Resolving The Resolvable

My New Year resolutions always take the form of fears that need to be overcome. This year it's simple 1) overcome my fear of people, 2) overcome my intense claustrophobia, and 3) overcome myself to make music.

It seems that to do all of the above, I first need to redeem myself in the eyes of humanity, as in the eyes of many, solitude and misanthropy is practically a crime. To do this I need to be chastened and humble, which isn't something that comes naturally to me, but isn't something that's beyond me either. What I do struggle with is maintaining it over an extended period of time, and this is crucial in being accepted by "adult" humanity" that works on the basis of conditionals. If anything goes wrong and you revert to "the bad old ways", you're out. That's the rules of the game as I understand them, and there has to come a point at which I cease to question that and kid myself that I can do better. I don't like conditionals, but they're not going to go away. I know I can do it, but can I make it stick?

Happy New Year to one and all.

Wearing The Genes

One of the things I think many of us struggle with, but not many of us will accept, is the notion of weak-mindedness. That we, as people with mental health disorders, are quite simply inferior to those of sound mind, and especially those of sound body and mind. Not many of us will admit to this suspicion, myself included. For one thing, it flies in the face of what many of us are taught in therapy, and also such an admission isn't particularly good for self-esteem. But what exactly is weak-mindedness, and must it necessarily be a bad thing?

When I think of weak-mindedness, I think of my dad. My dad was an alcoholic, but the weakness in his case wasn't the alcoholism itself. It was the fact that he never attempted to fight it, surrendering the initiative and all possibility of redemption. My dad knew that he had made the wrong choices in life, and I think he figured that a little weakness and indulgence at the end wasn't going to make too much of a difference. It cost us a dad, but then he'd never really been a proper dad. So in reality it didn't cost us very much at all.

Then there are the "weakness" traits from my mum's side of the family, which have more to do with obsession, greed and lust. Too much that was repressed; too many atomic bombs waiting to go off. Last night I was talking to my brother for the first time in a long time, and I saw a side to him that I hadn't seen before, and that I really hoped wasn't there. It was the side of me that I wish wasn't there, and I honestly hoped that my prolonged exile from the family would have meant they weren't "contaminated" like I was. But what can you do when the genes get involved? Surrender free will completely?

If I'm honest, I quite like my weak-mindedness. I find that the "softness" enhances mental flexibility and dexterity, and that this in turn enhances creativity. But the real world does not concur, and the real world is right. Strong-mindedness isn't an achievement; it's a basic prerequisite to partake of the real world. When I find myself in "real" situations with "real" people, I become daunted and panic for an escape. I try to act humble, but the faux-humility is merely masking the weakness. I get scared, profoundly so. And when I get scared I get weak, and when I'm weak then I get sick. So I stay home. For now.

Fearing The Worst

Jeez, I really should update this blog more. I get so pissed off with it, and pissed off about how I come across. But I am well aware that there are people with similar disorders who are reading this, and there is kind of an obligation, once you've started a blog like this, to follow it through. Hope everybody's well.

Regrettably my fears are plaguing me badly at the moment. The mental tricks and techniques I use to keep them at a distance don't work anymore, so my fears are right on top of me. I'm not getting out much, because I have to walk everywhere as the public transport claustrophobia is too bad right now. I'm reluctant to walk as it's making me feel so heavy and fatigued, so I'm staying indoors, smoking too much and putting on weight. The housing situation is not good either. I'm trapped where I am, next door to an ex-soldier with a grudge and a mouth as big as his ego. I'm desperate to get out, but I have nowhere to go. No friends or favors to call upon.

The one bright spot is that I've managed to get regular counselling sessions at a time that suits. I'm nervous as hell when I walk in, as my mind is doing cartwheels just being around people. I'm tense, head down, sat up straight, no eye contact...but generally once I've found a groove I can keep talking, even if a little haphazardly. The nerves are terrible right now, but maybe there are ways of casting it out with nervous energy. Trouble is, I think I've tried them all and I'm right back where I started. And I don't want to sound like a miracle curist. I've encountered a few of them online recently, and it makes me despair of how I may come across.

Finally, I've just discovered the genre of post-rock and I wanted to share it with you. Don't know how this music passed me by for so long. Anyway, this is the first thing I've ever embedded so I hope it works!





Stay safe everybody :-)

Facing The Front

Right then, time I faced this blog again. I've probably lost the handful of readers that I had, apologies that I've not been keeping up.

