Delusions of grandeur

My brain is utterly broken.

I do not believe that I was born with a defective brain anatomy, as I did not grow up with problems, or even difficulty learning. By grade one I was the second best student in reading, and by the end of primary school I was getting perfect in math. By the end of middle school I had for one piece become first violinist. And I did this all on my own. Not only with no help from teachers or parents, but within a broken home, as well.

But I suffered from delusions from a very young age. And they were delusions of grandeur. And not because I thought that I was so important, but that I was noticed enough to be chased down. I was in perpetual fear of being abducted and killed, but it was such a chronic fear, that I didn't realize that it wasn't normal.

As my drug addiction grew, they did become genuine delusions of grandeur. I believed that I was a highly sought out sleeper agent. I wrote to the Queen of England on more than one occasion, one time to "warn" her. This then morphed into a genuine belief that my family was in a top-ranking Satanic order, and that it was my sole purpose to bring down Freemasonry and expose the Illuminati. (I no longer believe that Freemasonry is evil, or even that the Illuminati is real, for that matter).

Today my delusions aren't as grandeur, but they are still present, maybe more so in the form of paranoia. I have learnt to recognize them today as they pop up, still frequently, and I am able to tell myself to calm down, and this is the way that I currently handle these intrusions. 

It is time for me to accept my mind, because there is absolutely no cure. I actually read on pyschcentral.com that the best treatment was psychotherapy, one-on-one with a therapist. This is utterly insulting. It is insulting that someone so uneducated is taking a teacher's role, but it is also insulting to offer false hope. I can say first hand, that when I was breaking down seven years ago at the peak of my psychosis in front of my doctor, he could only sit there and watch me cry. He could not help me anymore than a member of the Fellowship recognizes that no doctor can cure alcoholism. Granted, he did give me some medication that broke my extreme psychosis, to where it is the most manageable it has been in my life. I love my doctor, he helped save my life, and I have no intentions on implying any perceived limitations on his part. 

I do not believe that I will ever be fixed of my delusions, I do not believe that my brain will ever fully mend, and it breaks my heart. While I am being treated for manic-depression and while I have recovered from alcoholism and drug addiction, and have been blessed to help others recover, I am not fully integrated, and now understand that I never will be. 

But I am still of use, and I am learning to accept that with discipline and fellowship, I will be able to live a fulfilling life, which is beginning to manifest after my work in the Program. I am making amends, I am forming genuine bonds with other people, I am making a living for myself, I am saving a bit of money, I am responsible and accountable. I just have to remember this, and practice gratitude. Gratitude is a short-cut to God.

And I must learn to accept my illness, which means I must stop being ashamed of it, so that I may talk about it, so that others may benefit. Because if I am brave, and if I can stand up to my afflictions, then maybe one day others who are with me, can form enough of a number, that there may be a cure, for these delusions of grandeur.