Legit: I found Jesus on Youtube!

[Hovik]

Then I'd say you're not understand what's going on. You've just said that his illness is imaginary. He suffers and struggles with it on a day-to-day basis. If you spit in someone's face, they might deck you for it. *shrugs*

does he take meds?

Are you educated in psychology and psychiatry?

If the answer to either of those is no, then you have no basis with which to make such extraordinary claims about somebody's mental state or illnesses.

[Creed of Heresy]

I used to take medications. For a very, very long time I suffered under a constant haze, a perpetual fog, wherein I was hardly able to function. I heard things not there. I slipped in and out of my own personality. I would go paralytically still and would not respond to anyone, and then would come out of this frozen trance and continue as if I had never stopped, much to the alarm and concern of others. I didn't believe them when they told me what was happening. To me it felt completely normal. A friend eventually videotaped me in the middle of a catatonic state. It lasted a little under 40 minutes. I thought it was fabricated, I thought everyone was lying, that people were fucking with me for the sake of fucking with me, which, to me, explained why I felt so wrong, so off, so disconnected from reality.

Until finally, one day, someone special to me...well, someone who would become special, anyway, begged me to seek some kind of help. She promised it would not hurt me, that she didn't want to hurt me and she just couldn't bear to see me like this anymore. I caved in. I went to see a psychological and psychiatric team who diagnosed me with acute catatonic schizophrenia, multiple personalities disorder, dissociative personality disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder [which they felt was the underlying cause to some of my other conditions], among other issues. The drugs they gave me, some worked, some did not. I began to become suspicious again until they seemed to nail the right cocktail of drugs. For the first time in my life I had some form of cognitive functionality. I was finally me. I could function. I could think. And better than all of that I could reason. One of the psychologists, who had been a friend of the family for a long time, then suggested something that no litigation-fearing doctor would ever suggest to a patient. A targeted neurotoxin. I don't remember the name of it any longer, but I'll ask him what it was when he gets on later, he'll probably remember [this was about a decade ago]. It would specifically affect the synaptic connections in my brain that were misfiring and causing a majority of my personality and cognitive malfunctions. I did not need to do this, of course; I could stay on the drugs indefinitely. But it would mean that if I ever slipped off of them I'd end up even worse than before.

Basically, he was asking me if I wanted to knowingly induce brain damage. Knowing that I may not have the money to keep up a lifetime of taking medications, and knowing that the brain damage was centered on parts of my brain that were already damaged anyway and were never going to stop malfunctioning and that would always be fucked up...I agreed.

This was not a decision I came to lightly. I knew the risks. Me and him both did. And we both knew what I was going to be like off the meds and without this treatment. I especially knew. I decided I'd rather die than continue to live without any clarity, without any grasp on the world, with an endless cacophony of paranoid delusions and psychotic breaks hounding my every waking moment. I told him that if he thought it would work, if it meant never going onto an endless slurry of meds, or an endless disconnection from the world and everyone in it, that I would do it. I could not get my legal guardians to sign the consent form. So I forged their signature and brought it in. Over the course of a month I ingested this toxin. The pain was agonizing. Migraines like you would not believe. Dizziness, vertigo, nausea, fever, it all hammered at me.

And then, finally, it was over. They took me off the toxin. I had clarity. Without medications. I had suffered no brain damage beyond the synapses that were already screwed up and misfiring anyway. No loss of higher-thought processes. The only downside is my short-term memory is a little wonky...no worse than most other peoples' is, anyway, and a slight tremor in my hands that makes pinpoint precision tasks, like painting miniatures, a bit tricky, but that was it.

I still have some of the effects. I've slipped into a catatonic state once in the last ten years. I struggle with depression, and once in a blue moon I'll hear a phantom sound that is not really there, but in comparison to how it used to be, it's hardly noticeable.

[Stevie]

I used to take medications. For a very, very long time I suffered under a constant haze, a perpetual fog, wherein I was hardly able to function. I heard things not there. I slipped in and out of my own personality. I would go paralytically still and would not respond to anyone, and then would come out of this frozen trance and continue as if I had never stopped, much to the alarm and concern of others. I didn't believe them when they told me what was happening. To me it felt completely normal. A friend eventually videotaped me in the middle of a catatonic state. It lasted a little under 40 minutes. I thought it was fabricated, I thought everyone was lying, that people were fucking with me for the sake of fucking with me, which, to me, explained why I felt so wrong, so off, so disconnected from reality.