The hospital thing didn't happen. The only hospital within walking distance couldn't help me, and the only hospital that could help me would have meant getting on public transport which at the moment I can't do. I guess I'm relieved that I didn't get taken in, as I'm sure it would have been a bad experience and I probably would have been put on antipsychotics, which I'm determined to avoid as I figure there's no way back from there. And in any case, I've started having psychotherapy at a local mental health charity, which I figure will help me far more. I've been offered the tantalizing promise of being better able to integrate the internal world with the external world, although how this might work in reality I have absolutely no idea. But it's worth a shot because I have never felt as bad as I've been for the past 2 months or so, and I am determined to get out of the hole that I'm in.

One of the reasons I've not been able to face this blog recently is that I've been making endless resolutions about how to create a new and better me, get my head in the right place and keep it there. "Working the borderline" didn't quite fit these resolutions, so I figured that a "new and improved" me might necessitate a new and improved blog. But, alas, "working the borderline" is me. This is my stop; it's where I get off. "Working the borderline" is what I do, and is what I will continue to do. Even if it's not a valid thing to do, or even a thing that is done at all. It's what I want to do in music, and what I know I will do in life. It's what brings me to life, and that is good enough for me. So the blog stays, and I'll stay with it.

Nice to be back.

Checking In

Tomorrow I'm going to check myself into hospital. I need to, my chemical balance is all wrong and I'm a nervous wreck right now. I can't move confidently around my mind any more, I'm having to settle in one key and accept the restrictions and consequences imposed. I'm trying so hard to surrender and feel instead of think, but it's proving so hard. I don't want to become over-reliant on medication, but I have to do something because I just can't cope with it any more. I can't see beyond myself, and I hate that because I want to engage and contribute towards reality. But the fear is so bad that it's stopping me dead in my tracks.

Now normally I would continue the post by analyzing why I feel this way, but I simply haven't got the energy or the inclination to do that now. So I'm checking into hospital tomorrow, because after 5 years of social isolation I deserve a bit of rest and recuperation. I'll address the medication thing later, I just need to feel better first.

On Self-Consciousness

I went to see my doctor this evening as I have some referral forms I need her to sign. But the self-consciousness and anxiety are so bad, I had to turn back and head for home. There was a big queue and no place to sit, but that's an excuse and I know it. I left because I was too self-conscious, pulling in on myself and tensing myself up rigid. The doctor's surgery is a completely safe place to be, and my doctor is a completely safe person and a thorough professional. But still I felt unsafe, largely because I was aware of the fact that I felt unsafe. Why can't these double negatives cancel each other out, the way double negatives are supposed to?

In an earlier post I wrote about how it's the anxiety that's crippling me, since it's the anxiety that's stopping me from doing things I used to do with ease. But it's the self-consciousness that's driving the anxiety, so ultimately the self-consciousness is to blame. Yes I'm on my own for long periods of time, but so are many spiritual practitioners and they don't suffer from acute self-consciousness. Why am I so self-conscious?

I have 2 theories as to why this may be the case. (I'm aware that having 2 theories may be a part of the problem, but I'll proceed anyway). The first is to do with trying to develop my mind as an instrument, not to make music itself but to enable others to make music relative to my "position". It may well be that in doing this, I have inadvertently divided my mind into the bits that are the "player", and the bits that are "played". In other words, maybe it takes a heightened level of self-consciousness in order to make it work. Now I would argue against this, because when I'm in that zone I experience a sense of "oneness" that I do not feel anywhere or anytime else. But maybe that's the problem: maybe that sense of oneness is costing me any semblance of oneness elsewhere. Also there's the not inconsiderable fact that the rest of the world doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about when I say that I want to play my mind as an instrument. So when I step into the real world I'm effectively stepping into enemy territory, even though I do my best to convince myself that this is not the case.

The second theory is to do with infinity, or a sense and aspiration towards the infinite. My mind is inspired by the infinite and the universal, and wants to achieve things by tapping into that sense. Which is fine as far as it goes, but at the same time I'm perfectly well aware that infinity and reality are not always compatible, and that a "universal" approach to life isn't always the best thing when it comes to dealing with specifics and mudanities. In short, universalism is about potential and realism is about productivity. So what may be happening is that in "real" situations, particularly in confined spaces controlled by other people, the "real" part of me is manifesting itself as a hyper-selfconsciousness, in order to quell and eliminate the "universal" part of me which does not want to accept the limitations of the situation that I find myself in. Universalism and potentialism have always been my mind's defense against the world, and without them I get scared.

