Monday, June 14, 2004
The voices that guide me
I've been hearing a lot of shit lately about how modern parents are fucking up their children by giving them mood altering drugs. They say that one in ten children is now on Ritalin, the drug used to chill out the ADD kids. Having been just a scant attention deprived in my pre-boner years I feel that had my dad had started forcing me to take chill pills back then I might have gotten into Harvard. Not that I would have gone, but having that acceptance letter would have gotten me some sweet gold-digging trim during senior year.
So what are these people bitching about? Are they upset that we might be killing the very spirit of these "imaginative" kids? Well, that may be true, but I say you have to be realistic about kids with issues. Some of the youth of today are just not going to make it anyway. Think back to when you were in the fourth grade. You knew, no guessing, you fucking knew that the boy in the back row with the pencils in his nose and the girl off to the side staring throught the windows was going to end up in jail, the projects, or dead. And where are they now? They're in jail, living in the projects or dead. You weren't going to save them and you wished that they would just shut up long enough so that you could hear what the homework assignment was. So why not cut through the bullshit and feed the little miscreants some mood-stabilizers so that the kids with potential can move along up the ladder?
Point made. However, what I really wanted to discuss was not the current state of America's depressed youth, but of my success with dealing with my own little "issues". You see, for as long as I can remember I've had these nagging thoughts in my head telling me to do things that didn't necessarily want to do. You couldn't call it voices because there was no audible suggestion. It was purely a vision of involuntary imagination. Sometimes it was the desire to push a random kid off of the top floor stairwell. Sometimes it was to pick up his books after a bully had just punked him out and give him a hug.
Obviously I was never a very normal child. But these thoughts were played out in my head like visions or scenarios without any real cognitive reality to them. I couldn't hear any voices or see any visions. They were just these alien back-of-the-mind desires. Most people would think that this is normal. Sure we all have strange and sometimes violent desires. With that in mind, imagine that at a level that might actually influence your actions, making you so tortured about trying to figure them out that you act out in ways that could be seen as weird at best and psychotic at worst. These have been quite a malevolent influence in my life, especially in my late teens and early twenties. I'm sure that being confused about the right thing to do is a common thing. But having these imperceptible persuasions made me choose paths that could have led to my destruction, and definately caused a great deal of embarassment. I couldn't understand what the influences in my head wanted me to do so I just acted out. Many a friend and opportunity are lost as a result.
It was around this time that I was able to comprehend the first voice in my head. It was nothing more than a scream. And it was in my own voice. It drew no breath to continue, but just roared out in one ceaseless turmoil. This was a howl of anguish and mourning tinted with rage and despair. It was the noise you might expect to make if you were being tortured mercilessly and forced to witness your greatest love murdered at the same time. And it showed up in my head when I thought of times that I hadn't chosen the correct path, or at least the path of less pain and embarrassment. To this day it remains, and it is the most disturbing part of my own psychology to me.
After several years had passed I began to reminisce about the past and imagine what I would have told myself in those situations if I could travel back in time. I would look myself in the eye and tell me the right thing to do. And even if he/me couldn't understand why, he/I would obey out of an obligation to the future me who has the benefit of retrospect. I can imagine most people wishing they could go back and stop themselves from stealing that wallet or kissing that girl or cheating on whatever. And this continuous imagination bore something of a makeshift conscience for me in the present. If I know what I know now and I could have helped me then, why not just imagine me ten years from now during times of peril or confusion to impassionately guide me to the right path. Future Mike has been around for a few years now and he has helped my marriage, my career, my friendships, my education, and probably more aspects of my life than I care to understand. The voice in my head is guiding me to a better life.
But still, even with the guide of a more knowledgable me, I was plagued by these jeckyl and hyde desires to do things. And I still could never get my mind around a single thing they wanted me to do. It was just a sensation that haunted me. If I was in a fight with Nina, maybe that vision of grinding teeth and yelling with flashes of light and patches of streaming colors. Did that mean that I should hit her? Should I begin to yell or does it mean that I should try to calm her down before things get out of hand? I've never hit her, but the confusion at times like this almost makes deliberate violence seem justified in my head.