Until finally, one day, someone special to me...well, someone who would become special, anyway, begged me to seek some kind of help. She promised it would not hurt me, that she didn't want to hurt me and she just couldn't bear to see me like this anymore. I caved in. I went to see a psychological and psychiatric team who diagnosed me with acute catatonic schizophrenia, multiple personalities disorder, dissociative personality disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder [which they felt was the underlying cause to some of my other conditions], among other issues. The drugs they gave me, some worked, some did not. I began to become suspicious again until they seemed to nail the right cocktail of drugs. For the first time in my life I had some form of cognitive functionality. I was finally me. I could function. I could think. And better than all of that I could reason. One of the psychologists, who had been a friend of the family for a long time, then suggested something that no litigation-fearing doctor would ever suggest to a patient. A targeted neurotoxin. I don't remember the name of it any longer, but I'll ask him what it was when he gets on later, he'll probably remember [this was about a decade ago]. It would specifically affect the synaptic connections in my brain that were misfiring and causing a majority of my personality and cognitive malfunctions. I did not need to do this, of course; I could stay on the drugs indefinitely. But it would mean that if I ever slipped off of them I'd end up even worse than before.

Basically, he was asking me if I wanted to knowingly induce brain damage. Knowing that I may not have the money to keep up a lifetime of taking medications, and knowing that the brain damage was centered on parts of my brain that were already damaged anyway and were never going to stop malfunctioning and that would always be fucked up...I agreed.

This was not a decision I came to lightly. I knew the risks. Me and him both did. And we both knew what I was going to be like off the meds and without this treatment. I especially knew. I decided I'd rather die than continue to live without any clarity, without any grasp on the world, with an endless cacophony of paranoid delusions and psychotic breaks hounding my every waking moment. I told him that if he thought it would work, if it meant never going onto an endless slurry of meds, or an endless disconnection from the world and everyone in it, that I would do it. I could not get my legal guardians to sign the consent form. So I forged their signature and brought it in. Over the course of a month I ingested this toxin. The pain was agonizing. Migraines like you would not believe. Dizziness, vertigo, nausea, fever, it all hammered at me.

And then, finally, it was over. They took me off the toxin. I had clarity. Without medications. I had suffered no brain damage beyond the synapses that were already screwed up and misfiring anyway. No loss of higher-thought processes. The only downside is my short-term memory is a little wonky...no worse than most other peoples' is, anyway, and a slight tremor in my hands that makes pinpoint precision tasks, like painting miniatures, a bit tricky, but that was it.

I still have some of the effects. I've slipped into a catatonic state once in the last ten years. I struggle with depression, and once in a blue moon I'll hear a phantom sound that is not really there, but in comparison to how it used to be, it's hardly noticeable.

thanks for sharing that, Creed. I cannot fully understand your debilitating conditions because I have not personally experienced that sort of thing. But I have been in a long-term marital relationship where my ex DID suffer from MPD and some of the symptoms that you have described. She switch from an altered state of being and would go on a violent rampage, demon-possessed it appeared. Then she would have no recollection of her actions when she came out of it. Have you studied MK-ULTRA and the Monarch Slaves...also you should investigate droned humanoids controlled by Vrill consciousnesses.
Have you experienced childhood trauma? abuse? ritual abuse?
You may have been part of a mind conditioning program at an early age...I'm just guessing though. Glad you're better.
peace.

[Cyberman]

What a disgusting perversion of the ordeal Creed has gone through. God or not, guess who's next for the ignore list?

[Creed of Heresy]

What a disgusting perversion of the ordeal Creed has gone through. God or not, guess who's next for the ignore list?

[Zen Badger]

Vrill???

Wow, just....fucking....wow.

[Faith No More]

At first I thought this Stevie guy was just pretending to think he's jesus in sort of ironic hipster way, but no, he is completely fucking nuts.

Reminds me of a guy we have here in my town that thinks he is Michael the Archangel. He used to think he was jesus, but apprently he decided that he is Michael, so much so that he legally changed his name to Michael the Archangel.

I was working at the movie theater when the John Travolta movie "Michael" came out in which he plays Michael the Archangel. The guy that thinks he's Michael came to see the movie, and he walked up to the girl selling tickets and said, "One ticket for that movie about me." Then he proceeded to get slightly pissed and frustrated that she didn't know what he was talking about.

I met Michael the Archangel during one of my many trips to psychiatric wards, and he challenged me to a game of pool and ping pong. I thought to myself that it would be unfair to play this deluded man in a game of skill, assuming he played about as well as his brain worked. Low and behold, he kicked my ass in both games.

(This concludes FNM's random story of the day)

[LastPoet]

Why does my delusional grandeur detector keeps beeping?