My Escape

Ever since I posted a few days ago about my Aspergian quirks, I've been noticing them even more. It seems that numbers and patterns invade my life even more than I initially thought.

The following picture may seem simple and blank to most...

but to me, it is a pattern... an intricate beautiful pattern of lopsided squares (rhombi). I count them in 5's and go onto the next column after I get to a multiple of 5. I think about interchanging them, like permutations. How many different combinations can I get of the squares? If every square contained a prime number, what would be the sum? Fibonnaci numbers?

Not only is it about numbers but this picture is a reflection. I think about the angle of the sun and the various physics concepts that go along with light. I think about photodynamic therapy and photon emission.

My mind thinks of these things all day long. I like to play games like this. I like to think about quantum physics. I like to keep my mind busy in order to keep it off the stuff from my past. Numbers, patterns and permutations have nothing to do with the abuse and neglect I endured for most of my childhood and teenage years. 

They are my escape.

I find comfort in numbers. I think, for some reason, it makes me feel like I am in control. I can figure out mathematical games. Numerical questions are problems that I can fix, whereas my past is something I just have to live with.

The same photo above not only reminds me of numbers, but it also reminds me of how for so long, I felt like a captive or a prisoner in my childhood home. And every day, I am getting closer and closer to breaking free of that captivity. Due to my PTSD, I am still held captive in many ways.

Numbers are numbers. They are defined. 

So many things in this life are not defined and slowly but surely you have to get closer to the truth... of who you are in God. You can't let circumstances define who you are. There are so many things in this life that we can't answer but we just have to have faith and move forward.

Tales from a Hospital

A few months ago, I was catatonic... I hadn't slept, eaten or talk for three days. I remember the entire ordeal, but from a confused state. A state of total chaos.

What could bring me, a 24 year old biomedical engineer, soon to be neural engineer, to do that? To act in such chaos?

It all lies in the mind and mental illness. 

To those who don't know, I struggle with schizoaffective (schizophrenia and bipolar), PTSD and Aspergers.

The mind and the brain are currently being rigorously studied and there is a current debate about how they work. At the same time that my brain was going haywire, I was studying the brain in the lab. It's almost as if I studied so hard that the wires in my brain went chaotic. Overdrive, I think.

The voices are something very interesting. When I heard voices in the hospital, they were voices of people I had talked to throughout different points in my life but their voices were clear as day, even if I hadn't talked to them in many years. The voices were the strongest when I was catatonic. They were tormenting me, calling me a liar and telling me nobody cared about me.

I thought for awhile that I was hearing the voices on an invisible earplug in my ear... I thought they were talking to me but were in another room. I kept looking in other rooms to see if they were there. I got in trouble a few times for going in other peoples' rooms.

When the medications started working, the voices slowly slipped away...

One of the most interesting aspects I can remember is that the reason I didn't eat for three days was that I thought the food was poisoned. All of the food they gave me looked like it was rotten. It actually looked that way; there were dark spots on everything and it looked disgusting.

Not only was I blessed with auditory hallucinations, but I also have visual hallucinations.

Plus paranoia.

A few months ago, I went to the police because I thought someone booby-trapped my apartment.

Paranoia and psychosis make you do interesting things.

What intrigues me as someone who has studied the brain and deals with such severe mental illness is how all of the different parts of the brain work together to cause such "organized chaos." The voices went along with the visual hallucinations and everything made sense to me. To an outsider, it makes no sense though.

The brain is very interesting...

I am Grateful

I have been cleaning my apartment the last few hours and I came across a note that my mom wrote. In a fight right before she left Florida to go back to New Jersey, she gave me this note. It means a lot when I read it, much like how my suicide letter from nearly four years ago makes me feel grateful for my life.

