I won’t have any new comics for a while. (blog) You may have noticed my new comics have been kind of trickling lately. This is because my medication is making me lethargic and depressed. It blocks dopamine in the brain so it also gives me anhedonia, which is the inability to experience joy or pleasure. I find it very hard to make comics lately, because I get no creative satisfaction and because of this, my recent work has been lacking effort. I’ve only made about 6 new pages since I got out of the hospital. Off meds, I found it much easier to brainstorm as I was making 2-3 new comic pages a day, and making other graphics and photography in between. The problem is, now I have a forced order from the Board of Mental Health to take medications so I can’t refuse. I get a monthly shot of a neuroleptic antipsychotic. I’ve gained 20 lbs on this medication as well. I no longer seem to be able to experience joy in exercise, so I’ve basically been eating and sitting on my ass. My problem is that the doctors are prescribing based on a psychological profile that I’ve caused for myself in my past 10 years. The problem with that, is they are diagnosing me based on the old me off my meds rather than the new me off my meds. The old me was delusional, as I thought I was Jesus among other things and I was very paranoid. However I believe that I have recovered from that; my brain is physically mature now. Back then I was heavily using alcohol and marijuana as a stupid teen trying to be cool. I had no business using those drugs, as I had no tolerance. I thought I was going to die every time I smoked weed, but I persisted trying to be cool. It was doing obvious damage to my brain and body, I felt like suffocating from smoking it. I smoked until my brain popped and I thought I was Jesus. However, I have not smoked weed or have been drunk since my 20th birthday. I’m now 28. I believe that in 8 years, I have recovered from the damage that I caused my brain. Now when I’m off meds, I’m creative and energetic, but most importantly I’m happy. I don’t have hallucinations, and never really had. I’ve learned to distinguish from my wild imagination and reality. Some times, I’m caught up in the fantasy of what causes my inspiration when I write comics or think of something to create. I say voices in my head told me to make that. This is because, I’m not always creatively “on” or able to think at all on medications. This makes it difficult to brainstorm, and I don’t have any ideas. When I’m on the medications, I lose motivation for creative things, therefore the magic that is my creativity must be the illness and I humbly give the credit to my illness. However I’m starting to gain insight and wisdom. I’m not disabled and I have no mental illness. I’m just an idiot who has made a lot of poor life choices. When I was considered dangerous to others or myself for committing so-called crimes that would otherwise send a non-diagnosed person to jail, I was being angry or immature like a normal idiot.
The last time I was committed, I was EPC’d for sleepwalking (which worried my family) and then I behaved rudely in front of the Board of Mental Health. I behaved the way I did, not out of my illness, but because the last time I faced the Board of Mental Health, I did hard time for my immature behavior; they sent me to Lincoln Regional Center for 4 months (that’s only where they send mentally ill inmates and sex offenders btw; no big deal) and then I had to live in a group home and attend an adult daycare center for 2 years as my outpatient commitment. I was so afraid that they were going to send me away and/or take away my apartment, that I was desperately debating with my doctor about my supposed need for medication. They gave me a court order to force medication, because once again my doctor was diagnosing me from the past and not from the present. I’ve done some research, and I think I know what cause me to sleep walk. People who sleep walk generally have lower levels of dopamine. I was taking dopamine blocking antipsychotics as a sleep aid rather than as prescribed.
I have a plan this time to get off the medications and maybe off of disability for good. I’m going to talk to a therapist. I’m going to explain that I find doctors intimidating and have been having trouble communicating my supposed mental illness to them. Whenever the doctors asked me to describe what I’m like off my medications, I describe the old me who was tweaking from marijuana and thought he was Jesus rather than the new me who finds newfound happiness, creativity, and energy being off of the medications. I’m going to have my therapist sit in with a doctor and hopefully change my diagnosis to something lesser like basic bipolar without schizoaffective features, or maybe even a total clean bill of mental health altogether. Then my therapist will help me talk to a lawyer so I can have a hearing with the Board of Mental Health and end my out patient commitment and forced medication order so I can go back to work and live a normal life. Hopefully if I can convince any doctor that I’m sane even off meds, his testimony will really help.
I’m not delusional really, even off meds. I just lie to myself creatively so I don’t die of boredom. I’m some kind of chosen one in my own little world. I’m just a hermit who bothers nobody when it’s all said and done.