crazy telepathic

I was eating pho with Ming the other day.  Someone who seemed houseless was drinking a soda at the table closest to the door.  They had a black trash bag of materials and a nervous look.  I wondered if the soda was a gift, if the workers had given it to them?  They started to talk to someone who I couldn’t see, and I thought about the idea of crazy telepathic.

crazy

To back up a bit, did you know that I am crazy?  Yes, my culture tells me that, and I reclaim the term.  I hear voices and have had powerful mood swings.  Anxiety, extreme states, and time spent in unshared reality frost the crazy cake.

When I tried to work for money, I could act normal for about two hours.  The other people at the workplace were not accepting my performance.  I could technically have my body somewhere for eight hours.  But afterward my mind was stuck there for a long time, and I couldn’t rest, so I would be nonfunctional by day two.

Being around people too much just makes me manic.  I’m sorry it’s that simple.  Then there’s the paranoid delusional times I don’t usually talk about.

I’m crazy, but I’m articulate at the same time, the hyperlexical autistic.  That’s why the mental health zine I’ve been making for 18 years, functionally ill, is special.  A lot of people are crazy, and a lot of people are articulate.  But I’m both, as well as brave enough to tell the truth.  So you might enjoy.

Maybe that’s why you’re here–sorry if I’m over-explaining.

telepathic

Recently someone I respect a great deal mentioned that many crazy people are psychic but haven’t learned how to manage their skills.  Yes, makes sense.

What is psychic?  The windows are open, the screens are gone–birds, baseballs, clouds, pollen, car sounds, tree seeds, spirits, and confetti are flying in.  We can’t shut the windows, and that’s a hard life.

A lot more info is coming toward us than others might experience.  Of course we’re going to have a hard time processing that, and to the outside observer, we look crazy.  If you can’t see the baseballs we’re dodging, for example, or the bumble bees we’re trying to escort back outside.

The voices I hear could be

• God
• angels
• dream intrusions
• my ancestors
• spirits of the land
• spirits of the sky
• maybe spirits of the water
• demons
• the oversoul
• ghosts
• just chatter like my mind processing nonsense in the background
• other people’s thoughts I accidentally perceived–stop thinking so loud!

Honestly there are different kinds of voices.  These days I know God and my ancestors talk to me.  The other voices are mostly dream intrusions, I think.

And then the screamy ones when I’m not doing well are something else, hard to explain.  Just a malfunction, or the part of me that can’t handle what’s happening is making noises that no one wants to hear, but it can’t stop.  Those are the voices I wish I could turn off, but abilify never touched them.

unconditional self-love

I never asked to be crazy or telepathic, but we do the best with what we have.  Who teaches us how to use our gifts, when we live in a culture of spiritual denial?  It’s been a long journey to love myself and consider myself unconditionally valid.  I’ve come so far–so much work to override the culture that’s telling me I’m worthless.

So much was against me.  But I was blessed by a mom who loved me, a few good teachers, bright friends with integrity, and these days Ming supports me in 20 ways.

We can say I’m psychic –I accept that label.  Do I know things the others don’t?  Absolutely.  We could call that psychic or call it

• advanced pattern recognition
• paying a ton of attention
• intuition
• existing in multiple dimensions of reality at the same time
• delusion

But what if my delusions are correct?  God talks to me for a reason.  I’m not saying she likes me better necessarily.  Just I’ve learned to see her everywhere, and she rewards me with fully formed intense sentences of truth.

pho shop

To return to the soda-drinking person in the pho shop, nervous by the door– I wondered if they would be asked to leave once they started talking to someone invisible.  I heard kitchen workers discuss the situation in Spanish and hoped the person by the door couldn’t entiende.

You know I wanted to protect that person.  I wondered if they were talking to a spirit, and I thought I would try talking to them too.

From my seat deeper into the pho shop, I started telling the crazy-seeming person that I loved them.  I was talking to them quietly telepathic in my head like trying to comfort a distressed kid.  Even if they didn’t catch the words, maybe they could feel my care and it could help calm them.

Ming had gone to get the car, and I knew I would need to walk past the soda drinker in order to meet Ming on the street.

love

I wondered if it would backfire– if they would get more angry, to be loved.  Some people don’t want love.  They feel beholden or too perceived.

I put my water cup into the bus-your-dishes tub and threw my napkin in the trash, passing by the soda drinker without any reaction.  Probably we slipped out of each other’s lives like water.

valid salad

Ming is also crazy–if not from mental health differences, from how narcolepsy means Ming lives half in a dream.  You try tracking reality when you fall asleep 100 times a day.  It’s a marvel Ming can have a memory at all.  You know lots of bonus colors are woven in, out of nowhere.

Ming is also psychic, more than I am.  Mostly the visions are inconsequential, but it’s saved our lives how Ming sees things before they happen.

I recall the day Ming paused at the green light because they had pre-seen the car which was going to run the red light and t-bone us.  Yep, there it went.  The car would have hit the passenger side where I was sitting.  I appreciate entrusting my life to someone who’s extra canny.

Ming definitely wants my love.  Ming makes me wonder why I leave home at all.

Outside of my home I get delicious salads and pho.  The trees and the bodies of water are remarkable.  Those are the main things I can think of.