Therapist’s Session Opening Formula should say…

“Thank you for requesting my services, I’m honored you should trust in me. Before we get into it, let me just say that I think you’ve done incredibly well. You’re still here, well and not incarcerated. It took a mountain of an effort to pull that off. I am going to take stock of what you did.”


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Aren’t we all in some way? Us from the so-called “cilivized” world? How about feeling things for a change? Like, e.g. your own body? Like e.g. this: Walk out on the frozen grass in the morning on bare feet, noticing the tickle of iced blades of grass on your soles and walking around just long enough until the pain from the icy ground is travelling up your lower thighs to the point where you want to scream? And then… maybe even do it? That is: Release that scream? Primordial Scream Therapy? Huh. Never saw that comin’. No copyright infringement inteded at all… 3:)

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Substance present in ayahuasca brew stimulates generation of human neural cells: Harmine increases the number of neural progenitors, cells that give rise to neurons, study suggests — ScienceDaily

I’ll just put this out there:


Human neural progenitors exposed to harmine, an alkaloid presented at the psychotropic plant decoction ayahuasca, led to a 70 percent increase in proliferation of these cells. The effect of generating new human neural cells involves the inhibition of DYRK1A, a gene that is over activated in patients with Down syndrome and Alzheimer’s Disease. Thus harmine could have a potential neurogenesis role and possibly a therapeutic one over cognitive deficits.

Source: Substance present in ayahuasca brew stimulates generation of human neural cells: Harmine increases the number of neural progenitors, cells that give rise to neurons, study suggests — ScienceDaily

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Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) – Timeline

Source: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) – Timeline

As someone who has been living with this excruciating, debilitating condition almost from birth and for more than half a century – and fuck knows just how I did – I wish this treatment was already available in my country of birth now. I’m on a waitlist for the Boulder, CO chapter of phase 3 clinical trials, though, and in addition to that I’m about to receive conventional trauma therapy for the first time in my life now. Seeing as the condition has rendered me disabled and my health insurance won’t cover expense for treatment, I call it a miracle to have found a person in training who is wiling to treat me for free starting in two weeks. You may call it a Christmas miracle, if so inclined.

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Earth Angel Simone

I met an earth angel tonight. Amidst all the low blows, major setbacks, soul crushing rejection and despair right to the point of currently being homeless, all the devastating things I was made to experience in the past eight years by and large – not solely, but in all the vital aspects and areas of life, though -, in less than an hour Simone restored hope in me. And a perspective. And specific modalities of how she is going to help me! If I was to monitor people’s karma balance, in my book she scored majorly tonight! Wow, Simone!!! Thank you!

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The Countdown.

… has begun. All connections are obsolete. They actually never existed in the first place. All “musts” are done, but one. (the latter, I will take care of in the coming weeks). All possible avenus tried, tested – and lost. All passions experienced, lived and evaporated. All thoughts thought. All breath breathed. All fights fought. All forgivings accomplished. All aspirations aspired to. All love experienced. All gains gained, all losses lost. All living lived. All done.


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How to Find (and take) an Emergency Exit from Hell (Trigger warning!)

2016 is almost up, 2017 around the corner. By then I will look back on ten years of personal hell. Really? Hell? Yes. Hell. Pretty much all personal worst case scenarios have manifested in that time except one: Living in the streets, which I averted by resorting to desperate last measure means of solving an existential situation so pressing, it would have sent me among those seeking shelter below urban underpassages, in doorways, under bridges or – in the U.S. – often deserted homes left to rot away. It doesn’t take much and it can – and does – happen very quickly for many of us even without personal issues and so in needing to find a solution quick I resorted to the questionable choice of seeking temporary shelter in the house I grew up in with immediate biological family still owning and inhabiting the place. To cut to the chase: Materially speaking, I get any help I need. So looking at this from the vantage point of an external looker on you might feel tempted to ask “So, what’s the problem? You’re good!”. Yes. And No.

But – *big sigh* – I won’t go into detail about the “No” part any longer. I think, it is safe to say that I’ve employed this blog to do this in great, if not too much detail anyway. I also think it is safe to say that I am now thoroughly familiar with my emotional landscape, the hills and valleys – the latter in particular and for reasons that will have become obvious to my inclined readers -, my fortés and my vulnerabilities, my strengths and weaknesses and my – unmet needs in particular. These still linger as – well, unmet, particularly in those areas where it matters the most (and the latter being a general observation again, meaning to say this would be true for most anyone. In other words: There is a kind of “gold standard” for the ideal environment a baby, a child, a young person growing up should find themselves in. And… there is any shade of deviation from that environment and taken together, mine felt – and to an extent still feels – devastating in that regard. But I guess, I was preaching to the choir with this here…).

