This Is Even Harder Than I Thought

Trey Smith

I realized going into this situation -- of foreclosure and moving -- that it would be very hard on my psyche, but it is proving to be much harder than I thought. It can't be helped, though. Somebody has to do all this culling and cleaning -- Della's health precludes her from being that person. By default, that leaves me.

For the last two decades or so, it has always worked out this way. Each time we've moved, I've had the major responsibility for culling, packing, moving and cleaning. As our chief breadwinner, Della had to focus on work. Since even when I worked, my schedule has tended to be more flexible, these duties have fallen to me.

This time around, however, it is a heavy burden to shoulder. Unlike times in the past, we are going through a severe downsizing. In basic terms, this means that we will take to Ocean Shores about one-third of our current possessions. For the most part, it is left to me to decide which two-thirds of our possessions we will try to sell or donate.

Mind you, the letting go of "stuff" isn't as difficult as it used to be. As you get older, you realize that a lot of the stuff you've been carting around from move to move just isn't all that damn important...even for a person like me! So, if that isn't the problem, what is?

As an autistic individual who relishes having things in their proper places, I am slowly and methodically removing those proper places from the mix. It is not so much that the getting rid of specific items is what is weighing me down; it is more the fact that those specific items occupied a particular space and, when the items are moved to Ocean Shores, boxed up or thrown away, the spaces themselves change or disappear altogether. And so, I find myself living in a house that each day feels more and more foreign.

Despite the fact I have made a good deal of progress, there remains a lot to do. Culling and sorting stuff in the basement looks like a week-long project. Culling and sorting items in the rest of house will take an additional week or two. I'm guessing it will take 7 - 10 days to prepare, clean and mark items for our big moving sale and I haven't even begun the process of major cleaning (which I can't really start to tackle until the other aforementioned tasks are near completion).

I now realize it is wholly unrealistic that I will be done by my birthday (Oct. 25). In fact, it is not even realistic to think I can be done and out of here by November 1. My new goal is to be in Ocean Shores full-time by Thanksgiving Day. All the while, I am battling anxiety and depression as I slowly dismantle the spaces that have meant so much to me these past 6+ years.

The Last Visit

Trey Smith

Yesterday I had my last visit with the mental health counselor that I have been seeing for the past 5 years. As an autistic person, it often is difficult for me to build somewhat intimate relationships with people. I built this sort of relationship with Bill. Since I am moving to a different county, I am forced to seek mental health guidance from a different provider and that won't be easy.

I have been to several counselors over the years. Some I didn't click with at all and, not surprisingly, I didn't see them very often...or ever again. There have been others that I have been rather ambivalent about and, in these cases, I didn't actively pursue the necessary assistance that probably would have benefited me. In fact, before I was assigned to Bill, the duration of my treatment never lasted that long.

But there was something different about this fellow. When preparing for our first session, I was very apprehensive, but he put me at ease almost immediately. Because of the rapport we built, I was able to address fundamental issues that I basically had avoided addressing my entire life (e.g., hallucinations, OCD, autism and deep-seated anxiety). I honestly can say that I am in a better place today because of my relationship with him.

As our last session was coming to an end, something happened that I didn't expect: I got choked up. I actually got teary-eyed. I was saying goodbye to a trusted confidante, counselor and friend. I drove home from Long Beach sort of in a daze. I remember pulling out of the parking lot and, in almost no time at all, it seemed I was pulling into South Bend. I didn't run over anybody or drive off the road during this 50 mile trip, so my brain obviously was focused on my driving, but my mind was somewhere else.

I know that I benefit greatly from counseling, but it will be a while before I call the mental health agency in Grays Harbor County. For starters, I'm still about one month away from making the final move to Ocean Shores. But the real reason is that I need time to mourn. It is like an amicable breakup with a girlfriend. I need time to deal with the sadness of the breakup before I will feel settled enough to try to strike up a new therapeutic relationship.

Driving People Insane

Trey Smith

In an angry speech before the United Nations General Assembly, a democratically-elected president had this to say.

In the absence of the right to privacy, there can be no true freedom of expression and opinion, and therefore no effective democracy. In the absence of the respect for sovereignty, there is no basis for the relationship among nations.

In year's past, if you were to guess that these words were spoken by the sitting US President, no one would fault you. US Presidents are known to say lots of noble things. But these words were spoken by Brazilian President Dilma Rousseff and they were directed AT the United States! Her words were targeting the massive surveillance of world citizens by the NSA.