Now these are obviously weighty issues to address, and I'm still not convinced that potentialism and reality are fundamentally opposed to one another. But what matters now is that I find something to eliminate, or at the very least reduce, the chronic self-consciousness and anxiety I feel in public situations. I'm sure there are new techniques I could learn, but I'm tired of learning new techniques. I just want some peace!

Surrendering The Initiative

Hmmm, well...bit of a backward step compared with the previous 2 posts. I've still been adopting the surrender mentality, but it didn't work so well today. I walked into town as I couldn't face the bus, and once there I felt so lost and confused. Surrender is all very well and has many virtues, but it does leave one feeling ever so vulnerable and exposed. ANYONE could have picked me off today, and I would have lain down meekly and accepted it.

I believe I'm "surrendering" for the right reasons. "Surrender" to reality, surrender to feelings and think less. But the trouble is that when I reject my thoughts, they get all nasty and seek to punish me. I try to concentrate on something external, but they pull me back in towards them and pile the pressure on until I surrender, not to reality but to them. So reality wants me to surrender to it, and my thoughts want me to surrender to them. I want to surrender to become a better person, but the net result is that no actual surrendering is ever done, because the different modes of surrender contradict each other.

And it is against this backdrop that I'm seriously considering surrendering my liberty. It's not a conscious thing, just a gradual acceptance that I'm sliding towards residential care without really putting up much of a fight. Because that's what we surrender monkeys do: we don't fight. We kid ourselves it's for the right reasons, and cite notions such as "humility" and "humanity". But surrender is still surrender, and like the French we'll probably feel ashamed about it later.

So tomorrow when I go out, I'm going out in potentialista mode. I figure that if I'm going out, I might as well go out in style. Last time I did that I got seriously scared, and it triggered my current crisis with public transport. But if I'm prepared to surrender my liberty then what the fuck have I got to lose? The things that I valued have already gone.

Right, I'm signing off. Have a good night and enjoy this Wiki definition of a potentialist.

Witholding The Tears

Had a good talk with an advisor yesterday, who I initially went to see for advice on my housing and financial situation. The anxiety attacks got cripplingly bad, so much so that there were several occasions where I had to stop speaking, as the anxiety had taken over my mind and compelled me to focus on that instead. The woman advisor did a good job of reassuring me though. There were several times when I nearly walked out, but we ended up having a good chat for at least a couple of hours.

Well, I say "chat"...she did most of the talking, and all I could do was murmur acknowledgement every now and then. I'm not well and she could see that I'm not well, so I felt under no pressure to hold anything back or not let on about how bad I really feel. Although I did manage to hold the tears back...we talked mainly about my family and I kept feeling on the verge of crying, as it became apparent to me just how much I miss my family. But crying isn't going to help improve the situation. It might offer a short-term relief, but that is not enough. If I got into the crying mentality then I'd cry all the time, and it wouldn't change a damn thing.

It's good to talk though.

Repeating The Mantra

Now I've written about this before, but it's worth repeating so I'll write it again. It follows on from the previous post about anxiety, but is more geared towards those of us with actual personality disorders whose disorder and fragmentation becomes heightened and exaggerated in states of anxiety. Anyway, hope I'm not repeating myself too much.

My biggest source of anxiety is confined spaces; more specifically, confined spaces inhabited (and in some cases controlled) by other people. My abject fear and world-weariness means that I now suffer anxiety in pretty much any environment, but confined spaces are still pretty much the number one cause of alarm. I have a number of different ways of dealing with that anxiety, most of which work to a certain degree. But it is that process which exacerbates the problem. Because I have no definitive method of coping which works every time, what happens is that my brain becomes scrambled and I find myself jumping around between different mental states, trying desperately to settle in one until another scary thought pops up and forces me to switch again. Which, in a contained environment populated by other people, isn't exactly the most sensible thing to be doing.

