My Psychological Nemesis – Schizoid Personality Disorder
(alternately titled – welcome to my pet albatross)
Most every day of existence finds my unsteady state of being forced (at pointed pained past) to delve into an unpleasant series of unfortunate events.
The Lemony Snicket within me imposes identification, recollection, validation, et cetera forcing confronting skeletons in thy very crowded virtual closet, demanding aye grapple with this moment, expunging unseen venal warlords, yet bombarded with travails of all those yesterdays crashing like a tsunami finds this mortal flounder ing in moe than the cyber sea.
Given the congenital chance throw of genetic predisposition shackled with a hairline fractured psyche (stemming from whence conception begot this nascent scrivener) evolving in utero.
Perchance wherein within the womb, a very microcosmic, miniature, and mystic cull world wide web of sorts, this ordinary male possibly sustained an infinitesimal injurious impact (at the basal, cellular, or molecular level), which conjectured infarctions became more pronounced post coital, fetal and general development.
Nary a clue if this supposed biological premise accurate nor prove able, yet the non vetoed reproductive package that wrought the body, mind and spirit of me i.e. Matthew Scott Harris evinced flaws damning his entire life to an incessant struggle.
Despite how accident of intercourse set the stage for my genesis that appeared populated with weaknesses defined a helter skelter fraught frisson.
Though not meant as a lame excuse against fulfilling responsibilities, striving to live independently, and trying to accomplish tasks that deliver a measured satisfaction sans a purpose driven life, the depredations and figurative hounds from hell snapped, crackled and popped at this poe whit.
Said snarling and sniping as per who will be privy to the lions share of my corporeal presence all told found this one average, cerebral earthlinked guy constantly in an adrenaline rush as if real tangible ghouls, ghosts or goblins grabbed at my skinny sea thru legs or nearly got a stranglehold constricting the means to breathe.
Such description might generate a skeptical response, but such hyperbole applied to accentuate the perturbation that wracked this now middle aged male for te better part of this eight and fifty years.
Even though the intervention per prescription medication (courtesy of chemists furiously expending mental scrutiny to refine pharmacological re: synthetic substances to ease the plight of those afflicted from the throes of embryonic hellacious manifestation), dynamic external influences re: chivalric affects damned efforts to rescue damsels in distress.
This half-century plus eight cycles round the son played out as a genetic gallimaufry.
Since exiting the comforts comprising cushioned protection against abortifacient (nor nary a hint if thy formative sensate human self fertilized an erstwhile exultant cause celebre or the lament of an unwanted pregnancy).
No indication from the instant sperm linkedin with ovule (a chicken and egg thing for sure) hinted at what horrible destiny lay in wait upon slipping and sliding out the birth canal with supposedly very little difficulty.
Some individuals may lie claim to recall debut into the harsh “real” world, and via primal therapy can revisit that post pregnant momentous event.
Nothing of any merit wells up inside me at that initial outlay into the bright lights reception hustle and bustle of harried, pell mell paradigm constituting the hectic, frantic and dramatic break neck hurried pinball game of YOU BET YOUR LIFE,
No indication – based on the countless anecdotes Harriet and Boyce Harris reiterated incorporated any complication pre or post maturation, parturition and salutation to uterus that wove this warp and woof genetic tapestry christened Matthew Scott Harris.
Nothing appeared awry from this then baby who supposedly cried himself blue in the face.
Unbeknownst to this older version of self what incited, triggered and precipitated inconsolable tears for fears, only nobody could mitigate this bawling bouncing infant except the bosom of thine late mother.
No idea fixated, nor evidenced itself within mine ability to render me deficient to cogitate at that critical expulsion granting immediate kickstarter managing onset of exposure to the raw elements of reality.
Whatever fluke wormed the shake and bake type bun in the oven presaging my entrée no clear explanation could pinpoint what triggered such ear splitting deafening decibel nuclear viz oral outburst.
Apocalyptic stress arose when distance broached between this then toothless (just like now) newborn loss sights of his mommy.
Literal and figurative gumption keeps me going (on what ought to be Caesar salad days), whereby dressing up and/or getting a dressing down no concern.
Suddenly a belated inquiry nags within ma bell jarred gray matter since on the dole (a dollop of federal funds feeds checking account) while heading into mine kempf twilight years.
This prospect i.e. getting older and inching closer to thine demise as internal peace settles since that prepubescent psychological casus belli (in the pit o’ my tummy) seems more placid dough min knits go by at greased lightening speedo.
