#like Invisible Disease Fucks Things Up . Medications Etc Don’t Really Work

[alveolaraspergillosis]

i know i left microbiology behind for neurosci but like. for as long as we have existed as Human Beings (or even before, when our ancestors were hominid primates developing some of that frontal lobe executive function shit) we have been haunted by these invisible forces, that seemingly randomly inhabit us. a ghost that is always looking for a new body, and depleting that body of its life force . and if you get too close to The Haunted Person you might be next but you need to get to that person to have any hope of saving them. and you don’t know how to treat it (and those plant bark teas and drinking animal bone broths or blood sometimes help but other times they still die…) . but like. for hundreds and hundreds of years poltergeists and shit are real and they possess people one by one and sometimes they travel in animal bodies . and then one day some guy invents The Microscope and turns out you can see the poltergeists and also they look pathetic as shit

[vestigialtext]

Euphorroria

[TW suicide, self-harm] 

Imagine you turn around there’s suddenly a perfectly circular swirling hole open in the floor, emanating a hazy purple glow and a kind of pulsing, reverb-drenched celestial siren song, like the single sickest shoegaze riff you’ve ever heard.

You think, huh, wow, that’s a pretty weird trip-hazard, and erect some cordons to stop anyone falling in. But you become fixated on the hole, staring in unblinking for hours. It’s curious, it’s beautiful, it’s sonically enchanting, it’s perfumed with a kind of partially floral, partially cardomomic, partially metallic scent which just encroaches on the sickly-sweet – but you still want a taste.

The hole, as it happens, is a portal to insanity.

This is how I experience hypomania; standing steady-of-foot behind the barrier, gazing at wonder to the insanity, hearing its call but keeping a safe distance.

Mania would see me leap the barrier, approach too close, and invariably slip in screaming.

Psychosis, meanwhile, would see me fall in, try to either fight it or fuck it, turn it inside out and prolapse it back through into rational reality, the fabric of which world begin to collapse as internal and external landscapes collide and splinter into one and other and I approach self-oblivion.

A full psychotic break has only happened twice in my lifetime, and frankly I’m lucky to be here writing this drivel – my second episode, nearly a decade ago, almost killed me and left me with almost impossible-to-comprehend scars I’ll bear for the rest of my life, scars invisible to the observer but forever altering my perception of the world, scars I’ve made peace with but which continue to niggle every day. Without getting deep into the nightmarish details, I tried – and, thank fuck, failed – to blind myself, resulting in bilateral scarred corneas which mean that, while my vision remains entirely functional and luckily unimpaired to any significant degree, I experience constant, curious aberrations, especially in low-light where the world melts into a sea of halos.

Importantly, I’m still alive. I very nearly leapt into the Thames on the morning of 10/03/2010, and not through depressive, I-can’t-bear-to-live anguish, but due to chasing immensely powerful delusions and hallucinations to the same place that almost cost me my sight. There’s a lot I’ve written and lot I will write about my experiences of psychosis – particularly re the corrupted internal logic that catalysed much of my bizarre, life-ruining behaviour in 2003 and 2010 – but not here, not now.

Mania, the losing control of my inhibitions and tripping headfirst into hyperactive chaos, has occurred three times in my life, but only progressed through to psychosis twice. I had my first (and to date, only quickly-controlled) manic episode age 16, following a few months as an inpatient at an adolescent psychiatric in Newcastle (remember when the NHS used to offer those kind of services lol). Up until that point, I had been being treated for major depression, which was my diagnosis until the mania emerged. I don’t quite remember the specifics – I celebrated the 20th anniversary of my bipolar 1 diagnosis last month – but one day it seems the depressive fog suddenly cleared and my mind, robbed of feel-good shit for so long, lurched as far as it could in the opposite direction as some kind of bizarre compensatory push.

Perhaps the flip was inevitable, perhaps it was triggered by a chemical predisposition to mania plus guzzling down combinations of all the anti-depressant variants that could be feasibly prescribed for the preceding three months. Who can say. Whatever the case, suddenly I was bouncing around the hospital halls like Sonic the Hedgehog, talking borderline-gibberish garbage incessantly, getting back deep into abandoned A-level art projects and attempting to start roughly 1,000 extracurricular projects simultaneously. The doctors quickly took notice, brought me down with lithium and revised my diagnosis.