Method Number One is the most reliable and the one that works the most often. The mantra for this method is simply "stop thinking". So I do. I simply imagine my thoughts as intertwined with the nervousness, and simply let go of it. I can literally feel the weight being lifted off my shoulders, and after a while it does tend to calm me down. I still have thoughts, but the thoughts seem to be at a much safer distance. "Well if this method works so well", I hear you say "then why don't you stick with it every time?" Because it doesn't seem like a long-term solution, that's why. Simply choosing to keep scary thoughts at a safe distance doesn't deal with the underlying causes of why I'm getting those thoughts in the first place. The problems come when I mentally "switch off", and a method such as this relies on never switching off. That said, since this method is able to pacify me on a train for 2 hours then it certainly has its merits.

Method Number Two tells me to stop thinking too, but in a different way. Rather than "letting go" of my fear and self-consciousness, I surrender to it and attempt to feel it rather than think it. I try to imagine a negative trade-off between feelings and thoughts...ie, the more I feel the less I think. This is the state of mind that I adopt for the visual meditations that I've started doing, because I feel compelled towards this state of mind by the images that I'm seeing. What I do with this method is to imagine that the nervousness represents bodily restraint and restriction, and assume that the fear I feel is in reality a fear of being contained within a body. So in this sense, the physical fear sensations can be seen as a kind of gravitational pull that is quite literally grounding me and holding me in place. The "fear" comes from thinking thoughts that attempt to transcend the limits of bodily restraint. Now when done correctly, this method can be very successful. It really relaxes me and enables me to sleep more deeply than I otherwise would. But the drawback is that it makes me feel very vulnerable and fragile, and as such is probably not the most suitable for crowded public places or transport. It does work, but it only works if I get myself in the correct place, and in public I find that very hard.

And so we come to Method Number Three. Method Number Three relies on good old-fashioned gumption, hard work and the art of Being A Man. The mantra here is simply "hold your nerve". Don't let go of it, don't surrender to it, just hold it and hold on tight. This method makes me feel stronger and more resilient than the other two, but I can always feel the fear bubbling under the surface. What tends to happen is that the fear becomes too much, and I end up "letting go" as per method number one. I never like doing this, but the object of the exercise is to feel the most calm and not to feel the most "manly". However it is in this state of mind that I feel the most like a responsible citizen, so there are always forces within me telling me that this is the right mentality to adopt. It's not that the other methods discourage responsibility; it's just that this method makes me the most aware of it. But as you've probably gathered by now, the awareness is a big part of the problem. There is no "good" and "bad" awareness...just a chronic self-consciousness that I need to get rid of.

In some ways I'm probably fortunate to have these coping strategies, as it's definitely better than having no coping strategies at all. But if only I could find a way of integrating them all into one universal strategy that didn't contradict itself then I'd be right as rain! I have to get the bus into town today, which I'm absolutely dreading as I haven't got the bus in weeks. But if all goes well then I'll feel much empowered by that.

EDIT: I started off with the first method and didn't get the bus into town, but switched to the second method and got the bus home. Guess that vindicates that then. I feel all empowered now!

Fearing The Worst

It's the anxiety that's crippling me. The depression I can live with, the fragmented mind I can live with, the solitude I can find ways of living with. But not the anxiety. I'm hardly getting things done these days because the anxiety puts me off doing them. I'm FINALLY going to shave my head tonight after weeks of putting it off. I hate doing it, but guess why I don't go to the hairdressers? Because of the anxiety attacks.

Why am I so anxious? I can't figure out a definitive reason, but I guess it's a number of things combined. My dad had problems with his nerves that ultimately drove him to drink, so maybe there's something hereditary there. Also I've been taking anti-epilepsy medication for 17 years, since I was 14. This medication helps me focus and concentrate, but it also makes me feel very intense so that too may be a contributing factor. There are bad experiences in my past that have probably contributed too, but if I dwell too long on them I'll only get more anxious. And as a child I used to tense myself up rigid to try and deal with bad experiences, and I think that probably has long-term repercussions for the nervous system. I seem to recall this occurring to me as a child, but since I was a child I paid little attention to it.

However, no one factor seems to explain why I'm living in a constant state of shock. I've written at length about the problems I'm having here where I live, but the reason I'm having these problems is because I'm sending out fear signals. I've got more phobias than a smart-ass quiz player, and it's getting ridiculous. I know that the right kinds of behavioral therapy helps to "un-learn" learned anxieties, but I know all this already and it doesn't stop me from being anxious. I am more than capable of un-learning something and shutting it out of my mind, but this has little (if any) consequence on the physical sensation of nervousness.

