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Jung can kiss my...


aindreas
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I'm an artist. I used to draw, now I write. I don't know where else to go, what else to do. I'm still waiting to hear back from my insurance company regarding mental health coverage and it is driving me NUTs that I have to wait. Funny, though, I've never gone in for psychiatric treatment. I did want to go when I was kid. I thought I was weird, messed up, and never did I fit in. I played with a personality in my head. He helped me fit in. He, I say, because He is masculine, strong, and the friend I've leaned on for years. He was always an adult when I was a child, and even today, now that I'm almost 30, He is still here.

I should say He wasn't always there. There was a time when my creative flow ceased and remained dorment. It was a long 15 years, but since I've reopened the creative door, He is back and so are a bunch of other creepy things.

Like coincidences. I never really believed in them, but I'm beginning to. When I write my poetry, the flow will ask me to write a word I don't know the meaning. I look it up and like magic it is exactly the word I need to convey my thought. I'll radomly choose a name for a character in my book and, oddly, the name is one which is extremely significant to me.

I did a collaboration with a guy - an erotic collaboration. He was in Canada and me in the States. I felt like he could read my mind - connect with me on a spiritual or cosmic level. Then I tell myself there's no such thing.

It sucks to be a cynic.

He tells me to write, most of the time. He helps me through things and gives advice. He even helps me with a recipe I'm struggling to understand. Listen, He doesn't control me. He doesn't tell me to jump off bridges and shit. He's there, he's real, but he's nothing to fear.

But He is not why I write this. I'm an artist. I write and write until my mind dries up, and then I wait until the next creative flow consumes me. Problem is, as of late, when I'm waiting for the next creative flow I find nothing can make me happy - even things I once found to be fun. All I want is for Him to come back and the fantasy world to re-emerge. I'm not happy until it does.

Does this make me crazy or sick? NO! I'm not. People have alwasy told me I'm weird, or unlike everyone else. I know, but that doesn't make me sick or crazy. That makes me me.

And then there are those who tell me about Jung, as if I've never heard of him. They tell me that my mind seems to have split my Id, Ego, and Super Ego into strong sections. I say it's bullshit. I think most people wouldn't dare admit they think like I do. I guess this is why I don't have many friends.

But what about the apathy, the distance, the haze, the sleepiness I get when I can't invoke the creative Me and Him? Why does it consume me? How can I suddenly lose interest in life? I should be happy. I have a great husband, new puppy, house, stable income... all of the things I should have.

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Hi aindreas

And then there are those who tell me about Jung, as if I've never heard of him. They tell me that my mind seems to have split my Id, Ego, and Super Ego into strong sections. I say it's bullshit. I think most people wouldn't dare admit they think like I do. I guess this is why I don't have many friends.

I will admit that I think like you do! I have a friend like you. Someone to guide me, help me, tell me when I get confused! I talk to my friend about everything! He is the only one I can trust!"

I'll tell you what though! Could you please tell me about jung, because I don't know or have ever heard of him, honestly!

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When you talk about this masculine presence, what comes to mind for me is that this perhaps what we traditionally call an "imaginary friend" (which is common during childhood but less common in adulthood). It depends on how "real" this guy is for you. If he is as real as other real people, then that would suggest that he could be representative of a psychotic process or a dissociative process. People who are experiencing an episode of psychosis or coming up against one, perhaps without going over the edge, sometimes will hear voices. the common scenario in schizophrenia is that the voices will either offer a running commentary on what you're doing, or they (one or more of them) will issue commands, or will taunt with insults, or some combination of the above. This isn't what you are experiencing.

In a dissociative process (such as dissociative identity disorder, formerly multiple personality disorder), you can also have voices, but they don't necessarily yell at you (but frequently they do). Also, dissociative voices are frequently perceived to have an age and a gender more commonly than psychotic voices, and since you are mentioning both an age and a gender, that has me leaning in the dissociative direction.

The apathy part doesn't fit unless there is some kind of mood component. What you write suggests that your creative juices come in long lasting waves, and when they aren't present, that leaves you apathetic. That stuff sounds more bipolary.

So - my first impression is all over the map, and I have nothing solid to offer you except to illustrate the way that a doctor might start thinking about what you present with :). Hope that is okay.

If I don't miss my guess, this is your first post. Welcome to our community. I hope you find this to be a safe and welcoming place where you can talk about what you want to talk about.

Mark

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HI Mark,

Thanks for replying. Yes, my first post. Yes, there seems to be a running commentary. Sometimes I'll ask questions. How do I...? What is this...? He answers. Where the answers come from I'll never know, but he did answer complex questions when I was a child. Answers to questions that I don't think a child should know.

Is he real like you and me? Well, I don't know. Yes, he's real. I can't touch him, but I can feel his presence. He's there and he expresses moods in various ways. When I write, if I'm writing against what he wants, he will prohibit me from writing. He's definitely a control freak.

I'm dealing with several stressful things - infertility, a new house. I know those things can take their toll on me, but when a month ago I cared now I don't. I think I know why - I think those things interfere with Him and my creative process. They suck me dry. I've learned to hate them.

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