What grisly bare rush fiends still run amuck within the catacombs of me mind. These male daemons (and offspring of kamikaze nose-diving deleterious gremlins) sustain intent to escape immunity vis a visa capricious, feverish, and perniciously propagate vicious nano bytes akin to emotional psyche devouring disease.
Upon awakening each morning, a blast of fractured, ruptured, hotbed threadbare remnants of distorted, twisted and frazzled dreams (not one iota do why remember despite most occasions waking up without the buzzer of an alarm clock.
When this trippy perky (oh man) body electric suddenly becomes opposed to further mental, physical or spiritual endeavors, an immediate (a mere not chews less than narcolepsy) surrender to the subconscious.
Fair rues defied, entombed and flagellated the strongest antibiotic extant within this complex human edifice could sustain.
Though rarely able to rick hole one iota of the vivid deep slumber textured uber visualizations, oft time a lingering fatigue finds thyself slowly able to acclimate myself to the cares and concerns of the start of day for this chap, which hour of commencement per activating a daily plan (might seem like dilly dallying to an neutral observer), but the plum ordained needling mandate (a personal agenda more or less) usually starts at some late hour coon sitter ably later then when the terrestrial morning hath broken in accordance with those early twittering birds (some might be angry – for whatever reason), though the schema re: circadian rhythm of this bumbling, fumbling and nattering nabob of nativity gets his ass in gear occurs along the space/time continuum of second shift.
The sedation from medication plus the lack of necessity to BuzzFeed with the crowdsource dashing off to their respective careers affected mine wake/sleep schedule.
Marginal increments in minutes slowly found bedtime when the early rays of mourn dawned upon me eyes.
An uptick didst tock sans mechanistic transmission, where energy seemed to recur from solar plexus (like clockwork) after the bewitching hour sans the stroke of midnight.
Many advantages arose from this unintended series of events (neither fortunate nor otherwise) horizon ing from zee affect the various pharmacopeia cocktail transformed this former panic-stricken, anticipatory anxiety riddled, and (for good measure) irritable bowel besotted beastie boy.
Many family, friends, roam mans, et cetera would probably file a libelous suit of unwarranted scathing quicken outlook if told thine daily deeds began indeed much later than the madding crowd.
No intent arose to rejigger, tamper or veneer re: all wake/sleep Circadian routine to that of a night owl.
Anyway, this bloke don’t give a hoot what others opine pertaining what seems amenable, doable, and governable to deal with functioning within an emotional heart of darkness.
The upside to experience a burst of vibrancy well into the wee willy Weber hours of an typical day allows, enables and provides little distraction from the missus to disrupt an exercise to exorcise vis a vis via writing or currying a favor for muscles to undergo a crash test dummy.
Many occasions find a ploy to prop up and rile sluggishness with caffeine laced beverages and/or energix tablets to bolster this now favored and fabulous preference stayin alive when majority of people who live this eastern seaboard region long since set the alarm clock to be jarred awake come the morrow.
Quotidian responsibilities melted away (like a major snowfall subjected to the unforgiving heat of the son) when both darling daughters packed their bags and left this rather messy, mice (cute) and roach infested apartment.
Actually there appears to be a lull in the presence of both unwelcome guests.
This absence of critters (the latter lil beetle browed bummers rather small – unlike say the palmetto bug or American cockroach), thus no need to break out into that ole Hispanic classic ditty -- La cucaracha, la cucaracha Ya no puede caminar Porque no tiene, porque le falta Marijuana que fumar.
Without obligation to abide by a work structure, an easy 101 temptation arises to become slothful, and be prone to the rapaciousness of being indigent.
Sole unearned income from social security disability (an entrenched indomitable overwhelming uncontrollable lifetime bout with the plague of near debilitating panic attacks (escorted with such physiological symptoms as nausea, vertigo, lower gastrointestinal episodes, sweaty palms/ soles of feet, and racing heart, I believe that tops off the list).
The recent role whereat both darling heiresses found my IdentityGuard eroded. thence the notion to focus effort refining writing (as well as reading sundry magazines or novel authors) slowly coalesced within this noggin. since gainful employment ranked as an effort in futility (based on intermittent jobs between quite extensive “gaps” of plain vanilla viz lack of work, which found this troubadour wordless to explain in tandem with agedness, and scruffy appearance when in the throes of presenting self for hire) usually, predictably, and justifiably in the mind of an interviewer inevitably guaranteed zero sum game.
