St. Therese of Lisieux...

I recently got the impression that the true patron saint of my soul is not St. Jude Thaddeus or St. Anthony of Padua, both still very important and close to me... but instead, St. Therese of Lisieux.  Here's why:

When I first visited the Carmelite monastery in Niagara Falls years ago, still very much deeply spiritually ill, I felt chills while pulling up to the property in my cab.  As discussed in older posts, this is the home of a shrine to St. Therese that contains artifacts from her life, but also relics, including bone, a piece of her nun's habit, and a vial of her blood.  Wandering the property for the three days I spent there that first time, I kept having visions of her smiling face.  I have also had powerful signs of her in the physical world here and there, everything from oddness with technology after reciting her litany with my girlfriends, to a random friend gifting me a handbag with her printed on it from The Society of the Little Flower, which is associated with the monastery I visited.  Also, a very interesting phenomenon happens whenever I think of her, which is that I always get a very prominent vision of her in my mind's eye.  This doesn't happen to me with any other Catholic saint but her.  It was like she wanted me to pray to her more often.

I think St. Therese might get the way I chose to go about my day to day since I committed to simplifying my life out of surviving diabolical possession and crippling levels of PTSD, she having created the path known as The Little Way.  She would probably also understand my youthfulness, be it an autistic trait of mine or simply just a part of who I am, and she would also understand the horror of dark forces.  I like going to St. Michael's cathedral in Toronto because that cathedral has several statues of prominent saints I felt have answered my prayers: St. Therese, St. Jude, St. Anthony, among them.  (Also, St. Michael is an angel that fights the devil, so it felt like a call to visit a cathedral named after him... it was also simply nearby.) Though it feels like I wasn't meant to convert to Roman Catholicism, there is Catholic spirit to my path, however eclectic I may seem.  I am not sure I would impress many with my way at this point, but what matters is that I am recovering, that it works.

Some musings now on kundalini, which I have been giving more thought to as I contemplate.  Kundalini awakening is often criticized for being an unscientific idea, for the existence of its energy has never been proven (although results in the brain of its alleged activity have been suggested through studies, leading researchers to conclude that something is going on).  Here's my argument - kundalini itself is nothing more than will from the intelligence of the Great Mother, the planet, demanding a perfected human being, it is the process of Her shaping us to be the person She wants to see in us.  So kundalini is not a coiled energy, that's metaphor, and there is no "sacred serpent"(I would argue that's metaphor too, in this case for the human spine and the reptilian portion of the brain) - it is no more an "energy" than a person's independent will to commit to something.  What's physical is associated reactions in the body as the Mother's will is exerted on the individual, demanding a divine connection to the Great Father through a neurological process.  I would argue that St. Theresa of Avila had her own perspective on this process, the context was Catholic in her case, not the Indian school of thought that I studied when I got some sense of what I was going through with my awakening.

Hooray - Hallowe'en approaches in days!  I'm hosting a small get-together, then onward to clubland in costume!

-Saraƒin

Another bizarre medical memory from 2008...

Something else just came to mind that I want to discuss, a haunting memory that worries me.  Since it happened, my brain has just never felt quite the same.  (Lately, I might be in full recovery, but for the longest time, not so much):

I can't remember if it was before or after I had come off the CTO, but I was in my room in Parkdale, smoking a joint, and listening to music through my headphones.  Suddenly, there was the sensation of something bursting in my head, and in horror it felt like blood was pooling inside of my skull.  My speech began to slur, and I felt less able to concentrate or speak.

I called the paramedics, who weren't particularly nice (one was so rude when I couldn't sit still for a needle), and was taken to Mount Sinai Hospital in an ambulance.  There, I was rolling around on the waiting room floor in agony, while staff screamed at me to get up.  Eventually, I was given a bed, while waiting for a scan of my brain.

I woke the next morning, feeling that God was speaking to me.  Not quite the same as I was the day before, I was then issued the scan.  They found nothing wrong, which surprised me, because it seemed really real.  But ever since then, things just felt slightly off.  I could never convince medicine to run any further scans, I wonder what to make of it.  If it was just a really bad trip, it certainly was scary and convinced me of something far worse at the time.  Later that year, my arrests happened, no one understood what I thought I had endured neurologically, and I guess just wanted to blame "bad behaviour" on some manic trait or something.  It was maddening how tough I had to become once the system decided to punish me over silly metaphysical doorway notes with a Criminal Harassment accusation, and of course with what happened with the stalker.  Jail was how I learned to control my temper.

God is telling me that my brain did suffer something, and that I am making a full recovery.  I am very disappointed in western medicine in Canada for the number of times it has both harmed and mishandled me, I only wish for medical care that made sense.  Aging is frightening when they are careless and don't know what to make of you.

-Saraƒin

Literal lunacy...

After receiving a blessing from St. Dymphna a couple of months ago, I got a random download about how I was under an occult lunar influence from something that went wrong because of what I was dealing with due to the entity.  Praying it away rigorously, it took about two months, but there was a release two nights ago while I was lying in bed, like a thump sensation.  It's come to my attention that this influence might have irritated both my subconscious, along with my ability to channel finer details.  Mild, but annoying, and it might have also just made life slightly more unpleasant than it had to be.  We'll see what the next stage is as I feel things through, but the latest is that I should feel a little bit better still in a couple of days.

Sadly, I did not get accepted into "A Nightmare on Roncesvalles 5", nor did my bestie, who also submitted a painting.  Oh well, we'll find other things to do this month for Hallowe'en.  Unfortunately, events like pop-up bars and even "Code Orange" spooky decorating finds don't seem as interesting as they have in the city in previous years.  There's a candlelit concert at St. James Cathedral of Gabriel Faure's "Requiem" coming up on November 1st.  I will likely go to that, because "Requiem Op 48" is one of my absolute faves of Catholic religious music.

I forgot to mention, traffic jumped exponentially on this blog as of about a year ago.  It's interesting what countries are reading this, because oddly enough, Canada is not high on the list.  I wonder if it means I've been mentioned in periodicals I am not aware of?

-Saraƒin

MAiD for mental illness - my opinion...