What she said should be a no-brainer: A lack of privacy is the hallmark of an authoritarian regime. Dictators, despots and demagogs do not want their citizens to think for themselves. No, they want the unwashed masses uncritically to toe the party line. They want people always to be looking over their shoulder and to be too frightened to utter any degree of dissent.

In a manner of speaking, mass surveillance is a form of terrorism. It is not the kind of terrorism that directly can end life in a split second -- though, at times, it can lead to death -- but it IS the kind of terrorism that can lead to indiscriminate intimidation, imprisonment and torture. Mass surveillance terrorizes people from writing, saying or even thinking things that the government does not approve of. It is so terrorizing that real democracy becomes near too impossible.

Not only is mass surveillance a form of terrorism, but it also leads to wide scale mental health problems. If you know that you are always being watched, you are more apt to become paranoid. You may start to have delusions that may or may not be all that delusional. It would not be uncommon for people to develop trust issues and obsessive-compulsive behaviors.

It's Not About Me, But...

Trey Smith

We each view and experience the world through our own unique consciousness. While we know rationally that the world doesn't revolve around us, in terms of our own lives, it sure seems that way! I mean, I can't see or experience the world as you do and vice versa. So, in a manner of speaking, each of us occupies the center of our own universe.

Some people would liken this to being our own god since everything appears to run through us. But gods tend to possess superhuman powers and abilities; the same cannot be said for most of us! And so, while we stand at the center of our own universes, we control very little that transpires around us.

While most of the things impacting my life right now aren't about ME, they still influence my life in a big way.

The first of these, of course, is the fact that Della is serving in AmeriCorps 220 miles away. Not only am I without my mate, but she has our one vehicle. We have been unable to find a place to rent in her service area and, since she doesn't plan to re-up there, it doesn't make financial sense to move there now for such a short time. We would use up most of our financial reserves and then might not have the financial wherewithal to leave. So, I am stick here alone on our hill without my own means of transportation.

The transportation issue supposedly was to be mitigated by an offer from my friend, Paul. For months he had told me that, since he owns two vehicles, he would let me borrow one of them periodically to run errands and go shopping. This put my mind more at ease...until he sold one of those two vehicles two weeks before Della reported to White Salmon! So that option dematerialized right before my eyes. (I don't begrudge Paul because it was his car and his life. I just wish he had told me about it himself. I learned of this development secondhand.)

For the past 2 months, my one buddy in town (Dan) has been my savior. He comes over 3 or 4 times per week to run me around the area. Not only does this allow me to get my shopping done, but it provides me with an occasional social outlet.

Well, Dan and his longtime girlfriend haven't been getting along for quite some time. After another blowup, they have decided to part ways. Dan's mom and aunt have been suffering from health issues. So, the upshot is that he plans to move away from the area to be closer to his family in two weeks or less. There goes my buddy taxi service.

Once Dan is gone, I really will be stuck up here alone and isolated. Sure, I can make use of paratransit once or twice per week for grocery shopping and Della will come visit me for two days once per month, but other than that, I will retreat into a world of me, two dogs and a cat. This development will not be good for my mental health because the less I interact with others, the more I don't want to. Once Della returns home in July, she may find a complete hermit who is terrified of any and all social situations!

Falling

Trey Smith

After performing some research, I have discovered the recurrent sleep issue I have -- very prevalent after these possible seizures -- is called a hypnic jerk. While it is reported that this tends to be a harmless condition, it may be a form of myoclonus associated with epilepsy.

I have dealt with these hypnic jerks throughout my entire life. It is not a routine experience, but one that flares up frequently. Sometimes I get them for no apparent reason and it may last anywhere from 1 - 4 nights in a row. I almost always experience hypnic jerks when I'm ill (i.e., when I have a fever). When I'm sick, I just can't seem to get any sleep. I will experience these jerks all throughout the night.

And, as I've indicated in my posts today, they always come on after these seizure-like episodes. After my episode on Saturday night, I simply could not fall asleep. Every time I started to drop off, I would jerk awake because I experienced the sensation of falling. I would sit up and try to calm myself. After a while, I would try to sleep again and the same thing would happen. By 7:00 am on Sunday, I would guess I had suffered from at least 10 - 15 hypnic jerks throughout the night.

