Gentlemen, welcome to Fight Club.

The first rule of fight club is…..

If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? For years now, I’ve wanted to fall asleep. The sort of slipping off, the giving up, the falling part of sleep. Now sleeping is the last thing I want to do. When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep, and you’re never really awake. With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

This Is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time.

You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.

I’m Jack’s complete lack of surprise.

May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. The lower you fall, the higher you’ll fly. Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer. Reject the basic assumptions of civilisation, especially the importance of material possessions. Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

Worker bees can leave.

Even drones can fly away.

The Queen is their slave.

On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

An exit door procedure at 30,000 feet, the illusion of safety. Do you know why they put Oxygen masks on planes? Oxygen gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, you’re taking giant, panicked breaths. Suddenly you become euphoric, docile. You accept your fate.

I’m Jack’s Cold Sweat

Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head.

Hey, even the Mona Lisa is falling apart. Look up at the stars and they’re gone. This is why I loved the support groups so much, if people thought you were dying, they gave you their full attention. If this might be the last time they saw you, they really saw you. Everything else about their checkbook balance and radio songs and messy hair went out the window. You had their full attention. People listened instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. And when they spoke, they weren’t just telling you a story. When the two of you talked, you were building something, and afterward you were both different than before. Because everything up to now is a story and everything after now is a story.

Nothing is static. Everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart. You decide your own level of involvement. Losing all hope was freedom. A house full of condiments and no real food. If you don’t know what you want you end up with a lot you don’t.

I’m Jack’s Raging Bile Duct

Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all? This is the insomnia. Try to relax a little more with every breath out, but your heart’s still racing and your thoughts tornado in your head. Nothing works. Not guided meditation. You’re in Ireland. Not counting sheep. You count up the days, hours, minutes since you can remember falling asleep. Three weeks without sleep, and everything becomes an out-of-body experience.

I am Jack’s Smirking Revenge

Stop trying to control everything and just let go. Let Go! Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a Chicken. You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. Fuck Martha Stewart!

Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you. At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves. I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom. Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything. I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have. I don’t want to die without any scars.

Ask yourself, if you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?

Living with Bipolar Disorder: The Conundrum

Reading my text books (Stahl’s and Maudsley) I have no idea what I personally need in answer to my illness.

I have a positive response to Mirtazapine (NaSSa or tricyclic) (now stopped) as it helped me sleep too, albeit better at lower dose (15mg) as it blocks the H1 receptor or interferes with it at least, but I had a negative response to Sertraline which is an SSRI like Fluoxetine I’m taking now. Sertraline made me fit when I took Tramadol too, serotonin Syndrome? Never going to find out.

Serotonin is found in the gut and there’s a gut/brain axis that isn’t fully understood how it works with regards to mood. When I started my antipsychotics (Quetiapine originally) I was eating like a madman and I put on about two stone in weight and went up to 93 kg. Since I started Olazapine I have been put on fluoxetine as it works well with Olazapine and I have noticed that I have lost weight, most notably the way my clothes fit me as they are looser and then the fact I eat once a day if that. However, when I do eat I find myself getting hungrier the more I eat. It’s odd to explain.

My antipsychotic is a dopamine blocker and my antidepressant is a serotonin inhibitor, is my issue then conductive to both issues with the levels of serotonin and dopamine in my brain? Is it possible for Psychotropic testing to evaluate your DNA and see how you metabolise and respond to each medication?

I have periods of no expression or enthusiasm for playing my guitar or writing my blog. Then when I get hypo manic or depressive I get my expressions back and I have motivation to write or do something productive. Even if I have depressive phase I can write a few. Words or play a few chords on the guitar and sing some lyrics about the situation I’m in. Being manic I’ve found looking back at my writing I don’t write it down complete. I miss words out and sort of expect the person reading it to get it. It’s sort of rushed. Also my handwriting is completely different from manic me to depressive me. And everything in the middle. It’s crazy.

Daily Prompt: School Dayz

Describe something you learned in high school.

At school I didn’t learn anything in class that I use today. Obviously reading and writing is prevalent but that’s it. History was a lie. Maths was something to work out the angles of some mad triangles and then learning Pi to about 7 or 8 decimal places. You don’t get shown how to do a tax return or anything but I guess you have the tools to do it. Then again in England we’re told how prestigious we are and how we lead the world to the prosperous future that our generations now enjoy. Little did I know we were a set of ruthless bastards who raped, pillaged and ransacked lands all across the world. How can a country smaller the size of California enforce its language on countries half the world away? America is a vast expanse of land, they speak English. Australia is a vast expanse of land, an island still a whole days travel away from England, that speak English. Scotland, Wales and Ireland all speak ENGLISH. No matter where you go in the world on holiday or whatever, people speak English. It’s fuckin’ bonkers if you think about it.

I learnt at school that you see all, hear all and say nothing 🙈🙉🙊

Computer Enhanced or El Natural?

I’ve put one of my pictures through an app that enhances your photos. I’ve posted below. Please if you would comment A or B as to which photo you find the best. The photo on the left is photo A and the photo on the right is photo B. Thank you

7 Word Story #17

“Every member of parliament trips on glue”

Today’s 7 Word Story comes from a comment by Ian Brown, former lead singer of the Stone Roses. It’s flippant but true about every government establishment in each and every country around the world.

Daily Prompt: The First Rule of Fight Club is…

If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?

I’d be Tyler Durden from Fight Club. So in essence I’m two people. Yet I can’t talk about Tyler to anyone. Anyone! And especially not to Marla Singer, she’s just a depiction of my emotional baggage.

Worker bees can leave

Drones can fly away

The Queen is their slave

I’m Jack’s cold sweat

Being Tyler Durden is “being what you want to be”. Being Tyler Durden is being free from the illusion of life the society has set. “You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all singing, all dancing crap of the world”.