Monday 15 August 2011

Am I paranoid that some people don't believe what's happened to me in my life?

I find it so hard to judge these things. I can understand how some of my
life might seem a bit unbelievable but that's because I live my life
differently to other people.

Other people don't spend 2 years of there own time searching for answer
for the treatment for schizophrenia. Other people haven't been in a
children's home and a foster home for a few months then a couple of
years later ended up working for a project for the European Space
Agency. Other people didn't do a degree in Electronic Engineering but go
to no lectures and instead learn about other things while working in a
call centre, doing loads of photography and teaching internet and HTML
at the biggest students' union in Europe.

Other people have spent their lives living safe lives and relaxing when
they're not working. They wouldn't walk into an area on there own where
there had been riots the previous weekend dressed in a smart suit. I
guess those are the sort of changes that mental illness and living with
a death wish bring about in a person as well as a phenomenally high
level of education from an early age and a lot of abuse during my entire
life, as well as a few good times of course.

I wonder if it's because people can't believe a total loser who still
lives with his parents at the age of 33 and has a cat as his sole
companion could ever have lived a life once or had some amazing
employment opportunities.

Now all I do is work and drink alone. It doesn't matter. If I can pull
it all together perhaps I can save a few lives. This blog has a lot of
information about my ideas about schizophrenia and treatment. If I can
get my stupid, useless head together and sort it out perhaps I can
persuade psychiatrists and my local MP that they seriously need to
change what they're doing to the severely mentally ill otherwise history
will look upon this time and weep at what we're doing to the severely
mentally ill.

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"