Hypomania, (literally “below mania”), is something I experience on average a few times a year, hitting in waves, usually with a clear trigger. It’s a glimpse at the maelstrom of insanity without actually dipping a toe. Delusional ideas can creep into my head, but I can analyse and dismiss them rationally with a firm “No.” I now have enough insight and experience of my own sensations and mood pattern recognition to usually ward off a manic episode, typically with self-seclusion and/or self-management, sometimes with medication. Zopiclone, a sedative, has proven to be something of a magic bullet at sniping down incoming mania, so I try to keep a stash handy – I popped one Saturday gone just to try and keep the train on the rails after barely sleeping for two weeks straight.

After accepting I was an alcoholic six years ago, I’ve gone entirely teetotal, and that itself has greatly improved my ability to monitor myself, to try and regulate my own mood – previously, I’d (technically binge)-drink more or less every single day, and drown out any troublesome hypomanic episode with even more booze, remaining entirely functional (if prone to starting each day with a big purging sick and then having a couple of practically clockwork spew breaks at work) until my liver and my nervous system started wildly red-flagging at the sheer relentless demands I was asking of them, the perpetual nature of my misguided self-medication, so I decided to stop dead drinking or risk further ruining my health.

Without in any way wishing to belittle or underestimate the impact of the disease (severe, bulk-of-a-year depression episodes have also nearly killed me) I feel like depression is something even people who don’t suffer from mental health problems can at least begin to comprehend, can take a stab at imagining the experience. Perhaps not the depths – the eroding, claustrophobic mental space, the glimmer of hope on the horizon disappearing into darkness, all sensory input turning to a grey mush, the head-in-a–tomb depersonalisation – but most people can relate to being “sad”, most people have experienced tragedy at some point in their lives. Hypomania, however, is a trickier prospect to explain. But I’ll try.

I can’t speak for others who experience the condition, but in my case, hypomania manifests itself across my whole physical, mental, emotional spectrum. Although other factors come into play, the biggest single trigger for me seems to be sleep deprivation. It’s no news that circadian rhythms and bipolar disorder are intrinsically interlinked, and I have very real first-hand experience. As a shiftworker (occasional nightshift worker) who lives on the opposite side of London to my office and has a four-month old daughter, my current sleep hygiene is pretty... ropey to say the least, so I’m trying to be extra vigilant. A few nights back-to-back of little sleep (I’m talking a hour or two, at the best of times my sleep is shit anyway and five hours is a good stint) I can often feel my mood changing gears.

Simply put, when I’m hypomanic, the world is a more engaging place; more detail fills the cracks, more edges pique my interest. All of my senses sharpen up – my vision becomes cleaner, brighter, more vivid, sound seemingly has additional frequency space, imperceptible before. My senses of smell and taste overwhelm me, aromas become intoxicating and normal food takes on gourmet qualities. My energy level skyrockets without any additional external input; I have much more impetus, enthusiasm about life, work, whatever. I can literally feel my mind starting to function differently – but not necessarily more efficiently – taking shortcuts, randomly accessing memories in remarkable detail without any prompt. I can think faster, but with less focus; I’m more distractible and will happily shoot off on wild tangents with complete disregard for my goal. Depending on circumstances at home or work, hypomania is a mixed bag – any lethargy is dispelled and my agency and job satisfaction is heightened, but I might, say, approach 20 tasks simultaneously when sequentially would be more rational.

Depending on social context, I expend varyingly extreme amounts of effort to varying degrees of success attempting to mask a hypomanic episode. You know how your body never really “heals”, and scurvy horrifyingly opens up old scars and shit? That’s kind of what my ever-simmering mental illness feels like when i’m consistently deprived of sleep for whatever reason, the cracks start appearing and it kinda seeps out a bit lol. I am well aware my hypomanic demeanour and delivery can alarm people, and I do try really, really, really hard to suppress things or if absolutely required, just remove myself from situations where a lasting, detrimental opinion could be formed. I am also fully aware I can become borderline intolerable to my long-suffering and remarkably patient wife, and I try to mitigate the condition’s impact on domesticity, again, only ever partially-successfully (sorry, Kate). On any given day, high, low, or creamy middle, I’d estimate around about 90% of my effort is put towards just trying to appear normal to others, trying to blend in. I imagine many other mentally ill people are broadly intolerant to open-plan hotdesking (not to mention the insatiable clock-in-and-hit-marks demands of capitalism).

