Reflections on accusations from the past...

This one will just be more musings on how things went wrong with a certain accusation and its long term impact on my self image.  Here we go:

So, as I have mentioned before, it was a different time in the early 2000s.  Mental health awareness trends had not yet taken off, and though there was Kids Help Phone and public service announcements that encouraged young people to reach out to older adults when in distress, the stigma of mental illness factor meant one's suffering could still be taken out of context when doing so, and my tone at the time was definitely awkward, being a silly 19 year old.  The result, in my case, was a snowballing effect of accusations of promiscuity that went so far as to make me feel self-destructive (there was a touch of sexism to what happened as well).  People didn't get it, and I began to see myself as ugly.  I didn't end up going to college or university, feeling as fucked up as I did (I went to Max The Mutt Animation School for a year much later, but dropped out).  My obsession, as I have said, was not about a person, but instead about solving something that went wrong after I was accused of coming onto him for admitting I had a crush while I was in crisis.  In my youthful mind, I was not yet self aware enough to see it for what it was, so I blamed myself, deciding that I was a bit of a creep, and I would occasionally physically abuse myself over it.  I was also not yet wise enough to realize that trying to provoke a conversation with this individual to resolve the misinterpretation was going to lead me into trouble.  You simply can't force someone to do something for you if they just don't want to, but try convincing younger me of that.

I am concluding that this is really just a case of something aging badly, and me still being neurotic about it.  My analyst pointed out to me that I have an obsessive mind... as a result, I am prone to suffering from playing old tapes over and over again.  All levels of psychosis and spiritual pain have been resolved, I don't self-injure anymore, yet how I was treated in the past still feels fucked up to me, considering its impact on my psychiatric profile, what the law thinks of me, and how events influenced certain narratives in my comics, and thus my public image as a mind.  I am not sure what the response would be to something like what I went through at grad for most young people at this point, I must remember it was a different time, and these sorts of things were not yet being called out as much.  Therapy couldn't solve my very strong feelings about it, but maybe time itself will heal all wounds.  Now that I'm in perimenopause, I am seeing my personality strengthen in many ways, so maybe even this will be something I can get over completely.  It's up to me to be strong when people prove that they just don't care.  I am also now apologizing to myself for all the times I have harmed myself with my art when ideas put in my head by mental health professionals influenced a distorted image of what my true intentions were.

I am not even sure I want a conversation with this individual anymore, because at this point, it might feel incredibly embarrassing.  I have absolutely no idea who he was, who he became, if his pleasant demeanour is sincere or superficial, it's a mystery.  Right now, I just want this fucking complex to go away, along with any lingering ideas out there that are false about me or my intentions with him.

In other news, my dear uncle recently passed, and I was at his memorial yesterday.  Good to see extended members of the family that I don't often see.  I get the sense my uncle recently visited me along with the soul of my father.  I was given a bookmark with my uncle's image on it, and placed it on my ancestor's shrine, which is where I put mementos of relatives and pets who have passed on.

It's nice to be able to have conversations with the other side.  The dead are sometimes lovelier than the living.

-Saraƒin

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 building 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 slightly injured 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

"God Save The Queen"...

Well, I'm very pleased with how this one turned out!

I decided to call this piece "God Save The Queen" as a nod to The Sex Pistols, this being a painting inspired by punk culture going into a show that's rock music themed.

I got the idea to add the Latin with ransom note style lettering, cut from old magazines.  I had a blast getting on the floor, cutting letters out while playing The Clash.  I also decided it would be fun to add a few safety pins, so I punctured the canvas with them, and added a few drips of blood.  I chose three to represent the Holy Trinity.

The message of this piece became a statement about the growing renewed interest in the Sacred Feminine, be it related to environmental concerns, or dissatisfaction with mainstream religion.  Here, Mother Mary is presented as a punk goddess with Kali Maa undertones.  I have felt since I began mystically working with Mary that She is more than "just another saint", She is an embodiment of the Sacred Feminine, which has been argued by the East, as an example.  The Latin, which translates (hopefully not crudely) to "Punk's not dead, neither is God" suggests new ways of perceiving or understanding God, rather than rejecting God entirely.

14 x 18", acrylics, imitation gold leaf, paint pens and Sharpies on a big sturdy canvas, plus three safety pins added for detail.  I think I will ask $400.00 for this one, it has a lot of detail, and I am very happy with the results.  (As usual, there might be some touch-ups, but She's done.)

Here is the flyer for the art show this piece is going into:

-Saraƒin

Notes on going goth (and being into counterculture in general)...

Perhaps it's time for a slightly more lighthearted post, after some of the heavy content I have recently produced, reflections on my struggle with occult/religious problems.

I have joked before that I felt it to be a crime to not go goth as a fashion style with the kind of strangeness my life has been about.  I have always loved the music, so technically that was goth enough for levels of it, but I wanted to embrace the look more in recent years, to have more fun.  I spent too many years looking frumpy while in a sicker state as a soul, so when I got the upper hand of my spiritual situation, I decided it was time to reinvent my look.

Not having a lot of money, I started doing what many goths do, poor or otherwise - I regularly hit the thrift stores and sales racks.  I got back into the local goth scene by going clubbing again and doing alternative karaoke, often at least once a week, and made new friends.  I decorated parts of my apartment to make it into a gothic den, using Hallowe'en decorations, art, and religious artifacts.  Because I am not good with hair stuff, I began donning a black veil look and added accessories to cover my shaggy mane... I got better with makeup.  When I lost weight due to lifestyle changes, I had more successes with authentic goth thrift finds that actually fit.

Some funny things I've noticed about regularly gothing it up - firstly, more people approach me for cigarettes or a lighter when I'm in this look, assuming I'm a smoker.  (Apart from the occasional cigar, I don't smoke at all anymore, no marijuana either.) Secondly, security guards in certain stores began hovering over me, I guess they assume all goths are shoplifters.  One time I was accused of shoplifting a perfume from Sephora, until I willingly offered to show them the contents of my backpack, which was when they backed off.  After that incident, I decided to boycott Sephora and blast them on social media for being ignorant about counterculture people.  Lastly, more people started approaching me to proselytize with Jesus.  My answer to that kind of thing is to always gently say that I am Anglican Goth, go to church, and know Jesus well, not telling them about other levels of my spirituality.  It is usually met with surprise and some embarrassment on their part, I suppose some denominations are warning Christians of the "dangers" of the gothic subculture and its "ties to Satan"... sigh.