It was recently ruled in Canada that MAiD for mental illness alone is not going forward as an option, at least not for now.  I wanted to discuss how I feel about this subject:

I honestly agree with this decision, I think it becomes a slippery slope when the state becomes involved if a person wishes to die for reasons like this.  Considering how terrible my psychological state was many years ago, I probably would have been issued a lobotomy in another decade, so - considering that MAiD has randomly been recommended even to elders who have gone into hospital for non-terminal concerns, such as having a broken leg, it worries me that a doctor or nurse might have recommended MAiD to me at my worst, it's entirely possible that this might have eventually been encouraged for many if this legislation had gone through.  I certainly was encouraged to see myself as forever dependent on medications, perhaps even dependent on long term care, they also insisted that my mother see it that way when they talked to her about my prognosis.  I proved that notion wrong by willing finer states over the years with spiritual self-discipline, alternative medicine, and understanding that the root of my pain with "psychosis" was in fact religious/occult, and not of the brain itself.

In a world that often ignores the soul, I imagine that many of these unwanted psychological states are constructs of a time, suffrage we know not only from a sad state of affairs related to injustice, trauma, a world that has grown too loud and too fast, but often from not leading the lives we were born to live, culturally treating the ecosystem like a prostitute and not like our sacred mother, there are many reasons suffrage might happen to the mind that go beyond just having a sick brain. There is a disclaimer at the front of every DSM edition that states that there are no biomedical markers to definitively diagnose any of these conditions.  Perhaps if there were, it wouldn't be psychiatric illness anymore, it would be a variant of neurological disease.  It is all that, my personal history and recovery and the miracle recoveries of those I have known and more that mean that I simply can't agree with MAiD for mental illness.

What I do want to see is the expansion of alternative medicines for mental health in mainstream hospital settings, particularly in the widespread availability of drugs like ibogaine, a treatment that can solve not only addiction, but also certain forms of mental illness, PTSD included.  This treatment is often too expensive for people who could really benefit from it, and I would love to see it covered.  (Although there is a risk of cardiovascular problems with ibogaine in certain individuals, it would benefit many who are ideal candidates, one must remember that many mainline treatments have difficult side effects, chemotherapy is one example that comes to mind.  I think ibogaine should at least be explored more because of its miracle properties.)  It wasn't doctors who discussed ibogaine with me, it was random people I had talked to.  I am shocked by the tone of those who deem it "progressive" to say things like "if a person is going to kill themselves anyway, why not help them do it with the hand of a medical practitioner?"  It's a statement that reeks of "I don't care about humanity", and with sentiments like that, I imagine we would go into a time where definitely forensic mental health patients might even be encouraged to consider it by medical professionals (and certainly by the public), simply for having crossed a line while sick.  We do not have the death penalty in Canada, but some might go there in their thinking for the chronically mentally ill who are incarcerated, or under the Ontario Review Board, as an example.

I don't consider my opinion difficult, maybe some who suffer from mental illness would disagree, but I know there is so much room for error in even getting a diagnosis right, and such a need for better care overall, that this would just be a crime to me, a failure of the state in taking care of its citizens, if this were to move forward.  

In my darker states, I had mused on this blog about MAiD for myself if it were to go through, I now disagree with these feelings, I would never do such a thing.  My recovery is going well, I am off Latuda, and I will never consider suicide again.

-Saraƒin

The eyes have it...

Looking back on old photos of mine while I was still heavily influenced by dark forces, it is shocking to see the dull and troubled look in my eyes.  I wonder if making me look silly was one way evil compelled predatory people to assault and provoke me.  Was this also why the law and mental health care system was so hard on me, was it something they thought they sensed in me because of what I could not help?  I often had the strangeness of eyes that might as well have been two pee holes in the snow, or something moronic behind them, it was insulting to be in my body at the time.  No matter how well behaved I tried to be, someone out there was screaming at me somehow.

With this considered, I worked with several Pagan gods using wine magick to prop myself up, increase my vitality, and bring out a kind of apex predator nightmare woman look in my eyes so as to protect myself from criminal activity against me.  I believe the gods that worked most on this desire of mine were Lord Mars, Goddess Sekhmet, and Lord Pluto.  Between this and veiling, the tone of my relationship to random people did change, and mostly I am greeted with respect, and far less obnoxious interaction.  It is a relief that the period of bizarre levels of harassment has ended, I pray that it lasts.

Dark forces contributed to me looking pathetic, while those gods serving Heaven made me look rather wrathful, or perhaps confident in a way where I developed the appearance of one who knows what they're doing.  I joke that I am too lazy and clumsy to learn martial arts, so I turned to the occult to defend myself with my presentation.

I am not even interested in a romantic encounter with any male unless he is the one, so looking profoundly odd to the opposite sex in a way where I don't look worth any strangeness is fine by me.

-Saraƒin

Lord Jesus confirmation update...

Something interesting happened with my channeling, as of last night, and it has to do with another confirmation prayer I figured out with Lord Jesus Christ:

I was contemplating if there were any other forms of confirmation I had to consider with Lord Jesus, because I had already prayed many, and had seen results... I just couldn't come up with any answers on my own. So, I called to the Holy Spirit to guide me with the Bible and show me what to consider.

I was drawn to a section in Hebrews, and my finger landed on the word "covenant".  Then, I was asked to pray to form a covenant with Lord Jesus Christ, which I hadn't considered.  I am up now, it's the middle of the night, and my downloads are much stronger, I am feeling Him in a greater sense than ever before.  I am convinced, from this and other things, that I have great power with scripture.  I don't tend to be a Bible reader like some, but if I call upon the Holy Spirit, I gain wisdom through channeling while reading it, it's a completely different experience than most Christians have claimed.  I don't treat it like any other book, it's like a talisman with my practice.  I'm certainly sick of the Christians who weaponize scripture to slam marginalized groups, when they can't even appreciate that the times have changed.  I find that the Holy Spirit helps me to discern what to consider of those times versus these times, what was true for one tribe, and what is true for the now in my society, and for me in my specific situation.

I want to state again that I still identify as a Christian, but that Lord Jesus has let me go beyond certain common religious boundaries as I became a magician, and perhaps as I became other things too.  As a result, I can't help but think more like a henotheist, seeing the other gods I have called to as extensions of one almighty God, gods I might know through Lord Jesus, provided He allows it, because I have earned it.  Conservative Christians and doubting Thomases might say "yeah right", but I swear that experimenting with this was what helped me to recover.