After we arrived home, I finally was able to take a nap without incident and I slept fine that night. But these sorts of episodes -- with or without the "seizures" -- tend to unnerve me. Even though I slept relatively well on Sunday, I am very nervous about going to bed tonight (I'm writing this post on Monday night). I will grant that it probably is nothing more than an irrational feeling, but I have a sense that the hypnic jerks may return. Since these jerks tend to be terrifying at the time, I will go to bed with a sense of dread and the dread will last for a few more nights until I am sort of confident that this round is over with.

All Shook Up

Trey Smith

I have come to the conclusion that I must have some really messed up wiring in my head. I hear and see things that aren't there. I have a great deal of trouble reading other people. I often see an object clearly, but it somehow doesn't register in my brain that the object I am looking AT is the object I'm looking FOR. And then, of course, there are the possible seizures I mentioned in my previous post.

Each one of these issues has to do with the electrical impulses in the brain. My brain seems to misfire quite frequently!!

And yet, a good deal of the time, those electrical impulses seem to fire the way they should. I am a rather intelligent bloke who seems to have the gift of the written word. I can study and analyze things. I have a good memory for facts and figures (but little else).

It just leaves me to wonder WHY my brains misfires so frequently in certain areas. What particularly is mystifying to me are these possible seizures. I can go for several years without a single incident and then, in a manner of a few weeks, have 1, 2 or 3. They go away for several years and then they crop up again.

I suppose it is like a lot of things in this life. We each live with a lot of uncertainty. The not knowing of the when or if can drive even the most sane person a little mad (and I'm not the most sane person to begin with)!

All By My Lonesome

Trey Smith

If you had told me a few years back that circumstances would arise which would mean I would be spending inordinate amounts of time by myself, I would have shrugged my shoulders. In fact, I even may have looked forward to it! But having been married to Della for over 25 years and often relying on her to interpret the world for me, I'm more than a bit anxious at the prospect of being stranded here on my hill.

In one way, it's kind of weird. As things stand, I spend the majority of my time alone right now. The difference, of course, is that I know that my dear wife is downstairs or in another room. When she goes to work or the store, I know that barring some calamity (e.g., car accident or heart attack), she will return home soon.

When she drives off toward White Salmon next week, things will be far different. She won't be returning anytime soon. Weather permitting, she does plan to return home every 4 or 6 weeks, but that's really up in the air right now.

I will be here with no vehicle. I have a friend or two who will take me shopping once per week and I can always call Dial-A-Ride, if the situation warrants, but most of the time I will be here preparing our house for foreclosure.

And therein lies the danger.

As you all know, I'm not very social. It's important for me to get out in the world because, when I don't, I tend to close in even further. I get to the point in which I don't want to go out at all and the few times that I have to go out are laced with extreme nervousness and panic attacks.

I have made strides in the past few years to not allow myself completely to shut out the outside world. Almost daily shopping at our local grocery store (buy a little here and there) has helped me not to be so nervous in social situations. Circumstances will soon dictate that I won't get out very often and I'm certain to wrap myself somewhat back in my cocoon.

Hopefully, I don't burrow in too far.

I Keep Deleting This Post

Trey Smith

Several days ago I penned a post. It was difficult to write -- actually, it was quite agonizing. When I was finished, I scheduled it to post the next day, but before it went live, I deleted it. I have written on the subject matter of that post several times since and yet I ended up deleting each one of them.

So, here I am again debating whether to post this or not.

Within two or three days of the shooting in Newtown, information started to come out that the shooter (Adam Lanza) had been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome and a personality disorder. As it so happens, I have Asperger's Syndrome and Schizotypal Personality Disorder (which may or may not be the same type of disorder as the shooter -- IF he even had a personality disorder at all).  

Noting these potential similarities, it freaked me out big time.  It led me to ask myself a haunting question: Could I someday be an Adam Lanza?

After much soul searching, I am convinced that the answer is a resounding NO!  

I am a pacifist.  I loathe guns and I certainly don't own any.  I have a big heart and, in this venue, I continuously exhibit a tremendous reservoir of compassion for others.  I don't always express it well or in ways that other people understand, but there is a lot of love and goodness in me.

But there IS another side.  I hear voices and see things that aren't there.  I sometimes get very depressed for reasons I don't understand.  Often, when the hallucinations are quite numerous, I have a tendency to shut myself away from others and brood.  When I brood, I more readily notice a dark hole inside that, to be quite candid, scares the hell out of me.

