howiclearedcmem

So I had a life of relative extremes. Extremes of love from my family - birth and chosen - and extremes of violence and greed from the world outside.

Initially I was a nice boy. Hey! I still am a nice boy! I always was and always will be and I think everyone is deep down, and hopefully this info can help them access it.

But anyway. Niceboy is not good for survival in a world of tigers. Niceboy learns. He has dysregulated dopamine which means that the encoding which would have been +100 for some is +1000 for him. This is why autism, adhd and hsp (highly sensitive person) go together; it’s all about exaggerated dopamine responses.

Niceboy needs to survive the violence. He sees Japan, which alleviates the impact, but over the years in recruitment he sees so much greed and envy, is the proverbial messenger and punching bag. He learns to protect himself.

Niceboy learned at school that if he didn’t win the fights he would be stomped into the ground, so he is left with a compulsion to excel at everything he does. He retains a perfect moral compass. He excels at school and work. He excels at drinking 18 pints, waking up, and getting the job done. he excels at quitting alcohol. He excels at athletics. It is never enough. He internalises this and rather than competing with other people he begins competing with his old self. He excels at that. He excels at self-improvement. He is incredibly miserable.

He is unaware he has asd or adhd until he is 41. The periods of extended travel, away from the greed, and the periods of burnout, away from his job, are all that keep him functioning. Over the years the greed and anger he sees and ruminates on gets installed to the point where he cannot empathise with his family properly, though he does not realise this until later. 

He retires as best he can and starts using art to try to export some of the agony he feels about life. He gets pretty good at it, starts going deep, and then he finds a corpse while on a bike ride, hanging in the park where he has taken family photos with his kids since they were born. He spends 20 minutes looking at this man, knees buckled and feet on the floor, a metre of snot and drool hanging from his face, before the cops come. This is the mod that will cause critical mass.

6 months later the mod is installed and he is sat there working on his art with his craft knife in hand. He has been using cannabis analogs daily just to get by, but these are no longer cannabis because of progressive bans in Japan. This life has pushed his phasic dopamine into the 3-second range and he has been hit with suicidal images which do not fit the classic ptsd description; his mind had just played with the idea of ‘suicide’ and developed a latch to non-existence. He is sat there, in his living room, with his beautiful kids and wife, with these jolts of dopamine shooting up his spine every 3 seconds and trying to get him to cut that wrist. He thinks it’s adrenaline; it’s not. It’s dopamine. He doesn’t want to kill himself but holding on is like being on a rollercoaster without a harness, so he goes to a psychiatrist.

Given valproate he is initially relieved; booze without the booze. The next doctor declares he has adhd and gives him guanfacine, which provides more relief, but he is also getting depressed; booze without the booze! He looks for something to counteract this and arrives at aripirazole.

His dysregulation must have been on another level because this pill is… there is no possible way he could ever go back to a life without it. It is enlightenment. It is everything he ever wanted and life is full of joy and peace and… I cannot describe the level of relief after the life he has lived. He is placed into a state of high-tonic and low-phasic dopamine and from all the meditation he has done over his life, he just *knows* that this is enlightenment, or the seed thereof.

He starts documenting everything on the internet in realtime. He swears on his life that he will make a map, just like the buddha did, so that other people can follow in his footsteps. And then he gets to work. The next 2 months for everyone else are 3 years for him.

He sits and uses the skills he has learned through art and self-exploration to start exporting all the mods he no longer wants in his cmem. This is the 88 hells, and it goes on for 3 external weeks, I think; it’s all a bit hazy, ha! 

One day he looks up and realises that he has done what had to be done.

Then he turns his attention to ensuring he doesn’t end up in the same mess again and finding out the fundamental particle of suffering. This only takes 3 days; he realises that it is ‘dvar’, or dopamine variability. The shooting up the spine every 3 seconds; the unchecked phasic dopamine. This is the cause of *all* the suffering in life. Not just the momentary sensation but the subsequent encoding of ideas and memories and pain… it’s all because of out-of-control dvar.

Then he initiates an install process consciously. He is compelled to, but it is also a decision. He uses dance and meditation and gyrating and chanting and music and rocking and more dance and headbanging and he feels it’s all lined up and puts on the first two tracks of Backspace Unwind by Lamb and sits down with a meteor in both hands and clicks ‘install’.

His entire brain is reformatted. All remaining cmem is cleared. He is liberated and experiences reality in an unfiltered manner. His vision is 4d, like a Van Gogh painting. He is free.

But he is also in danger. The current is too strong for the wire. He loves his family and wants to remain, but he knows that aripirazole will kill him. Where it stabilises dopamine levels for most, it does not for him; it did initially but now it is causing larger spikes in phasic dopamine than ever. The whole reason for he did this was so he could enjoy his life with his family, and it looks like he will die.

He realises he needs to stabilise and come back. This is a life-or-death situation and the dopaminergic encoding is +1,000,000. This is why he hit a form of enlightenment, and why most people will not need to. He was deeply broken and he needed a full reset. He *needed* the enlightenment to survive, just like the b-man did.

So he stops the drug. He spends 4 days in extreme neuroplasticity with his mind trying to make sense of the fact that there is no mind. It has been exploded; all his memories are gone, along with his sense of self. He judges that this is because he is entangled with a quantum computer which is the ship mind, and that all the inhabitants of earth are actually inhabitants of himself, with his family being representative of how the world, and hence his internal state, are faring. This shows him that love of the self and love of other are one and the same.

He realises that he is Schrodinger’s cat, in two places at once, and asks his wife to observe him while he steers the ship into orbit. He holds the ship-rock and sits and focuses and rocks back and forth like he is praying and it’s the most intense thing and then… he opens his eyes and he is still here. He was observed, and he avoided annihilation because of it.

And here I am. It took another month to get the aripirazole out of my body. My recovery was slowed by valproate, but recently I saw the causality of the medicine and stopped it; since then my understanding of what happened is falling into place, but it’s not 100% there yet. It will be.

James1.0 is gone. The soldier. I didn’t cut him out while I was in the hells. I was going to cut out his face and make it into an art piece but instead I just cut out the feelings of agony and tension and fish-hook-motivation I always felt below and behind my eyes, emanating from the VTA area. Those are gone.

james2.0 is here. He knows what happened. He knows how he became that way.

And he knows how you can all achieve liberation, but hopefully not in such an explosive manner.

I have to stress that I think ‘enlightenment’ is only necessary for the most traumatised among us. The b-man; he was deeply, deeply traumatised. First externally but mostly internally, I think, by the years of asceticism. He ate his own excrement until it ran out. He starved himself until his ‘buttocks were like a hoof of a camel’. He practiced the ‘no-breathing meditation’ until the winds of agony tore his body and mind asunder. He had been doing this kind of thing for 7 years. He was almost certainly neurodivergent.

Then he ate some rice, sat under a tree, and thought ‘fuck me that feels better’. Ha! 

Nah - it was a bit more in-depth than that. But he saw and he felt exactly what I did. He felt that phasic dopamine is what causes all our suffering, all our attachment to ideas and trauma and past lives and future selves. He calmed his phasic dopamine to a mere ripple and did what had to be done.

We *felt* it. In our bodies. We *know* it. There is no doubt. 

The scientific method might be able to catch up someday soon. So drop me a line if you wanna talk on your podcast or something. Because this still feels like fate and I still think I can help *billions* of people improve their lives and as such improve the world.

Not something I’ll be telling my psychiatrist though, ha.

/jb202508200657