My favorite child

I am single as a bird without children. How on earth do I get to have a favorite child? :-O

The books are my children. I put in all too much everything in them all. Whether they are good or bad from others' perspective, my children are the best and my favorite child is Ratology Evolutions: My Psychotic Mental Model of My Psychosis. It's the thinnest book amongst all and, perchance, the hardest one to read.

So why is it my favorite? I had a most difficult birth coming up with a model about my psychosis while I was, in real life, institutionalizable grade of psychotic with bad bad bad side effects of Seroquel. Also, my head refrained me from doing literature review with the target participants as schizophrenic or psychotic. Ya, and believe or not, my head also set limits on how munch time I could work per day. Under the unfathomable restraints, I managed to come up with a, by default, imperfect model about my psychosis ... imperfect but done. Also, I didn't write myself all the way back to the psychiatric ward.

And, today, for my favorite child, I asked this professor of mine, who is a cognitive psychologist, whether he could read my model book and provide me with some feedback ... and if I could better the model, would he mind writing a foreword for it.

I can do only what I could do. Shall God ask me to make such a request, just gotta do it, I guess.

When could I halt

Thou shall halt is what I heard when I put the mouse on this textbox where I am doing the typing thing.

I was about to complain about God and now I have gotten the authorization. Yes, psychotic does psychotic does. Ain't no doubt about that.

So I ask, to halt from what?

From everything involving the books. Yes, just like what that Lord Byron said, "What is wri, is wri! Would it were worthier!" I have done my due diligence coming up with four imperfect books. I have been trying to introduce to more people about them, hoping to see destigmatization as the light at the end of the tunnel. Yet, perhaps that is not my job to market the books, to promote my ideas, and to rid the stigma once and for all.

I am a documenter and I did my duty. The whole thing had taken the better part of my years and I could not do it all alone no more. 

Perhaps, I can just sit back and see whether I could make a ripple or not.

The thought itself relaxes and destresses me so.

Thanks God for authorizing me to halt.

Fear

 God told me that I can get rid of this body suit that's handicapped both in the head and the body.

Yes. That is the deal.

Now that I have finished publishing all books and tried my best to market the books, where is my time to rest in peace? Instead, I am stuck with this sleep disorder that makes me wake up every one or two hours.

Have I been deceived by heaven? OMG ... where is the promised good death?! I am waiting and now fear is overwhelming me ... how come I am not dead yet?! :-X

This is almost like the apocalypse episode all over again.

Sharing

Since my psychotic books were published, I have been trying hard to spread the words but to no avail.

I never have the illusion that my books would turn to be best sellers that would make me filthy rich. However, I do have the wish that the books could reach people and help to make a difference on how people view mental health issues. 

It is my intent though this intent doesn't seem to be going far. It is very self-defeating a reality.

Then, today, when I went to the hospital to do my physical therapy, this therapist, who had seen my book Broadened Horizons and whom I had told that the book is based on my experience as a schizophrenic, said to me, "Thank you for sharing."

I suddenly felt a sense of relief.