My main circle of friends in the goth scene are pretty fascinated by Heaven.  Two of us are Muslim, another few come from variants of Christianity, and there's a Baha'i Faith goth, too... and then, there's whatever I am, the eclectic.  We are deeply spiritual, so obsessed with holy themed discussion that I started calling us "The Sunshine Table".  Most goths in our scene I've encountered are agnostic, atheistic, Luciferian, Thelemic, are into non-theistic satanism or are neopagan, but then you'll find our crew, who pray litanies and Psalms in the graveyard, consecrate our wine with Catholic folk rituals while listening to St. Hildegard von Bingen choirs, and take occasional retreats to monasteries.  I am tired of boring Christians getting the subculture wrong, but in my experience it has mostly been from lay Christians, not the clergy.  Goth embraces virtually any faith, unless it becomes a problem where it makes a person hateful of other groups.

Goth is just one of my styles, but it's my staple style.  I have also been known to flirt with punk, lolita fashion, fairy kei, "dollcore", "angelcore"/"churchcore", "kidcore"/candy raver, and something that might as well be called "witch doctor chic", among them.  I refuse to have a day, if I can avoid it, where I don't have fun with clothes, and I often take photos with my tripod of my outfit for the day to put on social media.  

Like karaoke, clothes are just another major hobby of mine, and the hunt for them at thrift shops is always a joy when you discover something neat.

-Saraƒin

Unraveling after the ouija board...

I thought I'd talk a little bit more about how things began to go south for me and my household after age 14, when I first explored the ouija board:

It was early on in my grade 9th year in high school when a fellow student approached me with his homemade ouija board.  When we sat to play with it, it worked oddly well, and the makeshift planchette at one point flew out from our fingertips, shocking him.  After playing with his board and later one I made for myself with some other students, I became obsessed with what it produced, then later terrified when it began to tell me it was going to kill me.  After burning the board I made that led to that incident, I was too afraid to do it again for a while, but looking back, it was after that point that life really started to get pretty shitty.

My father developed his first bout of cancer two years later, and there were a lot of fights in my household, tension was high between my mother and I (we are very close now, all is well at this point), marriage between my mother and father started to fall apart.  My mental health began to slip dramatically, I became obsessed with self-destruction, would write notes on every page of my school agenda about suicide, and had weird dreams with themes of shocking horror - the smell of blood as it dripped from a rusty abandoned waterpark slide, a red sky, the hum of buzzing flies and cicada bugs, dead bodies piled up, rotting in the heat.  I began smacking my arm with a hairbrush until it bruised on a regular basis, and would later turn to cutting and overdosing on various kinds of pills.  One time, I was so depressed I prodded an electrical socket with a fork and was thrown back several feet.  I started to feel uncomfortable about my wrists, that I might slash them open, so I began wearing wristbands on them to take the edge off... unfortunately, I would one day slit them after all, during a suicide attempt in the woods in 2012.  I had a really bad psychiatrist in high school who was a bit of a pill pusher, and at one point I was prescribed Risperdal, even before any psychotic-like state had set in.  Looking up mental disorders online, I believed I had Borderline Personality Disorder, but it was likely PTSD and this horrible occult shit going on, coupled with what I suspect is a degree of autism, or some other neurodivergent thing.  I'm not sure what they officially marked on my file, but I did take DBT for a while, and found it to be utterly useless.

I had problems at school, my grades became really shitty, I suppose my high school decided I was a bit of a delinquent.  I dreamed of running away to a mental hospital forever, or killing myself before I reached the age of 25, it was bizarre how I became inverted as a person, I was a neurotic growing up, but never this self-destructive.  Whatever portal I opened up with that incident with the board, it had affected me in many ways.  I became very strange, as did my life.

Back when I was in grade school, I often drew bloodied animals killing each other, wolves eating deer carcasses, carnivorous dinosaurs eating herbivores... in high school, I was drawing strange horse headed demons and horrific things from the mind - the horse head demon would later inspire "Armananstantanu".  I also fooled around with a loose set of ideas which would later become "Asylum Squad".  I had no idea how heavily evil was influencing me, and would not find out until my mid 20s, I just thought I was strange, pathetic, and better off dead.

I wonder how many teens and young adults open up weird portals with ouija boards from sleepover parties and the like, and end up slipping mentally... is this rare, or is it more common than the modern age wants to believe?  Several others have told me of their strange experiences with this and similar devices, it is certainly at least not for beginners.  As mentioned, I have made another one in recent years for an art show, but do not use it with a planchette - rather, I use it to study, so that if I am trying to get a letter or a number while doing downloads, my eye is directed by the Spirit to get a clue... that is not the same thing as using it for spirit communication.

My Jungian analyst was really good at taking this stuff seriously, but most conventional psychiatrists think it's just a coincidence.  I think this is unwise, and I think psychiatry could stand to learn from other groups about what they know, such as Catholics, indigenous, several world religions and groups who feel uneasy about the use of these tools, especially in the hands of youth.  

A bit more awareness in mental health care might really help someone who swears the damn thing led them into madness.

-Saraƒin

My dear old Dad...

I'm about to open up about something that's truly disturbing - so troubling, in fact, that I beg that it not be true, that it's just a horrible coincidence, and that perhaps I am just overanalyzing things as I reflect on my terrible journey with dark forces.  If this is real, this is the worst thing evil might have done to my life. 

I am worried now that it's possible the evil one influenced my family unit as much as he harmed me, specifically one other member - my Dad.  There was strangeness I witnessed in my mind, too sickening to describe entirely - at one point, I heard the entity say that "one person you really care about has to die".  I saw imagery in my head of my Dad weary, feeble minded, nailed to a cross as a sacrifice, there was a suggestion of someone developing conditions of the brain, one eye, and the heart, and a weird deviant depravity to everything that I just don't want to get into, it's that vile.  On and off, there was this mockery of my father that made me very angry - he was a good man, I didn't agree with all of his ideas, but I loved him, and we were friends.

My Dad passed away at the age of 74, it's so strange and horrible how many complications there were to his health.  What's eerie as I reflect on my experiences with evil was that among his conditions was an enlarged heart that required a pacemaker, a brain tumour that would kill him, and his eye turning inward as the brain tumour progressed.  As I recall the body parts that were mentioned by evil as to be infected, it gives me chills.  There were other medical complications, but I will leave my father's privacy alone.

I really hope I am just overanalyzing this from having lived a life of horror, but now I am getting insights that it could be real.  Still, I can't bring myself to feel much from it - either I feel nothing because I realize it's untrue, or because I've just been exposed to so much strangeness that I simply don't know what to do with this information but shrug it off as yet more pain, something I really shouldn't take on, not knowing the truth anyway.  I sense my Dad's spirit often, he visits me a lot with a couple other ancestors, perhaps that is why I can process this, he is not gone, just not a body anymore.  I choose to see this as just really eerie information, and I think it's a good thing that most of my family probably don't even know about this blog, or else they'd get upset.  