I can physically feel my body “running hotter” when I’m hypomanic, like an overclocked CPU frazzling on a motherboard; headaches spark quickly if I don’t drink enough water. I’m not especially clued up on chemical synthesis of naturally-occurring hormones etc. but I kinda get the impression hypomania is little like organic, high-on-your-own-supply MDMA.

Hypomania seems to foster within me a deeper connection to and longing to revisit all of my favourite music, art, writing, films, games, people – chiefly, I go on obsessive listening binges of records I adore. As I mentioned earlier, my hearing changes when I’m hypomanic – songs sound better, richer, more punchy. One of my fondest ever memories of mental illness (sadly ruined by slipping into psychosis shortly afterwards) was walking around out at night listening to My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless on shitty earbuds via a Spotify stream and still hearing subtle elements blossoming from the mix I’d never clocked before; layers of what sounded like processed flutes fluttering under the wall of guitars, gentle tonal ebs and flows, what seemed to be entire hidden tracks I was only just tuning in to, a secret sound world unveiled.

This might well just be wild conjecture, but I like to think maybe some bands – the bands who “get it” – deliberately bury this audio information deep within the mix, only to be decoded by specific mental setups, be they drug-indicted or naturally, hormonally occurring, breadcrumb trails left in the studio production as a little nod by whoever put the music together that they understand the confusion, the dislocation and alienation of mental illness, something extra beyond the lyrics. It might well be bullshit but it brings me great comfort. I’ve put together a playlist of some favourite tunes I suspect were written about hypomanic states, knowingly or otherwise, or instead conjure up that specific vibe.

To be honest, the hardest thing I find about dealing with episodes of hypomania is that they can feel so good it’s very hard to not attempt to stoke the sensation, prolong it, succumb deeper to it. That way oblivion lies; please stand behind the yellow line at all times.

[sdavinroy-blog]

The Truth About Chronic Illnesses

Invisible illnesses are one of the toughest obstacles someone can be given in their life. You’re in this constant, gut-wrenching pain and no one EVER sees it. Everything that is wrong with your body—whether it be your gut, your joints, thyroid, etc.—-is internal. No one ever sees just how fucked up your body really is, and that’s probably the most difficult part about it.

I have Crohn’s disease, which affects my intestines. I can’t eat a meal without feeling even the smallest pinch of pain. I can’t name one time I ate a meal and felt absolutely no pain afterwards. But do I complain? No. I sit there, staring down at my meal, wondering why the hell am I not able to enjoy just one meal without feeling like there are knives in my stomach. No one would know if I were in pain because I’ve learned to master the Poker Face. If I’m in pain, and you see it on my face, it must be the worst pain I’ve experienced in a long time. Chronic patients keep quiet about their suffrage, because if we dare speak about it people question us. All because “We don’t look sick.”

We look perfectly healthy on the outside, but on the inside we are destroyed. Chronic illnesses don’t affect just one part of your body. Sure, my intestines are the headquarters of my problems, but it affects everything. Not only do I suffer from chronic stomach pains, but I experience intense joint pains, fatigue, bloatation, nausea, skin problems, and the list goes on. Chronic illnesses are more than just one area, it’s your entire body. And worst of all, it’s your entire life.

People often forget the mental toll chronic illnesses can take upon victims. Injecting yourself with medication, which burns my entire thigh for a significant amount of time within seconds of its injection, often leaving a welt, is something you don’t get used to. People can say “Oh, don’t worry! You’ll get used to it!” all they want, but the truth is you don’t. It doesn’t get easier. In fact, for me, it can become harder. I’ve had several people give me my injections, simply because I couldn’t bring myself to do so. It’s painstakingly difficult for me to hold the pen down on my leg and push the trigger, knowing I’m about to experience the worst pain of my week.

