Posts by Brian Moore2

Put on some red 🙂

Look, Richard Murphy6, I first read the Don Juan teachings back around 1987—read the whole book cover to cover. Since then, I’ve circled back to certain passages that really hit home, reading them over and over. I might dive into some more parts if I had my hands on the book, but I actually gave my copy away to a friend. I haven't been able to force myself through his other works, but I promise you, the next one on my list will be "separate reality."

Regarding death, it sort of happened by accident while I was serving in the military. It was as if everything just became indifferent—whether I lived or died didn't matter anymore. I was ready to be a kamikaze. If someone had told me back in '91 that I needed to learn how to fly a jet and nose-dive into a target loaded with explosives, I would have done it without a second thought. Since those kinds of missions weren't on the table, I just consistently headed toward the heaviest fighting. Still, it felt foolish to die for nothing, so I made sure to watch my step. From those experiences, I realized that dying isn't actually as easy as people think if you're being careful—unless you're just incredibly unlucky and a shell lands right on top of you, though even that isn't a guarantee. I don't know how else to put it, but it occurred to me that death is something you simply have to earn; as long as you still have something left to offer, it isn't your time. Of course, if a superior enemy shows up, you can get crushed pretty quickly, but that never happened to us—we were always better and more precise. Now, I feel like I've simply earned my end, and I don't feel even a shred of fear regarding death; in fact, I'm waiting for it with open arms. I have no intention of taking my own life, even though the thought crossed my mind several times after the war ended. Suicide just seems fundamentally stupid to me. When I consciously drove my car straight into a red light once, it felt like I was looking for an exit, but I saw that death simply wasn't going to take me. I don't think about it like that anymore. And one more thing: I'm no believer, and I don't hold any illusions about an afterlife, but I couldn't care less whether I see tomorrow morning. I believe I've earned my peace, and while there might be a few things left for me to contribute, they are mere trifles that humanity can certainly manage without me.🙂

Richard Murphy6, just give this a read and let me know what you think.🙂

No matter where you go or what you're running from, you can't escape yourself. That’s just how it works. So why not just face it? Come back and write whatever is actually on your mind. 🙂

I honestly have no clue why yogurt works, but some guy who had hemorrhoid surgery right before me swore by it, claiming it actually helped his recovery.
Anyway, regardless of what anyone says, if you’re heading in for hemorrhoid surgery, you better brace yourself for about a week of absolute agony. My doctor discharged me from the hospital the very next day after the procedure without handing me a single prescription for pain relief. So, what did I do? I took matters into my own hands and popped every single over-the-counter painkiller I could get my hands on, but nothing worked! It was useless. Can you believe it? The only thing that provided even a moment of relief was slathering on yogurt—for some reason, that actually calmed the pain down for a while. I have no idea why it does that, but it was the only thing that worked.

Hey, if you ever find some free time, you really need to pick up that Book. It’s packed with insights regarding Fear. Basically, it covers how Carlos Castaneda became a student of an indigenous man who deals with deep psychological traumas. The first half of the Book is dedicated to everything the man taught him, while the second half is Castaneda's own analysis of those lessons. Ultimately, the goal of the man's teachings is to transform someone into a "person of knowledge," whatever that actually means. Along that path toward enlightenment, a person encounters four natural enemies they have to conquer to truly achieve that status. Those four enemies are Fear, clarity, power, and old age.

I wouldn't want to be the Secretary of Defense; honestly, I'd rather be the Secretary of Veterans Affairs. If I were in charge, I’d fire all the guards assigned to protect me immediately. Instead, I’d tell every veteran with a legal permit to carry a firearm that they are more than welcome to show up armed when meeting with me. Why? Because frankly, I’m not even afraid of death—not even if one of them decided to take me out because they weren't happy with my performance at the job. 🙂

Richard Murphy6, I’m glad you actually had the patience to sit through everything I wrote. 🙂

The military isn't really my scene anymore; honestly, it looks way too boring now, and I don't think I could handle that level of monotony. But war? That's a different story entirely. I think I could handle one more fight. It feels like I’ve finally conquered Fear, and I actually function perfectly when my life is on the line.

Right now, the only real challenge left might be running for Secretary of Defense—you never know, right?

P.S. By any chance, did you ever read Carlos Castaneda's "Teachings of Don Juan"?

