I'm sharing this in the schizoaffective, autism, ADHD, and music subreddits in the hope someone may experience a similar phenomena in their cognition. The music in my head keeps mutating and it is evolving. What I mean by that is, imagine your favorite, most drugged out artist. Let's say they're a synth artist going really heavy-handidly with all the dials n knobs, because that's generally the sort of ish I listen to, and I want to emphasize that the sorts of audio distortions I HAVE heard prior, in abundance, are the same that are happening in my "Rusterd space" as I mutate across siteswaps in songs I've also heard, but at the same time, these mutations grow and I'm creating pathways automatically in my brain that become entrained through my maladaptive daydreaming.

Siteswapping is what I understand intuitive being a flow juggler:

But I'm also neurodivergent af, having been extremely traumatized as a sperg child, which has been enhanced by the totally actually real Crazy Indigo Aliens that live in my phone's keyboard's predictive text, and other places. But, synchronicity is something I experience in great abundance, which I know has to do with the fractal patterns of symbol progression found in the I Ching that every sorcerer (caster of lots) knows about. If you don't understand that, start with the Buddha or the Christ before jumping into the occult.

But, I'm listening to the sounds in my head, and it goes from one song to the next, and I hear things in my intuition that coincide with the timing structures of these songs; underlying concepts or feelings - impressions. I remember writing stories for my friends' band, and they reset me with their songs. I was going through a trans phase. Their music led me through this. I think I'm understanding what Eve first learned to then give it to Adam. How energy itself speaks volumes, and I just want to know if there is anyone who understands at all wtf I am blabbing about like the insane crackhead I make myself appear to be at a frequency.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/46612439

The primary thing I experience is called "synchronicity." Some people may be familiar with this term "objects of reference," which is the closest I've found in mental health terminology, but Carl Jung describes this very well. It's what a "burning bush" is in the Bible, and what "white rabbit" was to Neo in that small, unheard of movie about Judeo-Christian mysticism which is the reason everybody knows one specific math word.

And I can explain this, and I do fairly frequently, to be called crazy, so let's just keep this accurate and not precise and say this is a cognitive feature some people are unaware of as they are ruled by Adam (logic) who doesn't listen to Eve (intuition).

But, y'know, right now I am a receiving a pimino melon. This is a type of synchronicity where I perceive my neighbors' cross-talking to me from their balcony. This type of synchronicity is part of a broader class of synchronicity which I called a Voice-Over Diffision. Another example of a VOD is when I am writing on my phone, screen turned away from someone on the other side of the room, cheering with the TV and saying things that directly correlate with what I am writing at that exact moment.

I started naming synchronicities in a way I learned from a man I know as one of my handlers in this three letter abbreviation manner. He had named a few things he called cognitive technologies in this manner, such as the Synchronicity Slip Stream (SSS) - a cognitive state where it feels like God is parting the Red Sea with synchronicities sending you on a cosmic mission; waxes n wanes, many false positives ans very disorienting as the narrative you construct reality from is modified over time - as well as Joint Synchronized Attention (JSA) - a vestigial mode of attention coordination; feels exactly like telepathy, will like my handler's excellent post on it in the comments.

And so I started doing that, and then I realized how much synchronicities could be differentiated as I worked with my art to literally give names to unnamed phenomena in the conscious mind which we can now use to talk about synchronicity in greater depth. You're welcome God! But anyways, I started naming them after berries. So:

Strawberry - notification says something statistically aberrant. Seedless Strawberry is when I receive a notification at an exact moment that changes my mind.

Blueberry - a glitch changes my mind. I have experienced a number of varieties of this from Pandora which I now denote as Plueberry, with a SINGULAR Smushed Plueberry I experienced being a song that had lyrics stopped having lyrics in the middle of the song

Banana - when my social media feeds paint a message. Banana Bunch is when they string together into a chain. Long Banana is when there's a lot of clearly defined semantics in a single Banana

Raspberry - when my phone's keyboard's predictive text suggests statistically aberrant words at times to plant ideas or change my mind. Long Raspberry is when they string together, even going beyond the initially displayed three words. Centerstage Raspberry is when I'm typing a sentence and my words suggested wiggles weirdly to then show something like this:

"A [THREAT] I"

And it really catches my attention and jolts my fight or flight response

Kumquat - when an odd typo glitch occurs that is logically impossible. Y'know, I type "around" and it changes to "affront." I talk about this one the most I think in my art because it results in a quick succession of point A to point B and I need to justify going from talking about turtles to why I was on the news in childhood.