So I guess it's troubling experiences like this, and everything else I have gone through, that truly makes me see satanic movements, specifically theistic ones, as ridiculous.  Atheistic ones I kind of understand, because they don't even believe in the devil, and yet I hope they realize that although they might get a rise out of ignorant Catholics, the smart ones probably see atheistic satanism as having the sophistication of one of those guys who is just a bit too much into Warhammer, or perhaps some hokey LARPer (which I guess I can say because I used to LARP a bit myself) - the smart Catholics are likely truly unmoved by all the silly diabolical pageantry.

To the ones who see the devil as a god, or something to admire, and who genuinely believe in him - I wish you knew my world.  I don't hate you, I can't say I even judge you, depending on how you live your life, but if you could understand the impact this malefic crap had on my life and those I care about, I think you'd get how tacky satanism looks to me.

And to the skeptics out there who have personally put me down for telling my story, who think I'm just a kook with a strange mind - kindly go eat shit on a plate with cilantro on top.  I have met a few of these types, they just can't keep it to themselves, trying to make me feel unsophisticated.  I've had it with them.

If I could, and there was the guarantee that they'd get out of it scot-free, I'd wish possession on the skeptic for one year - then, buddy boy, you tell me this wasn't real, that it was "just the shadow".  Go away.

-Saraƒin

More oddness from my childhood (that makes me wonder)...

I had mentioned several years ago on this blog about an "imaginary enemy" of mine when I was a child, a girl with red hair and missing teeth who called herself "Lucy", who told me to do bad things.  Though it was too long ago for me to actually remember Lucy very well, it was my mother who would tell me about how I would blame Lucy if I misbehaved.  After my fight with dark forces as an adult, I wondered if "Lucy" meant "Lucifer", and was something odd from the infernal world haunting me.

As I reflect more on that time in my life, back when my family and I still lived in Stratford, I recall that between the house I was born in and the house I lived in during my time in Halifax, there was a house that had some very strange phenomena in it.  Spirit told me recently that dark forces didn't like me ever since they took notice of me, which began when I was around the age of 2.  That would have been about the time that we lived in the second house.

I don't have strong memories of that time, but here is some of what my mother and my sister reported.  There were lights that flickered on and off in the kitchen, a painting that was firmly hung on the wall that would often fall off unexpectedly, and my sister described a darkness haunting my bedroom.  The strangest thing (and I actually have vague memories of this) was a renegade bat that made it into the home, flew into my bedroom, and crawled up beside me on my pillow.  Mom noticed the bat as she came in to check on me in the night, shrieked, grabbed me by my ankles, yanking me away from it.  We were able to trap the bat in a waste basket with a vinyl record sleeve and release it back outside, but it was extremely traumatizing for me.  My mother later made a cute toy bat out of old pieces of felt as a reminder of that crazy night.

We swore that home was haunted, but I wonder if it wasn't in fact my old friend the dark entity coming to visit me for the first time during that period in my life.  My existence has always been haunted by strangeness and gloom, it's only now that it seems the tone is much gentler.  Life still has its share of problems, but they are relatively normal by comparison.

BTW, I think I figured out "Meagan" - it is simply the name an angel is using to represent herself when calling to me with downloaded information, she's not an ancestor spirit.  I guess this could be compared to "Abraham", the name given when Esther Hicks does trance channeling.

The air quality has been terrible in the city because of the horrors of out of control wildfires coming from the north.  I pray that the rain will come to take care of these fires, because our provincial government cut funding for firefighting by 64%, from what I understand.  Awful what is happening to our indigenous communities up north.  

Seasonal wildfires are so terrible now, I don't recall them being this bad when I was a kid in the 80s and 90s.  One of my greatest worries is what is becoming of our ecosystem.  Canada doesn't often suffer as badly as other parts of the world do with things like hurricanes, but these seasonal fires are getting absolutely horrible.

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: One other eerie thing from my childhood that I just thought of, this time from the Halifax house - for Hallowe'en one year, my sister and I were recording a cassette tape of organ music and scary sounds to blast for the neighbourhood kids who came to us for trick or treat candy.  When we played back the recording, there was this strange demonic voice that came through during one part of the tape.  We couldn't make out what it said, laughed at how creepy it was, and didn't think much of it beyond that, but now I wonder.

Mad Pride 2026...

This will be my first Mad Pride without Latuda, or any other daily psychiatric medication for that matter, since I became involved - a major milestone in my transformation and recovery.  Though I still use a quarter of a tablet of Loxapine for sleep sometimes, I have gone a week without it, and am trying to keep it to a bare minimum.

I would say that although I don't truly identify as "Mad" in some ways (in that, I was Mad because of my break from reality, I solved it, I identify more as a mystic, among other things, which was the advice my analyst gave me), I still call myself Mad politically, in that I am very much on board with many ideas from the Mad Pride movement.  As mentioned before, the movement in Toronto is either dead or has merged with the Disability Pride movement, but I am not focusing as much on activism these days as I am working on my health, spirituality, and trying to get more involved in the art scene with my new body of work.

I wish Mad Pride was embraced more in Canada, but a lot of people still don't know what it is about when I mention it.  When I try to explain it, sometimes people, even leftists who often shout "ACAB" and "Queers For Palestine", don't seem to get the need for Mad Pride, thinking it's "too much", that mental health awareness should be enough.

But a lot of the "stigma" (discrimination?) I have faced as a client of mental health has been from professionals themselves, not just from former friends who dumped me because they found my distress grotesque, not just from communities who didn't want anything to do with me anymore.  There was the nurse who chimed in after I offered an apology for being rude, saying "I don't take anything the insane have to say to me seriously anyway".  There was the nurse who suggested that if he gave me hot water for tea, I might throw it in his face, even though I never showed signs of doing anything of the sort.  There were aggressive orderlies who tackled me, there was the one orderly in 2023 who screamed at me like someone on a prison ward deserving of punishment for crying and smacking my head in frustration.  There have been several insensitive psychiatrists who have not only repeatedly misinterpreted and therefore misdiagnosed me, they have been patronizing, infantilizing, and have overmedicated me, causing horrible side effects with drugs that I'm worried have had a lasting impact on my body.  One nurse in the ER asked why I was on Latuda, asking if I had Borderline Personality Disorder, which I guess is because I was dressed in goth clothing because I certainly wasn't there for anything mental health related (I was there because I felt something weird in my chest, but they sent me to psych anyway - ugh).  There are more situations I could describe, but this is an example of the behaviours in hospital that Mad Pride is frustrated by.  My concern, as is the concern of many activists, is that the current model of psychiatric healthcare is often more about commanding obedience than it is about any true healing of the brain.

Mad Pride is important because, for example, spiritual emergency is real, healthy voice hearing can happen, and, as the message of Asylum Squad says, even a saint would be abused by the mental health industrial complex.  We had a sexual revolution in mental health, now we need a spiritual revolution, where cultural, religious, and spiritual sensitivity can be taken into consideration more with diagnosis and treatment.  (I have been told, as it stands, they're supposed to do better than this, but in my experience, they don't.)

