So, the point is that psychosis is very frightening and very bewildering. To be mad and to have enough perspective to be able to see how mad I still am is quite awe inspiring. I am awed at my survival and of the survival of others who endure what has no real place on any map nor any one way out. I hear voices, most of them fairly horrific and we have not even developed an uneasy truce as yet. They are constant and yuck but they come from my life so I am trying to reclaim the part of me that is left over in the cacophony. I have screamed at the moving walls and before I was psychotic I never once screamed. I have broken inanimate objects (especially, my favourite cup in the whole world) and I have ranted and screamed and raved at nothing. I have uncovered this giant screaming banshee. That was the one that prior to psychosis hid against walls and tried to become invisible. (Part of me wants to continue to do this) And that was survival. She somehow turned inside out. And that was the flip side. And the tears have made another ocean, somewhere on a new continent. Maybe I will reach there one day by following the inner ocean. The path of tears. To some, I am 'very' troubled and 'disturbed' with the labels that I earned in this life of mine but I look at it that the porous and the sensitive take on the madness of an already mad world. We, and I speak for me alone with that we (seeing my voices make it seem that I am simply one of a million people in one body), are the barometers of the world. Because we can feel what they can't or won't, they tell us that we are mad. But is mad, spending another trillion dollars on planning to annihilate other human beings? It's ironic that always seemingly good at feeling but I am swamped with an over amplification of feeling. The emotions I have are turned up so high that the safety of my inner world feels very shaky. And with PTSD, all I want to feel is safety. The double whammy of no feeling frozen with the depression and the ultra feeling of psychosis and numbness/interspersed with extreme feeling with the PTSD. The healing is a long time and I want to make sure that the mending is made to last. Just in case someone reads this and wants to make a comment, please know that I am new here and that you are welcome but please be gentle. That would be the paranoia and the impact of a million and one paper cuts on my soul.