My mom's note says the following:

"Gratitude List 3-6-13

I am grateful for DCC buying my ticket so I can be close to Chelsea.
I am grateful to God for guiding Chelsea to the ER.
I am eternally grateful that Chelsea is alive.
I am grateful for the people trying to help Chelsea.
I am grateful Chelsea is speaking.
I am grateful for all the support I have here in FL and in NJ.
I am grateful for Susan helping me to get to the airport so early in the morning.
I am grateful Andrea was so understanding.
I am grateful for Megan being there everytime I call.
I am grateful Andy is safe and protected right now!
I am grateful for Paul and all the people who have reached out.
I am grateful for all the prayers being said and answered.
I am grateful for my Bible...
I am grateful for all these wonderful blessings,
In Jesus's name. Amen."

The one thing that I've learned over and over is that we need to be grateful for everything God has given us, even in the most difficult times. My mom wrote this when I was in the hospital after coming out of a catatonic episode. I did not eat, sleep or talk for 3 days and my mom later told me that she thought I died.

Sometimes the best reminders come when we're cleaning and happen upon something that reminds us of how lucky we are to be here.

The Quirks

My psychologist recently said I have quirks.

Now what are those quirks?

Well I guess, here we go...

I love palindromes... you know, those numbers or words that are the same backwards or forwards. When the number of visitors on my blog is a palindrome, I feel at ease and am comforted. I feel as if all of the world is great.

I love patterns... in numbers, in words, in faces, in sidewalks, EVERYWHERE. I look for patterns everywhere I look. I notice the details in everything.

Sometimes when I wake up, I count using my fingers and make different patterns with the way I tap my fingers, much like how someone plays the piano. Maybe that is why I play the piano. Music is all made up of patterns. I feel so at ease when I listen to music.

I love the number five. When the number of people who visit my blog is a multiple of 5, I get excited. I take sips of water or other drinks in 5's. I love that there are 5 weekdays and that there are 2 weekend days, with 2 being my second favorite number. 2 is an even number and every other number is divisible by 2. I like that numbers that are divisible by 5 either end in 5 or 0, with 0 being one of the most unique numbers that exist. There are an infinite number of even and odd numbers, but there are different sizes of infinity. One set of infinite numbers can be greater than another infinite set of numbers. Things are easier when they are finite. I kiss my teddy bear in 5's. I eat candy in 5's. I do a lot of things in 5's. I round everything to a multiple of 5.

I am very picky about food. Growing up, I hated to eat foods that were mixed. One of my favorite dishes was chicken and rice but I ate the chicken first and then the rice, never mixed. My mom always said "The food all gets mixed anyways", but I don't like mixed foods.  At church, I get salad with whatever is made on Sunday for lunch, but I do not eat it with dressing because I do not want the dressing to get mixed with the other food. I also detest sweet and salty foods. It should either be one or the other but not both.

When I get interested in something, I get VERY, EXTREMELY interested in it. I usually go to the library and borrow every book I can so I can know everything I can about that topic. Last time I went to the library, I got 10 books out about the same subject. I guess this is what they call "restricted interests."

Every day for the past few months, I go on the swing. I listen to the same songs. The patterned movement of the swing back and forth is one of the most soothing things I have ever felt. If I close my eyes, I almost feel as if I am flying. I live for patterns in my routine every day. I sit in the same seat every Sunday at church. I don't like change unless absolutely necessary.

I have a teddy bear named Teddy and he helps me through the day. I am calmed when I hug him. He helps me through the hardest days, when there are no 5's and the world is not at ease. He says nothing, he does nothing... He is just there, always willing to give me a hug and listen to my fears.

Last year, around this time, I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, a form of autism. I was diagnosed again with Asperger's early this year. Then I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, a combination of schizophrenia and bipolar, and PTSD. Quite a few people believe that I am autistic.

I like that I live for patterns. I love that my days are filled with 5's and hugs from my teddy bear. I love my quirks because they are what makes me ME.

Embrace our differences. Embrace what makes you who you are...

An Unexpected Angel

I just went outside on the swings at the park near my apartment. As I swung back and forth, I thought about something quite miraculous that happened in my life a few months ago. Something I haven't really shared with anybody, not even my mother or other family members.

I did post a bit about the incident on my Facebook but not the whole story...