No current plans from me for any further activism, I still feel I have work to do on my body for optimum health.  But I will still contribute artworks and articles on the subject of Mad Pride from time to time, at the very least.

-Saraƒin

Expanding on my henotheistic ideas...

As much as I appreciate Indian ideas about God and consciousness, I can't help but feel less enthused on some I have read when it comes to matters of the devil.

I am in a research period with world religion, simply Google searching and doing mild studies to help me conclude what I ultimately want to believe when it comes to faith.  When I look into Hindu ideas on Satan and dark forces, what I find leaves me cold.  This is where I have to side with my more Anglo-Catholic roots.

I say this as a survivor of satanic assault, regardless of what that entity actually was.  This was an assault on my soul, I was maimed as a mind and had to live through a life of antipsychotics and oppression until I was able to solve it.  Now that this time has passed, I live with trauma and reflection, as I sort out how to proceed.  These forces are real, treating them like they were real helped solve the problem, at least.  I am not sure any mind ever truly understood evil forces, but whatever they are, they are a threat.

I say this because, in my experience, Catholic "tech" works well against them - holy water, crucifixes, Catholic rituals, these are all very effective against these forces for whatever reason (at least when evil is present, and the Holy Spirit is fighting them).  In the end, it was sweetgrass, seraphim and consecrated wine that solved the dilemma.  Eastern thought brings me fruits of wisdom on the potentials of God, but with satanic forces, Catholic folk magick, as an Anglican magician, was the ultimate cure.

This is where I again return to the idea that I am a hybrid of faith, merging worlds.  I am not sure what priests would say about me, perhaps it is too soon to define myself.

-Saraƒin

Niger and asexuality...

Perhaps I spoke too soon about asexuals not being an oppressed group, at least not quite like other members of LGBTQ+.  Enter Niger's new law, which bans acts from basically every letter in that acronym.

It is now illegal to partake in "asexual acts", punishable by up to 10 years in prison.  I was joking that "asexual acts" meant things like eating cake instead of having sex, which is an old asexuality joke, but what's horrible is that, as an example, it probably means husbands can now force their wives to submit to having sex with them, or else she'll face jail time.  Even stupider is that "intersex acts" are now illegal too, which I guess means doing just about anything while having intersex anatomy - Jesus, how stupid!  I am already horrified about the vilification of people of LGBTQ+ around the globe, but it's like Niger is a special level of ridiculous with this kind of criminalization.  They are the first in the world to criminalize asexuality, an orientation that might even be considered a blessing to one wanting to become a nun or a Catholic priest.

I'm definitely going to hit Church St. sometime before Pride Month is over with my asexuality flag, because of this.  Again, I don't think I'll be doing any marches, but I do want to check out the vendors, maybe go to some parties.  I wonder what other asexuals are saying about this?

-Saraƒin

CAMH update...

Sigh.

So I talked again to that person from CAMH, along with someone else, and all they could offer me was a "lockbox" (?) option for my file to keep it more private, when what I wanted was a discussion with a psychiatrist to inform them that I made it off Latuda, and how it was achieved.  I think the next thing I will try is to go through my GP and see if he can inform them about this, because I can't help but feel that I'm being jerked around... business as usual with Toronto mental health services.

I'm tired of getting treated badly by medicine.  When I was a baby suffering from high fevers, I was given tetracycline, which caused my tooth enamel to stain to the point where I needed veneers as an adult for my front teeth, because my teeth became unsightly... they got away with that.  And Dr. Errol Gaum the pediatric dentist walked after decades of abusing children in the dental chair, myself included.  The orthodontist might have fucked up my lower set of teeth when I had braces.  And of course, psychiatry just screws with me on file, shuffles me along, not to mention all the trauma I have from my experiences with CTO injections and long term inpatient "care".  No wonder I have a medical phobia... I'm like a twelve year old even with blood tests.  God help me if/when I need surgery one day... I'd fear they'd botch the procedure.  But this is nothing new, I have ranted about this before.  Medical types give me the willies because they are like Hollywood nuns - they are either complete sweethearts and are great at their position, or they're horrible.

At least the bed bug problem is over - phew.  I'll be going to visit my Mom and Spare Dad at the end of the month, and then I'm going to plan for that Ottawa Jail Hostel stay with my homeslice later in July or August.

-Saraƒin

Pride Month...

It's Pride Month, and I live in one of the LGBTQ+ capitals of the world.  I wanted to talk a little bit about being an asexual during this time of year:

I personally don't identify as "queer" under that umbrella acronym anymore because I am a straight asexual, I just haven't had a crush in decades.  I'm not going to speak on behalf of other asexuals, especially those who identify as "queer" in other ways, I simply think of myself as someone who is less prone to relationships than my straight peers, and sex is the farthest thing from my mind.  When people call me queer, I'm not offended, but it doesn't feel like something I want to call myself.  Religion, depending on what we're talking about, might not give a shit that I'm attracted to men but just don't want to have sex with them.  I have never been oppressed personally because I'm asexual, I have been misunderstood.  These two things are not the same.

I am glad that the asexuality movement has helped shape the idea that being asexual is not a mental disorder, but I don't feel the need to go out there and march with the other asexuals.  Years ago, I marched with the United Church as Sister Penance and waved the asexuality flag (my friend who is a minister thought it was a riot - I'm not with the United Church, but was involved in groups with them at the time), and I will still wander the street markets with my flag in solidarity with the asexuals, I have grown to find big parades too overwhelming, so I don't tend to go out for anything more than maybe a club party or the street fair.  I'm also sick of seeing the influence of all these corporations, and certain behaviours in the streets I have seen raise my eyebrows, considering the presence of minors.  Many people, LGBTQ+ or otherwise, agree with me.  Kink, for one, should stay at private parties or in the bedroom.  Wearing certain levels of costume are ok by me, but be reasonable.

While Mad Pride is still very much grassroots, LGBTQ+ Pride has unfortunately mutated into something that is super corporate and inconsistent.  The Mad Pride bed push, to the best of my knowledge, doesn't happen in Toronto anymore.  I would go out for it again if it came back, but I don't think I would be on an organizing committee anymore.  

Mad Pride is in July, I might get together with some old friends from the movement, but I honestly don't know of anything organized.

-Saraƒin

Thumbnail sketch...

I roughly sketched how the punk Virgin Mary piece might look yesterday while at work.  

I decided She could use a tartan veil, knuckle tattoos that read "HAIL MARY" across Her fingers, safety pins adorning Her robes.  I am not sure if all the details featured here will be included - if both the stars and the Our Lady of Fatima-inspired crown will remain.  Again, this was really roughly done, just a doodle I did before completing my cash-out.  I will likely do a finer sketch later before getting started on the canvas.  Spirit suggested through download this might be a winner, and could sell.

