The realm of tormenting dreams. Sergey Vassiliev
a treatment by electric shock, about which I will speak later.
My parents came to visit, and I burst into scalding tears, telling them that the cause was the glue that I had once breathed. In general, there was something to think about. Every morning of every day was an ordeal; waking up, I was filled with incredibly heavy feelings, and their heaviness was not causeless, they engrossed, depriving me of my usual ability to chatter, I was as if emotionally torn, afraid that something in me was to break and thus to be lost forever, and you need to keep everything inside yourself, otherwise you will simply perish, and this is the most important. I was trying hard to live in such conditions. In order to accomplish this task, doing something else is simply impossible, it is for sure. Even starting a simple conversation with someone needed enough courage, because it seemed to me, if I distract from the main task to keep the remaining pieces of mind together, then I would loose the fight spending the last will of my mind. The weakness of thinking processes, or may be not this, but rather its constant strengthening, but your inner world in which everything happens does not have the same laws, and you seem to be completely lost in a strange realm of tormenting dreams, an alien world of horror. And here you can not find not only the familiar logic, the order of the flow of internal psychic reactions, but even the mandatory presence of chaos here comes in the first rank, the incredible intricacies of everything, either after or at the time of treacherously intervening forces, whose purpose was a direct violence and simply the destruction of your comfort, of everything inside you, in particular, of the emotions once associated and pleasant to many respects.
But we must live somehow, and I felt already calm, knowing that I was not the inly one to be subject to such a catastrophe, that means there is salvation, since there are a lot of us here and all gathered to get help and comfort, and most importantly, there are those who suffered just like you here. And so I made friends with a kid who looked at me with a perfectly clear understanding, answered my exclamation with his “How bad!”; i.e. he neither felt better than I did, as it seemed to me. Then our attention to each other began to support both of us, and thus we recovered, I think. The healing power of friendship made the necessary spiritual upheavals inside us, pulling one after another out of depression. In addition, I was prescribed to take lithium to balance my mood. More importantly, I began reading a book about the exploits of a man who got in the world of animals and survived there, finding his place. Tarzan struck me with his courage in such a terrible situation, and I must say, comparing my sorrows and problems to his, I was replenished with determination and necessary courage, which, of course, contributed to my internal stability. But anyhow I recovered not in the way one can imagine, I swapped the psychosis depression to a slight maniacal rise, i.e., a remission. Doctors in our clinics are still convinced, and this is taught even in universities, that only remissions are possible in cases of maniacal-depressive psychosis, but it’s out of the question to think about completely good health, if once gone mad, it’s forever. And it was absolutely extended for that part of my lifetime, following the depression I was staying now in a somewhat cheerful mood, but, I must say, my behavior was quite efficient.
Remission
I was discharged, telling my parents that I had to take care of the jokes that I began to let go off. Everything favored now building a career and my personal life. Remission is still a process of the disease, its continuation, but the calmest interval. Specialists explained to me that some people even live their life to the end in this state. At that time, I think it was health and basically thought that I had completely recovered, having left the hospital, after all, I could easily get acquainted with girls and without much difficulty studied at the university in legal department. Is it necessary to do something else to recognize the legal capacity? Yes, as it turns out to be. My relations with a partner could not be long, and our union could not stand a single year. In general, as it turned out, no psychotic patient is able to have a lasting relationship. Probably, I felt this and ran away from one girl, having just tasted the first fruit of love relationship, to another. Thus, I was an ordinary womanizer, and this, you know, is a weakness. But I had nothing else to do, because it was very necessary to fall in love, this need is mandatory, otherwise you become depressed, while you need to maintain your health that was for me the equivalent of remission. But the deadlock was that any relationship absolutely can not do without tension, and someone who is overwhelmed with the weight of feelings which drags him out of the normal limits, either into a mania or into a depression, can simply not stay within the love ties. And no intellect, no willpower or natural optimism can help a person cope with this difficult task if he is sick with psychosis. Apart from his basic tasks of life, it is necessary for him to withstand the regular disturbances brought by his memories, from the past that I’ve recently told you about in warm blood, these memories monstrously incapacitate one’s inner world. But, it is to say, all the horror of the disease is also hidden from yourself during the periods of remission, i.e. you have no obvious direct emotional stresses, all this soul torment is hidden from you and carries out its dirty deeds in a different way, it simply takes away the ability to endure the heavy feelings which fall onto an unhappy person suffering psychosis, in difficult periods of life. Let me explain more detailed how it happens.
The fact is that my life was developing, as it seemed to me, at least to some extent, once a strong emotional load emerged, the disease immediately showed, and the psychosis – its driver – consisted of childhood traumas that controlled me, but not showed, i.e. I had completely forgot them, while they all continued to actively live inside me and undermine my strengths. Approximately the same scheme underlies in the process of occurrence of the disease in almost every mentally unhealthy person. But to my satisfaction, for several years I had been staying in a stable and pleasant remission. I met a girl, and I had a good range to choose, my friend and I began to get acquainted via a newspaper and, receiving a lot of letters, we were in a large circle of fans. A lot of girls were checked by my attention, I even met a very decent one, just gorgeous, I think, judging by their memories. The relationship with her became, of course, somehow heavy, with a tone of serious intent, which is always the result of responsibility and is usually accompanied by emotional heaviness. Well, there was absolutely not enough strength inside me to bring a woman into my life, and I just backed down. But I was still quite satisfied with my fate, simply not having experienced more severe illness, and finally I chose a girl for me, however, not one of those who wrote letters, but with whom I got acquainted in a company and connected my life with her.
It is to note that I was very lucky about girls in my life: I was a handsome lad and sometimes even much humorous and interesting. I must say that in the hospital under the onslaught of severe symptoms, I still managed to somehow miraculously be pleasant to that girl, but our relationship quickly stopped as soon as I saw her in the arms of another. I have done a lot of search with a variety of adventures, even staying in the terrible, very uncomfortable state of psychosis, I gathered the courage to go for a date, despite my attempts to make a due impression on her. But from all the huge array of girls, I was attracted to one mischievous girl; the relationship with her was a hectical romance full of sex. Of course, I hid my shock that had happened just recently, and I tried to forget the disaster that still was menacing by the need to take medications. What to do, I drank a lot of alcohol, pretending to be completely sane, secretly dreaming that I would finally recover and my secret would come to an end. Sure, the psychiatrist whose sessions I attended, reminded me, though occasionally, of the terrible truth about myself, this entire underworld, filled with nightmares and endless wailing, I had been a long time exposed to. That terrible story has now become a stigma in my biography. Although when I left out of the doctor immediately, I completely forgot about everything, because nothing could rest in my soul, except for this girl, whom I passionately fell in love with. Wonderful relations lasted for a short time, but in many respects they brought me a great satisfaction, all friends were envious of me, but they loved me no less, and so I was surrounded by necessary attention for a happy life. Also I began to continue my studies in the same college, but already at