Something I've historically tried to avoid as much as possible is an in depth look into my past and my personal life. I've told some about it, and at times have expressed pieces here and there, but this isn't something I tend to talk about in length. At this point, I find it important to express not only for my own healing, but also to give understanding and possibly some comfort to anyone who may have experienced a similar journey. If this helps you in any way, feel free to leave a comment on the Quick Explorations Page!
For me personally, reaching this point in my life was delayed, and a difficult transition due to conditioned behaviors and thought processes that created what you might call a psychic block. Everyone has inherent psychic abilities that can be tapped into once you're aware of them, but these were stifled for me based on experiences, and it wasn't until later that I finally began to ... rather accidentally break down these blocks.
From an incredibly young age, I seemed to have an incredibly hard time adhering to and fitting into my families viewpoints and preferred norms. While this probably should have been a sign, enough conditioning simply shut it down. I come from a very logic oriented family, which never really resonated with me. For me, intuition and a larger overlook has been the primary mental state. It wasn't until investigating and researching the spiritual aspects of life that I came to understand that people like me, we tend to be born into families whose soul groups we don't actually belong, and this is the reason that we feel out of place with our family. If anything, this is something that is supposed to become obvious to us so that we can veer away to do whatever it is we designed ourselves to do.
In my case, I started off as an incredibly sensitive and oddly aware kid. Coming from a conservative and militant family that does everything based on logic and 'family values' that were simply that of their parents, this was something that needed to be dealt with. For a long time, it was something I held against my parents as a full on angsty grudge. Down the line, I started to understand that this was only done due to an inability to understand where my head was at. For my parents, this looked more like an inability to function normally. Over time, and through a good deal of punishment, I was conditioned into the same thoughts and viewpoints of my family. In essence, this sensitivity was conditioned out of me, as it was seen as a weakness. After a long enough time being taught that emotion was something to keep to oneself, I put up walls against it. I began to believe that I needed to avoid feelings at all costs, and that anything out of the societal and familial norms was a bad thing. As you might imagine, life like this sets one up for a great deal of self-consciousness, and causes you to guard each and every thought and feeling that runs through your mind. In my case, the outcome of formative years like this was an alphabet of mental disorders that I was mostly unaware of until later. Since my family rejected the idea that their child could possibly be suffering under the weight of a mental disorder, these went largely unchecked. I was acutely aware of the largest of them (Bipolar) due to the effect that it had on my life, but even this was seen as simple irresponsibility that could be corrected by punishment. This was the first indicator that something was off.
Such a blatant rejection of something that I recognized as a huge influence on my life caused me to begin a slow angle away from my family and its chosen norms, as well as an incredibly slow journey into discovering myself and what I wanted, all while battling the conditioning I received in my youth. Eventually, the incompatibility between this conditioning and my inner self began to manifest in drug use, as well as heavy alcohol consumption to a dangerous degree. Even up until recent years, I continued to function behind emotional blocks that only disintegrated fully when proper medication moved in to counteract my jumbled mental state, and a good deal of therapy started to explore and break down these preconditioned notions about the nature of emotion and the world.
In spite of all of this, I've always had a close connection to.. something. I couldn't say what it was, and it wasn't something I could talk about due to the self-conscious nature I'd grown into. Even when I did finally start talking about it, it was slowly and with caution, always approaching it as a joke, something I 'explored' but didn't believe in, despite any feelings to the contrary that I had. This practice was something that didn't begin to fall until very recently. Notwithstanding, synchronicity had been calling to me for nearly a decade, though I had no basis for what it was, or idea about what to call it. I recognized very early that my life had a very strange pattern of trying to correct itself. If something went wrong and left me feeling hopeless, it was immediately amended by some event that seemed cosmically designed to take care of me. Luckily for me, even though I was fighting mental disorders, this kept me wildly optimistic. I basically chalked it up to having a disgusting amount of good luck, and before long, I had adopted the mentality of 'You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from', because that was simply my experience. It's effect was to make me a disturbingly optimistic person, even when faced with seemingly garbage circumstances.
Later on, this started to manifest itself more tangibly in the more classic forms of synchronicity. It started to feel less like good luck based on the sheer frequency and often times unbelievable circumstances, and more like I had some universal entity actively controlling events in my life. Anytime I was struggling with how to handle something, some convenient sign would appear giving me the answer.
