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.