I also know that the real winners and achievers in life have the ability to confront their worst fears and ultimately defeat them. But how do you do this when the anxiety is overwhelming? Last time I tried doing this I got physically sick and had to go home! And I'm really not sure that a confrontational attitude is appropriate for where I'm at in my life right now. The other tenants in the house can sense that I'm nervous, and it's making them nervous. Getting all confrontational would not appease the situation. It may be myself that I'm confronting, but certain people here are not insightful enough to figure that out.

So I'm back at the question I began with: Why am I so anxious and what can I do about it? If anyone knows any good anxiety resources on the net, please let me know.

Befriending The Unbefriendable

Hmmm, not been "working the borderline" much of late, as I've had my mind on other things. But there comes a time where we must forget all of the distractions and concentrate on what's really important.

I have a problem: I need to find somewhere new to live; however I'm currently unable to do it on my own as I'm too nervous in front of strangers. What "friends" I had have drifted away over the years, due largely to the fact that I never really connected with any of them. So basically I've got no-one to help me out, and I need someone to help me out. With all other options exhausted, I've been left with no choice but to swallow my pride and apply for a befriending scheme. Don't know if you have befriending schemes in the US but I assume you know what they are, as the concepts of "befriender" and "befriendee" are pretty self-explanatory. Befrienders are people that don't have to do this; befriendees are people that do. It's not exactly one in the eye for the class system, but the erstwhile class warrior in me will have to pipe down and listen to what my nerves are saying. Because my nerves are telling me that if I tried to do this alone, I'd fuck it up. I'd get scared in front of prospective landlords, and give them a reason not to take me as a tenant. So I need someone to hold my hand. Responsible, huh?

Thing is, I'll probably slip through the net the way I always have. I don't have a psychiatrist, social worker or community health worker. I haven't even got a proper diagnosis..."somewhere between aspergers and schizotypal and neurological and depressive" doesn't really count. It'll probably take months to get a befriender assigned to me, and I need to move like NOW! So I'm kinda working on the assumption that the whole thing's gonna fall through anyway, and I'll be left with no choice but to do it on my own. Happy days!

Actually, there's another reason I haven't blogged much recently. I have a handful of regular readers, and occasional traffic from blog directories, and I was getting the feeling that none of you have really warmed to me yet. Sometimes I just need to go away and question what I'm doing wrong, y'know? Not that it'll yield many answers!

Living The Life

Now I have something of a confession to make, and it's a confession that may cost me some readers. My confession is simply that I don't know how to live. Really. Not at all. Now I have a disorder that undermines my perception of reality, which in turn undermines my capacity to live, but that's no excuse and I know it. I figure it may cost me some readers because so many blogs and bloggers are actively promoting the aesthetics and ethics of living well. In other words, somebody who doesn't know how to live is a threat and/or an irrelevance.

To give an example, I was thinking of starting an erotic blog, but I've since discovered that most erotic blogs are basically recipes for life. Food stuff, but about sex instead of food, or sex as food. They may on the surface be about sex, but what they're really promoting is a lifestyle and the vindication of that lifestyle. Lifestyler writes blog, other lifestylers read and comment on blog; lifestyle re-affirmed and vindicated. So that kinda scared me off a bit...because my sex stuff isn't food stuff, it's just sex stuff. It isn't meant to be tasteful, and it isn't meant to register a tick against my name.

So what do I mean when I say that I don't know how to live? Well it's quite simple really...I'm on my own for long periods of time, and I can't figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do. I always end up resorting to what I need...I need to eat, I need to write, I need to think etc. But I need to breathe too, and I need to experience the kind of life-enhancing things that the Great Accumulators experience every day. Of course when I'm with someone it all becomes much clearer, and I remember that I need not to need too. But that's just feeding off the other person, and I know that professional lifestylers have serious issues with that. But professional lifestylers have serious issues with just about everything I represent, so maybe I should just ignore them. They won't go away, but they might become less prominent in my head.

Ach, stop thinking and just live, FFS!!

Dating The Asylum

I've come to the conclusion that even mentally ill people are scared of me! No really they are, especially the girls. I've been looking at dating sites that are aimed at people with mental health issues. I'm not seriously looking to date anyone as I'm in far too much of a state, but a bit of harmless flirtation would be nice. But the girls on these sites all have "hormonal" (sorry can't think of a better word) disorders like bipolar depression, anorexia and SAD. They're terribly fragile creatures who are terribly easy to offend, and I really don't want to go putting my size 13's anywhere near them. "Thought disorders" just isn't something that they understand, and in all honesty it probably scares the living shit out of them. So what do I put on my sign-up form when it asks for my diagnosis? "Various"?

