, but I am afraid to speak to those people: moreover they won't speak to me.
I want to be forgiven for actions I have been assured I did not commit, yet I remember them as if they occured yesterday and the guilt is not less because of the circumstances.

Worst of all is the realization that the trap is complete; I am unwilling to escape. Perhaps in that regard it is better to refer to it as a cage. Although the cage has no freedom and is generally unplesant it's not all that dangerous. I fear the ruthlessness and cruelty I was capable of... it isn't something I can understand or comprehend. I guess all I can call it is primal... like it belongs to a darker animal part of my psyche.

I think honestly I would choose death before letting that happen again. Many would call that a cowards way out... but I don't think I have it in me for another round of that.
But my fear is not just for others, but also my own mortal soul. At times it felt as if I stood on the line between eternal damnation and an escape to forgiveness. I felt if I held on alittle while longer I would be redeemed somehow.

The fire in my soul burns to embers but has not died. I overcame death, depression and sickness and I refuse to be trapped by my own fear and hesitance now. Someday my children will face their own trials; they will ask me "what should I do?" and I don't want to be a hypocrite when I tell them that fear should not stop them. I'll say to them "don't let anything stop you, not while you still draw breath." and I won't be a hypocrite when I say it.

So thats my new motto. I'm going to keep saying it till It sticks. I need to remember that while I live I can change and the future changes with me: So until I stop breathing nothing will stop me.

World of Insight Pt two.

I said I would elaborate on the previous post and true to my word here I am.

Playing Dawn and Adul gave me an insight into how I used to play. It's one small facet of a very rich life and doesn't give me everything I needed. I had some time to delve deeper into my memories to a time before World of Warcraft.

I don't know what kind of Taoist listens to Bon Jovi, Creed and Vertical Horizon before classes but I did. I would close my eyes and free my mind. As time went on I was put under more and more stress and I started to meditate less and less. There were times when I meditated 3 times a day without fail and kept my mind and reflexes sharp. Other times I was lazy and did maybe two or three times a month.

I had a kind of indestructable spirit that always kept me from falling into the deeper aspects of my personality. It was uplifting and attracted into my life a variety of friends, lovers and comrades.

I now see with clarity the layer upon layer of fear and pain that has dragged me down. I was detoured from my path because of this and I will not tolerate the delay any longer. I have no future while I remain like this... and if the answer requires struggle and sacrifice then I say good. My first stop is long over due, I need to see someone special before I can do this. Once thats done I need to hunt down each and every problem and solve it.

Goodnight and godspeed

World of Insight?

This post has been stewing in my head for some weeks trying to take a fitting form... but really I think it's because I'm afraid to write it then any writers block.

It's really a poorly kept secret that my health isn't good, bad enough that in fact that I was forced to leave my job and live a lean simple life off savings and scavenging. I've had little to no luck in fighting the migraines and perpetual pain that I've been feeling for the past half year. If my weight loss follows the trend it has I will be within double digits in the next week or so.
So needless to say I've been pretty miserable aside from a new moments I can gleam with Holley, Warren or Ashlyn.

Writing, the outdoors, most video games, books and most activities that require alot of thought have been nixxed. That leaves TV and World of Warcraft.

WoW rarely requires me to think, the fact of the matter is I can play it completely off instinct and be completely fine. Adul only requires 4-5 keys to play and rarely has a situation that isn't handled by copious amounts of Fireball. WoW gives me alot of time to think... and it gives a tiny window into my past.

You see it's simple. When I played Dawnstalker I was in good health, emotionally, spiritually and psychologically in top shape. I was ruthless and cunning to my enemies and kind and loving to my friends. I had an eye for detail, patience and insight. Aside from a few debacles here and there I was well known on the server and generally well liked. Dawn was the very ideal of the perfection I seek in my life.

However when my real life turned sour so did my persona. The guild I poured myself into building turned on me and fell into ruin. Which mattered little to me because of the chaos and desperation I faced in reality. I could have easily turned back to the fictional world of Azaroth and buried myself so deeply in it that reality disappeared. But I didn't and it was a very long time before I did return.

After all that happened I couldn't bear the idea of playing Dawn anymore, the memories she brought back literally physically hurt me. So I used my first high level character Adul (Transfered from my old server of Kel-thuzad). Adul was another era entirely for me, It was with Adul that I learned I had skills in leadership, organazing and group tactics. Adul was training for Dawn and I didn't fully understand that until I dusted him off and played him again.

When I finished leveling Adul I quickly got to work on his raiding gear. For those of you who don't know much about games of this genre... it requires a fair amount of time commitment to gather all the things needed for truly great gear. In Adul's case it's Spellfire.... now like the name suggests it's built for characters who use magical fire and the materials for it mainly drop off guys that are completely immune to fire. That means Adul would require an obscene amount of time to craft his gear. (My frost damage being quite sad.) Dawn however can kill these troublesome mobs effortlessly; painful as it was if I wanted to advance I had to play Dawn.

If playing Adul is easy then playing Dawn is a hundred times more so. When I stopped playing her she had the best gear in the game and a signficant stockpile of resources. The memories she invoked lead me to a line of thinking I had pondered and discarded long ago. You see I can see how different I am compared to before. I have a weak sense of self and I constantly seek approval and attention. Before I was happy sitting in the shadows watching (I had an ego then too and wasn't afraid to show it off... but this is just pathetic now) and enjoying the satisfaction of my work.

My self esteem isn't the primary cause for concern. Dawn invoked powerful memories of betryal in me. I realized for the first time that my failure to resolve them was still causing me pain. I'm not even talking about WoW mostly. When my world collapsed I was hurt and angry... in turn I hurt others and became hated. There are hundreds of studies that document the link between emotional health and physical health. There are even afew books I own that cover it in great deal. I think perhaps I buried my pain so deeply that it transformed itself.

I get angry now for no reason, I get depressed over nothing. I have pain that I have never in my entire life felt. For most of my life I never got angry; I was even-tempered and calm. Depression was occasional but never lasted long.

Playing Dawn helped me remember that when I had problems I would attack them face on, when something was wrong I fixed it right away. There are many many people that have hurt me and that I am have hurt... many of whom no longer speak to me. Could it really be the answer? Will my body heal when my heart and soul no longer feel this burden?
I'm going to revisit this. But for now I must rest.