Dream Predicting My Dad's Demise

The last dream I had this morning prior to waking was a disturbing one.

My dad and I were walking somewhere. I jumped enthusiastically off a curb. Before I hit the ground, my dad told me not to, it was high in the air and a harder fall then I was expecting. I landed and it was fine and I was annoyed with him.

There were a bunch of Max tracks, like three sets. My dad was walking very very slowly in a decrepit fashion. The Max trains were unable to stop if someone was on the tracks. There was a train coming and he was walking slowly across the tracks, like the tracks were particularly hard to cross over. I watched helplessly as a train came, and braced myself, and it was a train on a different track. For the love of God hurry. He was shaking and balancing his feet on one track, still the first track. The trains came frequently, and another one came and it was on a different track again.

Only a matter of time. If he doesn't move as quickly as possible, which he wasn't, the next train was going to hit him and guts would be splattered everywhere.

Rachel Refused a Hug and Got in Trouble

The only reason I hug my parents is because they want me to. I don't particularly enjoy the physical contact, okay. Just now my mom startled me. I wasn't mad. Asked me a question and then asked for a hug. I refused.

Apparently that meant I wasn't doing well.

I've seen this behavior before in my mom. One time, I was reading my mom's email, and she mentioned the hand touching she does in the car is a test of my mood.

I wanted to point out to her, no it isn't. Sometimes I just don't want to. Actually, I never want to, but it's not that big of a deal to hold her hand for a second. That's a manic/depressive test, basically.

I tried to point this out to her. I just didn't feel like hugging. I'm not in a bad mood. I'm doing fine. Except, when I did, I got a little bit too worked up about it because I hate this. She's not that bright, I don't want another email to my psychiatrist about mania. Even he claims they are excessive and her reasoning is groundless.

Anyway, my dad talked to me about outbursts. He tried to tell me that I should listen to them about how well I am doing. I told him it was my right not to listen. I still have freedom over what I am doing in my own mind. I didn't say that part out loud.

I tried to explain it was due to psychology, not mania. There are things bugging the psyche. And he said that doesn't make people have outbursts. At this point, I'm done.

I can't explain any of this due to the intelligence gap. And I tried to explain to him that he's not all that bright and he is a know it all, instead I yelled it very loudly.

Apparently I am on edge due to a strange bout of energetic stuff and MUCH MUCH MORE!!! Including spiritual stuff and shit.

Communist Propaganda Dream

I had a really interesting dream.

There was some sort of issue with foreign people. They were hunters. They were supposed to be harmless, but when they came we would hide from them. I had a hard time manipulating my body to put it in the right place to hide properly from them. However, I intuitively had a sense of where they were going to go, so I intuitively had a sense of where to hide.

Two of them drew pictures of me. At first, when I was looking at the pictures, I thought they were flattering. Later, I took a closer look. Even though I was depicted as pretty, I was depicted as older than I was and every single white head on my face was depicted. Every single one. It was weird.

They were violent and kept shooting us. At the same time, there were these restaurants where you could eat the fattening food of the gods. In the hallways of these restaurants, there were whistling noises played over the loud speakers, like wow, aren't you attractive! I was eating at them, but realized what was going on and was trying to break free. The restaurants were set up by the same people who sent the hunters.

I got up from the table where the food was, and left into the hall where the whistling was. This place wreaked of hatred, like they were feeding us, making us fat, and hunting us. Like, they were giving themselves a reason to hate us, and then killing us. I hid from quite a few of the hunters.

I had left my family and was running away from them. After quite a few scary shootings where I wasn't hurt, I crossed an interstate and found a group of people with black flags with designs on them. I was scared at first, thinking it was the communist Russians. When I got closer, the flags changed and they were American flags. These people were the good guys. I joined them, was welcomed by them, and we were all singing the Star Spangled banner.

My guides said this dream was not sent by them, it was cooked up by my psyche.

Sweet Tomato Incident

I have blown up and screamed at both of my parents on separate occasions recently. Yes, I am on edge because I am hungry, so I don't have a lot of patience.

First incident came when my mom told me to unload the fridge (our fridge is broken). I started throwing away the salad dressing containers that are sitting around in the fridge and are too empty for me to want to put them on salad. Then, my mom started doing it instead. I don't remember what she said next, but she said she started doing it because I wasn't and she was annoyed. I screamed at her.

I think it was excessive then to scream at her for that, but then again, it all comes back to the Sweet Tomato incident.

The other time with my dad, really really pissed me off and still does. So I was at home starving, because wow, my metabolism is high... I eat and then a few hours later I am ravenous again. There is no food in the house. I am gluten free, dairy free, lots of veggies... In other words, I don't want to eat some junk. So, I decided to spend my money eating soup and salad at Stanford's by my house. I didn't want to do this, but my dad got mad when I asked if we could go to the grocery store and said he's busy and we don't have a fridge. So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Eat some freezer shit I'm not supposed to eat? That's what's helping my mood a lot now (that's an understatement) the fact that I am on the fast track to getting back in shape. Anyway, so I walked to Stanford's and spent twenty bucks on lunch, then worked out at the gym which is nearby. It was an excellent work out. Anyway, I'm sick. I don't want to walk outside at all! So I called my dad when I was done and asked if he could pick me up. On the way home, he asked me if I was at Stanford's. I will point out, right now I'm not angry, but I should have been. He is looking at my location on the fucking Find Friends app. Then he started lecturing me about how spending twenty bucks on lunch is not bright and when he goes out, he spends less. Right, because he eats at BURGER KING!!!!

So I snapped and screamed at him. I got out of the car and went back in the house. Then I was still mad at him. He asked me why I was mad. Whatever my reasoning was no reason to scream. I said because he's a bad father.

So as for the father one, talk about annoying, anyway, I was worried about this. I was worried because I had a med change recently, and I don't want them to take me off something I want to be on or say I'm manic or act at all like outbursts are a problem. There are psychological reasons why this makes me angry. There is something bugging my psyche with both my parents. And it is...

