2008 - the year from hell...

Well, I was trying to avoid writing this one, in part because of wanting some privacy over certain matters, but also because in doing so it might put me at risk with certain people who love scolding me over absolutely nothing.  Let's talk about when I was arrested (twice) back in 2008.

So, yesterday I mentioned a certain individual that I have a complex with due to old accusations of wanting an affair when I was trying to level with him about something that went wrong at grad.  In my poor psychological state, while in withdrawal from Clopixol CTO injections, down to 98 lbs, with a stalker following me around, I was in crisis, and I knew that this accuser lived around the corner.  My desperate situation led me to reach out with a series of notes at his doorstop, asking for help.  Among these notes were odd musings about spirituality, concerns about dark forces, and advice on performing weird backyard rituals for protection, but no literal threats to anyone in that household.  I was so overwhelmed, I couldn't bear to use my telephone, being quite paranoid.  Ungrounded as I was, I didn't get that reaching out to him was a terrible idea.

At one point, a police officer and a nurse came to my property while I was in the backyard, which I assume was because I had been screaming a lot at the time, that somebody had complained about the noise.  Frightened, assuming it was related to a noise complaint, I went back inside with the intention to be quiet, and they left.  Reflecting on this, they might have been sent because of the notes, but I will never know for sure at this point.

My father, checking voicemail messages for me, told me there was one from the police, demanding that the notes come to an end, reminding me that this silly man wants nothing to do with having any discussions, and I should leave it because he clearly has a problem with me.  So, the notes stopped.  Days later, I was arrested anyway on accusations of criminal harassment... over asking for help.

I was put through court diversion, where extremely outrageous crowns laid into me about how horrible this all was, that my behaviour was atrocious, and that I should be ashamed of myself.  Ordered into hospital, I was shortly thereafter discharged, after being moved to the 1001 Queen St West CAMH site and feeling very freaked out by it.

Things escalated with the stalker, I was having horrible nightmares where he was going to murder me.  Overwhelmed by what I was going through psychologically, including the effects of the tone in court over the criminal harassment accusation (I had to show up often in court as part of the diversion process, where they would chew me up and spit me out), I screwed up.  Out of fear, the stalker was injured slightly by me, then I was arrested for assault.  Thank God he wasn't seriously hurt, it was no worse than perhaps the results of a bar fight.  But because of circumstances, they really threw the book at me.  That's why I went away for a year.

I emailed one of my former besties and told her the details of what happened.  Unfortunately, the tone of the email was odd, I guess she mixed up the details of what transpired, because I later heard there was gossip going around that I had assaulted the man that I had reached out to with the notes (she knows him too), which was not true.  She ghosted me, and I've never talked to her since, not even now that I'm well and living a stable, grounded life.  Some people were like this with me, while others simply needed distance for a while so I could sort myself out, which I understand entirely.  I was pretty wild, and people do need to feel safe.

As I reflect on the events of that year, I totally understand and am at peace with why the second arrest happened.  It makes sense that it should, I had clearly crossed a line at that point, and wasn't safe.  But the first arrest still feels absurd to me.  This man has accused me of being a stalker throughout the years because I had periodically reached out to demand answers after I became unwell with the complex, and it came down to this in a crisis.  Just another reason why I go around saying that Toronto hearts are as cold as Winnipeg winters when the going gets tough.  What he needs to understand is that he has nothing to worry about, I will never attempt to solve this with him ever again, because I know the kind of tone I will get from a man like him.

In my first graphic novel, "Asylum Squad Side Story: The Psychosis Diaries", there was a certain character who was loosely based on this person who had accused me of things.  Unfortunately, under the influence of my psychological state, as well as law and mental health putting ideas in my head about my intentions, details in that comic were not what I would write about now.  The narrative was heavily influenced by services desiring that I see myself as bizarre and personally responsible for circumstances.  That book became extremely painful literature for me to read, because it was not what I wanted to say, and that is one reason I will never republish it.

So why am I talking about this?  I am in a process of reflecting on everything now that I have really sorted myself out, having made it off Latuda and away from psychiatry's abusive hand in my life.  It's a very ugly story, and still extremely painful to think about.  The fact that several won't talk to me even now speaks volumes about who my real friends are, and is a reminder and a call to be as refined as possible so that none of this shit ever haunts me again.

I leave it up to those who don't wish to speak to me to change their minds, the ball is in their court.  I will continue to work on myself, seeking higher levels of refinement, proving to the world who I really am.