Because of my weird brain chemistry, my internal life has been an ongoing pitched battle.  On the one side are (for a lack of a better word) my demons.  On the other side is my heart.  The latter always wins out -- with two exceptions in my youth that I have shared in this space before -- and this should provide me with a high degree of confidence that it will continue to win out.

For the most part, it does!  And yet, because I'm a very anxious lad, I sometimes worry about how the aging process -- dementia, for example -- might impact this situation.  I also worry that one day I might progress to full-blown schizophrenia since individuals with my disorder have a greater propensity to do so than the average person.

One of the chief reasons I keep deleting posts of this nature is that I do not want to add to the hysteria of some that people with Asperger's or personality disorders are ticking time bombs that could go off at any moment and, therefore, should be rounded up and locked away or worse.  The overwhelming majority of folks who have one or the other pose no danger to society whatsoever.  I'm not talking about anyone else here; this about me and me alone.

I am a very sensitive person.  When terrible things happen in the outside world, it messes me up.  My OCD kicks into full gear and I can't seem to stop myself from reading and watching all the various news reports for hours on end.  The more I read and watch, the more discombobulated I become.  I sit for hours -- often in a darkened room -- trying to wrap my head around what has occurred.  I cry and cry.  At times, I'm inconsolable.

This is why -- despite the sometimes dark thoughts that bubble up from the dark hole -- I am convinced that I will never be an Adam Lanza.   My tender heart is far more powerful than the misfiring wires in my brain.

Starving the Beast

Trey Smith

One of the big initiatives in this country today is starving the beast. In the eyes of conservatives of BOTH parties, that beast is the government (with the exception of the military-industrial complex). As the beast has been starved, vital services that we each depend on have been slashed and, in some cases, crippled or dismantled. Of these vital services that benefit the overall society, one that has been severely compromised is mental health services.

In so many communities these days -- like where I currently live -- mental health services are wholly inadequate. I happen to have a great relationship with my mental health counselor, but the services his office can offer me are very limited. When I first started seeing him 3 or so years ago, I asked about hypnotherapy or psychoanalysis. Neither option is available here...or anyone close to here! This situation is similar in other parts of the country as well as the problem of too many potential clients to be treated by to few professionals.

This issue has reared its head again in the wake of yet another mass shooting. While information still needs to be gathered on the assailant, initial reports describe the 20 year old as autistic and having a personality disorder. At this early juncture, there is no indication that he received any mental health services to help him deal with these issues (though this may change as more information is gathered).

This has become a rather common theme in the aftermath of these deadly acts. We have an individual who exhibited telltale signs of some type of mental disorder or distress and yet no or inadequate services were provided. Many people -- both those with a personal relationship to the person and professionals -- merely passed off these signs as eccentricities or nothing to be overly concerned about. This analysis changes drastically after the person commits mayhem.

So, how do we reconcile starving the beast with the need for greater mental health training and services?

In my opinion, you can't. As state, county and city governments are squeezed, they have to make painful choices about which programs to cut. One of the first programs to see the chopping block invariably is mental health services. So, in my mind's eye, if you accept the notion of limited government, then you must concurrently accept the idea that there will be increasing numbers of mentally unstable people roaming the country.

Most of these people pose no danger to anyone but themselves. Yet, as the numbers increase as services continue to decrease or disappear altogether, probability tells us that there will be ever more individuals who will pose a danger to others. There will be more incidents of someone going completely off the rails, grabbing some guns and murdering innocent people.

To read an absolutely gut wrenching article on this same general topic, see "I Am Adam Lanza's Mother" by Liza Long.

One of Those Dichotomies

Trey Smith

One of the best bits of advice a person hears throughout their lifetime is to be true to yourself. If you can't be true in your own mind, how can you be true to others?

Yes, it is important for each of us to stay true to our own beliefs and principles. We are told this time and time again -- from early childhood to adolescence to young adulthood and beyond. It is a somewhat universal maxim...unless it goes against societal norms. When that happens, then we are told the opposite.

For example, we still are unsure what causes pedophilia. It may be a learned behavior OR it could have something to do with messed up brain chemistry or wiring. If its origin predominantly is physiological, in nature, then a person acting on their pedophilic innate inclinations could be said to being true to themselves.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not arguing in favor of a society that gives pedophiles a green light. Their predilections harm children. I merely am offering a theoretical argument in terms of the philosophy of being oneself.