THE SWEET TOMATO INCIDENT!!!!

The Sweet Tomato Incident involves my dad in November of 2014. My mom was out of town. After being out and about, I am picked up by my dad and we go to eat at Sweet Tomato. Now, at this moment, and for the past nearly 3 weeks, I have been going through extreme psychological stress to the point where my sanity was seriously at risk. Yeah, let's just say that.

I don't complain to my parents about the Sweet Tomato incident. The reason is, it involves filling them in on something I have tucked away in a file in my mind labelled don't tell your parents this in a million years. It involves bringing them in to my world, a world they don't believe in. It raises quite a few questions. What were you going through? Why were you under psychological stress? And I don't want to answer this question. Leave this subject the fuck alone.

Anyway, so I do have the bad habit of over filling my plate at the salad bar. I take a lot more than I can eat.

So we sat down, and I am eating. I am not paying attention to my dad, or at least trying not to. We are not engaged in conversation. I am in my own world. A god awful world I really don't want to talk about. I have not slept. I have disgusting repulsive images going through my head all the time. Please, leave me the fuck alone.

"You took a lot of salad there Rachel."

Five seconds later.

"You took a lot of salad there Rachel."

Two minutes later.

"You took a lot of salad there Rachel. Please, it annoys the workers when you leave a lot of food on your plate."

SHUT THE FUCK UP!! Okay, Captain Hindsight, I took two much salad. What am I supposed to do now?

And that's where it ends on a conscious level. On a subconscious level, I was thinking, "Seriously, are you trying to get me to shove food down my face too! Like you do?"

And it helps a lot that my dad is morbidly obese due to his excessive eating habits.

There is some repressive memory force behind this memory. I am in my own world, I am too weak to tell him to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

SHUT YOUR FUCKING FAT FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, so we went home and it was done. Then, later, apparently my mom wanted in on this incident. She wanted to prove to me that she would have done exactly the same thing. I will link you back to the blog entry titled "Sound of my Mother's Weeping." The short version is, I wanted to go to Sweet Tomatoes for my birthday, my mom didn't because of my embarrassing salad habits. I got annoyed and eventually started crying, later I was eating dinner and my mom walked in the room and told me in a really weird way marked with self-pity that she cleaned the kitchen up after me. All by herself. I was about to, I like to eat dinner before I clean the kitchen. As she was walking away, I swear I heard fake sobs. I couldn't believe my ears.

Anyway, a couple weeks later I was at home and I was getting food out to eat, and my mom got mad and said she had just cleaned the kitchen. It was all I could do not to lose my mind and flip, but I did my best keeping myself under control. It was very hard work.

The reason I would scream at my mom for saying I wasn't helping goes back to the Sweet Tomato incident. And so does the incident with my dad.

Paranormal in Pop Culture

I hate pop culture references to the paranormal. I hate astrology in general. I hate paranormal horror movies. I hate ghost hunters.

I do not believe in astrology. I was told by my guides, there are eastern forms of divination using the stars that have merit. Meaning, not all astrology is complete bullshit. But western astrology is bullshit.

My mom watches ghost hunters. That show annoys me. It's not entertaining to watch, for one. Plus, I don't understand why they are so intent on harassing ghosts. If the ghost did appear, everyone would be freaked out in a bad way.

I hate horror movies in general, but paranormal horror movies are cheesy. That's it.

I was on youtube looking up mantras and eastern music. Actually, I was looking up something called subliminals. I noticed they have subliminals you listen to for nine minutes to make you prettier. How cheesy.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up with, I am annoyed in general with this phenomenon of corny paranormal references. It makes new age beliefs and things like that seem like a joke. Adds fuel to the fire of atheists. Deters people of all ages from believing in the paranormal.

I would like to explain things to people, so that they will understand that the paranormal is not some sort of hoakey scam or joke.

When You Take Adderall Out of the Equation

What I hear from my dad that gets in the way of me living my life at times....

"When you go down hill, it always takes you exceptionally long to recover! You're always down for a really long time! Why can't you see it?"

The reason is, back when I took Adderall... Each time I went "down hill," they took me off Adderall.

When I was off Adderall, every single time, I don't feel like getting out of bed. I feel like shit.

If you look at the history, the exact moment I started to recover was the moment I got the Adderall prescription back.

But this was written not as cause and effect, but effect and then cause.

If we just never took me off Adderall, there would be no problem!

"But that's not what the bipolar literature says."

If I wrote the "bipolar literature," it wouldn't say that. It would say a lot of different stuff. And it wouldn't be called that either.

The First Episode: An Exercise in Psychological Remodelling At the Extreme

The thing I wanted to talk about today was, my first delusional episode.

This was the thing that tore my life apart, through my life upside down, pulled it inside out, and changed me as a person so much I didn't recognize myself afterwards.

It's the kind of thing that made me a real person, and gave me as a person substance. Because it was interesting.

But the thing I puzzle over constantly is, what changed? Everything. But what in particular changed. I don't know. I can't point to anything at all and pinpoint, well that personality trait changed. All I know is, the initial episode changed everything about me at the same time.

That's why it's a real slap in the face to get unfriended on Facebook over something like this. There was a girl who, through understanding of the social dynamics of some of my social circles, that is the reason she unfriended me, she heard a rumor. And it's like, even if it had been something depressing, or something I wasn't proud of, or something mundane that resulted in delusions, or something I was ashamed of, that would be awful for different reasons. But it was this, the initial episode.

Anyway, this particular unfriending was something that contributed hardcore to my battle with extreme depression and suicidal ideations when I was at Innercept. I don't get any feedback whatsoever about what people are really thinking, because they are not talking to me. I'm not really on speaking terms with them (nothing bad, no phone numbers, didn't keep in touch, I'm not going to write them awkwardly on Facebook for feedback.) The person I am talking to is not responding to me because there is something seriously wrong with him. And what I didn't know that I know now is, is this the kind of thing that other people treat with sensitivity? The answer is absolutely.