-Saraƒin

How regional DBT failed me...

I haven't really talked much about my experiences with Dialectical Behaviour Therapy, something I took in the early 2000s before my spiritual crisis had begun, but definitely after weirdness with the ouija board back in high school.  I took it because I believed I had Borderline Personality Disorder, and was recommended it by a psychiatrist.

Perhaps this therapy works well for some, I know Marsha Linehan struggled with BPD herself and designed it, which is interesting to me.  But the CAMH chapter I took DBT with back in the 2000s I feel shaped me to perceive myself and my traits incorrectly, ultimately did not help, and might have even hurt me.  I do not know how it influenced my psychiatric profile, only that fighting any idea about me that I didn't agree with took a very long time.

I started DBT shortly after graduation, a time when I was accused of wanting an erotic encounter with a certain person I had approached for help in a crisis.  Having opened the vault to him a bit with my confession of having a little crush, my tone at the time was misinterpreted, and when trying to contact him for answers, I was deemed a stalker.  In DBT, I was shaped to believe I had an obsession with him, that I had bizarre personality traits, and that I might even be a problem.  Ultimately, as I refined and came to understand myself better with age, I realized the obsession was from having been mishandled with what followed, I had developed a complex where I wanted to talk to him to resolve all bad blood.  Because this was forbidden for some reason (people didn't get what I was about anymore, I guess), I couldn't solve my complex with ease, and I was affected by how obnoxious that was for me.  DBT and other levels of psychiatry wanted me to see it as an erotic obsession, and not simply a fixation on solving the problem as a result of being taken out of context.  My asexuality was, I guess, not something they respected.  (This also happened during a period of time when the world was less interested in respecting mental health awareness, the DSM-IV-TR was still in use, and asexuality was not yet clinically recognized as a valid sexual orientation.)

I still wrestle with several complexes, eight years and thousands of dollars put towards analysis did all it could for me, at least it helped me to conquer certain levels of humiliation that I felt coming out of psychiatry.  There were things psychiatry "taught" me about myself that analysis helped me to realize were not true.  Though I am not an analysand anymore, I would say that my time with the Jungian was worth it, I am now much fonder of myself as a person, understanding that I was wronged.

So as far as DBT goes, I have heard it can be done well, but beware negative chapters.  It harmed me, like so many things in mental health care.

-Saraƒin

"St. Dymphna" - a Mad Pride psychedelic Catholic icon...

I just finished another painting!

After I completed the "St. Lucy of Syracuse" icon, I decided to do another that would be both a Catholic saint but also a nod to the Mad Pride movement.  Though I have done another more traditional looking St. Dymphna piece (with a detail that insinuated tabernanthe iboga, which has the chemical ibogaine in it, a miracle drug for both addiction and certain forms of mental illness) and St. Dymphna was heavily referenced in "Asylum Squad" as the patron saint that Liz Madder turned to when calling for help, I thought it was time to do another piece about her.

Though I can't say I feel a strong mystical tie to this particular saint (probably because other saints had already helped me, among them were St. Jude, St. Anthony, and St. Therese) she is nonetheless very important as a figure that many who struggle with mental health problems turn to when praying for wellness.  I got the sense it would be interesting imagery to have her standing upon a mound of pills and hypodermic needles, with "Saint Dymphna, Release Us, Glory In Madness" spelled out in Latin ransom note style lettering.  ("Glory In Madness" was the best translation my personal Rosetta Stone and good friend, former Poet Laureate and fellow Mad Pride creative, Richard Yves Sitoski, could come up with for "Mad Pride" in Latin, since the Google AI translation used the negative connotation for the word "Pride" when I attempted it with a literal translation of "Mad Pride", so that is why this phrase is included.)

Again, St. Dymphna was not a saint who I felt had a major hand in my recovery, but I did conquer levels of my challenges where I had to rely on psychiatric medications, so I wanted an image of this saint representing the achievement of that goal, towering over the pharmaceuticals.  Above her head is a Psi, representing both the field of psychology but also the soul.  I gave the background a wavy psychedelic gradient feel, in warm creams, suggesting glory.

As usual, this is made with acrylics, paint pens, Sharpies, imitation gold leaf, and ransom note style cut out letters on canvas.  The canvas is very sturdy, and measures 12" x 16".  I am contemplating the price for this one.  (I still need to do some details on the sides, so there's a bit more work to do before it can go in a gallery.)