Another example concerns the act of suicide. When a person contemplates ending their own life on their own terms (or when people comment about someone's suicide after the fact) it is not uncommon to hear folks say, Think of how this will impact the other people in your life! You should weigh your pain against the pain your death will cause others.

But what if committing suicide is the most consistent expression of who they are? What if ending their own life by their own hand is the truest way for this individual to be true to her/himself?

I offer no answers here; I'm simply asking a question.

[Just in case any of you are wondering if I'm talking about my intentions in the third person, I'm not. The germ of this post originated from two suicides in the news yesterday.]

Hatching a Plan

Trey Smith

One of the recurrent aspects of the shooting in Aurora, Colorado, in late July is whether or not the alleged gunman, James Eagan Holmes, was sane or not. It seems that both the prosecution and the mainstream media are building a case that the attack was well planned; ergo Holmes was sane. This same feeling appears to be held by many Americans as evidenced through comments left on the websites of various news organizations.

While I can in no way offer an expert legal opinion on this matter, I do wish to offer a notion for readers to consider: The ability to orchestrate a heinous attack is not proof, in and of itself, of an individual's sanity.

Let's say your next door neighbor (Fred) suffers from delusions and paranoia in regards to pink elephants. Throughout the course of each day, Fred is convinced that pink elephants are surrounding his house and prepared to stomp on him if he ventures outside in the daylight. When you encounter Fred at dusk, he tells you about the phalanx of pink elephants that lay in wait for him each day.

You might inform Fred that you work in your garden adjacent to his yard most days of the week and you have not seen even one pink elephant. Most likely, Fred will discount this information and insist that the pink elephants are real...and out there.

One evening you notice that Fred is out in his yard armed with a shovel. As you move closer, you notice that he has dug several large holes all around his property. "Fred, what in tarnation are you doing?" you ask. "I'm going to trap the pink elephants," he tells you. He asks you to help him move brush over each hole, so that the pink elephants won't see the traps he has set for them.

These "traps" may be simple or elaborate. Fred may have gone to extreme efforts to measure the depth and width of each hole. He may have created a diagram to show the location of the holes and he may have placed them in a strategic array. Who knows. Maybe he has set up remote cameras to film the pink elephants falling into the traps.

Would his actions lead you to think that Fred is sane? Would you think that, because Fred has orchestrated an elaborate plan to snare pink elephants that do not exist, he is in full control of his mental facilities?

My point here is that, just because James Holmes planned his massacre, this does not mean he is sane. It also does not mean he wasn't sane. That's something for a judge and/or jury to decide.

Trying to Make Sense of Senselessness

Trey Smith

Americans, sadly, have a tendency to dismiss attempts at understanding people like Holmes as a bleeding-heart exercise in criminal sympathy. Columbine was the exception. Usually, we refuse to reckon with the complex causes of violence, let alone its future prevention, and instantly inscribe these crimes into a framework of inexplicable evil. Think of Timothy McVeigh, who spent years being radicalized in anti-government circles – and yet, after the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing, was considered only an "all-American monster".

There was Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber, who was "the essence of evil" rather than a complex human being whose crimes might have been prevented. Most notoriously of all, there were the attackers of September 11, 2001, regularly spoken of not only as monsters, but as "animals" or "vermin" – and, of course, animals and vermin aren't entitled to due process.

9/11 marked the height of this very American tendency to push horrors beyond all understanding, as the philosopher Judith Butler argued in the months after the attacks. "We tend to dismiss any effort at explanation", she wrote, "as if to explain these events would accord them rationality, as if to explain these events would involve us in a sympathetic identification with the oppressor".

It's as if we think evil is somehow contagious. Instead of trying to understand why people do horrible things, we say that nobody will ever understand them, and that to try to makes you as evil as the killers.
~ from James Holmes' Dehumanization Threatens to Obscure Causes of Violence by Jason Farago ~

There are no such things as monsters. They don't live under children's beds and they don't come out late at night to claim the innocent. They don't go marching through New York City or Tokyo smashing cars and knocking over buildings.

As Farago states so well, humans who commit unthinkable atrocities don't lose their membership card for our species. Just like the rest of us, they have flaws and foibles. Just like the rest of us, they have abilities and joys. As much as we might like to think otherwise, none of them are monsters.

