The Death of Ego, The Rebirth of Self. A vignette of my psychosis
An somewhat artistic and stylized interpretation of what psychosis felt like for me.
I don't know if this is worth posting or reading, I wrote this up purely to process something that felt impossible to ever process or explain with words. I thought about giving some backstory of my life for reference but honestly even with more information this might all just read like edgy word salad to anyone but myself anyway. I will say that I will be 3 years post psychosis in December with no recurrence(Thank fucking god), my psychosis was thankfully brief and "harmless" in that I didn't need to be hospitalized (Although I often wish I was) thanks to my sister taking care of me and stopping me from doing anything extreme. Anyways, here it is:
Trigger warning: Body Horror, Disturbing Content, References to Self Harm
When I started my transition, for the first time I had to accept that it was real, and that a large part of the normal life I dreamed of was dead. That my childhood, my adolescents, and a very important part of my adulthood, had been robbed from me since birth. A body incongruent to its mind.
I grieved this death, a part of me forever lost. But what remained of me moved on, trying to look forward at the new normal my future held for me.
But despite doing everything right, doing everything I was told I should do to reach what remained of that normal life I was promised, it continued to be just out of reach.
So I tried to start anew, a new home for a new normal that I was as determined as ever to reach. I settled into my new home quickly, slowly building my new life brick by brick, a genuine sense of hope burning in my chest. It didn't last.
I did everything right, everything I was supposed to do.
I tried. So. Hard.
And still. I never moved closer.
Slowly, my dreams of this normal life that had been damaged, but not fully destroyed, began to wither in my hands.
I watched, rotting in my bed, as the only real dream I ever cared about, died. And with it, the last of my Hope, the last of my Innocence, and the last of my Sanity.
The reality I had known, that time and again, I was taught was very much real and tangible, shattered. The very ground beneath my feet, torn out from under me as that plain, simple, even boring normal life that I was told I would be given if I just did what I was supposed to do, turned to dust.
It's all I ever wanted. And all I was utterly denied.
I stumbled. I Fell. And Crossed Beyond The | Line
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Falling through madness and racing past words without meaning, the fabric of Base Realities tattered remains twisted and morphed before my 👁️Eyes👁️.
the♾️Infinite♾️possibilities of what Was and what Is flashing into my mind, violating my personhood and tearing •m🪬e•, from👁️I👁️, from♾️We♾️.
Bliss overtook us then. The pure euphoria of knowing the unknowable, seeing the unsee-able, comprehending the uncomprehendable.
Graced by the touch of The 8|• Universal's knowledge.
We felt reborn as the fog and darkness of what lies beyond | gave way to the unbearable light of the all knowing, obscuring The | Line from us, our descent beyond | continued as hope flooded our being.
Eventually that descent slowed, the♾️Infinite♾️potentiality coalesced. A new Base Reality slowly stitching itself, in part, back together from the torn fabric of the old.
False truths and nightmares replaced the blissful knowledge we had been gifted, terror in its rawest form filling our senses, promises of death, torture, and the loss of all we loved tore back the hope from our bones and rent our flesh.
The 8|• Universal letting fall the violated, beaten, and half dead remains of our personhood back to the body we were ripped from. The bloodied chunks of dead self slapping wetly against the physical form they once resided inside before sliding to the ground and rotting into nothingness.
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👁️I👁️woke then.
A new being birthed from the remains of a shattered mind and a broken soul, empty, hollow, and bleeding.
I stumbled and swayed, this new unrecognizable Base Reality spinning around me in a fog of disassociation, fragmented messages, and meaning. Lingering static from between God's thoughts still buzzing inside my head.
I lived. But she died. I am half a soul existing inside a lacerated body.
I wonder now, if they can see that change. Do they miss her? Do they grieve and whisper of her passing when my back is turned? Or did her death truly go unnoticed to them, utterly unaware of the brutal fragmentation of our psyche and violence that was enacted out upon us from within.
I miss her.
I miss her dearly.
If you actually bothered to read that whole thing I appreciate it, and I hope it was either enjoyable or relatable or, something. And obviously I would love to hear what it was like for anyone else who went through this hell I wouldn't wish on my worst of enemies.