I might take a little break from painting for a bit, unless something comes to mind that demands my attention, or I feel inspired by an upcoming art show theme.

-Saraƒin

Magnesium...

I took the advice of my mother (and a friend who agreed) and started taking magnesium powder in a glass of water before bed, to try to solve both insomnia and some leg cramping that I had been dealing with.  Weeks later, I have had very few nights where I needed to resort to my quarter tablet dose of Loxapine.  Also, the cramps in my legs have lessened.

Having graduated from Latuda in mid February, it became another goal of mine to let go of Loxapine tablets as PRNs as well.  Loxapine is still psychiatric medication, something I am trying to get away from entirely, knowing that long term use of these drugs can lead to complications.  I am hoping that all that I needed was just more magnesium in my diet.  I had tried melatonin, but it didn't help much at all.  Loxapine works, but it's extremely sedating, so I often felt groggy in the morning, and let's face it - neuroleptics aren't ideal.  There are other prescribed sleep aids that aren't benzos, antipsychotics, or habit forming, but when I inquired about them, they aren't covered by ODSP.

I have a general check-up appointment I need to schedule soon with my GP, I will have to tell him that magnesium seemed to be what I was lacking.  It will be interesting to see if getting off Latuda has lowered my cholesterol, because I don't tend to consume a lot of creamy sauces or foods high in cholesterol anymore.  I am still drinking alcohol, but am trying to reduce that once more (it's all light beverages, too).

I have committed to a daily workout routine of about 25 minutes on my yoga mat, a combination of stretches borrowed from yoga, and aerobic exercises.  My weight had been creeping up again because I had been eating too much takeout and was not working out as often, but now it looks like I am back down to a size medium.

It's hard to take long walks when it gets cold in the city, so I try to get as much of that in as I can during the summer season.  The rest of my exercise is my yoga mat floor routine.

-Saraƒin

Hipster mental health awareness...

I am not sure how well this article will fair with everyone, but I felt like sharing my thoughts on this subject matter anyway, as I have discussed it a bit with other former and current Mad Pride activists, and we share similar feelings about it.

There is a certain level of a kind of "hipsterdom" from so-called mental heath awareness content on the web that worries me a little bit.  Mostly from young adults, it's a growing rise of content on platforms like TikTok and other forms of social media of individuals identifying too heavily with the contents of the DSM V as though it defines their personality.  Not all of these people are poseurs (like some of the fake Tourette's Syndrome cases, or false DID accounts), many may have been legitimately diagnosed, and perhaps sometimes have something very meaningful to say about these experiences.

My concern isn't that people are talking about it, it's that the way this is done sometimes becomes a rather insulting way of seeing oneself.  This may seem powerful or meaningful in youth (God knows, I was guilty of it a bit myself in my early 20s when I didn't get how deep the rabbit hole would get later), but if you ever find yourself dehumanized in long term care, subjected to CTOs, affected by law and mental health, or other such humiliations, the tone of this kind of content grows to become self-indulgent, especially to those who have truly been damaged by experiences in the mental health care system.

I have my own theories, and so do many doctors BTW, about how labels are not to be taken terribly seriously, that treating them like an identity is a bad idea.  I for one require a DSM V code to navigate the system and get the supports I need, I just needed one that made enough sense for my case, in that it had enough symptoms present to be a legitimate description of my suffering, and that code was PTSD, not the other codes they tried for a while.  If I had identified too heavily with the wrong code, I would have been lost in a misery and perhaps stuck in a level of recovery I am glad I finally transcended.  It was a real fight with the system to be taken more seriously, and if only I could be heard, I would warn people to watch out for the dangers of heavily identifying with these diagnostic constructs.  Individuals are much deeper than this, and there is a wiser person that lies within us all, if you are willing to do the work.  So yes, I will admit to having PTSD, but I don't like identifying with it too much, it's simply a code issued as a means to an end... survival while I can't work as hard as one would expect me to.

Also, I will state again having what I call alternative mental health means I perceive the world differently, because I navigate at least two worlds at all times, engaging the spirit world, almost like someone from a more traditional society living in the big city.  I have my own theories about what the west got wrong about unusual psychology, why this happens, and what might help with solving levels of suffering, but often I can't be heard by western medicine when I voice these ideas, for psychiatry is not there yet with the spiritual perspective, and my credentials don't seem impressive enough.  Canada doesn't even believe in healthy voice hearing, the great mystics of the past would be outraged, as an example.