Chronic illness is more than physical pain. It’s the mentality of knowing you will never get better. You are stuck this way the rest of your life, and that is a big ass fucking pill to swallow. Every month, or for some, every week, it’s hospital gowns, IV’s, and blood work. For me, it’s constant pill popping, injections, MRE’s, colonoscopies, and blood tests. No one prepares you for seeing yourself in a hospital gown with needles shoved into your skin. Seeing that image as often as I do hits me like a fucking train. I recall having an MRE (third one within a year), and seeing the IV in my arms, the stickers all over my body, the wristlet labeled “Allergy,” the bruises from the blood withdrawn from my veins, and dropping to my knees as I bawled my eyes out. “Why can’t I just be normal?” I would yell.

If you have a friend who has a chronic illness, support them. Don’t make them feel bad if they cancel plans, have mood swings, or just feel like an overall piece of shit. We go through a lot of fucking shit. Every. Single. Day. Instead of drilling them with questions that only bring out their insecurities, educate yourself on their condition. Offer a helping hand. We need it so so badly. It’s the smallest of things that mean the most to us. I had a friend make me an omlette for breakfast, and before using butter on the pan he asked me, “Can you have butter? I know it’s a form of dairy so I just wanted to make sure.” I almost cried. Something as simple as fucking butter almost brought me to tears. Knowing someone cared enough to ask me if I could consume butter meant the world to me, because half the time people don’t even try to remember I have Crohn’s. It’s embarrassing to go to restaurants with friends, because they all eat whatever the hell they want, and I have to be the annoying one who asks the waitress if I can replace one of the condiments on the sandwich I’m eating because I can’t eat lettuce without folding over. For someone to acknowledge my illness meant everything. Please try and do the same for your friends or loved ones, because most of the time, people forget. And you know why?

Because it’s invisible.

[bigbluebarns-blog]

ABLEISM REDUX

Well… There are so many different dimensions of disability that people can be ableist toward those with different disabilities than their own. …And it’s only in the last couple of generations (within my lifetime, at least) that Disability Rights groups have banded together in a common cause (Rather than, say: Rights groups for the blind working only for the blind, Rights groups for Cerebral Palsy working only for Cerebral Palsy, etc.).  Matter of fact, based on my own recollections, I think working together for universal access rights only really got any steam in the 1970s – when I was already a teenager.

Confession time: until relatively recently (like, the last 10 years, or so), as a physically disabled person, I was biased against those with intellectual disabilities, and would get quite insulted if anyone mistakenly thought I was “R

—–ed.”

@theborkplanet IDK HOW TO SEPARATE MY COMMENTS FROM YOURS AND COMMENTS FROM YOURS. HENCE THE CAPS. 

I WAS ALSO BIASED AND PROBABLY STILL AM SOMEWHAT, TOWARD PPL WITH INTELLECTUAL DISABILITIES(ID). I TOO USED THE R WORD. GROWING UP MY EXP WITH PPL W/ ID WERE NEGATIVE OR GROSS, AND NO ONE EVER BOTHERED TO EXPLAIN SOMEONE’S ID TO ME, SO ALL I KNEW WAS NEGATIVE BEHAVIORS EG JO GRABS STUFF AND SCREAMS; NO ONE EVER EXPLAINED HER AUTISM. MOE HAS DOWNS SYNDROME, IS OBSESSED WITH SAYING “BOOBIES” LOVES THE EFFING BEACH BOYS AND FARTS A LOT AND NEVER SHUTS UP; HOW ANNOYING; NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT PERSEVERATING, OR THAT DS CAN CAUSE GI PROBS SOMETIMES. AL MUTTERS, HE STINKS, AND HE KNOCKED OUT HIS AIDE SO I’M AFRAID THAT AL WILL GET ANGRY WITH ME AND KNOCK ME OUT; NO ONE EVER EXPLAINS HIS CONDITION, SO I GLEAN MY INFO FROM EAVESDROPPING and RUMORS. THE ABLE-BODIED ADULTS DIDN’T BOTHER TO PROMOTE UNDERSTANDING EVEN THO WE WERE ALL TRAPPED ON THE SAME SPECIAL ED BUS, SO THE PASSENGERS WITHOUT ID TALK SMACK ABOUT THE ONES WITH ID. THE ONE TIME I ASK, “WHAT’S AL HAVE?” ABLEBODIED ADULT SHAMES ME FOR ASKING AND BLATHERS ABOUT CONFIDENTIALITY. NOT TRYING TO JUSTIFY MY PREJUDICE; JUST RELATING EXP. I’M ALSO WORKING THRU IT BUT U R RIGHT; NEVER 100% DONE. 