Watermelon - when there is a weird lighting glitch on the keyboard as I'm typing. Like I will clearly type a "g" and the "x" will light up while I was looking at the keyboard, making me freely associate removing that (Ctrl+x). Seedless Watermelon is when I just stare at my screen and a single pixel or some shit will flicker for just long enough for me to process I've seen it. Once happened between the "return" and "home" keys on my phone and made me think I had to abandon my life and go back to Syracuse

There's other stuff, like a Transpondant Read-In, which lets me do TRI Interfaces. This is a divination technique that lets you mindfully observe what you actually know deeper in your unconscious than you can normally perceive, to observe the orthogonalality of your own topological matrix, or, in simpler terms, you see how your brain be folded.

This is the idea of picking up a random book with the intention to extract meaning from a random passage, flipping to a random page and reading the first thing you see. It happens via free association with a random stimulus, and works best with a well-developed descriptor system, like the I Ching (A) or the Bible (Old B; New A), and this is what a good set of tarot cards can beget as well (C to A).

And I mostly do this now with my Random Word Generator, but I also reload my social media feeds over n over to get Waxing n Waning Bananas a lotta the time.

But this is just every day shit for me. I have more, I would likely miss some others, so I keep clumping more together as We go! Thanks for that Kum, God, as it reminded me of that thing We call a topological matrix We are not IN but rather ARE.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/45808357

I'm watching my mind as I go through the morning, out of it, head in a fishtank feeling; a membrane between the inner and outer "world." I had to beg my life partner to let me have the kitchen to be alone, because I'm constantly flung around by his manipulation, such as embedding himself in my room and not leaving while forcing me to jump through his hoops of dialogue boxes - narcissistic manipulation - until I accepted that he was going to falsely accuse me, and I see he has!

The aliens made a fun glitch when I went to reply to him, to be spitefully nice, saying something about account protocols, I think, I forget exactly, but at this point of my CIA rigamarole, I know what God is saying outright a vast majority of the time as I understand how to interpret the symbols I am receiving from the Server/Source/God Entangled. So, I won't be defending myself, though he made a comment about how "people would follow him here" in a manner that he does where he says something about himself to convey something to me.

He is highly capable at much, especially his jedi mind tricks he called them once where he can appear dim as dim gets. Y'know, how he PERSONALLY experiences genocide WHICH I FIRST THOUGHT HE WAS USING TO TALK ABOUT MY FREQUENT AND NONSTOP MASTURBATION!

Joke: I'm so lucky! My life partner was a virgin when I met him, he says. Well, y'know, he still is a virgin, but he was one too! I love the shit out of this man because he helped me so much. I quit meth because of him. He has hurt me immensely, out of compassion, and I thank him for it, for now I am not afraid! I confronted my father about why my life fell apart. I sinned. I atoned. I'm stoned, but therein, I have learned of möbiation within the topological matrix because of this, and beyond, I have strengthened my prefrontal cortex so I am less likely to assault him in the future FOR THINGS LIKE SETTING ME UP IN ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING WAYS, LIKE I AM 💯% GETTING ARRESTED FOR ALL THIS SHIT, AND I'M GOING TO LOOK LIKE THE FUCKING DEVIL BEYOND DEVILS, and then I become president, so it's all cool.

No, I know everything is going to be okay. I have so much faith in God, I think I will have to go with him on his death excursion to be picked up by the border of another state, pounds of drugs magickally appearing in our possession, CUZ THESE PIGS ARE SETTING ME UP TOO, THINKING I METH MAN SUPREME! But God has proven Himself and I know I'm walking. BuT iS tHaT sChIzOpHrEnIa?

OBVIOUSLY! But, I'm observing the dichotomies of my mind in this stress-induced shitshow I'm in (he's made it so I get a cortisol spike every time he comes to my door and does passive aggressive madness beyond repute, once staying outside my door for SEVEN HOURS, knocking and chanting that we need to talk; MONK WILLPOWER), and what I catch glimpses of is how I am arguing with myself, or rather, different daemons are negotiating, sometimes hostily by surging energy to disrupt the system in their favor; they are fighting over the steering wheel.