I bought some imitation silver leaf to add a silver moon to my Hecate piece, I think I will use both silver and gold leaf for this one.

I can't believe it - more bullshit!  I got hit with another cold... the third virus this year!  Much milder than my last infection, though... I don't expect this one will last.  But in good news - the bed bug situation is basically over, they just have to spray down one more time next week.  I'm just going to be surrounded by garbage bags full of clothes until that point.  So glad it wasn't out of control!

The weather is supposed to be lovely all week long, so I'm going to go enjoy myself in the park under a tree, and get some exercise in, walks throughout the city.

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: Here's a more polished sketch, which is probably closer to what the finished piece will look like.  (I decided to include "Punks not dead, neither is God" on Her sleeves, but in the final piece, I will put this in Latin, which translates to "Punk non mortuus est, nec Deus".)  I think for the background I will skip the stars, adding instead a gold halo, and psychedelic clouds emanating from behind.  I might call this piece "Marian Punk" instead of the original title: 

 

My next Super Wonder Gallery piece...

Although I want to do that St. Lucy of Syracuse piece, the next art show at Super Wonder Gallery is rock n roll / music themed, so I have been contemplating for it.  Some ideas that came to mind for spirituality and music were St. Cecilia of Rome and Saraswati (the Indian goddess of the arts), but today, while at a poetry reading, I decided on a punk rock themed Virgin Mary piece.

I already did a 7 Sorrows of the Virgin Mary painting, but I want to borrow from that imagery again.  I also want to emphasize a goddess-centric tone, with Goddess Kali undertones.  I will emphasize this with a nose ring with rosary chain attached, and Mary's tongue sticking out.  She will cry blood (for some reason, I really like painting tears of blood lol) and show the 7 swords piercing her immaculate heart, along with a punk aesthetic that includes the phrase "Punks not dead, neither is God", which will be the name of the piece.  I might incorporate both imitation gold and silver leaf.

What's truly punk about this piece is insinuating that the Virgin Mary is a goddess (with the Kali imagery), something Roman Catholicism does not appreciate, but many - including myself - have felt goddess power while praying to Mother Mary.  Punk is both a political and musical movement, so I am going to try for punk aesthetics but also a punk interpretation of the Virgin Mary.  Mother Mary was a powerful doorway to Earth Mother magick for me, so this piece is an homage to that, while being fitting with an art show dedicated to various forms of music.

I bought a canvas for my St. Lucy piece, but I'm reserving it for that.  I think I want a slightly larger canvas for this one, it might have pop culture appeal.  The due date is in late August, so I have time.

I think this will be a fun one to capture!

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: I definitely have to give Her some Vivienne Westwood jewelry - perfect!

Questioning what I now call my faith...

I am once again asking myself what I should be calling myself spiritually, because although I have been identifying as a Christian, there are definitely too many differences I have from them to just be Christian.  I am a very strong Christ devotee, I know the Virgin Mary well, the saints and angels have answered my prayers here and there, but I am not a monotheist, I identify as a henotheist, one who feels that the more gods, the merrier.

I wonder now if it is safe to say that my practice, which is its own thing, mirrors Hinduism a little bit.  I believe in many things the Hindu believes, such as karma, reincarnation, working with gods who would welcome me to work with them, and I had a kundalini awakening.  I have had visions of the Indian gods, along with Catholic imagery, I know Krishna at least has transformed my mind.  I don't want to become one of those obnoxious caucasians who goes around saying "namaste", hands clasped in prayer, with a bindi on my forehead, but I perceive God a certain way, and I am questioning what I was calling myself.  As much as whites can be a pain in the ass, it's also insufferable how some groups can be when caucasians have unique, sincere experiences that differ from their cultural norm.  I personally feel like I'm walking on eggshells with some types, so I tend to watch myself now with how I present while I explore what I'm experiencing.  I was attacked for my Nataraja costume, I am trying to avoid this kind of humiliation from happening again.

Some might say I'm "New Age", I don't like that movement very much because I find it too commercial, limited, and rather un-sacred (although it might be fascinated by sacred ideas).  Perhaps I would need to consult someone in Hinduism who can appreciate the eclectic way to see what they feel about my relationship to Krishna, and what I have experienced with the rich visions and the symptoms of active kundalini.

Apart from the oddness I experience with little chicken shit things that irritate, life is much simpler and quieter now, but a bit dull.  I wish someone would enter my life whom I could turn to for consultation on spiritual matters, but I have never found the right guru figure.  I'm not miserable, but I'm a little bit bored.

I have decided I am not going to start calling myself Hindu at this point, but I am going to start studying Hinduism a bit more again, and see where that takes me.  I had a phase similar to this years ago, but then I concentrated heavily on Christianity while working with Jesus.   Now, with all the things I've been up to, it's safe to say I'm not quite the same thing anymore, but I don't get the impression Jesus is upset with me either.  

Jesus didn't want me taking money for tarot readings or spells, but He seems fine with me exploring other ways of perceiving God.

-Saraƒin

How I wear my veil...

Once again, I began to wear a style of veiling several years ago for several reasons, including covering the crown of the head for concentration, protection from unwanted male attention (I think it works a little bit), protecting my hair from the elements, reducing the need to go to the salon by just tying it up and covering it (a low income hack), preventing obvious stimming (playing with my hair), and showing spiritual/religious devotion.  But I want to do an article now on how I wear it, the veils I wear, etc:

Usually, I just throw on a bandanna and then cover the bandanna with a scarf by first tying the bandanna from behind, followed by the scarf.  Then, I attach a decorative pin to one side to hold it in place.  Often, on my goth days, both the bandanna and the scarf are black, but I have a variety of colours for my more colourful days, including a couple with patterns on them.

Sometimes I wear the veil with a slightly more nun-like aesthetic, where I use a particular kind of scarf that just doesn't tie well at the back, so I use two pins in front - the decorative one, and a safety pin that I attach from beneath the layers, pinning those scarves to the bandanna.

Sometimes I wear a bandanna and a Catholic style mantilla veil.  I might wear it to church, but I also just wear it throughout the day, I have even worn it while clubbing.

I got inspired by Muslim lolitas and what they do with the hijab, and began putting bows, decorative headbands, halo tiaras, and other gear on top on certain days, just to dress it up a bit.

The beauty about veiling is that you can treat it like a feminine alternative to long hair, and the stress of hair care doesn't have to be a worry.  Yes, I of course wash and condition my hair, brushing it regularly, but I save a ton of money not being at the hair salon all the time, I tend to just go for a trim once in a while to deal with split ends.  Also, having a variety of colours can be fun to change up the look completely.

I am not sure if this veiling thing will be for the rest of my life, but I am quite enjoying what it has brought me, and it adds a level of properness to my presentation that I just wasn't feeling without it.

-Saraƒin

Tackling my file...

