nccotus

I lost my analogies.

I started to take my mind apart trying to figure out this person, the founder and director of the program, who put a common who’re ahead of me in the worst throes of my life as a Harvard College grad failure and undergraduate literary magazine editor.

He quit his tenure there in my absence when I ran away seeking refuge with my family. The doctors in Reading sent me back a few short months later. I was raving about the cat-god. As I tried to explain to myself what was happening in my mind.

Later, I would meet and marry Alex, clan of the cat. I suspect witchcraft here. Davidr at the state hospital talked about “uncreating” things. They crafted me as an anti-Christ after I left into the arms of Christian stalker Lyndack.

I said to Alex one night, “the anti-Christ is like a scrubbing brush.”

I do not know the meaning of this crucifixion image but there is something scary about it and about something Satanic inhering in the cottage where I was staying all those years later, in the 2020’s.

I have no idea why I took that picture of the scrubbing brush in recent years.

When the common whore at the Lodge Program attacked me, I tried every way I could to reason it out of me and, as I said, it ended up with my breaking myself apart in my mind and my analogies start breaking apart. I knew that schizophrenics are known to have trouble with analogies and I was at war with that Dx because it was being used to discredit my allegations of sexual abuse in my family and prevent me from getting the treatment I needed to break away from my family and succeed on my own. Also, a doctor there commented in my “good eye contact.” It’s the kind of thing that happens to you at a state hospital. It totally queered me out. I became aware of my eye contact. Ultimately, I went cross-eyed and got eye spasms. One pharmacist here in PA said to another, in my hearing, when I was dropping off a psych prescription, “She really LOOKS crazy.” My therapist in Florida said the same thing. “Are you afraid you look like a schizophrenic?” It was so disheartening. I had gotten really fat. Nibidy really vacated. Except that I had a little boy.

As I tried to cope with the McCormack Problem at the Lodge Program I made it about a number of different things that it was a match for all at once: all the stalkers whom I have mentioned in recent posts, plus my sister, and my cat Daisy, who I haven’t thought a lot about lately. It was just so sad how that ended. And my psychotherapist Sharon in New Jersey where it all started. Where it all went wrong.

My father said something about organizational politics so I made it about the college undergraduate literary magazine also.

Then, in recent years, after pursuing a line on this for the longest time, I finaly was able to let it drop. Where it led me was to think out my life as English in America. I found out that I had dual nationality. It was where all my thinking took me.

There were about 5 other residents and a staff member in the Unit who had similar issues.

so, the Program had its benefits and I got some help there that I needed and couldn’t have paid for.

Structure, someone to watch over me as I slept. Regular meals and some socialization at a level that I needed for a while. A sheltered setting. It was a cultural blow, once I tried to return to society. I’ve been fighting that ever since.

now, they have been trying to put me back there.

At that time, the blow in the ICU in ‘86 had just occurred and I desperately needed that safety and shelter. It is not the case today. I am aching to be back out in the street and in a normal setting and out of this Home.

me today