Total asper receiving any job offer. Though one could attest that smart pets owned an edge, whether acquired at Petsmart or the aspca could (with all faux pas down) supersede thine self to fit a vacant position.
Some of the aversion to avoid seeking paid red plum ripe opportunities compromised (nada so much an aversion to appear peachy keen, well groomed and clean shaven, which disadvantageous modus operandi an near automatic declination), thru a raft of mien kickstarter insidious grievous eruption clangorous attribution to non verbal behavior in sync with profusely clammy hands, which clinched as not worthy to be put on the pay roll.
Rather than subject this vulnerable yikyak (paddy whack give tha dog a bone) Pavlovian reaction when intent to ameliorate the never ending financial straitened situation of being penniless or as my younger sister averred “dirt poor”, which blunt appraisal left me feeling limp as a wet dish rag.
The non choice (flat out curse) to grovel along the boulevard of broken dreams, thus stems from (my hunch backed up by professional mental health persons) congenital state, which fissures within thine psyche became more pronounced when in that transformative stage of child to adult.
One recurring admitted explanation notates that I did not want to grow up, and soldier the requisite demands of adulthood.
Other affiliated factors invited lack of self-esteem, worthlessness, inferiority complex, which when lumped together spelled doom and gloom, plus an unsuccessful bout with anorexia nervosa.
Failure (and/or the faith within to succeed found body and mind to secede from each other) reinforcing the credence as clear water and continued to revived that minuet to play off key.
Repetitive reinstatement per under rating and writing ma self off as not able spelled a track record of positive academic and employment endeavors.
Without doubt this entrenched MineCraft induces a self-fulfilling prophecy of misery (with the grim reaper who doth Carrie thyself) to weir repeated mantra akin to a vicious water boarding feedback loop, but devoid of willpower, drive and ambition seemed to defy logical delineation.
No matter the ability to complete scholastic assignments and/or remain steadfast with stick-to-itiveness incumbent on purported ability, the pier review of mine past performance in many capacities harbored rough seas not filled with pride.
Perhaps some ineluctable genetic and/or hereditary infraction exposed this chief garbage taster as unfit to rule his domain, wherein thine temple nada so grand in moi totally tubular thinker afflicted with an accursed inexplicable source.
The acceptance of thine psyche awry (now with a handy dandy blues clues appellation) does help explain to this contemplative, furtive and intuitive LVIII row man tick baby boomer rash of characteristics.
Some visible traits (exhibited at a glance per this aspiring author, which could provoke a person unfamiliar with yours truly might recoil in consternation) at a pervasive presence of apathy, indifference, and reclusiveness, which bare the hallmark features of an individual diagnosed with what might be easily confused with schizophrenia.
Thee might be overlapping characteristics, but more difference than similarity marks the two maladies as distinct hi-jacked mindscape.
Actually, no idea what the more latter named above rift within the cerebral sphere comprises, but predicated on those known to me with said accursed emotional cross to bear seem much more mentally disabled in comparison and/or contrast to his fellow.
No matter the disparity between the two plagues upon the human soul, a testament can be made that my life and hard times impinged an incessant challenge to cope with ordinary demands codified within this day and age.
There appeared an early onset of struggle (simply chalked up to shyness) when first taking a seat aboard the classroom.
Most every grade (whereby the teacher promoted this low performing student) found this then passive, scrawny, and withdrawn student to remain quiet as a mouse, and quickly adopted (and actually wrote the book) per “The Art Of The Procrastinator”, which put off today what I can do tomorrow credo most certainly exacerbated an instability and proclivity pitching toward anxiety besotted, cringe displaying, and extremely fearful to take even the mildest and least risky actions to allow, enable and promote healthy mental, physical and spiritual development.
An ever present revulsions to grow up literally found me imposing self starvation vis a vis anorexia nervosa (way before that slow agonizing deathly ghoul joyously kept leering at thee rational self), which hellish banal atrocity caused immediate alarm to those doting people who constituted mine family of origin.
No inclination substantiated this protracted punishment upon self.
Even now, countless decades removed from those catastrophic, frenetic and instamatic (since instagram an application of the future) puzzlement induces absolute zero comprehension how the once vivacious boy plunged headlong into tha darkest depressive doldrums ever!
Never did thy emotional state plummet to the nadir, where despairing hopelessness instilled jumbled languished nursing an objection to relish life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
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