Nightmare

I had this dream where there was something that was an allegory for Innercept. There was some device with some kind of design, and my mom and I went down and it did something. It was a scam. If you look at the design, which the company wouldn't show you but the dream did, it actually didn't do anything at all.

Then, I went off on some sort of ride. This part of the dream had a strong "woooh! Scary!" effect. By that I mean, it was trying to scare me, and it was, I kept trying to scream and not be able to. However, what it comes down to is, this is my psyche. It failed to scare me in a real way. It was trying to be eerie. Trying to imitate the classic eerie nightmare I had when I was 10 with new material. Something like, It stopped, started playing music, and the music went along with a crashing plane. It was stuff like that over and over again. I kept trying to scream, but kept getting annoyed. Come on, you can do better than that dream. You're not really scaring me.

I woke up, breathed deeply from exhaustion, used the restroom, then returned to my room to discuss the dream with my guides. I turned on the lights in my bedroom, and I was informed what the dream was about. That is a secret.

Anyway, it's about something in my life that has a little bit of hype as a scary thing but is actually a good thing in the end.

Anyway, when I went to turn off the light, my door was locked. I had locked my door. It's weird that I  would lock my door when I was a little bit shaken up and scared from the dream. Anyway.

Spiritual Attack In the Middle of the Night

So recently my brain was functioning so poorly I went to the hospital... I stayed afterward at a crisis center. The place was haunted. I woke up feeling scared, and there was this awful spiritual unrest feeling.

Anyway, last night I was having a dream. It was a dream that Facebook was announcing something I did to all my Facebook friends via notifications. It was something I didn't do, or did but then regretted. Actually, I think it was something I never did that the dream was trying to convince me I did.

Anyway, I kept almost waking up, and I kept hearing this alarm like my phone ringing. Except, my phone wasn't really ringing. This isn't important, just something that was happening.

I woke up and I was in a state of sleep paralysis. There was this spirit coming from my crotch (I haven't had sex recently) attacking me and holding me down or something. It lasted a couple seconds, was very unpleasant, then I woke up.

I was wondering where my guides were through this. Apparently, they were taking care of the situation as quickly as possible, but it was a really nasty spirit I picked up that they didn't know about from the crisis center that was hard to get rid of.

Icosahedron

The icosahedron is a symbol of my spiritual journey. An icosahedron is a 20-sided geometric object.

I had a dream that I was in gym class, playing tennis. I was having a good time but I couldn't hit the ball. Then, the ball went to the other side of the room, and it was an icosahedron. Then, it became massive. I couldn't look at it. It was horrific to look at. The reason was, my mind was examining the same image on a subconscious level.

What does this dream mean?

My guides say, this was a sent dream to remind me that the journey is not over.

The End of The Line

So we have come to the end of the line for weird occurrences, and this is when we wonder, what will happen next?

To be honest, I am at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to depression. I find myself, not at my apartment. Away from one of my good friends and his best friend who is also my friend.

I find myself with no friends. When I think, who are my friends? People come to mind. I think of Terry and Angela in Coeur D'Alene, I think of Matthew at my apartment, I think of Izzy, I think of Sarah and Caitlin and Chris (plus others)... but that's not that many, is it? I don't have people I can call up and go see right now, and I don't want to drink or smoke marijuana...

Actually, I do, but I feel some sort of aversive force directing me away from being with friends just to hang out and do drugs.

I have nothing going for me. I have no job, no education.... All I have is this brain issue.

And it's an interesting brain issue.

But where does it go from here?

Oh, The Horrible Suffering

I feel absolutely worthless. I feel like I can't make money, can't contribute to conversations because my brain isn't working right.

So I am sitting in the car, riding to a garden store with my mom, when I start to feel some sort of cut and release.

This must be surrendering. So I walk around the garden store, feeling this cut and release and good feeling among the bad feeling.

I hope it continues because it is helping the searing awful depression. I feel like I just want to check out.

Predictable Things

By Rachel Zuhl


How many onions do you want in your mouth?

None.

I am going to give you the predictable number of onions for your mouth. Five.

But I want none.

No. If you say none, you will eventually want one an a half to last you the rest of all of eternity.

But I don't like onions.

No, but you are a kid. You will eventually develop a taste for onions. So, five.

Okay Mommy!

Away From The Sun: The Last Hour Before Redemption

I feel spent, I feel like shit. I feel like I need a chi infusion.

Alas, I am waning. I feel that my ego has already diminished to nothing, and that's not the problem...

My head hurts, and it has something wrong with it. It's not working properly!

I make a point of feeding the bloodstream sugar, and that helps, but it doesn't bring me some sort of relief caused by the mundane.

I need to make my head glow, to prepare my body for the livid situation, and to make do with some sort of relievable inquiry into the great beyond!

Where am I? I am in a crisis center in North Portland, doing my time is not it, I asked to come here!

I told my mother, "Hey, I feel like I am Jesus about to reach enlightenment!" And she took me into the hospital.

Now I wait.

My Mom's Therapist: Reinforcing Disjunct Thought Processes

I remember the time I asked to go with my mom to a therapy session.

I went in, and talked to the therapist alone for a couple minutes. I explained how I thought my mom was controlling, how she takes away and locks up my ID.

When my mom came back in, she made an innocuous comment about something she did the other day regarding paperwork. This prompted an emotional outburst from the therapist!

"Now does that sound controlling to you, Rachel?!"

She interjected with this statement. At this point I disengage, and wait for the session to be over to say goodbye. Meaning, I stop trying to get through.

I came in willingly to discuss my problems with my parents as guardians.

An emotional weakness for paperwork is not a trait I'd want in a guardian.

Especially since there is a spiritual reason I am not supposed to give a shit about this issue.

My parents wasted their life savings on Innercept. Every step of the way, every chance I got when staff members were out of ear shot at Innercept on the phone, I told them they were wasting their money. What I hear from my mom is, "RACHEL, YOU'RE WORTH IT!!!"

So they wasted their entire life savings against my better judgment. I am not responsible for any emotional issues my mom has regarding money now, she brought those on herself. I am not going to cater to my mom's emotional problems.