"Schizotypal personality disorder". That's the one I was diagnosed with. Yes I have traces of aspergers and traces of depression and traces of every other self-diagnosis I've made, but the fact remains that I was diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder. I've long sought to convince myself that I'm borderline, hence the title of this blog, as the concept of borderline is more flexible and thus more "instrument-like" (which ties in with the thing that I want to do in music). But in reality I'm probably about as borderline as (*mass of land that's nowhere near a border...the Midwest? Siberia?*), and I daresay I'm not kidding the borderline peeps one little bit. Try as I might, I cannot get away from the fact that I was diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder. By leading specialists, no less. For those who don't know, schizotypal personality disorder is characterized by (*checks wikipedia to make sure he's got his facts right*) social isolation, odd behavior and thinking, and unconventional beliefs such as being convincced of having extra-sensory abilties. Yup, sounds about right. Although I should qualify the last one by saying that I believe in the power of good communication, and see nothing "extra-sensory" aboout this. What I want to do in music is not extra-sensory; it is about harnessing the power of the senses we already have. But I'm well aware that I may just be trying to explain my way out of a very tight corner. If the experts say it's extra-sensory then who am I to argue?

Anyway, as if to prove the point I'm digressing. The point is that most girls, even most mentally-ill girls, do not or do not want to understand what are generally known as "thought disorders". Schizotypal is not schizophrenia, as most of the stuff that is "cut loose" in schizophrenia is somehow held together in schizotypal (see previous posts for theories as to what might be going on in my own case). But schiz is schiz, and schiz is scary. To vain psuedo-depressive girls it's scary, and to fully-grown and reality-adjusted women it's probably scarier still. They're like "ugh!!", and I should be like "yeah, whatever". But I'm not, because it bothers me. I want women to like me, and it troubles me that they don't. I think they think that "thought disorder" implies a lack of control over one's own mind, which can spill over into a lack of control over one's behavior. But my answer to that is the same answer I gave to the extra-sensory accusation. Good communication. Good communication really is an answer to everything. I know this because right now I do not have good communication in my life, and I know what it is that I'm missing.

So if I do join a dating site, I will do it on the proviso that I'm doing it for a laugh. And I shall lie through my teeth, because that's what the so-crazy-I'm-normal brigade are wont to do. Somebody once said that honesty is the most over-rated virtue of all, and when I've read through this post I'll be inclined to agree with them.

Facing The Fascista

I need to work on my karma. Which probably isn't a very good admission for a second blog post, but it's true. I have bad karma and it's costing me a life.

Thing is, I've gone round and round in circles trying to improve my karma in the past, and nothing seems to stick. Any "practical" remedy such as yoga I have always had difficulty with, and not just in the sense that it is difficult. My disorder affects my dexterity and co-ordination, and so anything that requires mind-body synchronicity just leaves me at a loss. So I've always tried to improve the mind in ways that bypass the body, but of course that leaves me open to accusations from the body fascista, for whom "mind AND body"= good, and "mind OR body"= axis of evil. (Fascista was a typo but it stays)

So what do I do? I can't win and I know it.

Why is good karma so important? Because nothing good has happened to me in years, that's why. I'm serious: NOTHING! Surely the law of averages / probabilities /sods /Murphy / whatever would dictate that these things even themselves out over time, but no! Nothing good ever happens! So it stands to reason that either I'm putting myself at a disadvantage, or there is something about me that puts me at a disadvantage. Yes I have a disorder, but everybody has a cross to bear and a cliche to back it up. And as I sweat on an email that I know will never come, I sweat even more on the reasons why it won't come. Because good things would happen if it did.

So I'm back to my original question: what can be done to improve my karma? The obvious answer, off the top of my head, is "get a lover", but that isn't really an option. Get a life? I'm trying to, I really am. But it's a bit difficult when you suspect that the rest of the world views you as some sort of cursed seventhborn...

And one final question regarding the body fascista. Is a compromised mind-body relationship really the heinous crime they make it out to be?

Murder? Now that's a crime. Rape? Definitely. Genocide? Of course. But a compromised mind-body relationship, due to forces beyond your control? C'mon guys, gimme a break. If I were physically disabled I wouldn't even need to say this. Some patronising cunt would say it for me anyway.