I am now convinced psychiatric medication (at least the non-PRN variety) is in the past, because of all the work I've done.  Magnesium at night has helped with sleep, I find I have needed the quarter tablet of Loxapine far less.  Simple living must continue for wellness, but I need that for the religious life anyway, however rogue and alternative it may be, in my case.

-Saraƒin

New painting: "Vinctus Christi"...

Because the art show was so successful, I got right to it with a new painting!

"Vinctus Christi" translates to "Prisoner of Christ", which is a scriptural reference from St. Paul in the New Testament.  It usually means to be bound to Christ in a way that is like being a prisoner, but it has also been used to describe one who finds themselves in prison because of something with Christ, in a political sense.  The image of the hands clasped in prayer with handcuffs has been done before, but I thought it would be fun to tackle it as a piece of folk art.

The result reminds me of something you might see in Mexico, perhaps there's a drug cartel joke one could make somehow.  I added the crucifix, I might paint the sides with silver paint later, and seal it with varnish.  (When I showed it on Instagram and Facebook, I presented it with a sampling of the track "Prisoners of Love" from the Mel Brooks musical "The Producers", and burst out laughing.)

I think I will price this one at about $200.00 - acrylics, imitation silver leaf, silver pen, paint pens, crucifix on circular wooden board - the diameter is about 8 1/2".

I have another one planned too - a pastel coloured guillotine with a splattering of bright red blood.  Coming soon!

-Saraƒin

 

11 sales in total!

Wow!  I sold a grand total of 11 paintings at "Catholicpalooza"!  After my last post, the next pieces that sold were "St. Lucy of Syracuse", "God Save The Queen", and "The Maid of Orleans".  I also sold a handful of Asylum Squad comics, and I have already decided that at some point I am going to have "Catholicpalooza 2: The Second Coming" as a follow-up Catholic themed art show.

It feels good to earn decent coin and clear out enough paintings to make new wall space for future art pieces.  There are a few saints I want to tackle, such as St. Jude and St. Anthony (two of my go to saints).  I would also like to do some archangels, and more biblically accurate angel art.  One person came in and said he might commission me to do a St. Agatha piece.  I should also do some Jesus art, which oddly enough I don't tend to do because I have just not thought of the most interesting ideas for capturing Him, but I will give it some thought.  A Sacred Heart icon might be a neat idea.

I had a fun time just chilling out in the gallery with my tarot deck, listening to a mix of Psychedelic Catholic Folk, my Catholicpalooza playlist, and the albums of the great John Maus, who is Catholic himself, and one of my favourite musicians of all time.  A lot of his songs have themes and tones that suggest Catholicism and its music, but he also has the strangest lyrics I have ever heard, words that seem designed to provoke laughter, ranging from a Memento Mori tribute about the fate of one's pets ("Pets") to a song that's basically a lament about grandma's struggle with incontinence ("It Takes Time").  John Maus is often seen as a madman, but I think he's just profoundly brilliant and is creating evocative stuff that mocks the superficiality of modern pop by making it sound wiser with lyrics that are so insane, you might as well listen to him rather than anything on Top 40 radio, which is often, as a sound, neither funny nor inspiring in any way whatsoever.

I seem to have pulled something from daily exercise, the right side of my body is in pain about the ribcage area, so I have taken a break from my daily workout routine.  So shitty, I was just starting to get in shape!

-Saraƒin

"Catholicpalooza" has been very successful!

Wow - I am touched!

I have thus far sold 8 paintings and several comics at "Catholicpalooza".  Very good timing, because money was slightly tight and I had to dip into my TFSA to pad my chequing account.  I'm pretty good at mostly putting money into it and not taking out too much, but once in a while, well... that's what it's there for.

So far, I've sold "Lolita Goddess", "Heartbreak Chair", "Vatican 7", "St. Dymphna, Release Us", three smaller unframed paintings that were priced low, and today, "The Little Flower".  The gallery will remain open from 1 - 6 pm for the next three days, the show closing on Sunday after 6 pm.

This was definitely worth all the prepping, many came out for the opening reception, and there was only a tiny bit of misinterpretation of the tone from some Christians.  I think people see an alt scene white lady in a veil and assume this is some silly tropey thing about mocking religion, but it's really just edgy Catholic themed art, with pieces that range from irony to commentary, homage, and parody of blasphemy.  The "Vatican 7" pieces might be a bit naughty, but I mean no offence with them, they are just rather silly.  Mostly, I have been well received - I had to explain my Anglo-Catholic-ness for some to get me a bit better.

After a year as annoying as 2026 has been (the roof has still not been repaired, sigh) it's nice that at least with art, it has been quite successful, because 2025 was kind of a disappointment.

I am not sure what my next show will be, but it might be "A Nightmare on Roncesvalles 5" at Northern Contemporary.

-Saraƒin

"Catholicpalooza" opens tomorrow night!

All ready!

Again, this is my very first one person show, and my first time at The Show Gallery.  A very close friend of mine was extremely helpful in getting my art and I there, helping to set everything up with myself and the curator, later driving me to the LCBO for wine and Dollarama for some extra snacks and beverages.

I have no idea what the turn out is going to be, but I have decided that most days, until closing, I will be sitting in the gallery between the hours of 1:00 and 6:00 pm.  Tomorrow I might arrive around 2:00 PM and stay until 9:30 or 10:00 PM because of the opening reception.

I just found out that Sister Irene O'Connor's incredibly groovy Psychedelic Catholic Folk album, "Fire of God's Love" is on Spotify, so along with some other musical choices, I will be playing that album as background music to give it an authentic Catholic flavour.

See you tomorrow, if you are in the Toronto area and plan on coming!

-Saraƒin

RIP, latex nun habit...

 Well, it looks like the original gangsta Sister Penance latex nun habit has finally worn out to the point where it's unwearable.  Today, I took it off the plastic hanger, wrapped it up in tissue paper, and stuffed it in a reusable bag - I am not sure if I am going to throw it out, it might be salvageable with repairs, used for something else, or just given away to someone who wants it... not sure.  But it's definitely, in this state, not fit for any art opening.  The veil is still wearable, but not the dress.  I did get almost a decade out of it... latex is not the most durable material.  It was purchased as a joke for this blog, and worn out and about periodically for art shows, clubbing, an LGBTQ+ Pride march, and a Hallowe'en street party.