An emotional issue with paperwork is not a trait I'd want in a guardian.

The Time I Tried To Be A Vegetarian

One time, shortly after I got home from Innercept, I tried to give vegetarianism a try. I thought, hey, I might lose weight... And I might feel great!

I had big dreams, big dreams about what my life might be like as a vegetarian. All those dreams turned into... A rainbow in an oil spill on the ground!!!

DUN DUN DUN!!!!

So, I did it the right way. I bought soy patties and black bean burger patties, and mixed one of each into an epic salad.

The only problem with this epic salad was.... There was no meat!!

DUN DUN DUN!!!

I ate plenty of complete protein, and protein in general... At subway, I got the egg sub.

After a week of going downhill emotionally, I woke up one morning feeling VIOLENT!!!


DUN DUN DUN!!!

I felt like I would rip off the heads and attack anyone who looked at me funny, or talked to me, or did anything at all! I was so irritable I couldn't even believe it!!

I've never moved so fast in my life! I ran downstairs, grabbed a package of black forest ham from the fridge, and ate until the irritability went away.

I vowed, from now on, I will eat meat at every meal.

It turns out, I am on a spiritual plane that requires my body eat meat. In fact, I will die if I don't eat meat. Spiritual planes are a spiritual thing, related to how your body functions, how your mind functions, and how your spirit functions... it determines nutrient needs and stuff like that. And on the ones I'm on, I always. ALWAYS. Need to eat meat.

That's why I say, fuck you militant vegans!! I need to eat meat to live!!!

And that's that.

Rachel Got Nothing Out of Innercept Therapy, Luckily She Performed Therapy on Herself!

So here we are. In the house of Zuhl, everyone looks at the daughter Rachel.

THERAPY!!!! Mike Zuhl calls out.

THERAPY!!! Bev Zuhl calls out.

So they send Rachel away to North Idaho to be put into therapy.

They waste a whole lot of money and Rachel gets nothing out of it, because she doesn't know how to do therapy.

Well, now in 2017, Rachel performed therapy on herself! And she discovered the root cause of some of her issues.

How am I supposed to know how to do therapy? What do I do? This is a mystery. They expected me to intuitively "know" how to "do" therapy. I was not given any help at all.

I don't need help, but arguably, there are kinks and bugs to work out. Kinks and bugs.

So what helped? Rachel working on herself! And now that Rachel worked on herself, and she reached the root cause of some of her issues... There is no one to talk them out further with!

Because her parents spent all their money on bogus therapy.

Gun Violence: The Real Cause

So why are there so many shootings in the United States of America?

Well, there are a lot of factors. One factor is, video games and television. Violence in American movies and on TV popularizes the idea that guns are cool.

However, that's not the real cause of violence. The real cause is the American Dream.



So, why is there so much violence in schools? The real reason is, snobbery.

Kids picking on other kids. The reason is, they look at other kids, don't like their dress... pick on them for what they wear.

"When a kid gets bullied and shoots up his school and they blame it on Marilyn, or the heroine, where were the parents at? Now look where it's at. Mental America, NOW it's a tragedy..."

This is a line from the Eminem song The Way I Am. So, are the bullies at fault for school shootings? The real answer is no, but there is some argument to be made. Every day, they are picked on about something they don't value. The price of their clothes. So, after awhile, they think, hey, you know what else you value that I don't? SAFETY! The kid says, I am suicidally depressed. What sounds like fun to me? Hunting you down and blowing your brains out!

And it's my advice that if you are thinking this, or this is your reasoning... Please don't do it. Remove yourself from the situation instead.

So, what is the problem here? Classism! In America, kids are picked on for the way they dress. If kids could just learn to live with the fact that some people don't dress the same way, then maybe we could prevent school shootings.

AND MUCH MUCH MORE!!!

Why Parents are Great(My Take on Unconditional Love)

From the second you come out of the birth canal, your fate is clear - your parents own you.

If there was ever a more delightful predicament, I wouldn't know it.

The idea in your mind is, your parents love you. And everyone is dazzled by this concept - unconditional love.

Well, personally, I'm not weak in the way that I need to have love be unconditional. You can have conditional love, where you are loved unless you do something you would never do. And this is conditional love.

What most people think is, they have to stay on the straight and narrow to be loved.

It's kind of like that Johnny Cash song, Walk the line. Maybe that's relationship love and this is parental love.

(Don't pray for the rambling ness of this post, I am already crazy and dead at the same time)

Anyway, people who need unconditional love, the kind of people who insist upon unconditional love, are they kind of people who are either lazy or unlovable. They are inevitably going to do something that will piss off their partner, and want their love to be their no matter what.

Here's how it works...

Would you love me if you knew this about me?

Yes.

Would you love me if you knew this about me?

Yes.

Would you still love me if you knew I think mean things about other people?

Yes.

Yes! Yes you would! The basic premise of unconditional love is, you are unlovable, by all but the person who loves everything about you without being told.


Unconditional love is for the unlovable.

We will not revisit this topic later, so if you didn't get the point of this post, you failed.

Very good, Amanda!

Too Cool For Commercialism

So, I've come to a point where I hate commercialism with an undying passion.

I hate the fact that the land is being developed to make way for more Buffalo Wild Wings. I go into buffalo wild wings. They just sell buffalo wings. Food you don't need. Not a particularly social atmosphere. Wasted face for shoveling food you probably would be better off not eating down your throat.

I also could never go into sales. Whatever the product, I'm not going to want to convince someone to buy it. Dude, they need their money. They don't have a lot of it. What am I supposed to do, convince them they want to buy Herbalife? Herbalife doesn't even work on most people. Convince them they want to buy Mary Kay cosmetics? Right, like I would try to convince someone to buy makeup.

After awhile, I get tired. We are just cutting down the nation's trees, the world's resources, to make way for more Buffalo Wild Wings. I hate Buffalo Wild WIngs. And even worse, Target. Or Bed Bath & BEYOND!!

