aspirations of grandeur

i'm becoming more comfortable with the idea that i have a delusional disorder. in fact, it would do a great deal to explain why i have persistent delusions about my identity that go back for years. that, or because i married someone who believed everything my delusional thirteen-year-old self said back then as part of a folie à deux. see, my life is and always has been a wild ride, even when it isn't. come with me on a quick jaunt through the highlights.

CONTENT WARNING: THIS PIECE IS GOING TO BE GRAPHIC, BUT NOT OVERLY SO. CSA, SA, AND OTHER TRAUMA SURVIVORS SHOULD BE AWARE THAT SOME CONTENT MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR PTS OR OTHER DISORDERS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

when i was a kid, probably around 8 years old, i was molested by the (grand?)daughter of my babysitter. she was two years my junior and this created a false belief that i was the aggressor that led to unearned shame for years, but now i have a new shame to confront. i am especially prone to coercion and manipulation from a certain personality type. this also manifested in a different type of delusion a few years later as a histrionic pre-teen.

when i met my husband, i knew we were meant for each other. so did he, and we developed an elaborate, incestuous love story between two immortal characters, Anneleke and Saamarko Katryn. the two were inseperable, even long after i moved back to Missouri from Florida and lost contact with the friend whose boyfriend he was. through love lost after love lost, we chased each other through a decade until my last big delusion: the friendship.

not like that. we are, or were, friends. but before we were just friends, before i was married, i dated my friend and it drove me a little crazy. i had what amounts to an erotomanic delusion about my friend, transferring all the latent love for my husband onto said friend due to similar personalities and appearances and projecting that he—only mildly interested in me at the time—felt the same. for his part, always a gentleman, he rebuffed me often and kindly. but that brings us back to the present.

my friend is one of those personalities who can coerce and manipulate me, but chooses not to. it's that exact quality that made him someone i could trust to tell me what he honestly thought of the situation, and his analysis was clear. because of the intensity of the trauma, the depth of the bond projected with my friend was deep but one-sided. facing this head-on, out loud, repeatedly is the only way to debunk the delusion (a skill i gather is impressive to have self-taught, much less for successful masking for 36 years).

so what remains is my philosophy and my emotional debridement technique, the bread and butter of metAlchemy. five out of six people who have tried my technique or reviewed the materials in person felt a resonance with at least one song because it's just a practical meditation. to me, that suggests something to the theory. the philosophy i also don't think is any different, fundamentally speaking, than any other atheistic philosophy. so, despite my husband's best efforts to convince me otherwise, i believe these ones are worth holding onto a while longer.

there were other parts to the advanced application of alchemy as a thought experiment, but i haven't decided yet whether those are delusions or just math-ish pseudoscience. things such as the nature of spacetime being both nonflat topologically and nontopologically flat, and that it moves not forwards, but backwards in reverse. the universe expanding and collapsing into the same point on a logarithmic spiral. the activation of the pineal gland via music (sound frequency). things way above my paygrade as a housewhore.

but because i think i know these things, my husband believes i also have delusions of grandeur. this is also due to the cult, but i consider those to be aspirations of grandeur at best. i know the odds of any startup taking off, let alone a leftist self-help startup in deep red Missouri led by a crazy communist, but that doesn't make it unworthy of a shot. suggesting otherwise feels like dismissal, and i can take the humiliation of being wrong but not the quiet shame of dismissal.