I just got off the phone with a lovely person from CAMH who is going to help me tackle my psychiatric profile so that it can reflect the truth of my current situation.  My worry is that because of my past (which was chaotic, no question) I might face challenges as a woman under medicine, not getting any younger.  The file simply needs to be cleaned up so that it can reflect where I'm at with my mental health, what is true and what isn't.  When I needed an endoscopy, I was patronized because of information on my file... I knew I needed to clean it up.  I'm hoping a hand can do that for me, without me having to look at my file.

It's almost June... I came off of Latuda mid February.  It's safe to say I don't need it anymore.  My mind is definitely neurodivergent, but not psychotic.  I can't afford the $5000.00 (?) it takes for an autism diagnosis, but I hear there might be a way where it can be covered, and I guess that's what the waiting list is about.  I think I require a sponsor for a study to be fully understood, but I don't know how to find one, so in the meantime all I can do is contact CAMH to clean up what doesn't belong.

I knew this already, but it's good to be reassured that decent people do work in mental health.  It's medical trauma that haunts me and makes me feel that others just don't care.  When I am confronted with a heart or a voice that proves compassion, I check myself and remind myself that angels are everywhere, including in mental health services.

They just sprayed my place yesterday, already my anxiety is going down.  One more spray in two weeks, then the homestead can feel a bit more normal again.

-Saraƒin

On "cancelling myself"...

Part of why I took an extended hiatus after the death of my father in 2017 was because I knew I had to reinvent my image in the art world.  Because of some misinterpretations of me in the media, along with me appearing in a film about schizophrenia (not as the main subject, but as someone she talks to), I knew I had to shut down an image I didn't agree with.  What's depressing for me is that if I had continued on the schizophrenia/schizoaffective disorder awareness bandwagon, I might have been more successful as an artist.  Instead, something fell flat when I shut down a dialogue about what I was writing about... now, no one wants to write articles about me.  I am not sure if it's because people find me problematic for what I did in shutting this down, or because the idea of me claiming I have spiritual gifts is too grandiose for consideration, but for whatever reason, the media doesn't want to talk about me anymore.

I am not sure where to take myself with any self-promotion, so I tend not to do it.  I am a bit jealous in some ways of the witch ladies out there who are doing so much better with popularity than I am, perhaps my old image tainted my current one... I'm also not exactly killing shit as an independent artist.  I might forever be "just an ill woman" to the world, why trust a spiritualist who had that madness quality at one time?  It's really disheartening, I am still miffed that psychiatry had a hand that was so extensive in corrupting even my image, let alone my file.  I said to a psychiatrist one time that because of what they have been to me that they are "the devil to me".  How does one truly transform their name once the horse is out of the barn?  I don't even know who is talking about me anymore, but I worry they are still promoting what they think I'm about, without doing thorough research into how my comic ends, and what happened to me.

It's interesting how traffic grew in recent times for this blog, just not in Canada.  I don't know what that means... I don't tend to Google search my name, out of fear.  This is not paranoia, this is PTSD, and the concern that people not getting me might upset me.

I guess I need to just keep promoting the new me, the new art, tend to my life, and hope for favourable results.

-Saraƒin

The Big Red Dot of Pride - another sale!

Amazing - another sale!

"The Gryphon Queen" was purchased yesterday by a friend who does karaoke with me.  They had implied that they were interested, came to the show, and did a transaction with the curator.

Despite several crummy things that have recently happened, this year has been better than last year for art sales - I only sold two last year, late in the year, outside of the gallery scene.  I might get started on my St. Lucy piece soon, because I bought a few new paints and I'm feeling inspired.

I think svadhisthana chakra might have been a little sick, I began praying over that level of consciousness as well.  Again, I felt the upset with the mind was in the lower mind, considering where the abuses were happening in the soul.  Now that the weather is nicer (except for some rain that's happening right now) I have been back in the park, trying to connect with nature.  It's hard being a Canadian when it gets cold, because I don't get to enjoy this in the winter season.  Once it's good enough to lay out a blanket and enjoy the sunshine, I do so obsessively.  I want to enjoy it as much as I can while the weather is nice.

-Saraƒin

Thoughts on the devil...

I was doing some downloading on ideas I had about what the devil actually is, and I wanted to expand on those thoughts in an article:

I was channeling that devils are constructs of the sacred masculine that are representative of conflict in the natural order of the masculine (the spirit) and the feminine (the material).  The masculine is overabundant... as a result, the feminine suffers.  What we have is an imperfect, conflicted world because of creation itself.  When God willed the creation of the universe, there were problems with creation.  The feminine flowers in strange ways, people suffer, they fail to thoroughly understand God, they create suffering, nature is not what it should be.  The result of this conflict means overabundance... the Whore of Babylon.  The Christ would come, solve this, and in turn nature would redeem overtime.  Then, the new world can blossom, and take hold... Heaven will rule the Earth.

This is also the kind of stuff I get when I read the Book of Revelation, I get interpretations from certain sections of the Bible, which I in turn make art from.  One painting is my "Excess, The Mother of Harlots" piece, which is going into that Monster Erotica show that is on tonight and tomorrow.  (The piece I did for this year's Super Naughty Show, "The Garden of Eden", is based on my interpretation of parts of Genesis, and also touches on what I have been downloading.)

Prep is underway for the spraying in my apartment, it's pretty stressful.  The good news: the inspector determined that this is not an infestation, it's just traces of bedbugs, so I caught it really early.  Still, I hate dealing with this, it's extremely irritating.  Good thing the weather is nice, so I can just take a good long walk while I wait to return to my unit.

Today is World Goth Day, so I went to the park in my goth clothes and did some spells.  Later, after the show, some friends and I are going goth clubbing.

-Saraƒin

Bad news bugs...

Very bad news... they are bedbugs.

The pest inspector came by and confirmed based on some evidence that something's afoot.  Now I have a laundry prep ordeal from hell on my hands, they come back to spray next Wednesday.  I got several bags done today, I still have several more to do... my living room is going to be nothing but piles of garbage bags full of laundry.  Awful.

I bought a door stopper from Canadian Tire, because what I think happened was that a migrant bedbug wandered through my front door crack when they were cleaning out the apartment of that disaster tenant who was letting her unit go to waste.  This will prevent future infestations, at least through the front door.

I can't help but feel jaded... life keeps throwing me curveballs as of late.  At least the results of my mammogram were positive - I went from having D type breast density to C type, which is healthier... now I don't need another scan for two more years.  Also, the cough and weird voice are completely gone.  But Murphy's Law loves picking on me for some reason, so now that my health is back on track, I am dealing with pests again.  Time to knuckle down with prep, Mother Mary litanies, and as much practical and metaphysical shit as one can throw at something like this.

Speaking of pests, here's a joke I came up with recently:

What's the difference between a psychiatrist and a cockroach?

It's illegal to kill a psychiatrist.