I am sorry we lost our souls and decided this was fine.  I can't say I agree and have decided to live my life in such a way so as to tackle the day and solve problems immediately as they surface, focusing only on what matters, and maybe a little bit on what I truly want and care about.  I think taking up too much space makes us all sick, and that simple living was very helpful, in my case, when it came to recovery.

-Saraƒin

"St. Lucy of Syracuse" - new painting...

The muse is visiting these days, so I felt like painting again, and I wanted to tackle another Catholic martyr - St. Lucy of Syracuse, the patron saint of those who suffer from eye problems.

The story goes that around the time of her martyrdom, under torture, her eyes were gouged out, but God miraculously restored them.  Most depictions of St. Lucy are not nearly this painful... I certainly seem to have themes of crying blood in a lot of my art.

I wanted this to be heavy on the pastels for an ethereal quality, as if Lucy is already in Heaven, despite her torment.  Included are psychedelic lines in the background, adding to that ethereal quality.  Initially, I was going to add pupils, but decided against it for an otherworldly feel that the absence of pupils seemed to give.

It kind of looks a bit like Vaporwave art, which was not my intention, but I don't mind.  11 x 14", acrylics, paint pens, Sharpies and imitation gold leaf on a sturdy canvas - $300.00 is my asking price, I think.

There are no shows coming up that I know of where this would work, but maybe someday.

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: I edited the edge of the plate St. Lucy is holding since this post, it was bothering me a bit - looks better now, though I have yet to take a new picture.  I decided that I might give this to one of my best friends who really liked it, as a birthday present... when I told her, she said I should put it in a show first but she would gladly take it afterwards.  Now that I think of it, maybe Northern Contemporary would take it for their annual "A Nightmare on Roncesvalles" Hallowe'en art show, because it's kind of horrific.

Reflections on being misdiagnosed...

It took approximately 15 years to convince doctors to drop the diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder from my file.  It finally happened in 2023, but it was 15 years too late.  What followed was another diagnosis that was equally upsetting for me (schizotypal personality disorder) until it was (apparently?) dropped as well.  I have discussed this at length before, the subject is nothing new on this blog.

As I reflect on being classified with schizoaffective disorder, I am reminded of incidents where diagnosis is weaponized, or used as a means to control a difficult client so as to prescribe antipsychotics to keep them in line.  I hear it happens in Russia, for example, but it also happened here in Toronto, at St. Michael's Hospital, when a patient who had lupus was diagnosed with schizophrenia so as to control her with forced medication, because apparently she was considered "difficult" - the doctor later admitted he was making symptoms up.

Perhaps not as damning as that scandal, I can't help but feel frustrated by the number of doctors I talked to who agreed that the complete lack of bipolar symptoms in my case made schizoaffective disorder a questionable interpretation, and yet none would fight for me.  They also failed to consider the symptoms that were unusual that suggested that I was living with something else entirely.  I was issued an EEG to rule out epilepsy (turns out those were spontaneous kriyas, not seizures, but try getting a doctor in Toronto to even know what a kriya is) - when they decided it couldn't be related to seizures, they shrugged off all mystery symptoms and chose to ignore them.  The Jungian analyst I had got it, along with the rogue psychiatrist I once had who agreed that what I went through was all bullshit, but I guess I had to convince inpatient care doctors for anything to change.

But the damage in my relationship to medicine, as I have discussed before, was done.  I was so put off by how things played out, I went on an extended hiatus to contemplate how to proceed with my image in the art world, after my name became synonymous with a disorder I simply did not have and was trying to protest.  Now that I am Latuda free and not involved with psychiatry anymore, I am hoping that my new work, which is mostly related to the soul, will catch on somehow and promote the true story of what I was enduring = an ancient condition that can arise when someone is called to transform.  This would all be so much easier if only the American Psychiatric Association would recognize such ancient conditions in a future edition of the DSM, because apparently labels matter more than true insight.  I don't even expect anyone to take the possession component seriously in this city's wretched medical care system, but it would be a fine day in Toronto if they would at least recognize the existence of transformative psychology.

While some Mad Pride people are fine identifying with their diagnoses, many others feel as I do about how reductive these labels can be, so my frustrations are not out of the ordinary.  Thankfully, with time, common sense in my case prevailed, and I finally got away from the white coats.

One day I will look at my psychiatric profile, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, but not today - it still feels too raw.

-Saraƒin