That’s A Sign! (No, That’s Psychosis)

I’ve written before about my obsession with the numbers 444 and 11 during the peak of my drug-induced psychosis. But I don’t think I’ve told many people about another strange occurrence which happened at about the same time.

My work colleague was describing to me a picture which her 4 year old daughter had drawn. The picture featured three people: my colleague, myself and another colleague. In my mind, the 3 stick figures were arranged in a triangle.

Instantly, I knew – this was a sign. There was some special significance in this drawing. It was telling me (or us) something important… we just had to decipher the correct meaning.

That was over two months ago. I’m pretty sure any last traces of psychosis have left me now… which is a shame because there were so many benefits!

For a while my colleague joked that “the [alien] mothership is talking to you!”

I still haven’t worked out what that picture means. For a while I thought it was predicting the order in which me and my two colleagues were going to leave the company. But we’re all still there, happily employed.

And so, with some sadness I’ve had to accept… there was probably zero special meaning or significance in my colleague’s drawing.

Instead, the rational scientific explanation is that psychosis had ramped up my brain’s inherent pattern-spotting ability to the point where it was seeing patterns and significance where there were none. It was magical thinking.

Of course, I remain open-minded. Every now and then I’ll be sure to think back to that picture and see if any new events have transpired which explain its significance. I may well do that for the rest of my life.

My real life is pretty boring now. On my low days I often experience suicidal ideation. The peak of my psychosis wasn’t like that – life felt exciting and new and motivating. I was uncovering mysteries (real or imagined) continuously.

I suspect that a psychological phenomenon known as “motivated reasoning” was a factor in my psychosis. In other words, we believe certain things because we want them to be true. I was believing in fantasy because I was desperate to escape reality… and the after-effects of a pretty hardcore drug trip made it easier to make that leap.

In a couple of weeks I’ll hit 90 days clean. Right now I feel more sad about that than happy. If I stay clean for the rest of my life, I’ll never get to experience those feelings again. I’ll never explore alternate universes inside my own mind… except when dreaming.

It’s no wonder I can quite happily stay in bed 12 hours per day at the moment.

It’s also no wonder that some people choose to believe in God, despite a lack of hard evidence. Their faith gives them hope and keeps them alive. There’s tremendous power in that.

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