This nation has a problem with depression. Maybe we should teach people to relate to others better? Maybe we should replace these awful businesses with social activities? Anyway, I don't know if that's a solution. I would pay my money to talk to someone.

And that's it. Lately, commercialism in the United States of America is disgusting me. I don't know what these people want, but they are not going to find it at Buffalo Wild Wings.

Boyfriend Problem

So my problem right now is, I am lonely and horny. I have no one.

It's a sad life. I do things, I see things, I go places... but no sex or boys ever. The whole world is sex and boy less.


So where do we take the world on after this stage? The land of the sex free, the land of the putrid scum Donald Trump.

So, rather than look to the man on TV for comfort, where do we turn? No where! We have nothing!

Very good, Samantha!

Why Rape Is Funny (JUST KIDDING!!!!)

Early on in my career as a savant to the spirit guides, I stumbled across a video linked on Facebook titled "Why Rape Is Funny." It was an actor, making fun of his male experience as a 13 year old boy with raging hormones, being seduced by an attractive female gorgeous drop dead in the gorgeous way teacher. He explained, "Well yeah, I wanted her. Well yeah, I REALLY wanted her." And yeah it made me feel good, I had an orgasm, it was fun kind of. But the emotional issues that ensued ruined my life.

And at this moment you ask, "Did it really ruin your life?" And he said yes. But no, I still have hobbies and stuff. Which indicates, yeah, but there is a propensity towards CHANGE!!!!

Anyway, this guy is an obvious optimist. So while I had that idea already, yeah, underage even male sex with teachers causes serious very serious emotional issues, I understood that yeah he wanted it too not even but yeah. And that's when his guides came in and started speaking to me! Really badly no, but yeah, here are the psychological factors he went through at the same time. So, basically, he wanted her badly, but it wasn't worth his emotional security.

And that indicated to me that yeah, even though this is still an underrated scenario, this guy was serious. PLEASE DON'T TAKE ADVANTAGE OF UNDERAGE MEN EITHER WOMEN! I seriously wasn't ready. And it gives me this feeling like, yeah, I got what I wanted. And YEAH! IT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I DIDN'T NEED!

And that creates a psychological factor. It plants a belief, firmly held or little held at all, which means not very much but it is up to the person to decide how firmly they hold this belief but it's really really hard to make the right decision, so it is variable. That yeah, everything I want will cause me emotional harm. WHICH WREAKS HAVOC! On what? E M O T I O N A L S E C U R I T Y!

Everything you want will make you have issues.

So yeah, after a discussion with THAT MAN'S! spirit guides, I understood. Please don't take advantage of underage males.

P. S. THE WAY THAT GUY TALKS IN THE VIDEO IS THE SAME WAY PEOPLE WHO ARE GOOD COMMUNICATE ON A SUBCONSCIOUS LEVEL!

P. S. This post is given a tremendous amount of lee way, granted by the United States Government under President Trump, for creativity that does not indicate mental illness

Rachel Zuhl

Signed but someone did not sign at all!

Innercept and my Parents: You Don't Know, We Do

There is an issue between me and my parents regarding them and respect. First, they slap a guardianship on my the first chance they got. So bam, you got a mental illness, now we are legally your parents for the rest of your life.

Then, here comes Innercept. I go to this treatment center off in North Idaho, one where well-off parents typically send their kids just to get them off their hands. "Your parents love you so much!" This is what I heard from every single staff member who talked to my parents.

Every single phone call when the staff members were out of ear shot, every single home visit, every single time I spent time with them off Innercept campus. I told my parents, this place isn't really going to help me. You are spending lots and lots of money for an incredibly shitty product. What my mom always said to me was, "BUT YOU'RE WORTH IT RACHEL!" And what my dad always said to me was, "there is something special about the environment there that aids recovery. Just wait, you'll see."

This is the thing that gets me. We do not respect you, Rachel. You tell us we are wasting your money, we don't believe you for one second. Instead, we are spending our entire life savings on helping you. THIS IS AN INVESTMENT IN YOUR FUTURE!

I'm looking at this program and I'm like, seriously, how will this help me? What are we doing in this program that isn't a complete waste of time? The groups consist of, talking about the same subject over and over again. There are way too many conversations about collusion. Way to many conversations about anger management. It's kind of soothing hearing that guy get excited about the same story over and over again, but still. What is this place doing to help me in any way at all? Absolutely nothing! And my parents look at me and say, Rachel, you are mentally ill. We do not trust your judgment at all, even for one second. We know better than you. You think this place isn't going to help? Right! We read the brochure! This place is outstanding!

Instead, we sit around, talking about the four quadrants over and over again. Here's what goes in the upper left hand quadrant. Thoughts and feelings that no one else can see. Here, this is what goes up in the upper right hand quadrants, things about your inner state that other people can see. Down in the lower right hand quadrant goes, obvious physical things, like dogs and trees in the environment. In the lower right left hand quadrant goes, shared values.

I remember doing this exercise, over and over again, for everything you can think of, from Paris Hilton to my pet dog.

Does this exercise have any applicable value in the real world? Nope. Just something we like to do at Innercept.

BUT IT WAS THE MENTAL ILLNESS EDUCATION RACHEL! My mom says to me. That's what helped you.

Right, mental illness education. Biggest joke I have ever heard of in my entire life. Every time I try to locate any sort of mental illness education I got at Innercept in my mind, I draw a complete blank. People urge me and urge me to read books on bipolar disorder. Like if I read one, there will be this very strong clicking noise in my brain I will immediately understand that this is the mental illness I have. No more hiding anymore, I am bipolar.

Like I don't understand already what bipolar disorder looks like. Seriously, it's not that hard to understand.

My dad admitted to me, we have no money for retirement. We get sick of paying my sister's rent because we are trying as hard as we can to save up for retirement. My parents are in their mid sixties now. My dad made an incredibly large sum of money early on in his career helping start up a tech company. Where did all that money go?