I guess people wonder sometimes why I chose to name the blog "The Wayward Nun".  Well, it's an ironic nod to nunsploitation cinema - a kind of a campy homage to a truly tasteless genre that I have been known to throw on and laugh at with my indie scene friends.  But it's also me as a dark clown, ridiculing the notion that I ever was what law and mental health might have wanted to see in me with certain allegations of promiscuous intentions (as if to say: "So, you think I'm a tart, do you?  Well, I can have fun with that idea"), it was to mock all the sleazy, predatory men who kept harming me throughout my life when they thought they could demand something from me, and it was, of course, an homage to the warrior nun trope of sexy demon slaying sisters, with all the madness I have had to endure because of occult forces that the Toronto area mental health care system refused to acknowledge as legitimate.  Not all clowns wear red noses... I decided I would wear this instead.

I doubt I will buy another latex nun habit - this material is expensive, tedious to take care of, and God knows the kind of raw audience I might have drawn without knowing it.  I might, however, still render some "Vatican 7" silliness from time to time.

Tomorrow, I set up "Catholicpalooza" at The Show Gallery - pics to come!

-Saraƒin

Tips from the housing project: Making the best of low income living...

I may have touched on this before, I certainly have described tips for mental health and even folk magick, but here I go with some pointers that have kept me well and out of debt while being in a low income living situation.  These might not be possible for every reader of this article, some might have challenges or obligations that make things that much harder for them than for me, but here's my advice coming out of my own set of problems, which were, in their own way, a special level of hell:

- Hunt for subsidy.  If you are not already on a waiting list for a subsidized apartment, get on one immediately, because these lists are only getting longer while the economy gets shittier.  If/when your name comes up, try to get a building that takes on mixed tenancy, meaning both subsidized and market rent tenants share the same building.  I find that buildings I have lived in with subsidized only units tend not to be maintained as well, so it's just my recommendation.  If you are in Toronto and are eligible, look into getting a subsidized Presto card for transit, and subsidized internet with services like Rogers Connected for Success.  If you want a landline phone, try something like a Magic Jack (Voice over Internet Protocol = VoIP).  My Magic Jack landline has a renewal fee once a year of about the cost of one month of a cheap phone plan (maybe $35)... other than that, there are no fees.  You would just have to purchase the device that works with your landline when you sign up for it.

- Get into thrifting!  You can have a lot of fun with this, many do, but the trick is to do it all the time.  Only buy what you really want or what you really need, know when to draw the line for both your wallet and to avoid hoarding.  Know when to trade in old goods so that you don't take on too much stuff.  Hunt for sales racks in other stores, learn to admire what you encounter in the store when you see it without necessarily buying it, unless it's within your budget and you simply "have" to own it.  Try to curb overconsumption by looking into buying mostly practical or consumable goods, buy mainly for need, not want.  Sell used items through social media (I don't tend to do this, but I do sell used clothing in consignment stores sometimes).

- Keep your dwelling clean... I am getting better with this!  A clean unit keeps the pests away, but it's also necessary for overall hygiene and good mental health.  Purchase cleaning supplies at dollar stores, along with things like spices and condiments.  Cook as much as you can, don't rely too heavily on takeout... again, I am trying to hone my cooking skills only now.  Be on top of all problems in your unit as soon as they happen to avoid a mountain of trouble later.  Unfortunately for me, my unit has been like a game of Whack-a-mole as of late for problems, but this shit still needs to get tackled if I want any stability in the home at all.  Buy a foam draft barrier for the crack of your front door - this item is not only good for drafts, but also for preventing insects of neighbouring units from entering your unit.  Caulk the cracks of your floorboards with a caulking gun to avoid other ways pests might enter your unit.

- Take on cheap / free hobbies.  I often do karaoke at bars, there is no cover, you might just get a drink or two, even if it's a mineral water.  I do go clubbing a couple of times a month, which often means paying cover, but I budget what I can afford and make sure to set limits as to how much I will spend in an evening.  Taking long strolls throughout the city or in nature is good exercise and allows you to take in the sights around you, helping you to appreciate things more than say, just sitting around and watching television.  Speaking of which, try not to have too many bills you need to pay by the end of the month.  My treat, as an audiophile, is subscribing to Spotify, I don't get Netflix or any other streaming service or cable because I am not a big cinema person.  I use Tubi (it's free, it just has ads, but there's always adblocker software) or watch an old DVD when I want to see a film, but I am not much of a screen gazer.

- If you are the spiritual sort, during your spare time, try to knuckle down and obsess about your spirituality, focus on personal refinement as a goal.  Collect little things, make shrines, devote as much time as is available to whatever discipline you wish to take on.  Spirituality can be very inexpensive, you don't need to buy a bunch of fancy altar supplies.  Do this well, make sense to the world around you, and Heaven might respond to your needs.

- To the Canadians: if you haven't already, start a TFSA (Tax Free Savings Account).  If you can, try making sure that you have an automatic lump sum that goes into it by the end of the month, or incrementally week by week, to build a nest egg.  Start small, see if that works out, then tighten the belt a notch every so often until you feel things through and get the sense of what you can manage.  Me, I started with $50 a month, I now find that I am fine putting away $200 monthly.  I also began investing with GICs (Guaranteed Investment Certificates).  Make it a goal to always pay off your credit card bill by payday every month, and put away any extra money from your checking and savings into the TFSA and GICs whenever it lands in your lap.  If you are on ODSP, you should consider starting an RDSP (Registered Disability Savings Plan) and investing in that once your TFSA gets close to $40,000, because beyond that, it's considered an asset, while an RDSP is not, because it's meant for retirement.  This allows you to build more money without being scolded.

- If you are artistic, try to admire the "bohemian" approach to life, focusing on aesthetics and creativity to make your dwelling a more endearing place to rest your head.  Get into the local independent art scene, zine making groups, poetry slams.  Again, I recommend thrifting for aesthetics, so keep your eyes peeled.  Develop a sense of style with your appearance - style is not only fun, it presents an interesting aesthetic to the world around you.  When I dress up every day, I am not only empowering myself as an artist, I am adding to the aesthetic of the city, and am often greeted with smiles and compliments from others who like the fun I put into my wardrobe.  Thrifting and sales racks are your friends... again, try to buy only what you really want.

