Posts tagged “Nervous Breakdown

The Benefits of a Nervous Breakdown

Below is an excerpt from my book, “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.”  In this section of my book I am describing to my therapist a theory I had researched in grad school before my psychotic break with reality at age 28, long before I was to start my life over from scratch as a conceptually-challenged yet more feeling person.  Breakdowns can destroy cognitive functioning. It did for me. While I was never ever good at conceptual thinking, the breakdown has made it virtually impossible to understand even the most basic concepts.  Despite being on medications for Bipolar Disorder, my mind simply does not work as it once did. This is often humiliating and frustrating though I am mostly okay with it.

Yet, in the past few months, I found Mooji and am following his path– something I thought I would never do because Buddhism was so “beyond” me.  And I find myself following many Buddhist blogs. Many times reading such posts and poetry sail way above my comprehension.  But this, too, is good.  It is humbling and it deprives the ego of its food supply, which according to Mooji, is good.  A “chop” at the ego-self is needed over and over again in order to be in the Presence.  But the mind still yearns to understand.

For what it is worth here is the excerpt from a therapy session in which I describe my “theory” to my therapist.  What is synchronicitous is that the theory sounds somewhat Buddhist in nature.  It opens with me talking to my therapist, or rather, reading from my notebook, because I found it difficult to talk at times.


“Alpha = life in utero.  Birth = the end of life in utero—  death of a sort, a seeming death.  Birth is entering the world of light— Reality.

“Reality is too much.  People need to escape— to regress.  Therefore, the mind goes into altered states of consciousness.” I look up and stop reading and explain.  “I studied this when I was in graduate school.  I hit upon the literature of altered states of consciousness while I was in a Psych class doing a research paper on creativity and I became obsessed with the topic.  I nearly had a breakdown then because I wasn’t eating or sleeping or going to classes.  All I was doing was this research and writing.  A friend in the dorm used to make sure I ate something.  But all that time I felt like I was banging my head against a brick wall.  The material was difficult and I was afraid I was really going off the deep end and writing far out stuff. But in the end the professor gave me an A+ on the paper…”

“Anyhow,” I say as I start to read from my notebook again, “many altered states of consciousness have been found to coincide with the production of alpha brain wave patterns.”  I stop reading again and say, “I know this first hand because I did biofeedback once and the feeling you get when you’re producing alpha waves is the same as the one you get in mystical experiences and meditation.  Altered states of consciousness typically occur under conditions of sensory deprivation or sensory overload because overloading the system shuts it down, so in effect it becomes a condition of sensory deprivation.  The first experience of sensory deprivation occurs in the womb.  The ultimate form of sensory deprivation is death.  Death is a return to the womb.  The womb of the earth.  Therefore, Alpha = Omega.”


So there it is in a nutshell.  The book is mainly an emotional chronicle of relationships, and finding love, despite being very handicapped by Bipolar Disorder and Asperger’s Syndrome and OCD.  If you would like to purchase it for $2.95 please click on the link below:


At the Brink

This excerpt from Chapter 2 of my Biolar/Asperger’s memoir of finding love shows the beginnings of a psychotic breakdown.

I feel the electric light glowering at me.  I look around the room in my basement apartment.  The men following me.    The phone call from Yvonne.  Nothing is making sense.  Obeah island witchcraft?  Danielle’s thing.  Danielle is the island woman.   The room spins again.  I feel like someone is watching me.  I feel someone here— looking in the window.

Jumpy thoughts.  Buzzing mind.  I know the signs.  Feeling the victim of a plot.  Fear of being followed— of being watched— of evil spells coming out of an inanimate object— panic—  magical thinking— paranoid ideation.  I have made the break with reality.  I have entered the deep, dark hollows of the paranoid’s world.  Terror!  I pick up the phone and dial.  242-6637.

“Hello, Dr.’s office.”

“Hello, may I please speak to Dr. Agostinucci?”

“Hold on a minute.”

“Hello, this is Dr. Agustinucci.”

“Hello, Joey.  It’s Ellen.  I’ve got to talk to you.  Can you talk?”

“Yeah, you got me at a good time.  I’m just in between sessions.  What’s up?”

“Joey, I don’t know.  I’m flipping out.  I can’t sleep.  I called Danielle last night and told her.”

“You told her what?”

“I told her what I told you— that I loved her.  And then she told me that she wasn’t ‘that way’.  And then . . . ”  I start crying.  “Oh, Joey, I’m so scared.  I mean it means that all along I couldn’t see reality.  I’ve been living in this fantasy world all this time, thinking Danielle’s in love with me and gay, and I’ve been drinking and drinking because I haven’t been able to sleep.  And then today I started thinking that spells were coming out of the elephant that Sundra gave me.  So I took the bus up to Columbia to throw it away.  And then I thought two men were following me home.   And Yvonne called me up from work and, Joey, I think it’s all a plot . . . ”

“Wait a minute, calm down.  You’re all upset!”

I continue.  “Yvonne and Danielle are in cahoots.  Maybe they’re both testing me to see if I’m gay.  Joey, I don’t know how I’m going to go to work tomorrow and face Danielle and face Yvonne . . . ”

“Calm down.  One thing at a time.  You’re overwrought.”

“But, Joey, I don’t know what is real and what’s not real anymore.  I can’t sleep and I can’t stop crying.”

“Okay, look, I’ll give you a prescription.   I’ll call in the prescription to the pharmacy.  They’re probably still open.  I’ll have it delivered.  Just give me the name of the pharmacy you use—  the one nearest you.”

“Uh . . .  I’ve got to look it up— just a second . . .”   I run to the bathroom to find a prescription bottle.

“Joey, it’s Rexall on 76th  Street.  The phone number is 663-7684.”

“Okay, look, I’m going to give you a prescription for Valium, 2 mgs.  Take one pill and see what happens.  If you still feel very anxious, take two.”


“Listen, I think you should go to work tomorrow.”

“Joey how can I?  I keep bursting into tears.”

“Look, the Valium will help calm you.  It’ll be a whole lot worse if you stay home.  I suggest you call the Health Service first thing in the morning and make an appointment to see someone.  Tell them it’s an emergency.”

“Okay, Joey, I guess you were right.  You always told me I needed therapy and I always told you that I felt I’d go to pieces one day and now it seems that day has come.”

“Listen, you’re extremely upset.  Take the Valium and try to get some sleep.  If you need me you know where to reach me.  And if things really get bad you know you can always go over to the emergency room in Lenox Hill.”

“Yeah, that’s right, I can always go there.”

“Listen, when I call in the prescription I’ll arrange for them to deliver it, too, so you don’t have to do anything.  You have enough money to pay for it?”

“I don’t know.  Let me see.  Yeah, I think I do,” I say as I scramble through my purse.

“Okay, look, are you going to be able to answer the door?   Or are you still scared of those men?”

“No, the doorbell only rang twice.  Whoever it was is long gone.  I’m not scared of that anymore.”

“Good.  So just wait for the delivery.  I’ll tell them to speed it up.”

“Thanks a lot, Joey!  Thanks for everything!”

“Okay, take care, get some rest.  I’ll call you tomorrow to see how you are.”

“Okay, thanks a lot, Joey, bye.”

“Bye, Hon.”

For information on the memoir see:  The book is also available on Barnes & Noble Nook, iBooks and Smashwords.