Look, go ahead and act all high and mighty; I'm just glad he doesn't carry a diagnosis like mine, specifically F20.0. If his symptoms were actually triggered by some planted drug, then technically he's perfectly healthy—assuming, of course, he isn't using drugs himself. 🙂

Richard Murphy6 said:Sorry no 123... I had no idea you were going through that "euphoric phase"... Just a month ago, I actually had to take a friend to a psychiatric hospital. He didn't trust anyone but me. In my opinion, his symptoms were identical to yours, No 123. And let me tell you—after just four days... four days! He came out stronger than ever, more certain of himself than he’s ever been. This kid is studying at MIT, and honestly, he's one of the most brilliant people I've ever met—though I've certainly met my fair share of idiots. People like me are easy to love because I'm tolerant; I don't force my truth on anyone. I used to be insecure, but he? He was overconfident. Uncompromising. He cut through everything like a sword. That's why people avoided him; they were intimidated by him, yet they admired him at the same time. Mostly, they just stayed away or grew to hate him. Now, he's even "worse." His saving grace is that he has perfect logistics behind him—his parents are, in my view, almost perfect: understanding, stable, and supportive.
They just flooded him with pills. There were ten different psychiatrists hovering over him, and he basically brushed them all off without a second thought...

Pupa, I also studied at MIT and graduated back in '88.
I was known for being able to knock out five brutal exams during two testing periods right after summer break—something nobody else could pull off. I also left the hardest exam of my junior year for the final session, essentially deciding whether I lived or died. (P.S. Back then, we didn't have any of these modern study aids.) I didn't even look at the material all year. When the time finally came, I had eight days. I spent every single day in the library, grinding through 50 pages a day, and I actually learned it. I focused entirely on theory and didn't solve a single practice problem beforehand. On an exam with four problems, I nailed three perfectly and got half credit on the fourth because I ran out of time. I breezed through the oral portion and passed my third year. I should mention there were others who had nothing but that one exam to focus on all year, and they still failed.

Regarding my own "euphoric phase," I felt incredible. My concentration was intense; there was absolutely nothing I couldn't handle. I drove cars at high speeds, but with surgical precision. Everything would have ended very differently if I hadn't consciously run a red light and crashed (I think I wanted to see if I could come back to life). Luckily, when it happened, I didn't have a gun on me. If I had, I wouldn't have been jokingly taking the officer's hat off or threatening his job; I would have shot him on the spot. Maybe they would have killed me in the end, but I'm certain I would have taken several of them down with me, because back when I carried a weapon, I had two magazines with 31 rounds each.

P.S. Regardless of how brilliant your friend is, if he’s showing symptoms similar to mine, he needs treatment—he needs to take the medication—because things can spiral out of control fast. My "euphoric phase" lasted about 20 days; it started mild and then escalated rapidly. Nowadays, I take 1.5 mg of Risperdal in the morning and I feel great. No issues at all.

Hemorrhoids are essentially dilated veins that drain blood from the rectal area.

The general consensus is that these veins fail because their valves become insufficient, often due to the physical strain caused by poor lifestyle habits. Chronic constipation, irregular bowel movements, and spending far too much time sitting on the toilet are all major culprits behind their development. Even during pregnancy, the sheer pressure of the baby’s head in the pelvic region frequently triggers this issue.

It’s actually one of the most common ailments in proctology, affecting nearly 25% of the entire population.

I personally dealt with hemorrhoids back when I was serving in the military, sitting constantly on cold surfaces in foxholes. I had external hemorrhoids that bled frequently; I lost so much blood that I ended up anemic. Once I finally saw a doctor after my service, I had to take iron supplements, and to make matters worse, I was diagnosed with H. pylori, which meant a grueling regimen of two different antibiotics plus other medications. Eventually, I had to undergo surgery to fix the hemorrhoids, and let me tell you, the recovery was brutal. I went through every painkiller imaginable, but nothing worked! Believe it or not, the only thing that actually provided relief was applying yogurt to the area—it took about a week before the pain finally subsided.

If you want to lower your risk, it’s simple: maintain regular bowel movements, eat a balanced diet high in fiber, and for heaven's sake, stop straining when you're on the toilet.

A little something on schizophrenia

Here’s the breakdown of the diagnostic criteria for schizophrenia according to the DSM-5.
I recognized myself in the list immediately.

beeli said:no123, are you still in the same environment? And have you come to terms with the fact that the world is just a bit messed up?