So the "influences" have been with me for many years and have grown with me as I make my way through life. Then something beautiful happened. I turned 28. Nina, being the birthday nut that she is, had me open my presents first thing that morning. Cake and coffee are best before 9:00 AM, by the way. One of Nina's gifts was the Playstation Two game called "The Suffering". This is one seriouly twisted mindfuck of a game. The whole time this main character is running around disembowling his enemies or anyone that happens to be standing there, he's being assaulted by these nagging voices in his head. It's the standard devil/angel combo. The voice of evil is this growling, breathy beast that my man turns into when he gets pissed. The voice of good or of reason is that of his loving but, unfortunately, murdered wife who soothingly coaxes him to do good. Game played and won, I placed it aside content to still be able to shitstomp the little kids at their own toys.
The next day I was walking down the hall at work daydreaming about whatever when I saw a particularly shitty customer of mine coming toward me some 75 yards away. Suddenly I heard the exact same voices in my head as I had heard in the game. There was no mistaking that evil hiss when it told me "tell the prick to go fuck himself". Then right on top of the word "himself" was the dead wife's "he's just passionate, be friendly". Now some can say that this is just the logical result of 32 hours of uninterrupted game play flying through my head. The truth is irrelavant though. I put on my best "it's a beautiful morning" smile and asked him how he was doing as I passed. I chose the better path. What's important is that I deliberately chose a path that was defined by name rather than a disturbing, indistinguishable sequence of visions and muffled sounds.
It seems that the influences have been given voice. And the voices may change into my own wife's or some other articulation. But the voices are clear and I understand them. And there's peace in times of confusion. These voices have stuck with me for almost a month. Normally you'd imagine a man with voices in his head to be somewhat disconcerted. But after 20+ years of being led by instincts or influences without any shape or discernability, having these "recommendations" from within comes as quite a welcome change. Sure I still have the third voice of future Mike, but that's more to protect me from embarrassment or danger. I only wish that I could rid myself of that awful screaming. Isn't it odd how our minds will use the most twisted means to bring order to chaotic thoughts?
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So what are these people bitching about? Are they upset that we might be killing the very spirit of these "imaginative" kids? Well, that may be true, but I say you have to be realistic about kids with issues. Some of the youth of today are just not going to make it anyway. Think back to when you were in the fourth grade. You knew, no guessing, you fucking knew that the boy in the back row with the pencils in his nose and the girl off to the side staring throught the windows was going to end up in jail, the projects, or dead. And where are they now? They're in jail, living in the projects or dead. You weren't going to save them and you wished that they would just shut up long enough so that you could hear what the homework assignment was. So why not cut through the bullshit and feed the little miscreants some mood-stabilizers so that the kids with potential can move along up the ladder?
Point made. However, what I really wanted to discuss was not the current state of America's depressed youth, but of my success with dealing with my own little "issues". You see, for as long as I can remember I've had these nagging thoughts in my head telling me to do things that didn't necessarily want to do. You couldn't call it voices because there was no audible suggestion. It was purely a vision of involuntary imagination. Sometimes it was the desire to push a random kid off of the top floor stairwell. Sometimes it was to pick up his books after a bully had just punked him out and give him a hug.
Obviously I was never a very normal child. But these thoughts were played out in my head like visions or scenarios without any real cognitive reality to them. I couldn't hear any voices or see any visions. They were just these alien back-of-the-mind desires. Most people would think that this is normal. Sure we all have strange and sometimes violent desires. With that in mind, imagine that at a level that might actually influence your actions, making you so tortured about trying to figure them out that you act out in ways that could be seen as weird at best and psychotic at worst. These have been quite a malevolent influence in my life, especially in my late teens and early twenties. I'm sure that being confused about the right thing to do is a common thing. But having these imperceptible persuasions made me choose paths that could have led to my destruction, and definately caused a great deal of embarassment. I couldn't understand what the influences in my head wanted me to do so I just acted out. Many a friend and opportunity are lost as a result.