-Saraƒin

Harsh lessons I have learned (and might have to unlearn)...

I often remark on how I struggle with love, at least as something I feel I can rely on.  I fear hate will constantly rear its ugly head, destroying anything love shows me.  They say love is more powerful than hate, but to me, love is a sandcastle that a child builds at the beach, hate kicks it over, destroying love's creation.  Hate is sharp, angry, brutal, and difficult to control - I feel, what love creates is often destroyed by hate.  In my life, all things fell apart under the spirit of hate, and I still feel, decades later, that I have rebuilding to do.  Because of this, I struggle to understand this so-called power of love.

I feel I have learned levels of wisdom from a life saturated in hate.  This is not what I wanted, but it was how I got myself out of possession, and learned resilience.  The fruits of hate are not from hate itself, but from escaping it, and learning how to deal with it.  I long to learn more from love.  Perhaps it is true that levels of love have crept into my life, with a rich friendship circle, a (mostly) quiet situation in certain ways, but perhaps because of trauma, I am bracing myself for the next hateful influence to destroy any feeling of calm I have worked so hard to establish.

Knowing I cannot rely on medicine (certain levels of it - mental health related, I mean), I have learned how to be my own "doctor".  Out of need, I called to the spirit world and demanded to know what would cure me.  It took time, but I eventually downloaded the medicines and techniques that would lead me to the point where Latuda was no longer necessary.  I am still in shock, fatigued, obviously the pains of project living take their toll on a heart as well, if neighbours are letting their units become filthy, thus affecting my enjoyment of space - but these are mild compared to the horrors of my past, these are basically first world problems, even though they are the conflicts of the disabled and the underprivileged.  The spirit of hate might have meant an ugly death, but I am safe from that now, and as annoying as low income life can be when you have a disability, it is not nearly as horrible as worrying about being a ticking time bomb.

Speaking of love, I am at the point where I believe that, depending on the individual's life, one must earn love, and that was true for me as well.  Because of legal challenges in the past, most of society gave up on me, many were stern with me, even though my torment created this conflict - really, I was fighting my heart out trying to be well, trying to ground things.  I needed a gentle response in hospital, not a stern lecture every day of my life, like I meant any harm.  So love had to be earned for any dignity in life to return, to leave that ward, for life to go on.  I still feel like this earning process is unfolding, the art world certainly doesn't understand me or my work, it's possible I might die one day and no one ever got what I was about.  But I can't give up on cultivating better results, now that I've got the upper hand of my mind, and my choices are finer.

I have learned to accept that life might never be what I wanted it to be, but I can hope that if I do my part then I would be provided for.  This means being frugal with everything, learning to say no to fun opportunities if they are just not within my budget, spending most of my money on necessity, and embracing the little things, the affordable hobbies.  This will build me a modest nest egg overtime, so that I might know money for my elder years, when I might require medicines that are not covered.  I simply can't invest in big schemes, even a higher education doesn't seem like a good investment.  Wisdom says, just be a bohemian folk artist, put away, and go out with friends, do art shows, stay small.

Perhaps this is the result of demanding an epic life.  If I had insisted on a slice of life kind of journey, I might have suffered other, more common scenarios.  My philosophy is this: if you insist on an epic, be prepared to suffer in unspeakable ways.  As tough as it was, who cares about an epic in film if there is no major conflict?

This might all sound quite depressing, but it's miles beyond where I was years ago.  Perhaps cultivating finer things might result in a finer situation one day, but I must always be ready for the rainy days, and there have been plenty.

Speaking of rain, they still need to fix the roof.  I might jinx it in saying so, but at least the rain has not been heavy, and my unit has stayed dry.

-Saraƒin

Contemplating my next Catholic saint piece...

I like painting martyrs - I have done a couple, St. Joan of Arc, St. Sebastian... now I want to paint another, St. Lucy of Syracuse, the patron saint of those who suffer from eye conditions.

According to accounts, St. Lucy's eyes were plucked out prior to her execution, then God miraculously restored them.  I want to paint a slightly more bloodied St. Lucy compared to most icons of her... in this piece, her eyes restored, but tears of blood dripping down her face from them, and the eyes upon the plate she holds in a pool of blood.  I suppose I am compelled to paint agony like this because I've endured so much pain from the dark spirit that I was often certain that I would die, perhaps in the most bloody, horrific way.  So (and maybe this is just a goth thing) I like painting blood to shed the pain that I endured under the suffering of possession, and the resulting humiliation it caused my life, where I could not find help that made any sense, and for a while, became a pariah.  Old friends abandoned me, several continue to ignore me, even though my life is back on track... it takes horror to show you the true face of humanity, for better or for worse.  

I also often put erotic or sexual undertones in my art, because the entity frequently molested me psychosexually with bizarre mental imagery, perverted poetry, and touch.  It was extremely disturbing, and for psychiatry not to acknowledge there was a real spiritual presence feels like gaslighting, to say the least.  I use a lot of pastels because I want love and gentleness to rule my life, but I insist on sharing the horror I have been exposed to as well.  The sexual undertones in my art are not terribly strange, but not exactly sexy either - perhaps just a little bit "rock 'n roll", nothing worse than an Anima Sola icon.

I am not sure what Super Wonder Gallery's next show will be, but this is definitely a martyr I want to tackle.  I am hoping he will do a religious themed show sometime (even if it's sacrilegious lol), because I have several new pieces that have never been shown.

I am starting to wonder if my latest bug problem is actually bed bugs, because I have had them before many years ago, and this time, the bugs in my bed look different, and I didn't get any bites.  Regardless, I still want pest control to do a spray, while I do laundry.  Sigh, I am so tired of these irritating little things creeping into my life.  I suppose my PTSD is just amplifying everything one could feel from a bug scare, I am exhausted.

-Saraƒin

Fire Horse Year is kicking my ass...

Oh, great!  More bullshit!

I just discovered last night that I have bedbugs.  There was that neighbour from across and down the hall that got evicted - I heard she brought them in, now at least one other neighbour and myself are dealing with this shit.  Of all the pests one could get, this is the one I find the most stressful to deal with.

It's not just the bugs themselves, it's all the prep that drives me nuts.  I have a lot of clothes, plushies, and fabric items, and the idea of tackling that much laundry is making my head spin.  Last night, I had to sleep on the couch in the living room, praying that they hadn't migrated to that area.  I threw down some diatomaceous earth, got the Raid can and sprayed down my bed area and mattress (thank God the mattress itself is covered), and started bagging things.  I informed the building with a work order and asked that a worker help me with this, I am at wit's end.

I have to say though, I am dealing with this better than I might have in the past, my anxiety feels physical, I am mostly keeping calm.  I tried talking to a neighbour about it, but she doesn't speak English.  I am hoping someone can caulk any cracks in the walls to prevent this from happening again.