Yes, such individuals commit monstrous acts, but these people share far more in common with most of us than what differentiates them.

As I've written before after these kinds of unspeakable tragedies, I think this is what scares us the most. We intuitively understand that the factors, variables and emotions that led them to commit heinous acts reside in all of us. Where we differ is that they actually carried out what, for many of us, resides only in the darkened areas of our own hearts.

Who among us has not gotten so angry that, for the briefest of moments, we felt we could kill someone? Who among us has not, at one time or another, done something wholly irrational that hurt -- physically or emotionally -- another person or ourselves?

Maybe I'm more in tune to these prospects because I suffer from mental illness. Maybe the fact that I must deal with almost daily visual and auditory hallucinations makes me contemplate this sort of issue more than the average person. I don't know if that is the reason or if it's something else.

What I do believe is that every person who has ever walked this earth -- if something were to go haywire in their brain -- could turn into a James Holmes. It could be you. It could be me. It could be all of us.

Monsters don't commit atrocities, humans do.

A Question of Evil

Trey Smith

Why then is it that we have a chorus of people blaming this event on a decline of Christian influence on society? Multiple people including government and religious leaders have described James Holmes as evil, demonic and diabolical. Rick Warren attributed it to the teaching of evolution. Rep. Louis Gohmert (R-Texas) correlated it to “attacks on Judeo-Christian beliefs”. It is equally valid to claim it is the result of the influence of leprechauns as it is to claim that Christianity or the lack of it had anything to do with it.

Am I saying the attack wasn’t evil? I think I am. It was terrible, horrific, horrible beyond reckoning. Those present in the theater have been emotionally scarred, probably permanently. The families of those killed will be asking “why” long after James Holmes’ motive has been established, if there is any motive at all. When I think of Ashley Moser who was badly wounded in the shooting, but her six year old daughter was killed…I’m just overwhelmed. But one word I think does not apply here is the word “evil”.

Evil to me requires intent. And intent requires sanity. Show me a person who, in their right mind, sets out to do as much damage as possible to the lives and psyches of people whom he doesn’t know, and I’ll grant you evil. If Holmes is simply sick in the brain, then his actions in shooting up the theater are not evil. Instead, it is the same as if he had walked into the same theater unknowingly infected with the ebola virus. The mayhem would have been worse, the body count higher, but nobody would have called him diabolical or evil, because it just doesn’t apply. The people killed in Aurora are very likely just casualties of James Holmes’ illness.
~ from The Devil Did *Not* Make Him Do It by Stan Adermann ~

I have been thinking much the same thing recently. I tip my hat to Adermann for an excellent blog post!!

I thought about adding my own two cents worth, but I don't think I have much to add. Adermann stated it very well.

Tortoise Dreams

Trey Smith

I rarely have nightmares or bad dreams. In fact, because of my weird sleep habits, I usually don't dream at all -- at least, I'm not aware of it. While bad dreams are few and far between for me, when I do have them, they often involve a tortoise. A dead tortoise. A dead tortoise that I hacked to death with an ax.

Sadly, the wanton slaughter of the tortoise is not a dream. It is an act I actually committed in my mid-teens. It was during the time I first started suffering from audio and visual hallucinations. The voice told me to kill the tortoise and I did what the voice told me to do.

I bludgeoned and hacked the tortoise like I was a crazed serial killer. After the frenzy released its hold on me, I was filled with remorse. I had senselessly ended the life of another being. I'm a pacifist, I screamed at myself. What in the hell is wrong with you?

To say the least, this episode scared the wits out of me. I was convinced I was going mad. I didn't tell a soul about the incident for a decade or so because I was so ashamed of my actions. When I did finally fess up, I conveniently left out the part about "the voice." That was part of the secret I shared with no one until the past year.

After that scary episode, I vowed that I would fight "the voice" in the future with everything I have. Though "the voice" continues to share its disquieting and, sometimes, violent messages, I am happy to report that I haven't killed or injured anyone else. I've broken a plate or two over the past 40 years or so, but even those incidents are few and far between.

Such is the life of a person with Schizotypal Personality Disorder (SPD).

I do worry sometimes about progressing to full-blown schizophrenia. People with SPD have a greater propensity to develop schizophrenia than the general population. If I were to get to the point in which I began to lose touch with reality, I might not have the strength or ability to keep "the voice" at bay.

