When Control Replaces Meaning

(Procedural Time and the Loss of Agency)

When an internal narrative collides with institutional reality, something has to give.

In Chapter Nine of Fought Disorder (“Landing Gear”), it isn’t meaning that disappears first.

It’s agency.

From Story to Schedule

In Act I, time was elastic.

Moments stretched or collapsed depending on significance.
Events arrived when they were needed.

In Act II, time changes character.

Now there are:

  • Rounds

  • Meal times

  • Medication windows

  • Observations

  • Paperwork

Time stops responding to meaning.
It becomes procedural.

A Short Passage (Structural Rather Than Quoted)

This chapter doesn’t hinge on a single line.

Its effect comes from repetition:

  • Being told to wait

  • Being told to sit

  • Being told what happens next

  • Being told nothing at all

Language no longer generates movement.

It halts it.

What’s Happening Linguistically

This chapter introduces a ninth shift:

Procedural dominance.

In ordinary life:

  • Procedures support agency

  • Schedules enable choice

  • Structure is background

Here:

  • Procedure overrides intention

  • Choice becomes irrelevant

  • Structure becomes foreground

Language no longer asks why.

It asks:

“Have you complied?”

Why This Feels Like Grounding — and Punishment

From the outside, procedure looks stabilising.

And in many ways, it is.

But from inside a psychotic narrative, procedure feels:

  • Arbitrary

  • Infantilising

  • Threatening

Because it doesn’t engage meaning.

It ignores it.

To a mind convinced that meaning is urgent, being told to wait is unbearable.

The Experience of “Landing Gear”

The chapter title is precise.

Landing gear doesn’t stop flight.
It makes impact survivable.

But the descent is rough.

This chapter captures the sensation of:

  • Coming down without choosing to

  • Losing altitude without understanding why

  • Touching ground without relief

The Reader’s Shift

By now, readers often feel something unexpected:

Not fear — but fatigue.

The narrative is no longer expansive.
It’s constrained.

That exhaustion mirrors the experience of institutional containment:

  • Less drama

  • More repetition

  • Fewer peaks

  • No release

This is realism, not anticlimax.

Why This Stage Matters

Recovery does not begin with insight.

It begins with interruption.

This chapter shows how interruption feels from the inside:

  • Not corrective

  • Not enlightening

  • Just stopping the momentum

Meaning doesn’t dissolve here.

It simply loses traction.

Language Begins to Thin

Notice what’s changing:

  • Fewer symbolic leaps

  • Less interpretive density

  • More literal exchanges

Language is being slowly flattened.

Not through argument —
through routine.

This is how psychosis starts to lose its grip.

Not dramatically.

Gradually.

Why the Book Holds You Here

Many narratives rush past this phase.

Fought Disorder does not.

Because this is where most people actually spend time:

  • Waiting

  • Being observed

  • Being managed

  • Being slowed down

It’s not inspiring.

It’s accurate.

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When Meaning Turns Against the Self

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When Reality Pushes Back