Well, yes, but I have delusions — much more realistic, maybe? — and I never have delusions of self-harm.

I have ‘safe’ (and interesting) delusions; happy delusions. I was once frightened of them but I now realize that they do, as you posit, relieve stress (more importantly, they keep me sane). If I can gain just a little control over certain aspects of my psychotic episodes, I’m even more pleased. I keep these controlled delusions near my medulla oblongata for safe keeping.

I spend the majority of my waking hours working my brain. I can’t escape it. I’ve given in. It’s just so lovely in there. I don’t have to ruminate over the final stages of loss and the loneliness. It’s wonderful.

Therapists are no different than gardeners — they work to earn a wage. You’re correct in observing that they would not bother with you without compensation, I believe.

I’m puzzled by, “I am trying to survive until I die the way I am supposed to.” Are you terminally ill? Have you some portent of your death? It is a queer and troubling way to speak of death! If I had died in the manner and time that my first cardiologist predicted, I would have snuffed it in 2004. I was just sticking around for the South Korean Winter Olympics, really. Can you explain the phrase?

My answer — again — is ‘yes, I have a lot of stuff in my head that helps me survive and it generally plays out as being loved instead of unloved.’ I am delusional; I believe. You may have only whimsical fantasies. (If that’s the case, good for you!) I cannot say that I understand self-harm but as long as it stays in your head that’s far, far better than acting on those thoughts, I believe.