Raging at the tormentors who drug me

Raging at the tormentors who drug me as I am made miserable and oppressed by the speed they keep forcing on me.  I go to sleep high.  I wake up high.  But it is not a pleasant, recreational high.  It is a physically draining high that leaves my body so heavy that I feel like a fish flopping on land, lifting legs that feel like stone columns.  Even typing is difficult since my arms are so heavy, and the muscles in my back and shoulders tighten and spasm from the speed.  A typical night for me is going to a unrestful sleep after 3 am, after I have ingested copious amounts of OTC sleep herbs, pills, and whiskey.  After an unrestful night, I wake up 5-6 hours later, unrefreshed, and as high as I was when I went to sleep.  I long for the days when my morning routine began with spontaneous inner joy and praise to God for creating and gracing me as a free child, and raising the dawn.  My contemplative center was so easily accessible to me, and it colored my whole approach to life.  Now I am alienated from my spiritual center (and I can tell it, just by looking in the mirror at my eyes.  When I cannot see my soul in my own eyes, but just a glazed, glittery shine or a dark chasm, I have physical proof of what my emotional and spiritual faculties already tell me--I am separated from my own ground of being--my soul.  It is the most hateful and horrible feeling in the world, and is scary how much damage these psychotropic drugs really cause.  It doesn't completely separate me from God or prayer, but it is a very unsatisfying relationship and prayer.  The closest I have ever experienced such an alienated prayer was when ,as a teenager, before my conversion experience, I would pray while I was drunk.  I was sincerely praying, trying to reach out to a God that I hoped existed, but incapacitated in my will and mind to fully receive or cooperate with any movement of grace that God might make towards me.   This is what so frustrating, and even enraging for me--to not be fully able to initiate, cooperate and respond in prayer, but just like a spiritual baby, able only to self-centeredly plead, "God help me endure," and know that yes, God is there.

I have been wanting to go to Eucharistic services at the Episcopal church, since I am more and more committed to entering this communion, but the truth is that I feel so terrible in the mornings, that I am ashamed before God to go to a public place of worship.  I wouldn't go to church while drunk, and  there is absolutely no difference in the spiritual incapacitation I feel under the influence of these drugs.  In addition, I feel agitated and angered, knowing that these drugs are forced upon me by doctors who have never once had a conversation with me, and ignore clear proof of how debilitating these drugs are to me, while they destroy my mind and body.   The only doctor who has truly listened to me regarding this is Dr. Huaman.  When she told me that I was "mildly schizophrenic", and it was clear to my perception that she supported the idea of anti-psychotic medication, I humbly listened, and I took that damned Risperdal for another week, even though I knew that it was killing me.  But I think that Dr. Huaman has also seen how symtomatically miserable and debilitated I am on that medication, and does not support forcing it on me. 

So I am "mildly schizophrenic"--and I wish that I, at the time,  would have sought greater clarification on what she meant by that.  So what?  I am very functional in society--or I was, before  I started being force fed multiple kinds of psychotropic drugs.  I don't think that my "schizophrenia" is an illness that needs to be redressed.  It is an eccentricity that I need to be aware of, but I  think of it as an easy accessiblity to my unconscious which is not only a great asset, but also a great gift from God, and I am truly handicapped without it.  I don't if my brain in an attempt at natural healing and function, rewired that way, so that my autism wouldn't be pre-eminent to the point of dysfunction.  I do know that every drug they have force fed, including the speed, increases my autism, sometimes severely so, as in the case of anti-psychotics.

One of my favorite original Star Trek shows is that of Captain Kirk being split into two selves during transport.  One self was everything that was good and noble and conventionally admirable in him.  His bad self, which got thrown in the brig immediately, had all his bad tendencies magnified to the point of vice--his womanizing, his snappishness, and the need to control and dominate everything.  The irony of it all though, was that the "good" Captain Kirk absolutely could not function without the input from his shadow qualities.  He lost his nerve, his decisiveness, his ability to command and inspire confidence from others without it.  Now Captain Kirk is not my favorite Starfleet captain but the truth of that show carries over to me in my situation.  Whatever my giftedness and vocation is (and I think I know now), I have to have my shadow side, my eccentricity, my "mild schizophrenia" in order to succeed.  I cannot function without it.