I tell them, as clearly as I possibly can, this treatment center you went to, please pull me out and don't waste your money. They look at me and say, your judgment is off Rachel, we are spending every dime we have on this place because it's an investment in your future. I'm looking at them and thinking, you people are my legal guardians? GET ME OUT!

What does this place cost? Ten grand a month? How long was I there? Four and a half years? Misleading, because different stages of the program cost different sums of money. But not really, because a place in the program called stabilization costs a lot more and they send you there at the drop of a hat.

On top of that, my parents are worried about my sister. My mom looks at me with sad eyes and says, we do not have enough money to send her to a treatment center like Innercept.

What is with you people and expensive prisons? You admitted to me you thought Innercept was a scam. You think I am so out of the loop I don't know you people really badly don't have that much money anymore? And right, you would do the same thing all over again with Kristen. You admitted to me you thought Innercept was a scam. It did not help. But hey, every case is different, right?

So this is the situation with Rachel Zuhl. We do not trust your judgment. You can't tell us this treatment center will be ineffective, we know better. You can't trust your own judgment, Rachel. We keep telling you that. We don't trust it, you shouldn't either.

And every time I hear this, there is a song lyric that goes through my head. The lyric is "How can I be sure I'm here?" The song is Fear of a Blank Planet by Porcupine Tree.

And as I sit here, the chanting in my head grows stronger and stronger. RACHEL ZUHL! RACHEL ZUHL! RACHEL FUCKING ZUHL!

You can tell me as many times as I want not to trust my own judgment. I still do. Till the day I die, I will never doubt my own judgment. The people whose judgment I doubt is my parents.

That's the legend of the angry blond for you.

The Mental Weakness and Suggestibility that Comes With Being Forced into Treatment

So, one time, when I was a kid, I was going home from a treatment center that was full of shit. My parents didn't tell me that we had another flight.

They didn't tell me we had another flight.

I was told, Rachel, this is for your own good.

After awhile, I was forced to take medications that gave me correctable brain damage. After awhile, I was forced to take medication that made me a walking zombie. After awhile, I was put in a lifestyle that forced me more intensely into suicidal depression.

So what happens is, this is psychotropic paradise. When the Scientologist enters the picture, we flip. But then what? What do we do after we flip the fuck out, parents? Can you do anything about it? Can you dumb me down with Depakote and force me to accept that brain damage happens when you refuse to accept you have a mental illness?

After awhile, the guides enter the picture. And with the guides.... The guides are good. The guides are great. The guides would never do anything to wrong me. But with this situation comes a certain really fucking intense sense of apathy, like, I would follow anyone, follow anyone, agree to anything from that person, get raped day in and day out by that person, in and out, in and out, in and in and in and out, as long as it didn't mean submitting to brain damage medication.

And then I hear a word from them, like, Rachel. It wasn't Geodon! It was the drugs you took on the street! It's like, right. I know. Do you think I am fucking stupid? Do you think I am so out of touch with myself I don't know how I appear to the outside world? I remember the steady decline that came from me taking Geodon. I remember, how every time the I told my doctor to take me fucking off the stuff, he gave me a stern look and told me this was the best we could do. Right. Like a medication that actually causes mood swings, that causes me to sit around the house and laugh to myself for hours on end, is the best we can do. What was the underlying condition again? How bad was I before I was on meds? Sure, I wasn't doing anything. Lost in a constant stream of thoughts. Big life events require careful scrutiny. And the thing I notice is, you told me once that YOU understood the initial episode better than me because you saw it from a balanced perspective. Right! Like you understand anything at all about it. It was life changing. You tell me, forget about it and take your fucking pills.

After awhile, you start to realize, anyone that doesn't force brain damage causing medication down my throat, who doesn't threaten to inject me with it if I refuse, is my friend. And that could be, the drug addict on the street, the Scientologist in Coeur d'Alene, the spirit guides on the other side.

It's a relationship of tough love with the spirits. But then again, the parental situation makes me feel numb in the head. Sure, they love me. But do they know how? Do they know how to love? I think, without fail... The worst my guides can do is the best my parents can do.

So without fail, we stretch our mental muscle and encompass the universe in apathy. It's like, whatever?

For The Love Of God, Don't Tell Me They Understand My Issues

So, there is something like circular logic in the house of Zuhl. First off, I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Then, my mom goes out and reads a bunch of books about bipolar disorder. Ones with titles like, "We Heard the Angels of Madness." Now, all of a sudden, she understands what I am going through!

Please, do yourself a favor. Do not, for the love of fucking God, ever tell me you fucking understand a single damn thing I have been through. You do not. Notice, we do not talk. Oh? You didn't notice? We never talk about a damn thing I have been through. There is a reason. I don't trust you. Don't think you could handle it.

I find it very offensive when you tell me about some sort of group home you are looking into, because you don't like my current living arrangement. You tell me, the staff understand your issues!

Yeah, and I'm sure the staff know all about fish out of water psychology. I'm sure that is a common issue amongst bipolar patients.

I remember, in the past, my mother used to beg and beg for me to read books on bipolar disorder. I actually have, on quite a few occasions. On the most recent occasion, I was reading a book that she liked. It was interesting, but described nothing about me. That's the thing about all these bipolar books. They describe nothing about me. I don't relate at all to any of the issues the main characters have.

After I told my mom this, she got so upset. She took the book away and forbid me to read any more books on bipolar disorder. Just like that. After years of trying to get me to read one.

So I say this now.... The second you say someone understands what I'm going through, you have fucking lost me. And the second you try to get me to explain it to them, you've lost me too.

You don't get to know. You don't get to find someone who can help. THIS IS A PRIVATE ISSUE BETWEEN ME AND MY SPIRIT GUIDES. Butt the fuck out and there is no way I am going off to live in some mental illness group home.

What Do I Desire?

What is the answer I seek? Why have I stopped doing philosophy? Where did my philosophical side go?

My goal is no longer knowledge. My quest is no longer for knowledge. I no longer have to use my brain all the time to think up quiet thoughts that bark at the problem. The problem is, what is the solution to the questions of life? I have no desire to know? What do I desire?