A few years back, the bipolar disorder began a slow progression that ultimately began to effect my ability to so much as work normal jobs. For a course of months, I had a very strong 'why are you doing this to me?' mentality, which only ebbed when I realized that this had been more or less of a gift. It was a lot like being a child afraid to take the leap off of a diving board, only to be pushed in by a parent to suddenly realize there was nothing to fear, and I loved the water. All at once I realized that this was simply a sign that I needed to stop working jobs that were turning me into a miserable sap, and now had the opportunity to run head long into my art, which was my passion. All of a sudden, I had the time and situation to set my creativity free, and do something that people actually appreciated. Sure, it had its drawbacks, but they weren't really any different from those I'd been dealing with at work. The biggest one was a complete inability to control my boundaries. I'd turned so fully to trying to cater to anyone who wanted my attention, and trying to make everyone around me happy, that I over-exerted myself at every turn, something I still struggle with to this day. The difference was that I just thought it was ambition back then, that I was just trying to grow too fast and setting myself up for failures that I then had to remedy.
By 2017, this was being compounded by such an abrupt and exponential incline of the Bipolar effects that I began to try to use my work as an escape. Focus on the work, avoid the emotions, pretend nothing is wrong. As you might imagine, this didn't work well. Attempting to shove the disorder into the darkest corner of my subconscious did little more than give it a mind of its own, and it was PISSED. Before I knew it, it was becoming so bad that I ended up straight up calling it my Troll, because that's how it felt. It felt like being trolled by my disorder. This past year it was explained to me that this was something I'd started doing a good while ago, and had eventually led to a full on disassociative disorder of the depersonalization and derealization variety. Unbeknownst to me, I'd started to include every part of my personality that had been conditioned out of me straight into what I was calling 'the troll taking over my life'. At the same time, anytime an emotion or aspect of my life was against these conditioned norms, I was disassociating it from my reality. Eventually, things became so absurd that even friends began to question whether I was actually slightly schizophrenic as well as bipolar, since the differences were becoming so stark, and I could only describe it as feeling like I was being forced to share my mind and body with this other entity/personality (whatever you want to call it). The drowning feeling was overwhelming me, and I felt like the real me was being shoved into the basement of my mind, watching helplessly as this other identity started to take control of my body, and most horrifyingly, my mouth. As it became more irritable, it started to lash out, and it felt like I was riding in the back seat, powerless to explain or point out that these were in no way the thoughts and feelings I was personally experiencing. In luckier situations, willpower and frustration alone would win out long enough for me to assure my friends and loved ones that this was the disorder and not myself, and only at this point did I start acknowledging and confiding in friends as to what was actually happening. Before that, I'd been so worried about seeming like I'd completely lost my mind that I tried everything in my power to act like everything was okay, but, I'd also had an iota of control back then.
Before long, the only defense mechanism I could find to combat the disorder's manifestation was to try everything in my power to keep my surroundings positive. Any time I had control, I was begging the people around me for help with this, and in a few cases, was confronted by old friends that were so impossibly negative that I had to straight detach from them. It wasn't that I wanted to, I just couldn't handle it. It was like a seesaw, with me and positivity on one side, and the disorder and negativity on the other. When the balance tipped, so did control. Unfortunately, today's world is a hideously negative place, and there is no amount of begging and pleading that can help that, especially when every person has their own reality. For some, negativity has no effect, so how could they possibly understand the effect it was having on me?
By the time things tipped completely out of control, I was in the throws of full fledged Bipolar I, with PTSD, OCD, and ADHD making themselves painfully known on top of it, all disorders that manifested in reaction to the Bipolar early on in subtle ways, but were now in full view. Before I knew it, I was going anywhere from 2 to 5 days without sleep in my ever increasing manic phases. I began having hallucinations of varying degrees, from auditory hallucinations that I'd been fairly use to, to the addition of legitimate visual hallucinations, some more benign to others. Occasionally there was an air of amusement to be garnered from these, especially as I tried to make myself believe that I could take them in stride. For a while, I was even being stalked by a hallucinated lamp. Take that as you will. There was nothing more I could do than laugh in my utter frustration, and thank the stars it was just a nice inanimate object. (Though it was the ugliest lamp I've ever seen in my life.)