I’m working through it, and like to think I’m getting better (and one huge part of that is learning just how deep and intertwined institutionalized ableism really is, in our societies). But as with being a White woman dealing with racism, I have to remember that it’s a case of continuing recovery, and not something I will ever be 100% over and done with.

Thanks for sharing, @aegipan-omnicorn. You’re lovely.

@bigbluebarns, I don’t personally know anything about suffering racism, being a white american myself. However, I do know a thing or two about suffering ableism, both at the hands of able-bodied people, and disabled people.

People are incredibly social animals and will band together in groups with other similar people. This is natural, and it is good. It can be healing and cathartic to hang out with people who “get it.” But this tendency can also have an extremely dark side, as we see with “isms.” This is going to get long, so I’m going to break it here in consideration of people’s dashboards. Again, I can only speak to ableism and sexism so please keep that in mind.

OMG, I LOVE THESE NAMES AND TRADEMARKS. DID U INVENT THEM?

Ableisms I have suffered at the hands of disabled people:

The Cripple Police™: These are the people who, in an overzealous bid for limited access available, arbitrarily decide who is disabled enough to use a mobility aid, bathroom stall, parking spot, and even sometimes the label of “disabled.” If you are not Crippled Enough, you can be subject to any form of social punishment they deem to be necessary.

I HATE THE CP AND I’M CONSTANTLY REMINDING PPL THAT U DO NOT HAVE TO APPEAR DISABLED IN ORDER TO USE HANDICAP PARKING. IT’S LIKE THEY WANT U TO WEAR A TAG STATING U R DISABLED SO THEN THEY CAN ASSESS IF U MEET THEIR RANDOM CRITERIA.

Example: I used to be able to walk longer distances with a service dog, but was still a high fall risk. My doctor (a licensed neurologist) prescribed me a parking placard so that none of us had to worry (as much) about me passing out in a parking lot where no one could see me, and getting run over. A lovely woman in a wheelchair, who just happened to park in the accessible spot next to me, proceeded to scream at me and my service dog all the way into the store. A manager rescued me by going along with my ruse of knowing him, and invited me into the back were I fucking hid away until they told me she had left the store. It. Was. Scary.

EGAD SOUNDS HORRIBLE. BUT YEAH THERE IS A DISABILITY HIERARCHY

The Born This Ways™ : The experience between people who were born disabled, and who acquired disability later in life, vary a great deal from one another. BTW ableist types actively minimize the experiences of other disabled people, simply because they hadn’t been baptized since birth by xyz. In other words, the suffering was not identical to their own, thus must be invalid.

Example: I became disabled after adulthood, and tried to find solace after being subjected to ableist responses from friends and family members who were unable to cope with the “broken me.” I found lots of great disabled people who helped me, but I also found people who routinely scoffed at my experiences, again informing me that I was not “disabled enough,” and suggested I was being deliberately weak, or histrionic. Sometimes it was almost eerily word for word what my ableist friends/family said. How strange…

