non-fiction – Mirrored Madness: The Monster In Me

So, You Think You Have a Mental Illness

“We must bring the issue of mental illness out into the sunlight, out of the shadow, out of the closet, deal with it, treat people, have centers where people can get the necessary help.”
– John Lewis

With 1 in 5 U.S. adults suffering from some form of mental illness, it’s not a huge leap for one to think they may be suffering from one, as well. Depression and anxiety are extremely prevalent. Sharing similar hallmarks to certain other illnesses can drive many to assume they may be suffering from some sort of mental health issue.

According to Mental Health America, “mental illnesses are brain-based conditions that affect thinking, emotions, and behaviors.” Research suggests that 21% of adults in the U.S. experience some form of mental illness. 1 in 25 U.S. adults live with serious mental illness, and 1 in 6 U.S. youth aged 6 to 17 experience a mental health illness

There are things TO DO and things NOT TO DO when it comes to being curious about your own mental health. One of the big ones for me is to educate without overloading myself. Dr. Google may be right, but I believe it’s only smart to begin the deep education part after a proper diagnosis has been made by a mental health professional.

One major thing someone can do for someone is to just listen. You don’t have to pretend to understand, just listen. It may not help either side of the conversation, but it can act as a distraction.

One thing to avoid is any articles with names like “Signs You May Be…” or any other similar catechism. These are often misguided pieces of information and are used to create worry and fear rather than to be informative. After all, that headache you just Googled might just be cancer.

However, there are symptoms to keep an eye out for.

In Adults, Young Adults and Adolescents:

Confused thinking
Prolonged depression (sadness or irritability)
Feelings of extreme highs and lows
Excessive fears, worries and anxieties
Social withdrawal
Dramatic changes in eating or sleeping habits
Strong feelings of anger
Strange thoughts (delusions)
Seeing or hearing things that aren’t there (hallucinations)
Growing inability to cope with daily problems and activities
Suicidal thoughts
Numerous unexplained physical ailments
Substance use

In Older Children And Pre-Adolescents:

Substance use
Inability to cope with problems and daily activities
Changes in sleeping and/or eating habits
Excessive complaints of physical ailments
Changes in ability to manage responsibilities – at home and/or at school
Defiance of authority, truancy, theft, and/or vandalism
Intense fear
Prolonged negative mood, often accompanied by poor appetite or thoughts of death
Frequent outbursts of anger
In Younger Children:

Changes in school performance
Poor grades despite strong efforts
Changes in sleeping and/or eating habits
Excessive worry or anxiety (i.e. refusing to go to bed or school)
Hyperactivity
Persistent nightmares
Persistent disobedience or aggression
Frequent temper tantrums

Before letting a list like this define you it’s important to seek out professional help. These are only places to start.

If it turns out after receiving proper medical care that you may have a mental illness there are things to do, as well.

Accept your feelings
Establish a support network
Seek counseling
Take time for yourself
Handling unusual behavior
Talk to a doctor about medication
Therapy

No, not all of these are going to work for everybody (I still struggle myself), but they’re a place to start. You must accept the issue before you can move forward. Only do so cautiously, though. The opinion of a mental health professional is needed before anything else.

Mental Health in Small Town, USA

scenic view of agricultural field against sky during sunset

“There is no standard normal. Normal is subjective. There are seven billion versions of normal on this planet.”
– Matt Haig

Just some brief thoughts:

I live in a small town. Like a really small town. It’s a very conservative, small town in a very conservative part of Illinois, which is most of the state (thank God for Chicago or we would be all Red). There aren’t a lot of resources in my area for people with any type of mental health or psychiatric problems. That seems to be the case for many rural areas across the U.S.

This isn’t news. A 2020 study found that “rural residents in the USA experience significant disparities in mental health outcomes even though the prevalence of mental illness in rural and metropolitan areas is similar.”

These issues may stem from a lack of funding or a lack of understanding of these types of problems. I haven’t even heard of any recognition that May is Mental Health Awareness Month on any type in any local media in my area – not that that is surprising. I have found most people have no idea this is Mental Health Awareness Month.

That’s part of the problem. No, not recognizing May as “ours”, but by not recognizing the issue at all. I had an appointment with my psych doctor yesterday, who practices more than an hour away now. Thank God (or whoever) for Telehealth or that monthly drive would be a killer.

A study by researchers at Wake Forest School of Medicine determined one of the main causes behind the lack of resources for mental health treatment in rural areas is the surrounding shame and stigma. The belief that “I should not need help.”

“We as a society have a hard time asking for help, so it’s hard enough to ask for help [without feeling] that everybody’s going to know it,” Dennis Mohatt, vice president of the behavioral mental health program at the Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education, said. “Your neighbors don’t have a clue in a city if you’re going to go get some help. But everybody [in a small town] will know if your pickup truck is parked outside of the mental health provider’s office.”

He’s right. Fortunately, I do not fall into that category. I’m not out picketing for change or acknowledgment, but I’m far from ashamed.

Other research suggests even suicide rates are affected by the regionality of mental health services.

“There is a higher suicide mortality rate among residents of rural and nonmetropolitan areas than those living in metropolitan areas,” Ty Borders, Ph.D., said. “The discrepancy has existed for decades, and the gap has widened in recent years,”

So, why is this? I’m sure there is more than one answer, but where I live it has a lot to do with what I hope is a lack of understanding (I have to believe that, at least). Funding, too, if that can be looped into it on some real substantive basis. However, I believe it stems from a lack of understanding.

It’s also because of a weakness that gets pinned on those who suffer from any type of mental health problem or crisis. There is very much a “Suck it up and get over it!” mentality among many throughout my community. The idea that mental illness didn’t exist fifty years ago is a very prevalent one.