That's a good question. I want to be attractive, that's what I said. I want to make an impact and stop global warming from happening, that's good. What else would I like to do? I would like to exist in a state that transcends the norm, and become more, and better and drive the fleeting passion upwards!

Then, one comes down for a second. What do I desire? For myself? Is that what I desire? Or, should I ask another question... What do I desire to experience? Because, if all is well, never will I have an experience that doesn't make me think I am going closer to the goal. Is it to touch others in a real way? Yes, but is that all? What is the goal?

Do spirits worry about this? And they tell me, yes. The goal, they say, is growth. The goal is to move on to the next dimension. Upwards, moving upwards... They are always trying to grow because that's the nature of spirits. Not fun, growth.

If I had a candle, I would not light the candle. The last thing I want to do is start a fire. If I could only understand the reasoning behind elven mysteries... (blank stares and boos)

Shopping is an Unattractive Addiction

So, the other day I went to the hair salon... And as I was waiting for my color to develop, I thumbed through a fashion magazine.

This was kind of an ego-boosting, but overall depressing experience. I say ego-boosting with shame because it gave me some sort of feeling of superiority over the kind of women who would buy the products in these magazines.

I was looking at the ads. They are for very expensive designer handbags and clothing. None of them were all that appealing visually. Now, with my limited understanding of men... I would think that spending that much money on a designer Versace handbag that isn't even that pretty or cute or anything like that (I guess my taste is poor... Right, I would take my bird purse over a Versace bag any day)... Is something that makes men cringe. That's just what I would think. It gave me some sort of air of superiority over these women (is this a straw man argument? Are there women who spend all that money on these products?), at the same time it made me feel depressed for them. They don't know how to find happiness, so they look for it in an ugly handbag.

Anyway, the thing I wanted to point out is... the irony of shopping. Obviously, it is okay to shop in moderation for moderately priced clothing in accessories, within your price range. But what are women thinking who shop too much? The only answer I can come up with is they do it to impress men with their fashion taste. Is that not the reason? Is it for some sort of superiority over other women? That seems like an even stupider reason, so I will just say it is to impress men. Why is that impressive? Is that what they think is impressive? Is this some kind of loser trick to impress men? Are you trying to get men by shopping all the time? Is this something you do to impress the opposite sex? Is everything I do in some way related to trying to impress the opposite sex? Is that really the point of this blog entry?

Anyway, I don't think it's to impress other women (unless, needless to say, it's lesbians). Anyway, I think shopping is a loser's addiction. There are better ways to impress men that are actually impressive. Some ugly shopping habit is a huge turn off, and completely and utterly defeats the purpose of doing that shopping, which is to look good to impress men.

Women and Men: Why Women Feel Inferior and Men Get Mad at Women For Having it Easier

I have stated before, I'm a mysogonist. Well, that's not really true, it's a joke. The joke in my mind is, stereotypes of weak women and stuff to that effect.

Why are women weak? Well, society makes women weak. Society tells women over and over again, this is how you need to look to be attractive, you have to be skinny or else you are worthless, you have to be beautiful or else you are worthless. Really, do women buy into this bull crap? Obviously, this happens when you are a teen. Are you not doable unless you are skinny and drop dead beautiful?

Well, what I think is, most women in their teens are attractive and they don't even know it! They don't get it! Sure, there are guys who want to have sex with them... That is irrelevant, or something. They aren't as pretty as the women on television.

So, we could laugh and point fingers at these dumbfuck women until the cows come home, or I could just point out that I was one of them. I did not understand, hey, just because I apparently think I am not as pretty as the other girls I see at school (not in magazines, I didn't use those standards... However, images of women in magazines still have a subconscious effect, whether or not you knowingly think it makes you feel insecure or not).

The depths of women's insecurity in their teen years knows no bounds. I know what men think. WE WERE INSECURE TOO!

So I'm just going to point this out right here... Women are way more insecure in their teenage years than guys are, and they don't always outgrow it. Women are, in general, more insecure than men are ever.

Anyway, be that as it may... Some women make it out of the dust. They become confident women. A lot of women do, actually.

So, let's turn to the way men think. They get annoyed with women for being sluts. Now, personally, I would refuse to associate, if the situation ever came up, with a man who slut shames me or anything to that effect. No, I'm not a slut, I don't even have sex. But if I heard a single fucking rude comment about me being a slut, bam! That's it. We are done. I fucking hate slut shaming.

The reason is, this is guy's way at getting back at women for something that's not true. Sure, there is some sort of hardwired need in both women to be exclusive with their partner, or at least... Have their partner be exclusive with them. Even polyamorous people potentially can get jealous! Anyway... They look at women, they are confident, they are sexy, if they want to have sex with a man, they get to. Period. They never have to go without sex! If they want it, they get it.

Well, why? Is that true? Yes and no. Women typically still don't get to have sex with the men they want to all the time. Anyway... the thing that's true about it, is there is something off about a sexy woman wanting a man and not being able to have sex with him. Like, that sexy woman deserves that man! Or at least, she's sexy, he probably finds her attractive... Yeah, he would run to her side and have sex with her if he at least fucking knew how fucking bad she wants him. So come on sexy woman, you get to have sex.

If this is true, and that woman made it through the harrowing struggles of being an awkward teen and feeling so insecure, like so badly you look in the mirror and feel inbred or deformed because your face is so fucking ugly, you don't understand that intelligence is also sexy, you are fucking intelligent, pretty enough, if you could only see that, you wouldn't be so insecure... All this is lost on teenage women. They don't get it. Because people will call you beautiful and not mean it! Everyone will do this if it makes a woman feel better! Just tell her she's pretty! She's beautiful in her own way!