I’VE SEEN THE ACQUIRED DISABILITY IS BETTER. TM ADIBS MIGHT IMPLY, “WELL I’M A QUAD, BUT AT LEAST I GOT TO EXP BEING ABLEBODIED; I’LL HAVE EXP U SADSACK LOSER BTWS WILL NEVER HAVE. I GOT TO BE NORMAL FOR A WHILE” MOST OFTEN I SAW IT COME FROM PARALYZED PPL WHO WISHED THEY COULD WALK AGAIN. I WAS BORN WITH CP AND AB PPL ACTUALLY ASKED ME “WOULD U RATHER BE BTW OR AD?” BEFORE I THOUGHT ABOUT IT, I SAID “BTW, CUZ THATS ALL I KNOW AND I’VE HAD IT FROM DAY1 FALSE EQUIVALENCY WHEREAS ADIBS HAVE TO ADJUST” NOW THO I KNOW THAT EVEN I AS BTW HAVE HAD TO ADJUST TO CHANGING SYMPTOMS. DO U WANT 2 BE A TREE OR A MOUSE...UHHH...FALSE EQUIVALENCY ALERT, CAN’T COMPAPARE APPLE N ORANGE.

The Faker Police™: I think anyone with an invisible illness has experience with this one. This is when people who “look disabled” refuse to believe someone who “does not look disabled,” and proceed to treat them as hysterical attention seekers instead of…well, anyone else. These people often practice double ableisms–I have noticed that many also tend to judge Disabled Enough based on mobility aids. Then, they try to chase the “fakers” out of the community, because everyone knows “fakers” are why we have additional burdens added (like further hurdles to access, government aid, etc).

ALSO IF U HAVE AN INVISIBLE DISABILITY LIKE YOURS AND ME ALSO, I SEE THE “WELL EVERYONE GETS DEPRESSED/SAD/TIRED.” I END UP FEELING LIKE I HAVE JUSTIFY THE DISABLING NATURE OF MY DEPRESSION/ANXIETY TO A WEG. 

Example: Before my condition had progressed to me needing a mobility aid, I was already facing discrimination in the workplace. I requested an accommodation to have the crappy fluorescent lights removed from above my desk, as they provoke bad neurological symptoms. You’d think it was a little thing, but when I asked for advice on dealing with skeptical and belligerent management, I met the same reactions in some disabled people, followed immediately by “Fakers like you are why we see knee-jerk reactions like the word ‘no!’ Come complain when you’re actually disabled and need to have a ramp installed! Until then suck it up!”

The Totally Qualified Disability Judges™: This one seems to arise from the natural tendency of people to compare their situations to the situations of others. If they arbitrarily judge another person’s situation to be better or more favorable, then that person is not As Disabled, or Disabled Enough, or Disabled At All. Then, based on that judgment, they try to socially punish the condemned, or to excommunicate them.

Example: Some conditions are really straightforward and don’t vary widely. People with the condition all seem to have similar limitations. My condition is the exact opposite of that. I have the chronic form of migraine disease. Lots of people get migraines, but not all of them have more than 15 a month, and migraines can last anywhere from a few hours to three days. To some people, pain is the most disabling feature of a migraine, to others, the accompanying neurological weirdness is. (Migraines are often proceeded by cortical spreading depression, a phenomenon also exhibited in epilepsy. Just for an example).

So, when people hear what my condition is, they remember that one lady they used to know who had to lay in the dark for a couple days each month, and wonder why the hell I’m in a wheelchair. It doesn’t make sense to them (who cares that migraines don’t make sense to the most brilliant neurologists in the world), so they decide that I just must not be disabled. Or, if I am, it’s hypochondria. 

 I’VE SEEN: YEAH HAVE U TRIED XYZ CURE? IT REALLY HELPED THAT 1 LADY. IF U DON’T TRY XYZ WELL THEN UR LAZY N ALSO PROBABLY FAKING THE EXTENT OF UR DISABILITY?

Fun fact: Internalizing ableism from medical doctors, and from some close friends and family, and THEN the disabled people I came into contact with later, and from whom I seeked guidance, prompted so much self doubt that I had a licensed psychologist work me up for hypochondria and other related psychological conditions. It…turns out that I am not a hypochondriac. I could not find relief from all of these experiences until I encountered a neurologist familiar with my condition, and fellow disabled people who have been around the block, and who are not so embittered by their experiences that they deigned to expose others to the same.

