My Soul Unscathed: Schizophrenia

I Was Battered Last Night My Soul Unscathed

A day has passed, now the 13th of January, 2013. I wasn’t going to post this, but this morning, I felt more comfortable about it. Following is what I had written in my personal journal in order in order to help speed up the process of overcoming a difficult situation from 24 hours ago.

Today, I am still doing fantastic. My core, my soul, and resiliency does, in fact, remain intact.

January 12, 2013 Noon

Please forgive me, as I am a bit worn-out and exhausted at the moment, my soul remains unscathed.

But at midnight, this morning, my wife was out of town for an overnight medical procedure. I was sleeping alone, leaving on the newly enhanced burglar alarm system to alert me when a door or window is open, an incredibly loud signal, which lasts for a few seconds, and does not alert the authorities with the setting I had in place. Never again, to leave the alarm system set to a mere notice.

Somebody knew—somebody who wanted to harm me. Nothing was stolen.

Last evening, it happened. With a great degree of current trauma going on in my life, it would have been the last thing I would want to happen to me—more traumatic experiences.

It signaled.

Startled, as were the cats sleeping with me, I woke up, and went to see if it was perhaps only the wind creating the alarm to signal, as it was just reinstalled the day before. I hadn’t yet gotten used to the complexity of how the new and improved system operates. I am learning today. I thought one night, basically unarmed, would be just fine.

By the time I dragged myself to the TV by the bedroom door, I was bashed in the head just above my right eye. My vision went blind. My hearing followed—I became deaf. Then my muscles gave out, and I drifted into a near death experience, which consisted of my “talking, telepathically” with God, similar to the three previous near death experiences in my life—the last one being in 2003. He said I was in a coma, and it wasn’t time for me to enter the other side; that there was a lot more in this life and in my current physical body for me to learn, accomplish and overcome, so as to be set for my own next reincarnation. I woke up, and deliriously, I snapped a few photographs, while many more wounds were not photographed, punctures, and cuts, many turning black and blue as the morning hours pass through, into the afternoon.

I was able to contact my psychiatrist. She responded that I had been simply experiencing a bad dream, or more likely, I was hallucinating and delusional, as she usually says. My anxiety levels at a peak, my psychiatrist actually lowered my anxiety medication instead of treating my <a class="StrictlyAutoTagAnchor" title="View all articles about stress here” href=””>stress with perhaps an additional dose of Xanax or something, and while I have my suspicions of the individual who caused my physical harm; I did catch a glimpse of the person, and I know this person; I also have never trusted this person. I don’t trust most people these days.


Death threats come in, hate mail, and the like, and as God said to me in my near death experience at midnight, I will be able to take care of myself (meaning the wounds) and not have to see to it that I visit the hospital, as the staff would not have my best interests in mind, rather stigma, instead.


God, or whatever being I experienced had instructed me to write down the word He used as I “telepathically” expressed to him that I was unfamiliar with what the word, or message, had meant, in English. I looked at my post it pad next to my bed, and saw I had written, “Viveka.” This apparently was what my life’s mission to overcome entailed, and having Binged it, it is a real word, a Sanskrit word meaning discrimination.


Besides, I reasoned if I was to call 911, having schizophrenia, I would have been placed in a psychiatric unit, and not the ER.


I am a survivor, again—all on my own. And I have changed my phone number, and I’m in the process of changing some other crucial security information in my life in order to avoid further “sociopathic” attacks of all kinds. I’ve been so-called “victim” to receiving slander, neglect and abuse throughout most of my life. It can be difficult having over a billion dollars in my name, with no access to the funds, with my being a highly sensitive person who happens to be easily manipulated and taken advantage of, especially by those who are there to otherwise love and protect me. But, at least the fortune I have accumulated before my illness struck is protected, even if from my own <a class="StrictlyAutoTagAnchor" title="View all articles about self here” href=””>self, as well. So I caught a few cuts and bruises. I suppose others believe they require what I have, all this “money nonsense.” However, I don’t define myself by materialism any longer. I have, in fact, just this week given to charity, several thousand dollars worth of my belongings—a two car garage full of what’s left, as I minimize my life and continue giving, only keeping what I truly need, with my core <a class="StrictlyAutoTagAnchor" title="View all articles about self here” href=””>self, and a coffee mug with a few dollars in change to myself. The remainder of my finances are controlled by other people. I must apply for approvals, even to purchase a book or a song on iTunes. My applications are usually denied.

I must add that I am no saint. My emotional dysregulation causes heightened feelings of which I often bottle up internally, occasionally verbally attacking those I am closest to. I don’t like that about myself, and the way I sometimes behave, even to this day. That’s why I am in therapy, by choice, both Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and now IPT. IPT stands for Interpersonal Relationship Therapy. I want to be as healthy as I can be. I don’t want to be angry as often as I am, for example. At the same time, I believe one has to draw the line somewhere.

Nonetheless, am I able to forgive, yet again? Is it impossible in some cases? No way. Maybe the <a class="StrictlyAutoTagAnchor" title="View all articles about hurt here” href=””>hurt that I have encountered is so bad that I will suffer to some degree until I pass on because I will always be angry at all the people who <a class="StrictlyAutoTagAnchor" title="View all articles about hurt here” href=””>hurt me, and try to hurt me—No, not me. I forgive 100%, plain and simple.

The joy of my life might be limited but not completely sucked out of me. I still carry on and live my life, with as much contentment as possible.


Jonathan Harnisch

Creative artist—Porcelain Utopia; schizoaffective spectrum, writer, producer, musician, developer, blogger & podcaster.