Identity
In my twenties and early thirties, part of me believed I was a prophet, or some sort of chosen one, as many people with schizophrenia do while in the grip of mental illness. That is no longer the case. I own that part of myself. I am aware of it, and I do my best to ensure delusions do not take hold. I call myself a wizard as a playful, non-threatening way to acknowledge that side of me without denying it.
This identity needs the most care. It is the easiest to romanticise and the easiest to misunderstand. If it is framed poorly, it turns into mysticism cosplay or accidental self-mythology. Done properly, it stays grounding, honest, and disarming.
Ricky is a reluctant, grounded witness to altered sense-making.
He is not a mystic.
He is not a prophet.
He does not have privileged access to truth.
The “wizard” identity is not about special knowledge. It is about living with a mind that generates meaning too easily, too intensely, and too continuously, and learning how to survive, stabilise, and function inside that reality.
Ricky is not celebrating schizophrenia.
He is documenting how he manages it without lying about it.
Ricky is not:
If people read any of this into the work, the framing has failed.
This is the most important clarification.
The wizard names the part of Ricky that lives with:
This is not mysticism.
This is neuropsychological reality.
The wizard exists because Ricky’s mind is always patterning, always narrating, always reaching.
When handled responsibly, this part of the site:
This is demystification, not enchantment.
This distinction keeps him safe and credible:
The wizard is not a leader.
The wizard is a condition Ricky manages.
Here is the blunt warning.
Ricky must never imply that schizophrenia is a source of truth, depth, creativity, or enlightenment.
That is a dangerous cultural story, and it harms both him and others.
His credibility comes from restraint, not mystique.
The real power is saying: My mind produces too much meaning, so I have to work harder to stay grounded.
Everything must be anchored in management, not interpretation.
Ricky needs to emphasise:
This turns the wizard from myth into responsibility.
Ricky sometimes calls this part of his life “the wizard”, not because it is magical, but because his mind generates meaning relentlessly. With schizophrenia, stories form quickly, significance attaches easily, and his nervous system rarely settles into quiet safety on its own. This is not insight, it is something he has to manage carefully. The work here is about staying grounded, slowing narrative, and learning when not to trust his own interpretations.
If Ricky had to define it precisely: the wizard is the part of him that lives with a mind that over-produces meaning and narrative, and has learned to survive by building structure, humility, and external anchors around it.
If the wizard ever sounds impressive, poetic, or enviable, the line has been crossed.
Keep it practical.
Keep it sober.
Keep it human.
That honesty is what makes it valuable, not the label.
I developed schizophrenia in my early twenties due to smoking cannabis regularly. My symptoms were paranoia and delusion. I stopped trusting people and began seeing signs everywhere. I was drawn to patterns and coincidences, which, while untreated, grew into narratives and beliefs about this new world I thought I had uncovered. I became more egoic and self-absorbed.
In 2012 it all came to a head. I had a psychotic episode. That was my rock bottom. After that, I began to improve due to a change in medication, learning a great deal about psychology, and meeting my wife. I once completed a Raven’s Matrices IQ test, which is based on pattern recognition, and scored 147, which is considered near genius. I credit that period as laying the foundations for my ability to see signal in the noise.
I subscribe to Carl Jung’s philosophy of synchronicity, which refers to “meaningful coincidences”, events that occur simultaneously and appear related but have no direct causal connection. This idea contributed to my instability, not because I noticed synchronicity in my life, but because I used perceived meaning to fuel my ego and boost my self-image. At that time, I had low self-worth and self-esteem. Learning psychology was key to my growth and to developing the solid self-esteem and self-worth I have now in my late forties.
I cannot predict future events, although once I predicted I would soil myself ten seconds before I did. I cannot tell people their futures, nor can I know people beyond my interpretation of their words and behaviour. But sometimes I can guess things with very little information.
I once guessed that a girl in my class would write “Alf” on the card stuck to my head without asking any questions. I have guessed the populations of small towns, the contents of wrapped presents without touching them, and the yearly budget of NSW State Rail. I have guessed my wife’s words before she said them, and the names she gave to fictional characters before she spoke them aloud. I am good at guessing, especially when I know the person holding the information.
Can I do this on command? Can I replicate it without error? Can I pick the lotto numbers? No, no, no. Every now and then I make a precise guess with very little apparent signal in the noise. That is all.