So, after about some seven, going on eight years of running this blog, I guess I’m arriving at a – hopefully temporary – conclusion that I’m on my own again with my particular history and the particular “challenges” (to put it mildly) it produced for me. I don’t mean to be unfair, we’re never all alone and the fact that almost 200 subscribers have been following my random utterances on here should be proof enough for this (and there is more proof for me in real life). OK. But let’s just say that on the personal level of how it feels and what the particular personal experience of pain in substantial realms of the psyche feels like has a… well… deeply personal quality that might and does leave one feeling at times as if we were all alone in the entire cosmos. Recurring bouts of major depression coming from this place of being left behind, singled out, cast away and feeling completely hollow, empty, even ‘dead’ inside keep reminding me of that quality of emotional experience. And I now know for a fact that this must be true as I have recently reconnected with someone from the past, who have lost their 19 year old son to major depression and who committed suicide about two years ago despite the fact that he had lots and lots of emotional and other support from his immediate family and a good close friend and other friends. So, apparently, for whatever personal reason applies some of us can find themselves so far removed from the general mainstream with all things that concern our sentience that there just doesn’t seem to be a way to ever come back from this dark place. I’ve been there, done that, I know exactly what it feels like and I think I have a very good idea as to what this young man will have felt shortly before deciding to run his car into a tree and burn to death…. (I can only hope he had fallen unconscious or into a major shock from the impact, my heart goes way out for him… and now his family.)

Where am I going with this? I guess I’m trying to get to the place to where I need to understand and accept the experienced fact that there is only one person, who can get me out of a ditch so deep I had no idea how much more lost I could feel and then actually become in the process: That is me, myself and I. Only that person. (while I won’t rule out looking for help again in the process and hopefully finding someone who’ll assist me in navigating this often utterly brutal experience we call life… There are sweeter, lighter aspects to it, too, and luckily I’ve been lucky enough to experience them, if just for fleeting moments, but experience them nonetheless, so I know they’re “out there” and will be accessible for me again as well). The deck of cards I’m holding now looks pretty grim on the outside: Disability, incapacity, majorly impaired health and a condition that seems to have gone chronic (hyperuricemia with episodes of major inflammation at ever decreasing intervals), bankruptcy (still going on at least until next year and the publicly available records will reflect that for another three years, until 2020 to be exact), no place to live and no way of finding one in this situation (I’ve been trying for the past five going on six years and with lots of perseverance and grit and “elbow grease”…), a hiatus of several years from any kind of regular work, no income or more precisely: No way left of making a little extra other than needing to work fulltime again at a moment’s notice, no regular social interaction, not too great an idea any longer as to exactly what it is I know best and have good qualifications in… the list goes on. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more destitute place in my life than this. Like I said in this entry’s title: It truly is my personal version of hell that I’m finding myself in and that I’ve been staggering through for the past ten years and finding things out as I went along. (Persevering won’t be my problem after this ever again…). At this point there are two choices (only two that I can think of and maybe that is already a part of the problem…): Throw the towel in and just “call it quits” (where I’ve already looked into specific ways of “quits” in the past and think, I have zeroed in on my personal “favorite”). Or: Look at my past life, my employments and milestones there from a much more benign vantage point, a self-compassionate one and a vantage point that moves accomplishments into the spotlight and elaborates on those and make myself aware of all the smaller and maybe not so small personal victories instead of the losses and issues and challenges and whatnot. I am trying hard to refrain from using platitudes like “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”. Heeeeell, no, it doesn’t always!!! I know for a fact that many of my past experiences broke me and the only reason why I’m still here is that somehow time and again I seem to have found a way to get to the place in me where I’ve become tired of being broken and desolate and desperate and lost and got angry and used that anger to get back up no matter what! Was that a case of flattering myself? I don’t care. It’s what happened. Period.

And why was I sharing this? Those of you visiting here will know most of this and experienced it themselves – and in great detail, too, I’m aware. I guess I present my own musings here as the ultimate reality check. In using a statement Joni Mitchell once made in an interview: “You’re on your own, kid.” Yes and no. Hopefully not forever. After all, we’re still here, too, right? Nudging us along as best as we can. Why not. Does anyone know better? I’m not sure and I feel tempted to say: “No, they don’t. They only sell their own disorientation for something else.”

Anyway. Day job. Place to rent (far away from here). Settling the bankrucpty issue. Starting all over again. In this order, eyes firmly on “digging myself out from here”. Then… maybe… moving on to exploring deeper realms and that “unmet needs” area again…

(If you were interested in the context she said this in, find the video below if you feel safe from being triggered… another trigger warning then).

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Homeless. For Real.

So here it is: I’m actually homeless as of November 1st. While I’m writing this sentence – and in English, a language which I chose to communicate in although it’s not my mother tongue – I immediately think of my readers, most of whom will likely live in the US or UK. And in particular in regards to the US, becoming homeless is probably as frequent and hence mundane a thing as grocery shopping. Ok, maybe not all that mundane, but fairly frequent, nonetheless, isn’t it? So what’s the big deal here?