- Learn to DIY (Do-It-Yourself) more, especially for fixing things, and certain levels of personal grooming / pampering.  I have mentioned I cover my hair to reduce the number of trips to the salon, I pluck my own eyebrows, and unless offered as a gift, I don't do manicures or pedicures, I simply moisturize and exfoliate at home, keep my nails trim, and I sometimes paint them.  Though I like the look of acrylic nails, I find them too fussy to deal with, and the minute I go to do chores like changing the bedding, they tend to pop off, so unless I want them for a special occasion, I usually just get out the polish and paint my trimmed nails from time to time.  Not to say you should never spoil yourself, but in my case, I am trying to watch expenses, so corners must be cut somehow... just my choice.

- A philosophy I took on for living in my demographic is to admire what being a Canadian provides compared to other parts of the world, as much as we Canucks still love to complain about things (hey, times are tough).  Be not like the grasshopper, who is irresponsible and doesn't commit to what is needed to face the winter season.  If you are disabled, it may not be possible to be like the diligent, hard working ant either.  I recommend being like the bee, who obsesses about every task they must perform, and ultimately makes sense to the community.  

It is possible to live well in Toronto in a low income situation as long as certain needs are met, number one is having access to subsidized housing.  It does mean being extremely frugal and constantly checking your banking to be on top of how well your money is doing, you might want to consider food banks for a few extra items (I'm doing this myself), and you might not be able to take as many trips as you would want.  My spirituality and my friendships are the true wealth in my life, I'm not even in love with money anymore, I just know to be wise with it, appreciating what it provides.

I must confess that deep down, the Taurus in me would still prefer living the lifestyle of someone with much more than this, but those are some of my tips for how to make the best of things, at least as a working ODSP recipient.

-Saraƒin

"Catholicpalooza" poster...

My friend David (fellow comic jammer and brilliant illustrator) stepped up to draft this flyer for my next art show, because I currently don't have any photo editing software, and haven't used any since my last computer.  Turns out I can only start welcoming visitors to the gallery on Tuesday the 15th, because Monday the 14th is the day of setting things up.

I still have some things to do, but am well underway, most preparation is complete.  Some paintings need wires put on, one needs touch-ups, and I have to run to Staples to print the labels for the pieces and the artist bio, but I should be ready in good time.

The pieces going in and their prices are as follows:

• "St. Dymphna, Release Us" = $230.00

• "Lolita Goddess" = $200.00

• "Cherub" = $200.00

• "Excess, The Mother of Harlots" = $300.00

• "The Devil" = $220.00

• "Heartbreak Chair" = $200.00

• "St. Sebastian" = $200.00

• "Vatican 7" = $100.00

• "God Save The Queen" = $300.00

• "The Maid of Orleans" = $200.00

• "The Little Flower" = $150.00

• "Wrath of the Mother" = $150.00

• "Our Lady of Guadalupe" = $200.00

• "St. Lucy of Syracuse" = $250.00

• "Church Window" = $400.00

• "St. Dwight" = Not For Sale

• "St. Elizabeth of the Mad" = Not For Sale

Again, please try to have exact cash, I will have a bit of float money, but I can also, as I've said, do eTransfer.  I have also decided that some extra paintings that are in theme, including "Vatican 7" pinups on canvas board, will be sold cheap for $50.00 each, but they aren't framed or with a wire.

Here is my writeup for the event:

“Catholicpalooza” is Saraƒin’s first independent show, a collection of Catholic inspired artwork from recent years.  Though baptized Anglican, Saraƒin has Roman Catholic heritage on her mother’s side, and there is a strong Anglo-Catholic influence to her spirituality as a mystic.  Saraƒin’s religious art often features a touch of whimsy that looks borderline blasphemous, but it’s a parody of blasphemy that comically attempts to deliver a sincere mystical message in a troubled world that has forgotten about the soul.

A lovely little thing happened while I was in line for the food bank at my building a week and a half ago.  I channeled that I was about to receive a blessing from St. Dymphna, then a Monarch butterfly flew over to me, landing on me twice... a symbol of transformation, according to some.  Interesting that I would mention not having any mystical ties to this saint, only to experience that!

-Saraƒin 

"Catholicpalooza"...

I'm having my first independent art show in September!  Opening reception will be on Tuesday, September 15th at 6 pm at The Show Gallery (978 Queen St West, in Toronto), right across from the CAMH campus.

The name of the show is "Catholicpalooza", a collection of my more Catholic inspired pieces.  Art will be priced lower than average for this show, so if you want to buy a piece of art, please try to bring exact change (prices range from between $100.00 and $400.00, depending on the piece - I will have a bit of float money), but know that I also will take eTransfer.  I will also be selling a handful of back issues of Asylum Squad comics.  Sadly, I am virtually out of (Complete!) collection copies of "The Jung Ones", but I still have plenty of copies of "The (Complete!) Monster Hospital" and "In Solidarity" for sale.  The curator wants me to sit in the gallery most days, I will try to be at the gallery often, if anyone wants to chat.

There is a lot of prep work to do, I am getting on it right now.  I have selected 17 pieces to go into "Catholicpalooza".

More to come as this show draws near!

-Saraƒin

Shrink rant...

I had taken it down a while ago because I felt vulnerable leaving it up, but I had done a psychiatrist call out post about several bad shrinks I had.  Because I am very afraid of psychiatry's power over my life, I chose to remove it.  But now that I'm beyond that world, I feel like talking about some things again:

I am now so afraid of psychiatrists because of what I sense is wrong with my file that the idea of working with one again sends chills up my spine, and passing by the CAMH buildings on the streetcar fills me with horror.  The rogue psychiatrist that I knew who agreed I was experiencing spiritual emergency was the exception, but in the end, I didn't even need a psychiatrist at all.

