Going INFJ crazy?! | INFJ Forum

Going INFJ crazy?!

Chessie

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Apr 5, 2010
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It happens in bursts. The side of my head explodes and horrors spill out. I taste colors trapped in black holes in the centers of stars that died of broken hearts. There's nothing better! Alcohol makes it friendlier. Certainly my friends think I'm more tolerable when I'm drunk and in the mad-place.

My body feels like an anchor biting the bottom of the sea, holding me to ground, trying to yank me away from my wonderful sickness. How then to tell others what it's like? How do you justify the loss of all impulse control when you're otherwise just 'normally weird'...as opposed to frightening?

My illness isn't schizophrenia. I haven't got any voices telling me where to be or what to say. I wish I had sometimes so there would be someone to understand even if they cursed, railed and spat inner vileness at me. That's what I hear it's like to be schizophrenic. There is no narration, no back-stage director waving his flags and begging me to get my lines right this time.

This never stopped me talking to myself mind you but doesn't everyone do that? I whisper softly, then don't like the sound of my voice because it's not so sonorous as my inner song so I speak up a bit, trying to force the timeless tunes twisting around in my head out so I can feel their texture.

The sonata's and aria's are people's relationships to one another, the emotions of an author writing perfect words, the lust of a man hacking at his wife's face with a knife because he just loves her that much. How do you express all of that?

It's not all violent! There are many sides to this psychosis. Roll a many sided die and any single face has it's own character. Each episode is flavored, some spicy and angry, some cold and certain. The certainty is where I really make a fool of myself. When it's on me I don't fear anything. I would stare down slavering wolves and throw myself into their jaws daring them to choke.

I glory in sensations. An example is in order. Several years ago, out of nothing but boredom, I set fire to my hand. Torched the skin right off. Beautiful third degree burns, flesh dripping from my fingers. I was lucky to escape nerve damage. Just a few nights ago I drank fortified vinegar straight from the bottle. Took the skin right off my tongue. It was fantastic. I had to try salsa and diet coke. Wounds open, like books, to be read. Would that I didn't need this body! I would rip it to shreds every day.

What do you call all of this? I function. I have people who love me and I feel their feelings. I love them. I hold them in my heart. Tell me someone, what is going on? Why am I like this?

I'm scared. Happy and scared.
 
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you have no idea what it's like to live with schizophrenia. lay off the bottle and pull yourself together. if you can't do it alone, get help.
 
I don't drink more than about once a month. It's just what I've been told by people who've been around me when I'm in the bad state.
 
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