For that reason, I will always be vocally critical of ableism within our community. I will not sugar coat it, nor will I flatter ableist disableds by giving them another name. That goes for my own ableism, too. Now that I have worked through a lot of my own, I can use my aids with confidence and obtain a freedom that is at least emotionally similar to the one I had when I first formed my adult identity (which was as an abled person).

AH YES, IN MY CASE, INTERNALIZED ABLEISM=ANXIETY N DEPRESSION. STILL NOT SURE IF DISABLED PPL CAN BE TECHNICALLY DISABLED BUT THAT’S JUST LINGUISTIC SEMANTICS.

CLEAERLY WE BOTH KNOW DISABLED PPL ARE CAPABLE OF ASSHOLERY.

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO BOLD TEXT IN POSTS? #TUMBLR NOOB

For an example of sexism from women, see my post Never Underestimate Old Women, in which an old lady cashier schools us for self-righteous activism.

Thanks for the discussion!

[catcomixzstudios]

How To Life Chapter 49

How To Avoid Being An Asshole

- NEVER create a religion out of these guiding beliefs, and ESPECIALLY NEVER create a religion out of these guiding beliefs where you spread the message by killing, harming, and/or prosecuting others who do not share your beliefs. Religions, in theory, generally seek to do good in the world. I respect that. However, almost all religions (or even just groups of people) will usually develop at least a sub-sect of individuals who spread messages of goodwill towards others by violently attacking them. It’s vain of me to assume someone would try to make a religion out of these ideals, but just in case, I’d like to clearly state that I do NOT want that to happen. That person is doing something I don’t approve of. If these guiding beliefs help you, that’s awesome, but I don’t want it to be any more than that. If you ever have to cause harm to someone else to try and spread a message, that to me says that either your message is shit, or at least you yourself are a piece of shit.

- Don’t kill, harm, or threaten people, animals, etc if you don’t have to. This is a very tough thing to fully elaborate on. I firmly believe that most situations can be resolved without the use of violence. But if someone is trying to stab you, I don’t think it’s bad to try and defend yourself. To me, violence is always and absolutely the last option and NEVER something you should start. If others have hurt you, acting on their level isn’t how you beat them. Be better than them. Actions taken on a violent impulse tend to have drastic consequences. Obviously I can’t speak to every single possible scenario, but you should seek to avoid causing others physical or mental harm whenever possible. A vast majority of people will likely not be trying to kill or hurt you. As a matter of respect, you should do the same for others.

- Don’t be a dick to people. You don’t have to be friends with everyone you meet to offer even the most basic levels of respect. If someone helps or just offers to help, be thankful. If someone disagrees with you, you don’t have to be an asshole about it. If someone’s a dick to you, dwelling on it is only going to get you to act that way as well. Not every day is a good day, of course, but trying to make other people’s lives worse because of your issues isn’t helping anyone. You have to take a stand at times, of course, but try to pick your battles wisely. Some dicks are going to be dicks no matter what you do, and just aren’t worth the time or brain-space. We have to live together, so the least we can do is go about our business without pissing each other off when we can.

- Don’t rape or molest others. No one owes you sex, no matter who they are or what you’ve done for them. You don’t owe anyone else sex, no matter who they are or what they’ve done for you. Your body is your own, and everyone else’s bodies are their own. Forcing or trying to coerce someone into sex they aren’t interested in is one of the most shitty things you can do to another person. Listen to people. If you pay even the slightest bit of attention, they will give you cues on how comfortable they are. If you choose to ignore these and force someone into that situation anyway, then I absolutely hope the most horrible things possible happen to you.

- Never own another human being. Slavery is great if you’re a slave owner. Lots of free labor done by people you get to mistreat with no repercussions. If the tables were turned however, I don’t think you’d be so happy to get up in the morning. I hope it becomes REALLY obvious that forcing or coercing people into shitty situations is a shitty thing to do. No sentient species should be subservient to their own people. No one should live a life feeling like they can never escape.

- Don’t use drugs or other things that can have a negative impact on yourself and others. With things like alcohol, use it responsibly. The medical field has made great strides with drugs that can help treat diseases and increase our chances of survival. Crystal meth is not one of those drugs. Hardcore drugs like that will fuck your body up something fierce, and the “benefits” are not worth it. Unless you enjoy staying up for several days straight and feeling like invisible spiders are crawling all over you. On the other hand, there are things like marijuana and alcohol. While I don’t use them myself, if used responsibly, I don’t think there are any problems with things like that. Those can be just as (if not more) problematic than the hardcore drugs if handled poorly, however.  