Afternoon Matinee: Brain Wars - How the Military Is Failing Its Wounded

Duck, Duck -- Oh!

Trey Smith

About every two weeks I travel 50 miles south to Long Beach to visit with my mental health counselor. As our county doesn't have a lot of paved roads and we abut the Pacific Ocean, there really is only one route to take to get there. It's a lovely drive -- except for the periodic clearcuts -- as we pass by evergreen forests, tidal marshes and, of course, plenty of views of Willapa Bay.

Just beyond Milepost 32 on Highway 101, there is a very interesting tree. It has a knob that extends towards the road and this knob is covered in places with moss. It looks just like the head of a duck!

As I have reported to you many times, due to my autism, I lead a very patterned life. When pursuing almost ANY activity, I like it to do it the same as before. With this in mind, sighting the duck head on my trips to Long Beach is a must. As we cross over the bridges of the three branches of the Nemah River, my excitement and anticipation grows. When I sight the duck head, it fills me with joy, regardless of how crappy I might be feeling that day.

On Monday, as my wife and I made our way to Long Beach, we were talking and laughing as we went. For some inexplicable reason, I lost track of the milepost signs. Before I realized it, we had passed the duck head. When it dawned on me that I had missed it, I was crestfallen. I don't think I said another word to my wife for the last 20 or so miles of the trip.

Even though my wife drove slowly past it on the way back and I saw it, it didn't lift my spirits that much. Not seeing it on the drive down just sort of let the air out of my whole day.

I know this is completely irrational, but it seems to be the way my brain works. Slight deviations from my patterned existence throws me for a loop every time. I used to try to pretend that such things didn't bother me, but it almost always was apparent to anyone around me.

These days I don't play the pretend game anymore. I accept it for what it is...though I don't really understand it!

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

Trey Smith

From what I gather, one of the chief differences between Schizophrenia and Schizotypal Personality Disorder (SPD) has to do with a differentiation in the experience of hallucinations. The schizophrenic individual sees or hears things that aren't real and, no matter what evidence is presented to the contrary, they persist in holding onto the belief that the hallucination is, in fact, part of everyday reality.

For people like me with SPD, we often are able to understand that our hallucinations are not real and that no one else can see or hear them. While I suppose there is a definite benefit from being able to sort out the real from the unreal, this benefit often is lost on me, particularly during an hallucinogenic episode.

Two or three evenings ago (I don't remember which it was) I decided to drive down to the local mini mart to visit my friend, Paul. Along the way, at different points in the approximately 4 minute trip, I saw an individual standing on the side of the road. Each time I "saw" the individual it was the same one I had seen several blocks earlier.

That's not possible. The person I saw at the bottom of my hill could not be the same person I saw one block from the mini mart. No human I know of could move that fast. Of course, no one was standing next to the road at the bottom of my hill. The person was there one moment and then not there in the blink of an eye.

In other words, the individual I kept seeing along my route wasn't real. It was a repeated hallucination. When I was a younger man, these "sightings" used to trouble me greatly. What's wrong with me?, I'd ask myself. Am I going mad?

Having lived with this condition the entirety of my adult life (and much of my late childhood too), I don't get all freaked out like I used to. I rather methodically try to ascertain if what I see before me is real or not and, if I'm satisfied it's the latter, I just shake my head and keep moving.

What good does it do to get all freaked out? It is what it is and, like everything else in life, I simply have to accept it and deal with it as best I can.

Them "Sick Bastards"

Trey Smith

The Greek government is being denounced by the National Confederation of Disabled People after it added pedophiles, exhibitionists, and kleptomaniacs to the list of disabled people entitled to state benefits. They have joined pyromaniacs, compulsive gamblers, fetishists and sadomasochists as persons entitled to ask for government assistance.

For example, a pyromaniac or pedophile is now entitled to disability pay up to 35 percent while a diabetic is entitled to only 10 percent disability. Presumably, a diabetic pedophile could received 45 percent disability, so it might be useful for diabetics to claim an interest in child or fires or both.
~ from Greece Declares Pedophilia A Disability Deserving State Benefits by Jonathan Turley ~

Whenever you read or hear of a news report about an adult sexually victimizing a child, a common retort is "Them sick bastards..." Yet, despite the fact most people consider pedophiles to be "sick," I bet the vast majority of folks think this is a horrid idea.