So, when women make it through the awkward teenage years, there is a reason they look it you funny for some misguided sad attempt at slut shaming a woman for something that was not even a sexual reference. Or, for anything. For being confident. If a woman who is confident is slut-shamed, she looks at you funny. And this is the important thing. The reason is, this dumbfuckery does not work on her. A confident woman usually does not sleep around, and if she does, that's fine too. But usually she does not. So when a confident woman is slut shamed just because she acts confident, feels sexy, understands she is attractive.... That woman is not going to talk to or associate with someone so fucking immature that they feel the need to bring down a woman to his level just because she is sexier and more confident than that dumbfuck is. It took a lot of work to get to where she is, and most of all, this is not fucking normal. Most women are insecure because of the pressures society puts on them. So when a man slut shames a woman, the woman does not give him the time of day ever again and loses all respect for him.

No Right To Complain, Your Pain Does Not Matter

So, yesterday I had a conversation with my sister. I get to hear about her problems, which is draining and stuff but I want to maintain a healthy relationship with my sister so I do this. She is in a lot of pain.

I help her to the best of my abilities, then I smile because the next thing I'm going to say is a joke. I tell her, "Well, when you feel like what you are going through is so bad... Think of the kids who got drafted straight out of high school and had to go to Vietnam." The reason I say this is because, for one, this concept and how other people take it is an inside joke with myself, and two, I know she is going to react in a bad way to this.

"Well yeah, there are starving children in Africa too. It's not even the same country! Why would you do that? Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you try to belittle what I'm going through by comparing something that's not even relevant?"

So the reason this is an inside joke with myself is... This is what I always tell myself, as of pretty recently, when I am going through a hard time that seems insurmountable. I will say something along the lines of, if there are people who can get through the Holocaust, I can do this. Or, as of late since I started thinking about it, if there are people who go to war, I can do what I'm doing here because this is a lot easier.

This is pointing out something dumb about people. I usually think of it as a woman thing, but there are men who do not like their pain compared to this kind of pain either. They think, well, it's like you are saying my pain doesn't matter!

Well, for one, why the fuck does your pain matter? It doesn't matter! Sure, it matters to you. But if you are looking at the big picture, you will see that there are so many people through out history who have been through more pain than you. So, pretty much, it stops self-pity right in the nub. There goes self-pity! All gone! Out the window! NO MORE FUCKING SELF-PITY! I FUCKING HATE SELF PITY!

I hate self-pity. That's why I tell myself this. It makes it a lot worse when I start thinking, oh, woe is me, about anything that I am going through. So, the thing about self-pity is, a lot of people like feeling bad for themselves. YES! A LOT OF PEOPLE LIKE FEELING BAD FOR THEMSELVES! I don't know if it really helps, but they seem to think it helps. It does not. It makes them feel worse in the long run. It renders them worthless, immature, whiny pricks.

I'm not trying to be hard on everyone for this. This is a technique I didn't know when I was at Innercept. It is not really that simple. I would not have used this technique at Innercept, because I did not have enough self-esteem. YES! THIS TECHNIQUE TAKES SELF-ESTEEM!

So the other reason I make fun of people like this in my mind is, they want their pain validated. I don't respect this reason. No, you are no better than anyone who went through the Holocaust, you are no better than the young men (and women) who have gone off to war, and yes, you are no better than the starving children in Africa. You think it's irrelevant because it's so extreme. Well I will tell you this, get off your high pedestal and sense of superiority because you live in a first world country. You are no better than anyone else, you are only as good as you make yourself to be and you think wallowing in self-pity is helping?

So I have no respect for this response, but I know it is inevitable from a lot of people. It's a joke when I bring up this argument that your pain is nothing compared to these people, because I know most people cannot take it. But I can. That's why I bring it up!

And yes, you should know you are in pain. I do not need to tell you, yes whoever, you are in a lot of pain. YOU SHOULD KNOW!

The Sound of My Mother Weeping

So late 2016, right before my birthday, my mother asked me where I wanted to go for my birthday dinner. I am on a strict diet, and I eat nothing but lots and lots of vegetables and meat. So, I told her I wanted to go to Sweet Tomato. I have no desire to eat food that tastes good. Only food that is healthy.

Anyway, so this is when my mom starts in. "Well, every time you go to Sweet Tomato, you load up on so much salad the first round through and don't eat it all!" I asked her why she cared. She told me it is just so embarrasing. I snapped at her. "Don't you ever, EVER, tell me you're embarrassed by me!"

So this reminds me of a time I was at Sweet Tomato one time, and I was eating with my dad while dealing with the most intensely stresssful issue I have ever gone through in my entire life. And when I say dealing with it, I mean like currently, as in right that second. My dad does not cease to harass me about the taking too much salad issue, just like my mom did the time after when we went to Sweet Tomato. So it's like, great, not only am I under the most fucking stress I have ever been through in my entire life, I am also an embarrassment to my parents. I am going through so much stress I am not even capable of telling him to shut the fuck up vociferously enough that he cuts it the fuck out. It's like, seriously? We are already sitting here, eating. We have already been through the fucking salad bar and I have already taken this much salad. IS IT REALLY FUCKING WORTH IT TO RUIN MY FUCKING MEAL?! Oh right, you are embarrased by me! So I guess I deserve to have my meal ruined, without the understanding that this is a spiritual issue that I was dealing with that will get me shot up with medication right this second if I mentioned it... Close minded people, right? And nevermind the fact that I know this issue right here will give both my parents screaming nightmares when the inevitable occurance happens that they find out about it at a time when they are capable of accepting that I have these kind of issues.

Anyway, this is actually a repressed memory but I know there was a situation like this. That just means it was worse than I remember, I just know this happened. Anyway, so that day I was talking to my mother, I got upset and went in the other room. Then I started bawling and realized I had to confront her further, so I went out and told her why I was upset.

So just now, I had just finished eating dinner when I came downstairs and was sitting at my computer. My mother comes in, with self-pity in her eye. She tells me she just finished cleaning up the entire kitchen, the mess I left, all by herself. I told her, it was not like I wasn't going to clean up after myself like I always do this time, apparently you just made it there first. Then she left the room, and as she is walking away I hear the mock sounds of crying.

Moment by moment, day after day, I slip further and further away about giving even the slightest shit about that woman.