Strangest thing happened earlier... I was walking to the busstop after ... and there was somebody standing on the grass by a strip mall and they were holding a sign advertising for a store. I walked by them and the lady stopped me. She said "I am praying blessings over you." The sign she was holding was for a store that was not even Christian and I have never seen this lady before. I had absolutely no idea why she said it to me. Maybe because I still had a lot of arm spasms but it was just strange. All day, I have had moments where I feel the Holy Spirit. One of these moments was when I was crossing the street, right before she came up to me. I stuttered to her "You too!" and kept walking. You absolutely never know how God is going to speak to you or who he is going to bring into your life.

This incident with this random stranger occurred right around the onset of my paranoia and psychosis right before a hospitalization earlier this year.

I have never seen this lady again. I have been around that area since and have never seen her again. I'm starting to wonder if she was a hallucination. It wouldn't surprise me since I've had visual and audio hallucinations.  At the time, I was going through a very rough period. I went to the hospital just days later. Could my mind have hallucinated her in order to move forward and get to the hospital? Could she have guided me there just as the white birds guided me a month later?

I know it sounds odd, but one of the women during my hospitalization looked just like this lady. I mean everything about both of them was the same. At one point, I asked someone if it was her, if the woman worked elsewhere. I was told no way. The woman at the hospital who I am talking about helped me a lot while I was there and was by far the one who helped me the most. She reached out to me in a way that nobody else did. At one point she took me out of the unit to do some art therapy.

My aunt posted a comment on the status above, saying that the person was an angel. I think there is no other explanation.

It got me thinking about this verse...

"For he will command his angels concerning you

    to guard you in all your ways"

-Psalm 91:11 (NIV)

An Undeserved Kindness

The story that the sermon at my church was based on this morning was the story of the Good Samaritan. Many people know this story, about a man who was beaten and left for half dead. Two men pass by him. Then a Samaritan comes and helps him, showing mercy and love to him.

I was thinking about the message today and I realized that I don't think I realized how much mercy plays a role in my day to day life of being paranoid and schizophrenic.

The whole world is after me. The man sitting next to me is part of the FBI and they're watching my every move. They even had people follow me to my apartment so they know where I live. The man next to him on the other side is taking pictures of me, to help track me down. The more evidence, the better. The woman on the other side of me is mad at me for some reason, I mean, really angry... REALLY angry. She is glaring at me and staring at me. Everybody in the world is mad at me. Everybody hates me. I'm a nobody... scratch that, LESS than a nobody. I'm not even human. Why don't they do what I'm expecting them to do and throw me in the lake with the gators?

If you've ever wondered what day to day life with paranoia is like, the paragraph above is how I experience it. The paranoia and psychosis work together to create a cobweb of lies, doubt and terror.

I've come out of psychotic breaks three times now. Each time, there comes a point when I realize that nobody's after me and most of the things I had seen and thought were unreal. When I come out of a psychotic episode, I am relieved to find out the truth. I feel the merciful grace of God come into my life as I realize that I am safe and that I am going to be okay. It's a huge turning point in my disorders. It's also a huge relief. 

Nobody should live a life of terror.

To me, mercy is when we are expecting the worst thing imaginable and then it does not come. It's like living in terror but then a feeling of restoration and refreshment comes in instead. It is undeserved kindness and peace.

Flower in the Mud

When I was growing up, someone close to me referred to me as a "flower in the mud."

What does it mean to be a "flower in the mud?"
I think it means that we find our beauty despite the tragedies around us. We grow and thrive despite setbacks and failures. We know who we are and we are confident. We may bend in the wind and the challenges that surround us, but we never break or fall completely over. We stand our ground.

As I heal from many years of abuse and neglect and as I move forward despite multiple mental illnesses, it's important to remember the beauty in the fight. To fight through and rise above what God has brought into my life is a tremendous feat but there is a lot of beauty in the struggle.

I have taken quite a few photos of flowers around town and I want to share them. Flowers are quite remarkable- how something so beautiful can grow even in the mud. It is awesome how different they are.

Embrace the beauty in the simple... Embrace the different... Embrace the struggle.