- Don’t steal from others. Would you be happy if your most prized possession was stolen from you? I’d wager not. Respect people’s property. If people have bought or made something, taking it from them is a dick move. There certainly will be cases where a person might have to steal to survive, but there’s a big difference between that and taking your neighbor’s sweet new laptop because you hate your current one.

- Don’t break or damage people’s stuff. Pretty much the same idea as stealing, while also remembering that destroying something of someone else’s is an asshole thing to do as well. If someone stealing your stuff makes you unhappy, just imagine how you’ll feel if it turns out they broke it instead?

- Don’t lie whenever possible. Spreading lies, mistruths, or withholding important information can and often will make situations worse. Technically, telling the truth in some cases may do that as well, but I’d personally rather learn to accept truths then become more comfortable with lies. Like with most things, there are levels of lying; saying you’re having a good day rather than a mediocre one isn’t on the same level as blaming someone else for a theft you committed. It’s absolutely good to tell the truth in most cases, but I will begrudgingly admit that sometimes you might have to lie to keep the peace. Just understand that lies built on lies may eventually be revealed as being just that, and the fallout for it will be much worse.

- Avoid holding grudges. Do the best you can to hang onto the positivity in life. I firmly believe that most people are generally good, though it might not always show. We can be distrusting and rude to one another, but at least part of that comes from a fear of the unknown. There might be some individuals that you come to know that hurt you, but I promise there will be others who want to help you. Focus on those that want to help you and who make your life better. I’m not asking you to completely forgive those that have wronged you; you owe them nothing. But once you can get them out of your life, don’t let your anger towards them continue to pull you back in. Doing so only serves to hurt your more.

- Try not to get too worked up over little things. In the day to day, lots of small annoyances will come and go. If you choose to hold onto them and let them keep breaking you down, it will make things worse. Acknowledge them, of course. Don’t pretend that bad things have never happened. Yet find time to consider how important some of these things might be. Consider what situations are things you won’t ever have to worry about a few years down the line, let alone even for tomorrow.

- Don’t fear those that are different from yourself. Things that you don’t know or fully understand can be intimidating. Some people react by dismissing these things. Some react by showing overt aggression. Most of the time, however, those that are different from yourself simply live their lives in a different way (usually one that doesn’t negatively impact you). There will certainly be individuals that seek to harm you for aspects of your being that you may or may not have control over, but spreading more of that behavior around never serves to make things better; it just validates fear. Try to look with fresh eyes to people that live differently but mean no harm. To me, it’s the differences between individuals that make life interesting and help us grow.

- (Generally) avoid absolutes. Very few matters in life are purely black and white matters of good and evil. It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that one certain thing is always good or bad, but keep in mind that all groups are made up of individuals. Many things we get angry about are merely tools, and while some might absolutely be misused, it is the singular cases we should focus on. This isn’t always possible or practical, of course, but deciding that any thing or person is ultimately one way or another without much evidence can be dangerous. Carefully put pieces of evidence together and draw your own conclusions.

- Try to avoid frustration from perceived ignorance. Or to put it another way, remember that not everyone has the knowledge and/or the experience that you do. We’ve all lived different lives and had different experiences. Some of us have obtained much more knowledge of a particular topic over time, and keeping in mind that most others haven’t had the same opportunity will help you avoid some minor frustrations. Remembering that for yourself when learning from others will also help.

- Never get a tattoo of a romantic partner’s name. Look I know you might really love the person you’re with right now. But I swear, like the day after you get that tattoo of that person’s name, you’ll totally have some big fight or something and possibly even break up right there. Then you’re gonna be stuck with a tattoo of your exe’s name and you’ll have to go through a whole big process to either cover it up or get rid of it. Tattoos can be pretty awesome, mind you, but just be absolutely sure it’s something you won’t regret to have on your body like 50 years from now.

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