One doctor I brought up before was Dr. Langley.  I sensed a falseness to this man that I can't quite describe, the kind of feeling you might get when dealing with someone trying to sell you an Apple product, or something else where they're just not exactly being forthcoming with you.  This short in stature Neil Tennant lookalike contestant potential and former professional trombonist gave me the sense that he wasn't paying attention to a single thing I had to say for myself.  At one point, when I made an argument for spiritual emergency, his response was: "if that's what you want to call it in this office, I am willing to call it that" - erm, big deal, because if the file remains the same, it doesn't mean shit, and I don't care.  I am not sure what he wrote down about me, but I suspect it might have been unpleasant.  It's bizarre how little he cared for the patient's opinion, while still remaining so "nice".  When I proposed the kundalini as an example of part of what my true condition was, in all his psychiatric whiteness, he dismissed these mere brown ideas as unscientific, which would sound ludicrous to several other groups that I could name.  I'm also unsure if his lack of knowledge of the existence of the dimethyltrytamine molecule was sincere, I imagine it was a lie fabricated to deflect my argument.  Being a doctor I found it surprising coming from him.  I have no idea who he was, but to me, he was one of the bigger fakes, as pleasant as he was.  He's what's wrong with the "nice guy shrink".  Others have been bad to me as well, but Dr. Langley for sure should be called out again, because this man won an award for - get this - "compassion", so I'm suggesting that it's kind of absurd, based on my experiences with him.

I have decided I can't possibly trust a psychiatrist ever again unless they are particularly brilliant, self aware (and I can tell when they are because I can read eyes), a wounded healer of sorts, and willing to take down the man to protect or help a patient.  I am also not sure about baby shrinks (younger doctors), because I feel it takes a ripened mind to fulfill this role well.  What I liked about my Jungian analyst was that he was the real deal, and would even drop everything and take an emergency call if I was in crisis.  If wisdom is not involved in the practice of psychiatry, terrible things can happen to a file, and thus a life.  My life is an example of this.

Now that I am free of Latuda and away from the system and all its abuses, I feel relieved that I have accomplished this, despite what others thought was possible, and I am never looking back again.

-Saraƒin

Downloads about Sekhmet that make me wonder...

I often get pretty profound things through channeling about the state of affairs in the world, and what it might mean.  Astrologers love chiming in about planetary alignments and how they are influencing things, but I don't feel particularly moved much by this information.

One thing I keep receiving (and perhaps this is one reason Sekhmet became a major deity for me) is that She has become Queen of the Earth as a goddess of the times, and is exactly the reason things have gone completely insane.  It's not because of the death of David Bowie, it's because of the rise of Sekhmet.

Sekhmet is a war goddess who sorts humanity out, often by destroying them.  She is not a devil, She is however wrathful, and destroys horrible things.  I have downloaded that She has made several influences in the world absolutely bizarre in order to sort the humans out.  We have become a strange burden to our planet, and She's controlling us now.  The good people of the Earth might not have to worry under this.  The message is - behave immediately, or be fucked up by Sekhmet.

People in the Left Hand Path have suggested Lucifer is the one doing this.  I am suggesting, based on my downloads, it's actually Sekhmet.  Even media is getting odd, perhaps to present the notion that we're not making sense, and should watch ourselves.  Money is getting weird too, because we need to learn from that.  Technology might become so sophisticated, we need to decide what we want to do with it.  Madness will be everywhere, and it will be a right of passage to go mad to solve oneself.  It's as though a war goddess is saying to us: "Well humanity, what do you make of what you've created?"

I am once again assuming the role of the beautiful, glistening, gold plated, diamond studded total cow to make one more bold statement about two nitwits who seem to lack decency with the mentally ill.  If I ever crawl my way out of low income living, if I become one of those rich whites one day, I am going to hire that nightmare attorney who represented Jian Ghomeshi and I am going to cream you in court if you in fact slandered me in some weird way with embellished information to get me into serious trouble with the law to do away with me because you refuse to be reasonable.  I am going to insist that you be made into two ridiculous looking taxidermy Toby mugs, and I will lock those Toby mugs in a glass case, amongst the tiki mugs I have collected overtime, and every time I look at those mugs, I will delight in what I have accomplished, despite it all.  And when those mugs start to oxidize and go off, be it by some foul odour emanating from them or something else, I will take those mugs out back and I will smash them, or at least donate them to a Salvation Army to be some other poor schmuck's problem.  And only then will I be satisfied with the shit I have had to endure in the city of Toronto because of dingbats like you.

Ok, that's it!  I think I need to find my Zen!  Today I drop off some art, and enjoy myself at a goth picnic.  That should do the trick.

-Saraƒin

More reflections on themes in Asylum Squad...

I was contemplating themes from my comic a bit again.  Because of my terrible problems with memory, it's possible I've discussed some of these themes before, but I might as well share some recent musings, in case I missed something:

I think that if I had used the old idea for the plot twist (which insinuated that Armananstantanu the horse demon might have been real), there would have been a strange tone about the theme of love by the end of the comic.  Because Liz Madder and all other characters never find love with a partner by the end of the series, there might have been a bad message about love itself, with all the pain in the books.  This is likely influenced by my own problems with what love seems like to me, having lived a life of many strange things.

Contemplating the plot twist, I realize that Liz does find love - it's with God, as a nun.  The symbolism of things going wrong with the strange heart object she assaults in the dream sequence around the time she's dating Josh Lyon demonstrates she is barking up the wrong tree with love.  The message is - even if you can't know love with a person, there is a greater love you can know with Heaven, because Liz's destiny is to become what amounts to the next St. Dymphna, which makes the symbolism with the statue even more interesting.  I thought a message of cosmic love was a great way to close the series, suggesting hope for those who are suffering.

Not having a regional psychiatric care system that makes any sense for my specific situation, I had to rely on the spirit world's hand to be my therapist, my nurse, and sometimes my orderly.  Working with spiritual dimensions while in need, I was able to heal myself enough to get beyond Latuda.  I am still profoundly weary from trauma and abuses from both the psychiatric and legal systems because of the slandering of my intentions while unwell, and of course because of my conflict with the entity.  I have been fucked with by terrible white people who are as insufferable to deal with as the Weimaraner couple in the movie "Best In Show", if not worse, and I have absolutely no idea how to combat their power.  I don't think I am going to tackle certain problems with how I was handled because I just don't know how to face solving them.  Trauma can really screw with you, you feel too crippled and shocked to do anything.

In other news, I am going down to The Show Gallery on Queen St West today to talk to the curator about having a one person art show with my work.  This gallery caters to those who have suffered from mental health problems or physical disabilities, and I have never shown with them.  Now that I'm back in the art scene, I figured it was time, because I'm doing well at Super Wonder Gallery.

Tomorrow I drop "God Save The Queen" off for The Rock & Roll Masterpiece Show, which will be happening next weekend.

-Saraƒin

Two NIMBY twits in Parkdale - bad middle class handling of the mad...