This building used to be a blessing, now it's a curse.  I got 10 good years out of this place before things began to go sour.  I am not in a position of privilege to move, so I have to just tackle problems as they come, I would hope neighbours are doing the same (one of them is).

At least the warmer weather is here... if I had to deal with this in the winter season... FUUUUCK.

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: Remembering that I have a fresh caulk cartridge and a caulking gun, I decided to tackle floorboard cracks, DIY style.  The result ain't pretty, but it might mean this problem is more preventable in the future, and won't get much worse... I hope.

Trek to CAMH...

Well, I tried to have a discussion about my profile today with a psychiatrist, but it was a bust.  I took the streetcar to CAMH to give them the update about me coming off of Latuda (and how I achieved that), but was turned away by desk staff, and asked to call a number instead.  Oh well.

I guess what matters is that I'm off the drug, I just hope SCID worked for my diagnosis of PTSD.  At least my GP knows I made it off Latuda, maybe that's all that matters.  Perhaps I'm just neurotic because I'm not used to being taken seriously when I have pointed out errors in diagnosis, so I am worried that anything that promotes what I agreed with might be rejected.

I might have sold "The Gryphon Queen", but I still want to put it in the art show, so the potential buyer is willing to see how the show goes.  If it doesn't sell to anyone else, they will buy it.  Awesome - so far, this has been a better year for art sales than last year!

I got a second Orisha talisman today, while in Kensington Market.  I was in "Courage My Love" when I got an insight about how an item in that store could be used as a talisman for Yemaya's power.  Looking around, I saw some cowrie shell bracelets for $12, and realized that's what the message was suggesting.  I purchased one, took it home, and consecrated it.  I received some powerful downloads while using my tarot and oracle decks.

Looks like the weather is about to get much nicer, I am gearing up for some much needed park time.

-Saraƒin

Bone magick...

Recently, I got called to use something made of bone as a talisman - I kept seeing visions of bones, was drawn to them, channeling that they would be of use to me as a tool.  Today, I got messages about working with Eleggua,  that bone is a way to help heal me of physical health complications.

I remembered I had the necklace pictured here, and decided to make use of this as the chosen talisman.  In my sacred circle today, after work, I blessed it in the name of Eleggua, and slipped it around my neck.  I had felt extremely fatigued after my shift, and within minutes, began to feel a rush of strength, and not as tired.

I am going to try wearing this often to see if my overall physical health and energy levels improve, it can't hurt to put it to the test.  I have a few minor complications - hypothyroidism, the tendency to choke on my food sometimes because of acidity, and I take medications for both conditions.  I also probably have strained neurology from all the abuses, and just feel fatigued and sore in general.  I am not saying this will cure me of all that, but if I can at least feel a little bit stronger, that is what I'm hoping for.

I have had successes with other talismans, so I felt it was important to listen to this information.  My mother is suffering from some new health complications that have come with aging, so I am thinking I will use another piece of bone jewelry and bless it to give to her, so she can wear it, just as an experiment.  (I have never made talismans for others, but I want to try it.)

I am now convinced my relationship to the Orishas is real, even though it doesn't follow any specific established tradition.  I have channeled several of them, and I have felt their hand in solving some of my problems.

-Saraƒin

UPDATE: While rummaging through a drawer, I found a bone necklace of a mask that Eleggua called for me to use as the talisman.  So I consecrated it, and have started wearing it instead.  Even if the original item was real bone (I thought it was a tooth, not sure), this piece is finer.  It was from an estate, along with a handful of other items that were passed on to me.

Another sale!

Hooray!

"The Garden of Eden" just sold!  I had touched it up a bit because I felt certain details needed to be a bit stronger.  The buyer was initially wanting a print, but decided on purchasing the original.  No sales in galleries in a while, but this is even better because no curator takes a cut if I sell outside of the gallery.  It's just a nice kind of personal pride thing to get a red dot beside your piece in a gallery show, which indicates a sale.

I want to open up a bit on my feelings about the RFK Jr. decision to scale back on antidepressant usage and to help people with tapering off of them.  Based on what I know about RFK Jr. I am not a fan, he promotes a great deal of quackery, but I don't disagree with this decision.  The internet is exploding with claims that he is attempting a ban on antidepressants, but based on what seem to be the facts, this is not the case.  I can't imagine a ban on antidepressants, that's ludicrous - many would die, and big business would suffer.  What this instead looks like is an argument for a more holistic approach to most cases of depression, which might be solved with the right lifestyle adjustments, the correct approach to life itself, and the right level of spiritual or philosophical self care, among other forms of management (which is what I would hope to see).  When I was coming off Effexor XR back in the 2000s, I asked medicine for help with the weening process, but they said they only do inpatient withdrawal for narcotics.  As a result, when doing this on my own, I suffered a nervous breakdown.  To have something in place for drugs as difficult to come off of as this one, in my opinion, is a good idea.  I think many are upset that RFK Jr. proposed it, and so this has blown up.  I never should have been a teen on antidepressants, I now have many self-injury scars, which started around the time I was on Prozac, and I believe antidepressants at least didn't help with this self-destructive pattern I developed.  So to ease up on overmedicating, especially with younger brains, is something I have to agree with.  Just my two cents on a decision that might be deemed controversial.  Whether or not it is done well remains to be seen.

Speaking of coming off medication, I want to talk a bit about my only tattoo.  When I was convinced I would die before the age of 25, I got a small "Rx" tattooed to the back of my neck, as a statement about being on psychiatric medication.  After the shit hit the fan with the entity and I found myself in the battle of my life, I became compelled to get a cross-out in red over it, like a "No Smoking" cross-out circle, to cancel what the old self believed of herself.  But being on antipsychotics years later, I longed for this tattoo to have greater meaning, because I grew to hate what I had done to my body with it, and with razor blades.  I no longer wanted to identify as a "pill popping person", but as someone who defeated the expectations psychiatry had of me.  If only I could be in the clear, I would tell myself.  Well, months later, off Latuda, I am less uncomfortable with this tattoo, because I feel I finally defeated an awful prognosis, and I got off the pills after all.  

I am not sure I would ever get another tattoo, I don't even like this one, but at least I feel it finally means something.

-Saraƒin

"The Gryphon Queen" has been completed!

 Yay - I got this done in very good time!

I am very pleased with how this turned out - it's one of my most dynamic pieces in a while.  The gryphon's form is sexy because of her curves, not because of anything particularly sexual about this.  I am not sure how I will price this just yet (I must ask the curator), but I am thinking of asking for $350.00.  Although this is for an erotic monsters show, to me it captures themes of wrath, royalty, and glory.

The black paint pen began to run a bit low towards the end of its completion, so I had to switch to a Sharpie, but it worked.  I just have to seal it now, perhaps do any necessary touch-ups, and add a wire to the back.

Here's the flyer for my next show:

-Saraƒin