It was around this time that I was able to comprehend the first voice in my head. It was nothing more than a scream. And it was in my own voice. It drew no breath to continue, but just roared out in one ceaseless turmoil. This was a howl of anguish and mourning tinted with rage and despair. It was the noise you might expect to make if you were being tortured mercilessly and forced to witness your greatest love murdered at the same time. And it showed up in my head when I thought of times that I hadn't chosen the correct path, or at least the path of less pain and embarrassment. To this day it remains, and it is the most disturbing part of my own psychology to me.
After several years had passed I began to reminisce about the past and imagine what I would have told myself in those situations if I could travel back in time. I would look myself in the eye and tell me the right thing to do. And even if he/me couldn't understand why, he/I would obey out of an obligation to the future me who has the benefit of retrospect. I can imagine most people wishing they could go back and stop themselves from stealing that wallet or kissing that girl or cheating on whatever. And this continuous imagination bore something of a makeshift conscience for me in the present. If I know what I know now and I could have helped me then, why not just imagine me ten years from now during times of peril or confusion to impassionately guide me to the right path. Future Mike has been around for a few years now and he has helped my marriage, my career, my friendships, my education, and probably more aspects of my life than I care to understand. The voice in my head is guiding me to a better life.
But still, even with the guide of a more knowledgable me, I was plagued by these jeckyl and hyde desires to do things. And I still could never get my mind around a single thing they wanted me to do. It was just a sensation that haunted me. If I was in a fight with Nina, maybe that vision of grinding teeth and yelling with flashes of light and patches of streaming colors. Did that mean that I should hit her? Should I begin to yell or does it mean that I should try to calm her down before things get out of hand? I've never hit her, but the confusion at times like this almost makes deliberate violence seem justified in my head.
So the "influences" have been with me for many years and have grown with me as I make my way through life. Then something beautiful happened. I turned 28. Nina, being the birthday nut that she is, had me open my presents first thing that morning. Cake and coffee are best before 9:00 AM, by the way. One of Nina's gifts was the Playstation Two game called "The Suffering". This is one seriouly twisted mindfuck of a game. The whole time this main character is running around disembowling his enemies or anyone that happens to be standing there, he's being assaulted by these nagging voices in his head. It's the standard devil/angel combo. The voice of evil is this growling, breathy beast that my man turns into when he gets pissed. The voice of good or of reason is that of his loving but, unfortunately, murdered wife who soothingly coaxes him to do good. Game played and won, I placed it aside content to still be able to shitstomp the little kids at their own toys.
The next day I was walking down the hall at work daydreaming about whatever when I saw a particularly shitty customer of mine coming toward me some 75 yards away. Suddenly I heard the exact same voices in my head as I had heard in the game. There was no mistaking that evil hiss when it told me "tell the prick to go fuck himself". Then right on top of the word "himself" was the dead wife's "he's just passionate, be friendly". Now some can say that this is just the logical result of 32 hours of uninterrupted game play flying through my head. The truth is irrelavant though. I put on my best "it's a beautiful morning" smile and asked him how he was doing as I passed. I chose the better path. What's important is that I deliberately chose a path that was defined by name rather than a disturbing, indistinguishable sequence of visions and muffled sounds.
It seems that the influences have been given voice. And the voices may change into my own wife's or some other articulation. But the voices are clear and I understand them. And there's peace in times of confusion. These voices have stuck with me for almost a month. Normally you'd imagine a man with voices in his head to be somewhat disconcerted. But after 20+ years of being led by instincts or influences without any shape or discernability, having these "recommendations" from within comes as quite a welcome change. Sure I still have the third voice of future Mike, but that's more to protect me from embarrassment or danger. I only wish that I could rid myself of that awful screaming. Isn't it odd how our minds will use the most twisted means to bring order to chaotic thoughts?
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