Well that was the strangest month of a very strange life. What happened? Who was I? I feel compiled again; similar but new. Optimised.
It’s like the old defrag tool on windows. All the disparate chunks, except that somehow last night they snapped into place. Someone has whipped the quilt of volitional action and I have tried to selectively discard things that are not of use to me. I don’t know how successful I’ve been, but life is better in every way.
Pangs of doubt remain but I look at my happiest years in my previous life and… I was in withdrawal. My OS was broken. The programs were running, but they were faulty, glitching, not quite right. I don’t want to look back.
Fixing dopamine signalling regularity 24/7 seems to have resulted in a complete assembly of my self. Not re-assembly; new assembly. It finally compiled, I think. And I think I’m hard as nails.
Would the same thing happen with stimulants? I can’t imagine that it would because you’d still have large ups and downs and I think that the fact your dopamine is regulated overnight is what has resulted in this process being able to complete.
Not just that though; meditation.
I tried everything over the years, good and bad. Meditation is oldschool adhd treatment, and it’s horrible, but I think that’s the point, as explained in buddha.
So I went to one of the vipassana silent retreats, Malaysia, 2014. I meditated for 1 year after but then cut back and focused more on daily life awareness. That was the point. To be able to control myself better in daily life.
What I think happened, and what I think has happened on the tech side which is why my silly ideas seem half plausible, is that the asd in the background has been devouring information, trying to break free.
I think it took me to Japan to find eastern religion. I think it did the drugs to explore the mind. I think it meditated to explore further. Focused on AI from 2014 to learn about a new brain model. Sent the last 5 years absorbing neuroscience and endocrinology information from audiobooks and podcasts. Got to the art as a way to open the door. It knew it was coming and it knew there would be no safety net.
I think I was literally locked inside a sea of emotions, unable to get out. And I think I was trying all this time, and sitting and collecting data and planning. And I think I’m fucking smart. And I think I can do this for other people.
That’s what I want. I don’t want a business. A business is a tool. Money is a tool. A boat is to cross a river. You do not carry it on the other side. You give it to someone else who is behind you on the journey and you wish them luck.
So this fucking weaver. This James. The real one. He fucking did it. He broke free of his prison, using a chemical identified thanks to his time in recruitment. He went from hungry ghost to human. He built a boat.
And now I work on me. I make me good. I make me strong and impervious to greed. I make me a rock and an island and someone good. And I build another, bigger boat. One I can share.
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