Well, the thing is: It was never like this in my country of birth and residence in past decades minus the last one and coming from that place in addition to having been given false information for all those decades, I don’t think I had any chance of seeing any of it coming, hence couldn’t prepare myself the latter of which has been a coping strategy for just about all of my adult life in order to arrive at the closest approximation to something like “peace of mind” – or some peace at all. Never was it like this or at the very least not until the past 10 years or so, when a formerly almost lavish social system got stripped down to mere necessities by the Chancellor Schroeder administration and with background processes in place that once you start collecting those meager benefits the system works in such a way that they gradually continue to strip an impoverished, disabled, needy person of access to health insurance, place to live and ultimately – food (and not just me, many, many more and it is beginning to look as if it was a programmatic thing in order to “save public money” at the expense of exactly those who’d need it the most…). It may not look like this on the outside, but since having landed in this system about some 10 years ago – ironically almost coinciding with said stripping down of benefits, talk about bad timing, huh? –  I had to witness the gradual and hence all the more painful deterioration and dissolving of everything I thought I had built in half (?) a lifetime prior to this personal cataclysm. And when I say everything I really refer to not only material things, but relationships, business affiliations, friends, in short: My social network and ultimately the identity I had thought to have built (and the latter already coming from the debris of a childhood that for the life of me I can’t describe as “happy”. And it didn’t feel safe at all, either). And another bit of irony and adding to the feeling of unhappy and unsafe when growing up: Whenever I was supposed to be brought “back in line” (often violently using emotional, verbal and mild physical violence), the drill code was “If you don’t do [this or that], you’ll wind up sleeping under bridges.” Well, lo and behold – that’s exactly where I would be now. How funny is this? (and all this despite having conformed to the consumerist-materialist mainstream as best as I knew and could do.)

I’m currently accommodated a.k.a. “couch surfing” on the ground floor in the place I grew up in as a boy, which was formerly where my paternal late grandparents lived. Yup. Crazy, I know, and I can only hope this is going to be very temporary, but I truly didn’t have anywhere else to go for now. So it’s “trigger parade” like never before. I swear to God, even the Buddha would feel pressed hard to reincarnate again and set the essence of his teachings straight or revoke Buddhism altogether was he in my position… (It’s o.k. to chuckle … 😉 ) Of course I’m grateful that I don’t have to roll out an arctic grade sleeping bag below inner city underpassages or in doorways at night to find make shift shelter and sleep for only a mere few hours until the cops or municipal employees chase me away so that regular (working) folks don’t have to take offense from looking at me and my situation. Of course I’m grateful I get to slip into a comfty bed at night, have heating, fridge, bathroom etc. But the reminder of where it is that I’m coming from and the gargantuan disruptions I somehow had to maneuver as a kid and now again couldn’t be any more pronounced. WOW and then some!

So was this me whining in public again? Yes and no. On one hand I feel a need to once and for all give myself permission to cry for the boy whose only fault was to … I don’t even know, what “his” fault was… Being different? Complicated? A little introverted at times? Sensitive? Too “conscious” for his immediate bio family? What?!!! Growing up felt like I must have done not only something, but everything wrong! So finally getting to grieve properly is still something I didn’t have a good opportunity to do (I tried to do this on my own, but I learned that this approach always falls short of one crucial aspect: Getting validated by another person and thus giving all the bottled up pain its due acknowledgement so that it may finally be released and thus hopefully wreak less havoc on my body and mind! Grieving properly still hasn’t happened yet… You might say all the evolution I thought to have manifested falls away at this confession and turns into a mirage quickly dissolving into thin air…). On the other hand I get reminded of the almost insane – and I do mean “insane” verbatim! – amounts of resilience I must have been mustering until here (forgive me for a bout of self-flattery here). Or was it really resilience and wasn’t it closer to the truth to say I turned violent bullying into an “art of masochism” and self-punishment which I tell myself comes out as resilience? Like testing how much more insanity I might be able to take until I finally and then maybe irreversably break?

I don’t know. Really don’t know. At times I can’t help but think that my psyche, my persona, my true core self has already died and I’m a mere body walking the earth like a zombie (and wasn’t it for some pretty pronounced physical pain coming from yet another bout of gout inflammation in my right foot that would probably be a fairly accurate description). Looking myself in the mirror at times seems to confirm this and I now seem to have entered a realm where it’s beginning to feel like the body might follow suit any day. I have no intention of killing myself, but in any case, this entry as well as the entire blog is meant to be here as some sort of eerie documentation as to how it is people get broken. And I’m not the only one whom this happened to, I’m acutely aware! So again – whining in public? That is not my intention. It is truly meant as some morbid documentation for whatever it’s worth and where I still hope to cross over into calmer, brighter waters at some point in the future. Again, wish me luck, if so inclined. Thank you.

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