Alright, maybe I'm not done discussing a certain person after all, there is a bit more to say about my frustrations because of someone taking me out of context and committing what amounts to a variant of slander, at least in my opinion.  I have decided I have no choice but to transform into a total cow - a beautiful, glistening, gold plated, diamond encrusted total cow, who has very strong opinions about having been wronged by the Toronto law and mental health care system:

It had come to my attention in conversation from a mutual friend (who is now passed, he was also a teacher) that this guy, who did often seem pleasant to me, despite it all, actually felt very little for me, and saw me as a stalker.  For whatever reason, this fucked up my 20 something heart, because I was still hoping this misinterpretation of my confession at grad could be resolved somehow, it triggered unfortunate states.  This was also around the time when I began having strange spiritual problems, so it was just adding gasoline to the fire.

I became fixated once again on trying to solve it, I discovered what his phone number was, and in the oddness of my state, began opening up and babbling about things over the phone.  Again, none of it was particularly provocative, perhaps just a bit strange, and I opened the vault somewhat about my traumas from abuse and my personality.  These attempts at contact were the result of desperation because of something closing in on me, not an attempt to be weird or clingy.  The strangely territorial woman in his life, let's call her The Iron Vagina (which I guess sounds a bit like a sexy Margaret Thatcher thing, but I'll go with it anyway) perhaps had a hand at that time in getting shit started where my character would become stranger looking on file, because she had the coldness of a glacier the final time I attempted a phone call with him, and what followed made my head spin... I am assuming she's a bit like the Trunchbull from "Matilda".  I am also assuming this man has no genitals, possibly because The Iron Vagina sawed them off, made shepherd's pie, and spoonfed it to him in some bizarre honeymoon hazing ritual, thus breaking his desire to be more reasonable with the awkwardness of youth.  I say this (and I also suspect pedophilia in her, BTW) because for some reason a former principal from my old high school (one who wasn't even a principal there anymore at the time, which is really strange to me) was called forward to become involved, because this is what my mother told me when someone blasted the situation to her in an email, which I find rather infantilizing, the tone of high school people becoming involved in my life again I mean, considering I was a 23 year old adult.  I'm also just seeing that she's guilty of some particularly weird shit when I read the Akashic Records, stuff like child molestation and possibly infanticide.  She delights in fucking with young women and girls, while desiring to fuck little boys.  As for him, I'm reading that he is a man who prefers a bad girl, a woman he serves, which is kind of a kink thing, and he wants to do for her whatever she pleases - in this case, what she wanted was to make me look bad to the authorities, which was fine for him I guess, because thinking for himself and doing the right thing is apparently not sexy enough.  She has plans for her husband, that when "Babyface" ain't so fresh faced no more, she's gonna clean him out and ruin his life.  Take it or leave it, at my level of development, that's just what I saw.  (I am also reading that this woman is delighting quite a bit in what she is getting away with when it comes to screwing with my reputation in the medical, legal, and educational systems - she is the saboteur, he is the enabler.  This woman is not Karen, she is Karla.)  Based on how "nice" I have heard this guy tends to be, I found it strange coming from him, because most decent people would probably just get I was in crisis, and the response wouldn't have been this bizarre and heavy handed.  Whatever was said, my mother exploded at me, and I was forced into hospital.  I was discharged soon thereafter, disappeared for a while, living on the streets, and when my bank balance went to zero, I attempted suicide from the stress of everything while in a homeless shelter.

When I was really gone because of the entity (and I guess this is where I start to look pretty guilty to people who are not gentle with the mad), I found out where he lived, and I went to him to try to talk things over.  His response was to look at me with the eyes of a man in fear at the sight of me, and proceeded to turn and walk away.  I decided to leave this problem alone for a while.

At the time of the first arrest, I am wondering if details of my behaviour were not in fact embellished a bit, because the tone in court was freaky about what the crown saw in my character.  I am not sure if it was The Iron Vagina who is responsible, or if it was my "friend", the hairless nightmare.  I also wonder if this form of slander, if this is in fact what one might call it, added to an argument for mania that shouldn't have existed, even though everyone agreed there was absolutely no need for me to take lithium.  I have neither the sexual promiscuity traits, nor the excessive spending habits, nor any other kind of manic trait, of a person with bipolar symptoms, nor was I even depressed at the time.  I had an intact hymen, (I still do, BTW) having never been broken (raped, yes, but anally, not vaginally - and yes, a gynecologist, or perhaps even 5 minutes with a fucking Xerox photocopier, could prove this... can it please be understood why this argument for sexual promiscuity is going to glitch out after a certain point?), and I am also pretty darn good at making money last, so I find arguments ludicrous that this was some manic promiscuity thing with him, when I am not even sexually active, and that there was any mania to suggest schizoaffective disorder at all.  The arguments for mania, as I have said, would remain on file for over 15 years, even when I pointed out the obvious, and I am assuming it might have something to do with what people thought I was doing when I was arrested.  Again, the psychiatric profile probably would reveal all to me if I were to look at it, but I am still feeling far too vulnerable to do so.  The patient perspective is often ignored in psychiatry, in favour of what the doctor, and in this case, what the legal system saw.  No one in the system would ever reveal to me at any point any details of what these two mentioned to get me in trouble that would cause both the law and mental health care systems to treat me so horribly, trauma caused me to fear what it was... hence, I can't yet bring myself to look at my file.

And then this dude had the audacity to tell my lawyer to tell me that this was all "just to get me help", when it destroyed my life.  It was at that point that I decided to pick up a pen and start writing webcomics.  Because there were two charges, I was forced to move to "protect" this man, so I had to live in hospital for a year until equally shitty subsidized housing came up elsewhere.  It is perhaps all this and more that keeps me feeling unwell about everything that followed when I, at 19, had the "audacity" to admit feelings for him while in crisis.