You see, when most people describe a pedophile as "sick," they don't mean it in a legal or clinical sense. No, they mean that their behavior is sick and disgusting. From my experience in the public commons, I think the vast majority of people think that pedophiles should be summarily put to death or transported to some wayward island where they can take turns victimizing each other!

So, I realize that what I am about to write will not be popular: I think the Greeks have adopted a good and sound policy.

As a former child abuse investigator who investigated quite a number of pedophiles, I can tell you that most of them have no clue as to why young children turn them on sexually. Most of them would prefer NOT to be the way they are, but their brains are wired that way. Try as they might -- and a lot of programs and strategies have been tried over the years -- it seems like nothing works to change their innate desires.

That certainly sounds like a disabling condition to me.

What's worse is that, once you've been arrested and/or convicted of sexual crimes against children, nobody wants to hire you and nobody wants you to live in their neighborhood. Not surprisingly, a lot of pedophiles who are paroled become homeless and jobless. With nothing to occupy their minds (like a job or even TV), they end up spending most of their time fantasizing about young children and, if the opportunity arises, victimizing them.

Providing pedophiles with a modicum of income would, at least, provide them with the opportunity to put a roof over their head and food on the table.

And from a practical perspective -- one that safeguards society from their predilections -- it's a lot easier to monitor their whereabouts and activities if they have a residence as opposed to living on the streets.

Helpful In Its Own Way

In the US, more so than in many other countries, we live in a "star culture." We identify with and idolize celebrity. The world could be going to hell in a handbasket, yet a lot of people would ignore it and show far more concern with what Lady Gaga says or Mel Gibson does! Yes, we Americans love our glitz, sensationalism and gossip.

Because we focus so much of our attention on the rich and famous, it can be informative when a celebrity admits to a human foible. Posthumously, fans of the Discovery Channel's Storm Chasers learned that popular meteorologist Matt Hughes struggled with lifelong depression and this was the precipitating factor in his suicide attempt (which led to his death).

While promoting his soon-to-be-released memoir, hall of fame basketball legend Jerry West has revealed that he too has battled depression his entire life.

When we learn that our beloved celebrity figures deal with the same kinds of fears and anxieties that we commoners do, it provides a bridge to understanding that we all share many things in common. We each have demons we battle. We each go through ups and downs. We each struggle internally with our own set of ghosts.

Though we might like to think otherwise, riches and fame don't act as shields.

The Unwanted Tagalong

We are facing a social problem of massive proportions, as our already-grim experience with returning veterans from Vietnam should have warned us. Psychologist Rachel McNair developed the concept of Perpetration Induced Traumatic Stress (PITS) to bring home to us the fact — now dramatically supported by neuroscientists — that you cannot send people out to kill and maim without expecting them to suffer enduring torments themselves, no matter how thoroughly you try to desensitize them beforehand. Thank God! Where would we be if this capacity to respond to the joys and sufferings of others could really be squelched?

There have been admirable attempts to get needed help to these spiritually wounded men and women; but the real answer, the only sane and compassionate answer, is prevention. And that means only one thing: to stop glorifying violence in our social culture and national policy — in other words, renounce war.
~ from Coming Home From Killing by Michael Nagler ~

As a devout pacifist who has NEVER been anywhere near a "war" situation, I cannot fathom the ghosts that must follow every soldier home. The things these people have done and seen would probably curl my hair!!

Unless a person likes to blow others up and see body parts spurt with blood, I have often wondered how ANY soldier can return to the routine humdrum of everyday life unscathed. The very fact that some soldiers can hold it together for a lifetime by returning to be supportive spouses, caring parents, trusted workers and devoted friends truly amazes me.

Maybe those who find success in relationships and business simply are better at battling their demons than some of their mates. Maybe they are better at masking their personal torment. Maybe they are more proficient at compartmentalizing different aspects of themselves. I don't know.

What I do know is that war is a cancer. It gobbles up good people and spits them out.

A lot of people believe that patriotism is all about saluting flags and supporting the nation's military efforts. In my book, that's not true patriotism -- that's allowing the cancer to spread unabated. If a person truly loves their country and the people in it, then they should do whatever they can to insure that the cancer is stopped in its tracks and is one day no more.

If you genuinely love your fellow men and women, why would you want them placed in harm's way? Why would you support policies that are guaranteed to produce torment, ghosts and demons?