BIRTH OF SANITY

When I was 5, did I know Schizophrenia is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a mental disorder characterized by impairments in the perception or expression of reality and/or by significant social or occupational dysfunction? Or that a person experiencing untreated schizophrenia is typically characterized as demonstrating disorganized thinking, and as experiencing delusions or hallucinations of all senses? I am afraid not. All I knew was that my dad saw, heard and felt things I did not. I was constantly under the impression that something was fundementally wrong in my head. So I stopped talking to people much, I stayed away from people I cared about thinking they might get my "disease".

One day, I ran to my dad to tell him about what I did in school. He sat still against the wall and did not respond to my hug like always. I always thought "Dad thinks I am a terrible person. That's why he doesnt hug me back or even smile at me." I continued telling him about my day, suddenly he jumped off his feet. I was startled.

"He is standing right next to you with a huge rock in his hands. Don't move, he'll throw it on us", he said. I looked around, there was no one but us in the room. But I saw deep fear in my dad's eye. "Why would he lie to me?" I thought to myself. I did not want him to know about my "disease" so I told him "he" would disappear if we looked away.

Thirteen years later, I took up psychology and learnt about my dad's condition called "Chronic paranoid schizophrenia". What shattered me more is that the illness could be genetic. I wondered how my dad has lived in his own world for the past 25 years, how no one belived him when he spoke about "them."

Did my childhood beliefs have an impact on me as an adult? Subconsciously, yes, to a great extent.

Is his world better than the "real" world? But then, who are we to say what is "real?" Years later, researchers may prove that the schizophrenic world is what is "real".

Schizophrenia may be a necessary consequence of literacy.

My boss told me he read this book in which this guy goes forward in time , gets a sex change and dates himself. My first reaction to this-" That is really disturbing." Last night, before going to bed a thought struck me " Who knows best what it is like to be me? Who will accept me for all that I am?" One instant answer "Me." Now, you might think I am narcissistic and I probably am. But think. If you are a person who knows what he wants, who is aware of his weaknesses and strengths, how awesome would it be for you to date yourself ( well, the sex change can be optional in your head according to your preferences).

Most of the altercations in a relationship arise with one question "Why don't you understan me?" Why is that? Because the other person is NOT you. Simple. I have heard one of my friends say " Only one man ever understood me, and he didn't understand me." What if that man is you? I think it is true that If we are incapable of finding peace in ourselves, it is pointless to search elsewhere.

However utopian and hypothetical this idea may seem, it makes you wonder..Can you be happy with yourself? Will you ever feel sad or lonely? Will you be stronger as an individual?

The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come and love us.

Is this a terrible sanguivorous misanthropic world? I think not. It's all in your complex or not-so complex head. Why do some of us have numerous problems while others live a problem-free life? Why do we seek answers when there aren't any? Why do we look for happiness outside us? Why do we implode when we don't find it?

The problems that we face are ONLY because of us. Seldom are other sources the cause. But we find solace in blaming others. We tell ourselves "I m fine, it's them." I did that. Many times. And here I am with no one around me. When I say no one I mean people who mean a great deal to me, people who taught me how to walk. I knew I was fucked up all along, only I didn't know what to do to rectify it. You know when I learnt that? When I lost all. Should that make me happy or sad? Should I brood over losing so much or look ahead and face this new life with a smile on my face? Most of you might think the latter. But do you know how difficult it is to leave behind everything that made you what you are today?

Then again, if these people had faith in me long enough they would be delighted to see who I am now. Sadly, they walked out , washing their hands off me. They were my elixir, my life. Family never played a vital role in shaping me the right way. I would not blame them though. They would want me to be a certain way and in the process fail to see me as an individual, as a unique entity.

What changed me? Why did it take so long? Why didn't they stay?

Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.