Some other background details about my connection to him: though he was not my teacher, I got to know The Pantless Wonder back when I proposed a school fencing club to him.  I had tried with another teacher (who wasn't interested), then I approached this dude to see if he was willing while passing him in the hall one time.  He seemed game, and so we tried to get it to work, but it just never happened.  While working on it, I thought he seemed nice and friendly, and as mentioned, there was the sense that, like with other students, we could stay in touch post grad, but the tone changed and I was deemed bizarre by both him and the school once I proved to have health challenges.  I know he was willing to help others, which is the reason I approached him, so I am shocked that I was the one who was thrown under the bus.  At least one other I know who had challenges of their own is still in touch with him, so I think this is either hatred of me or favouritism of certain kinds of students, something my former high school is already quite guilty of.  He is superficial, in my opinion, because he seems to think he can get away with his pleasant demeanour, but then a challenge surfaces and he suddenly turns on the person, depending on who they are.  Also, I heard that one time, back in the 2000s, he threatened a noisy neighbour, got into legal trouble for it, and was forced to move, so he's not exactly the picture of goodness or sanity himself.  Again, I must insist that my behaviour was really no worse than any other young woman's actions at the time, this was completely blown out of proportion, and I have never felt the same since. 

At this point, I don't even give two damp shits about a friendship with him, if I could know compensation for my pain and suffering somehow because of what the system did to me, that might help with healing, but I doubt anyone would fight for me, it would probably be said that I don't have a case.  Maybe it's an autism trait, but I am obsessed with observing patterns in things, and there seems to be a pattern of the world not giving a shit about me at all with certain matters, defending many things that have happened to me as what I perhaps had created or deserved.  Because no one has helped me with the perverted duo of Parkdale and their hand in ruining my life, I had to pull some Egyptian shit... no idea if it's working.

There are levels of responsibility I must take on for looking bizarre when unwell and the results of how that might affect my life and the lives around me, but when I put it all together, I still can't help but feel it was a bit much.  It's something that simply exploded with time, and came down to this.  I think others might have gotten a pass, but I didn't.

The result is the beautiful, glistening, gold plated, diamond encrusted total cow that I have become, who simply wants to tell more of my backstory, to get feelings off my chest.  It's become clear to me, that in Toronto at least, if you are poor and mad enough, slander against you might get a pass, if it is coming from the middle class or higher levels of society.

With that it mind, I mostly keep my head down, but I will be writing about what I see in things.

-Saraƒin

A couple more things that irritate me...

Ok, I really need to calm down about this subject matter, but there's just a couple more items that make me a bit nuts about you know who:

Firstly (and this was mentioned by a former student, when we were both still in high school) I heard that a certain person had discussed with her products from Northbound Leather.  For those who don't know what that is, Northbound Leather is a fetish store in Liberty Village, Toronto, that sells both streetwear and kink gear.  Kinda weird to be discussing that with a teenager, I think?  Again, this is another student mentioning this to me, maybe it was just about the streetwear section, maybe he's in fact more of a Winners guy, but I still find it a bit weird.  Why is it that I'm deemed the strange one?

The next thing I heard that feels funny to me is that this guy gets together with former students and plays video games like old buddies.  I am not upset with this information, I am just annoyed that I was not permitted to level with him when I gave a shit, because it's considered a crime if it's coming from me.  He seems to be about mixed messages, because at one point, he insinuated that it was ok to stay in touch, but once I proved to be someone who had challenges, that changed.  I suppose this might be a case of not only ableism, but elitism?

So with that in mind, I am not impressed that, according to the Toronto law and mental health system, I have to be the one who is considered creepy.  It would be nice if more people fought for me, I am glad that the scientist did when it came to SCID, I am not sure what I am hoping for at this point with dingus, only that I feel profoundly outraged when I can't even be heard from the patient perspective when I have a problem with how I was treated.  I now not only hate psychiatry, I am afraid of it.  It's not a science, it's the power to make a person look however they want, on paper, based on what amounts to a Buzzfeed quiz.

I feel a bit like a character from Orange Is The New Black, trying to get a life going after serving time, with the amount of horseshit I have had to deal with, and the repercussions of dealing with the law.  It has come down to learning to be better at frugality, maintaining order in all levels of life so that nothing gets out of hand, living small so that I don't overspend.  There is absolutely no way I know how to escape this financial situation, because it seems to be my fate.  I went mad because of too much bullshit, some systemic, some metaphsyical, and there's not a lick of a chance of a higher education now.  My plan is to put away as much coin as I can scrap together, invest, and play by the rules, so that when my teeth fall out, I can afford the fancy dentures, not the Mister Ed talking horse level crap.  I simply lost time and opportunity, the world is too expensive now, and I have things to say about what life has been.

Okay, maybe that's all the venting about that for now.  Time to chill out, enjoy the rest of the summer, and get ready for my next art opening.

-Saraƒin

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.

Also, I want to mention that this man has more tattoos than a submarine fleet, which looks like it might mean one of several things: there’s an iguana he’s serving, a weed grow-op in his basement, he owns black leather furniture, a motorcycle, or there is some serious hanky panky shit going on.  Why on earth are people so shocked at the notion of a counterculture teenager having a little crush on him?  I wonder how many other awkward goth girls have gotten fucked over by him for being too honest.  My behaviour was no worse than any young woman's behaviour if they were not well.  I have been accused of being an outrageous stereotype of womanhood, and it's gone too far.  Some of us are just young and foolish, and sometimes we put our foot in our mouths... I long for a world that understands this.

The other thing these accusations of promiscuity did to me is destroy my trust in knowing a meaningful relationship with any man.  Because man has been so strange to me, having been my rapist, stalker, abuser in the dental chair, having felt me up, having assaulted me, having failed to protect me, and in this man's case, having accused me of coming onto him obsessively, I simply don't have crushes on any of them anymore, and haven't in decades.  The trauma from this and other things led me to believe it's impossible.  Again, I must insist I have no interest in being involved romantically with a married man... I am disgusted that this is what people in the system thought I was trying to do with him, that my name is associated with this kind of behaviour, it is simply not true.  I sensed a brother in him, I honestly just wanted to stay in touch, it is shocking what this became.  Though asexual, I used to have romantic crushes, I fear dying alone because of what this complex did to me.  I am no femcel - I have plenty of wit, charms, and fine social graces, but I turn everyone down, because I feel no sparks at all.

I will not be naming who this person is for these two reasons - I am a class act, and from what I understand, he is an absolute lunatic when he is angry, and he might go after me in some way... him or that fucking psychopathic pedophile wife.  I am never going to fuck with the middle class ever again. Also, it seems that in the end, all he cared about was his privacy… I’m honouring that.

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, I had developed a delusion that Scientology was tapping my landline).  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 Owen Sound 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