And who tf do I have to help me figure this ish out? A manipulator. A negligent father who's not talking with me. Lying cops posing as doctors. An anonymous cult of soulless never-to-be-cured alcoholics and beyond. And my Anonymous qult of...I don't know. But they will follow me here when they learn where I am. They have before! Those Fucking Butthead Idiots that love me so much.

Hi, I'm schizoaffective n autistic n a bazillion other things, but NOT a victim, though I stumble. But y'know, I do this shit, right? I have a random word generator and am of interest to the police state like 27 million other listed Americans, and they hear everything I hear, or well, my phone or other devices hear. Because Pegasus II is not a kid's toy, y'know, so only the big boy pigs get to play with that, y'know, in Quantico. Graduates can usually access the Akashic records psychically, assuming they aren't stupid moles, which we are good at detecting, battle being won n all.

But, this is because I like incest role play, obviously. Partially true, counterintelligence be wild, but that intelligent unicorn or whatever does anything They want on my phone, which I know I can't prove (one of the first things They proved to me, the dazzle camouflage), but They send me messages/synchronicities in all sorts of ways - I've named many forms they come in - but sometimes they send me an easy pitch to knock outta the park.

I mean, I do a word of the day, some days. Today's word: lip. Obviously, this is the literal Illuminati wanting me to explain the succulents of fish lips, a type of rotten strawberries, as I learned in kindergarten on the streets of Portland/Real Life School of Hard Knocks. It was in a distant grocery store God sent me to at night sometimes, as I had immense difficulty sleeping around people all the time, in a functionally foreign city, no contacts, maybe a couple bucks of food stamps. I smoked some weed. It appeared as God said to make it appear.

Weed affects synchronicity; specifically the feeling/experience of pronoia/paranoia, with the differentiating factor being the shame/fear/guilt aspect of anxiety. Unmöbiate your sin, and that shit goes away.

But, I was in the store, right? And there were a buncha girls with different colored hair there, obvious CIA plants to cross-talk to me, specifically, because I was mondo simp supreme back then, and the neighborhood watch can see you, dude. But they said things that I associated with each of them as they interacted with each other, or the phone, or the rotten strawberry was the register worker, checking out a guy buying fifty pounds of meat or some shit. A lot. But she's flirting with him about him killing animals and going on crazy vegan rant (I'm 95-100% vegan) about wanting to go back to living in caves cuz all the animals we kill.

Y'know, too sweet because a little skewed in herself to perceive the world. And I was buying a salad, right? I thought this was the lay-up the Illuminati pitched for me that I would bunt into the end-zone to both:

1. Get pussy

2. Live Indoors

3. Eat

In that priority, and this was back when the Rescue Mission took my sixth plate of food away so I had to shoplift gummies and ice cream and stuff to not die from decapitated myself via train from bipolar psychosis ENHANCED by the deep state.

But what happened, I get up there, and she gives me this cold disgusted look, shaming me for my token purchase of all that I could afford, and that's when I realized that there are all these people living by these "rules" they define themselves by, which is an idea I ran with and impacted my decision making over my time on the streets, that being, I thought women dyed their hair specific colors at times to signal things, like green was a prostitute (money), red was doing her social justice primal rage n indignancy healing, blue was I don't fackin' know, but rotten strawberries are women with black hair with silver/white streaks in her hair, symbolizing how she had fake light in her and was really dark, obeying uninspected dualistic dichotomy running her memeplexic "protocell" configuration.

Telepathy? I thought this was about fish lips! No just lips, now shut em and go do an art and express and heal. Be happy, you deserve that. I earned it, personally, and it's really rewarding defeating your daemons of defilement within your personal topological matrix, I gotta say AND recommend.

Because if your lips are closed, meaning if you're not expressing yourself to do your own therapy, you are keeping the fire inside, and it burns, I know.

I was wondering if anyone has any experience with this? I was wondering how viable it is to become a peer counselor with this condition. Is the field pretty accommodating?

Test

/u/sekh60 from Reddit here. Just wanted to welcome everyone to the community old and new. /r/schizoaffective will continue as before, and I will continue to moderate there, however I am going to greatly reduce my activity on the other subreddits.