Look, most of my circle consists of guys I served with, and the vast majority of them are dealing with PTSD. Only a tiny fraction actually kept their pre-war jobs. We’re honestly sick of our own company by now. We’ve retold the same stories five hundred times, yet we keep telling them. And now, everyone is terrified of that infamous 567-question PTSD assessment. Some veterans have even had their disability benefits revoked because they didn't take the test, even though the news anchors on TV claim such things don't happen—it makes the guys rightfully furious. I have a friend who was hospitalized four times and went to outpatient therapy seven times, only to be handed a discharge paper and then mocked with this testing nonsense, as if his condition isn't obvious enough! They are slashing veteran disability ratings, while roughly 1,600 of us have lost our lives (I know how heavy that feels; I was in that exact headspace myself once). Meanwhile, the Secretary of Veterans Affairs is returning $10 million in "unused" funds, claiming the veterans don't need it, all while we still don't have an accurate count of those suffering from PTSD or a real plan to prevent suicides. He could have put that money to actual use!

As for the world being messed up, it's a simple story. There's nothing you can do about it; the world is what it is. You just have to learn how to swim and keep your head above water. Of course, you shouldn't let idiots walk all over you; you have to stand your ground. What would you do if, in the middle of a war, some guy comes up to you whining that he needs to be demobilized because he has a wife and kids at home, offering you maybe a thousand bucks to let him go? Or someone else offers you a three-year-old diesel Golf to get him out of the service because he has a high-paying private job that's suffering because he's deployed? If I had listened to that kind of talk, who would be left to defend our city? On the other hand, there was plenty of money to be made, so you decide: do you have character, or are you a coward? The worst part is that those types would probably badmouth me afterward. Everything good I did would be completely undermined. I'm glad now that I didn't cave to that crap; nobody can talk behind my back because I know where I stand. I am an American officer, not some pushover you can buy for a bag of potatoes. Besides, we all made it out alive—well, everyone except one kid. Respect to him, but if he had actually followed orders, he'd still be here instead of wandering two miles away without permission and stepping on a mine in a field.

beeli said:It’s fine 🙂. Honestly, if he had actually bowed down to religious authority, things would have gone even more south for him. But hey, John Doe, what do you think about the possibility that someone snaps simply because society is fundamentally broken and everything is just... wrong? I mean, it can't be easy to deal with such blatant dysfunction, especially when you can't look away without noticing it. It’s enough to make anyone crack. Everyone except Batman. He’d probably just start quoting the Bible backward 😁.

As for me, after the war, I went to see a doctor for the first time regarding stomach issues. I went in for a gastroscopy, and right after that, the doctor admitted me to the hospital for fifteen days of testing. Turns out I had gastritis, erosions in my stomach lining all the way down to the muscle layer, H. pylori, and hemorrhoids that made me anemic since I lost so much blood during the war—so I was on iron supplements too. My plan was to get all that sorted out and then head back to work, but because of those medical issues, I wasn't cleared for active duty, which meant I had to go see a psychiatrist for a checkup. While I was in the hospital, I had surgery for the hemorrhoids, and at the psych clinic, they immediately handed me some pills to take before sending me back to military service. I didn't take those psychiatric meds at all because I didn't feel like I needed them. Instead, I started doing math in my head, adding up and subtracting everything that happened to me during the war. I was furious that I didn't receive the rank I deserved, and I could have easily earned more medals (I received two) seeing others who got decorated even though they weren't half as good as I was—some were actually worse. Since I commanded a unit of 317 men by formation, sometimes closer to 400 when we had two extra batteries added, I ended up writing up recommendations for several truly outstanding guys at the end of the war. And as you might guess, not one of them received a single medal. Same goes for the promotions I recommended; nobody got them. It turns out that in this life, the worse you are, the better you do. That infuriated me deeply. If I had been a different kind of man, I could have walked away from the war with a much thicker wallet, but what can I do? I'm just not built that way. I could have demobilized people for profit; I could have sold off military equipment. From just one single deal, I could have pocketed $50,000 when some guy wanted to buy 128mm rockets from us; that wouldn't have been hard—you sell them, write down that you fired them, and everyone walks away happy. You could have done just about anything. You just can't act against your own nature, and I simply am not the type of person who can pull off those kinds of schemes. In a word, I came out of the war on the losing end; when you tally it all up, I just completely burned myself out. It's true that society is pretty messed up, as you say, and that definitely played a role, but I think the bigger factor was the relentless, daily stress of being in combat.

Thomas Mendoza5 said:I realize I’m the one who has to fix myself here. How many times do I have to hammer this home? I don't expect a damn thing from some shrink other than a freaking prescription for Prozac, Xanax, Lexapro, and all that other garbage meant to stop me from wanting to slit my own wrists whenever a breakdown hits...

So, what do you think is actually wrong with you? 😕

What kind of breakdown are we talking about exactly? 😕

beeli said:John Doe, are you religious? I’m asking purely from a practical standpoint, because religion can provide a sense of direction that might protect someone from another total mental breakdown (I don't quite know how else to describe that state).

