seeing the way a slew of commenters will reify someone’s psychosis was scary and sad. Maybe I’m old, or old-fashioned, but I don’t think that help is coming from the people who want to consume you. But it was more than that- I’d watch someone splitting in half before our very eyes, staying alive on a diet of nitrous and praise, and I could see: there but for the grace of God go I. The only thing I ever did “right” in getting well was to know, deeply and for a fact, that I had to retreat. Everything else stemmed from that.