But enough about that. The point is, things got bad. Very bad. Worse still was the irritability. As things got worse and worse on my end, all things I tried to keep to myself and incredibly close friends, I started to get more and more frustrated with other people around me. More than once, I had various people come to me asking about mania, something along the lines of 'I'm super manic. I can't sleep well at night'. Not surprisingly, anytime this happened, or someone started bitching in a forum or discord server about how they'd gotten practically no sleep, I wanted to scream. It was very much the time when I started to wish that people could consider that things could be happening in other people's lives that they weren't publicly talking about, and how often we as humans could say things that unknowingly caused frustration in others. As I'd already adopted a 'try in any and all situations to avoid causing harm to others, and don't bring others down with your personal crap' mentality, I started to shut down more and more, not wanting to talk about my personal life beyond things people needed to know to understand why I was doing certain things, and trying to internalize my surroundings to a further extent than I had even in my childhood. I was using work to such an extent to take focus off of what I was going through that perfectionism began to become maladaptive rather than helpful, and my level of impatience and already deep seated anger (something that has always been a defense mechanism for me) began to spiral out of control. Not to mention, I had so much going on that my brain seemed on the brink of shutting down. Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed help, friends and family were all dealing with their own issues that made me feel to guilty to ask for it, but I knew that I needed it bad. The problem was that I had no idea how to get it, how to afford it, or even where to go.
I shouldn't have been surprised, given my past experience, that the moment I gave up on trying to deal with the situation on my own, along came the answer. Synchronicity in full view, yet another new figure showed up in my life at that exact moment. 100% emotionally balanced and specifically trained via work to handle the erratic mental state I was in, with a familiar background that I could relate to. Before I knew, I was being told exactly how and where to get help, and even having it explained that there were financial aid situations specifically designed to help people like me get said help. And so began the long and often lonely journey into my crazy little head.
It started with a psychologist and therapist, finally giving proper diagnosis to the things that were affecting me on a more physical/mental level so that they could be treated, and giving me an explanation that made sense for what exactly was happening in my brain. Meetings with my psychologist specifically gave a great deal of comfort as he began to explain that my form of Bipolar was not something that could be handled by willpower, as it involved over-firing neurons in the brain on top of chemical imbalances that I'd known about. This at least managed to make me understand that I wasn't failing at controlling myself, there simply wasn't anything I could do about it without some help of the pharmaceutical nature. After that, tons of meetings with a therapist started to unravel the conditioning and preconceived notions from various stages of my life, beginning to break down the mental walls I'd put up (Sometimes very uncomfortably). As the two things began to merge, I wanted nothing more than to be on my own. Being around people, while unfortunately necessary at times, was absolutely miserable to me. Here I was, finally getting an opportunity to meet someone new... ME, and simultaneously fighting my boundary control issues and need try to make everyone around me happy. Before long, my therapist caught a glimpse of this, and started in on it as well. It was only after this need for boundaries was finally dug into my psyche that the more spiritual aspects of myself began to finally awaken. It became clearer and clearer that my mind had been calling for this for years, and seemed more everyday as if the past year of hell symptoms had simply been the universe putting its foot down once and for all, as if to smack me in the face with it.
Synchronicity started to rage out of control, and I even started to realize the signs it had given me over the past years as my attention was suddenly drawn back to them. The tiniest decisions here and there that I'd made abruptly started to make sense. Aspects of my personality that had been closed off since childhood started to break out with a vengeance that was startling and hard to adjust to at first. The worst/best of these was the sensitivity and empathetic nature that existed, buried under the mess of emotional walls barriers. The first signs were reactions to simple things, like movies and TV, books, things of that nature. Dissassociative properties earlier on had always allowed me to escape into movies, and even turn my emotions into movie like experiences to avoid feeling them myself... but suddenly, I was connecting with the characters in a way that was startling and a good bit terrifying. I started to realize that I was incapable of watching anything violent, which was strange given that they had been a norm in my earlier years, and some of my favorite things. I could barely watch anything without sobbing. There was a sudden influx of emotional and spiritual stimuli that I was simultaneously feeling on a deep level, while also becoming detached from. For the first time, I wasn't just free in my own mind, I was starting to live outside of it.
There was admittedly a barrage of physical medical issues that came along with all of this that was worrisome at first, but the more into spiritual awakening I researched (because at this point, I knew what was happening. The feeling was unmistakable, and I'd set off to figure out what the heck was going on), the more I started to see the patterns. There ARE physical symptoms to awakening, and a great deal of them were exactly what I was dealing with. (Take a look at the Awakening/Ascension process for info on that, I won't reiterate it here. The important thing is just that I was experiencing almost all of them to a startling degree.)