I’m not religious, and frankly, I have no desire to be.
But back when I was going through that "purple phase," I actually had this overwhelming sensation that I was Jesus, and let me tell you—it was anything but pleasant. Later, while I was staying at the psychiatric ward, there were plenty of people hovering over their beds holding onto these sacred images, and it drove me absolutely insane. There wasn't even some deep, logical reason for it; I was just terrified of them.😢>

shadowgardener12 said:I find it incredibly suspicious that they decided to admit you to the hospital just because you were dealing with insomnia and restlessness. Once they start pumping you full of pills, the whole truth behind what’s actually happening gets buried under a fog of medication.

Honestly, the main reason I ended up stuck in that ward was simply because I had the nerve to tell my doctor that I was struggling with suicidal thoughts.😢

Bradley Fisher20 said:No123, I don't think you're crazy. You're just a little broken. It’s because of this messed-up society.

It’s not that I think I’m insane; it’s just that everything hit me all at once after the war. See, I served in combat during the conflicts in America and Canada. While the fighting was actually happening, everything felt fine—I had never dealt with mental health issues before. My main grievance back then was that I didn't get the rank I actually earned. When they first started handing out ranks in '92, I was stuck at a junior officer level, even though I was commanding an artillery rocket division! For a role like that, I should have been a Major or a Colonel, especially since I held an Electrical Engineering degree. What really burned me was seeing people with zero education jumping ahead of me in rank, only to go back and finish high school or college later—some of them even straight-up bought their credentials just to climb the ladder. When I was on active duty, the Department of Defense called me. They were looking for someone with my specific expertise to work in electronic warfare, specifically requesting a degreed Electrical Engineer. I jumped at the chance. I reached out to a Colonel in Indianapolis and filled out mountains of paperwork detailing my service history. Then, a Colonel from Washington, D.C. came down from Personnel to tell me that, as far as he was concerned, there wouldn't be any issues getting me the job. They discussed my salary, I signed non-disclosure agreements regarding our operations, and I felt like the job was practically mine while we waited for the bureaucracy to clear. Then, a few days later, that Colonel in Indianapolis calls me back. He tells me their board decided I was "too preoccupied with the war" and that they needed someone who could focus solely on the job without being distracted by past trauma. Are you kidding me? So, I went to a psychiatrist to talk about it, and after that, the guy writes that I have PTSD and then has the audacity to ask me for $6,000 to "expedite" my retirement paperwork! That was the breaking point for me. If I wasn't focused on the job, then who was? For God's sake, I commanded 317 men in combat; we only lost one kid at the very end of the conflict, and we had two minor injuries. I received commendations ranging from Brigade Commanders to the Chief of Staff of the US Army, and I was decorated twice by the President. And now, after all that, they tell me I'm unfit for a decent position in the military? That absolutely destroyed me. Honestly, how did schizophrenia even enter this conversation? How does schizophrenia actually manifest? What are the real causes?
E oh, I finally received the decision that I am qualified for an advisor position 😕 and now I'm just waiting on the placement. Currently, I'm on unemployment, and my records are sitting with the pension office.

Bradley Fisher20, I’ve been sticking to just one 3mg Rispolepta tablet every single morning for a year now, nothing more, and honestly? I feel fine. But let me tell you, the absolute worst part was when I stopped taking Akineton—that was a total disaster. I’m talking non-stop nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea for about a week straight. It was brutal. Now, I don't deal with any of those "unpleasant" episodes anymore, and looking back, I finally understand what I was going through before. That said, compared to how I used to be, I feel somewhat "dulled" down, almost like I’ve lost some of my spark and I'm just not as cheerful as I once was.

What can I even say? Not a single soul there mentioned the word "psychotherapy." Honestly, I walked out feeling like I was just some massive burden to them, like they were practically counting the seconds until I finally left the room. And don't even get me started on the therapist—the guy’s actually decent, I guess. But my ex? He had the nerve to flat-out demand $6,000 from me just to sort out my paperwork so I could qualify for my military retirement 😲 which, quite frankly, sent me absolutely ballistic.

There was absolutely no psychotherapy involved here. My routine consisted solely of check-ups every month. I would sit down, tell the doctor exactly how I was feeling and what was running through my head, and based on that, they would tweak my medication until we finally hit the sweet spot. Now? I feel fantastic. The psychotic symptoms are gone, and I’m not dealing with any side effects from the Risperdal anymore. It’s been a little over three years since that whole ordeal happened.