I am a robot

While old blog posts provide a steady stream of material for me to discuss, on occasion I will be making original posts. This is one such post. I have decided to replace actual names with pseudonyms to prevent searches from turning up these posts. With a little imagination, I am confident those familiar with my life will be able to decode the proper names.

A couple weeks ago I was stupid enough to try JWH-018. It is a novel synthetic cannabinoid receptor agonist with a similar CB1/2 binding profile to THC, but with around 4-5 times greater affinity. Whether as an overdose or an interaction with the lithium I take (or a combination of both), I ended up having a grand mal seizure. Before I took it, I let Ranger, one of my roommates, know what I was doing. After dosing (via vaporization), I laid down on my bed as it started to take effect. I remember being angry at myself because as I experienced the high, I remembered how much I disliked it. This is a very strange concept to most people: if you don't like it, why do you do it? There is no justification, it is irrational. For this post, I choose not to pursue this direction, but rather continue on with the story.

At some point in time, Ranger noticed some strange sounds coming from my room. He did not feel comfortable barging in, so he asked Nezumi to check on me. Nezumi went in and saw that I was in trouble, but did not immediately call 911. Instead, he searched online for information on the drug I used and ended up calling one of my colleagues, Dean. Dean and his wife Leela came over (they live only a couple blocks away), and as soon as she saw me, Leela turned me on my side and called the ambulance. I have a very vague, blurry memory of people around me while I was in bed, but lost consciousness soon after. The next thing I remember was being in the hospital, unable to breathe (I did not realize I had been intubated) and in restraints. A woman appeared in my line of sight and confirmed my advance directive (I have an active do-not-resuscitate order). Then I lost consciousness.

When I woke up again, they removed the breathing tube (this was extremely unpleasant) and restraints. A nurse told me where I was and that my mom had called. They eventually gave me my phone, and I checked the call log to see who was involved in this mess. My heart sank when I saw Dean had been called, and sank much further when I saw my boyfriend Bob had been called. At this point, I went to sleep, and was discharged the next morning.

Many details have been intentionally omitted from this account because they are irrelevant to what I wish to relate below.

Last night I was hanging out at a local bar with Dean and Leela. Alcohol is well-known for removing inhibition. Leela wanted to talk to me about what had happened, and the alcohol certainly removed her inhibitions. I knew the subject was still on her mind because earlier in the night she went to get a cigarette from my pack, thinking it was Dean's, and I stopped her. She said to me, "I saved your life, you owe me." This was rather tactless, but I know that she is not mean-spirited and she would never have said something like that sober. Later she broached the topic with me. She kept telling me, "You could have died!" I understand this, I really do. But she did not believe me. She kept reiterating how scared she was. What if no one had heard me? What if Nezumi never called for help? What if I had suffered brain damage? I reassured her that her actions saved my life. It does not matter what could have been, because the fact is that she had the presence of mind to do what needed to be done. That is what happened, and no-one can ever take that away from her.

Leela was much reassured, but still could not accept that I actually did understand the situation. To use the word "understand" is a bit of a misnomer. She did not believe that I comprehended the severity of the situation because I did not respond with the emotion of fear. I tried explaining that I honestly have no fear of death. I do feel guilt and sadness about the pain I caused to those around me, but I do not feel fear. To Leela this was simply unfathomable. I posed the question, "When have you ever seen me emotional, about anything?" She thought for a moment, then said, "I AM A ROBOT, I AM A ROBOT. That's you."

I know that I am emotionally retarded. When I was young, I learned how to turn off my emotions. Without emotion, you cannot feel fear and pain, but you also sacrifice happiness. A certain amount of emotion is necessary on a day-to-day basis, so I developed a system of observing the responses of "normal" people to situations and rationally constructing a model for how emotions "ought" to work (as least on a phenomenological level). This model runs as a more-or-less conscious process, which can be consciously stopped if the need arises. It formed a prominent part of my life when I had a girlfriend, as I relied exclusively on my observations of other couples to try to act the part.

I like to fool myself into thinking that my "synthetic emotions" are sufficient to trick those around me. These ersatz emotions are the closest thing I have to the real deal. That is, I do experience desire, repulsion, love, pain, happiness, despair, joy, hate, and so forth, just not in the way that most people experience them. I am trying to develop my emotional side, but reversing 20 years of internalization is really fucking difficult and perhaps even impossible. The most direct summary I can make is that what was said hurt me grievously, all the more because I know it is true. Who likes to have their deficiencies pointed out to them? How much more painful is it when that deficiency is already the cause of angst?

Leela also just could not get over why Nezumi did not call emergency services, and she was very adamant about blaming him. He told her at the time that he panicked. Later, he felt he owed me an apology and explanation. It turns out that he had the same mindset as me: do not call 911 unless it is really really necessary. He was not sure if I was using an illegal drug (it is not), and did not want me to get in trouble. It is very likely that reality is a combination of the mindset Nezumi revealed to me and panic. I can understand that. He had no ill intentions and no harm came from his decisions. I cannot blame him for doing the best he could, and in my opinion no guilt attaches to him. That does not imply that I think he acted wisely. Indeed, we both understand now that calling 911 in a timely manner is of overriding importance. It is human to make mistakes, and when that happens, the only acceptable path is to learn from it and avoid the same mistake in the future.