Poverty plays a role in this dilemma, too. How can someone expect to pay for mental health services when they can’t afford their 10-year-old’s school physical? Especially if those types of appointments are an hour away and are only open certain hours or days of the week.

According to the Rural Health Information Hub, “18.7% of individuals in nonmetropolitan areas have a mental health condition, which is about 6.5 million people. Rural residents are also more likely than urban residents to experience a serious mental illness.”

One report suggests that for every 30,000 rural Americans there is one psychiatrist. This is interesting, and it would be interesting to know how many out of those 30,000 need psychiatric help. But we’ll never get any accurate information regarding that.

So, do we need more therapists? Or is it something more serious, a more systemic issue? I don’t think there is a black or white answer. I mean, I have no real ideas that would matter. I’m just like everyone else: pointing out the flaws in the system with no real alternative measure in mind.

Kurt Cobain…28 Years Gone

“Hey hey, my my…Rock and roll can never die”
– Neil Young

It’s April 5, 2022 – the 28^th anniversary of Kurt Cobain’s death. Nearly three decades ago, the “spokesman of a generation” took his own life with a shotgun.

I’ll admit, Nirvana (Kurt Cobain, in particular) had the most profound effect on me. They’re not the greatest band of all time, but Nirvana definitely had a distinct influence on me.

It’s a fitting topic today as Cobain suffered from bipolar disorder and ultimately committed suicide (Granted, drugs played a heavy role in his specific situation). Kurt Cobain followed the stereotypical “bipolar bullet point” fate and fell in the 20% of people who suffered and took their own lives.

I ranted enough yesterday on this matter and how absolutely furious I was (and am) that so many people with this disorder end their lives. There is no magic wand we could wave to fix this, so I feel like it’s all of our jobs to try and make a difference.

Honestly, I am not entirely sure why I honor this day, even if it’s only for five minutes. Some may say it’s obsessive or me going overboard, especially with Kurt’s reputation (When I was younger, I was pigeonholed into a similar spot for being such a fan of a depressed “junkie”).

Kurt was 27 when he died, as was Robert Johnson, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse, and many other musicians, joining what is now known as the “27 Club”. Kurt was definitely a drug addict. I heard an interesting “fact” that an addict spends on average 7 years of his/her life waiting. Waiting for the man. It’s another sad, eye-opening statistic.

I guess there is no real point I’m trying to make with this post (see my post from yesterday if you’re curious about how I really feel); I just wanted to share my observation of today’s significance. At least for me.

In his suicide note Kurt wrote down a line from a Neil Young song.

“It’s better to burn out than fade away.”

And that’s exactly what he did. He burned bright and fast like a shooting star and then, just like that, it was over. But he will never fade away, and the last 35 years have cemented that fact.

He may not have wanted to be the “spokesman of a generation”, but he is most definitely a true icon.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an amazing day and can find the strength they need to get through it. Life is sometimes hard, and for no particular reason. But it’s our job to pull through.

And we always do.

Books That Have Shaped Me

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers.”

– Charles W. Eliot

Well, after the week I’ve had I thought I might do something a little more light-hearted. I’ve already discussed the power of music and the artists and albums that shaped a great part of who I am. So, I thought I might talk about some of the books that have also molded me into the person I am today.

I’m pretty eclectic, enjoying Steinbeck as much as Stephen King. I could go on and on about authors and pick them apart, so I’m going to stick with specific books (I’m still trying to conquer Infinite Jest, so…yeah).

The first book that had a profound effect on me was Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky in the 7^th grade. I was, in a way, shunned by the school librarian, almost looked down upon as if I were some sort of creep or sicko (the school only went up to the 8^th grade so who could check out that book without facing some sort of scrutiny?). It’s a great book and laid out and told in a unique fashion, of course, but I’m pretty sure it was the being looked at as “weird” or, most likely, feeling out of my depth that affected me the most.

Then I discovered Stephen King, and after reading Pet Sematary I knew Dean Koontz was nothing but a footnote in the world of modern fiction, an author that my father for some reason professed as being one of the best. I respectfully disagree.

When I was 13, Pet Sematary was the first book I bought with my first mowing money (that and Dreamcatcher which was not one of my better decisions). Even as a young kid I was a horror fanatic, but Pet Sematary really scared me. The movie, as well. It’s a hard story not be affected by.

I was then on a Stephen King kick and got lucky in that the next two of his books I read was The Stand and It, both of which are amazing stories as King knows how to develop a slew of memorable characters in a way that their personal development is more entertaining than the plot. My King kick continued, and although there are many duds, I own every single one of them.

When one speaks of Kerouac, On the Road is the first three words you will always hear. And although it is a great book and a perfect introduction to the work that was to come, it was Big Sur, Desolation Angels, and The Dharma Bums (“When you get to the top, just keep climbing!”) that cemented my belief as a writer that “first thought-best thought” was the way to go…that is until I re-read some of my writing and soon realized I was no Kerouac.

Howl by Allen Ginsberg, actually a long-form poem, opened up my eyes just as much as any book. The first time I read the poem, I became instantly aware of a new style of writing that changed the landscape of 20^th century poetry and beyond. The raw, yet technical beauty of the words is jaw-dropping. I decided immediately that Frost nor Dickinson had nothing on this guy.

The Razor’s Edge by Somerset Maugham will always be on the list (it was the first book I read “under the influence”). I just love the story, even when I’m sober. I highly recommend it.

I, of course, grew up with the Harry Potter series so sue me, they’re great books, Plus, they got millions of kids who would otherwise not even touch a book excited about reading. And who can deny that power? But it didn’t take long for Tolkien to make his entrance into my life, easily knocking Rowling down a few rungs. It’s a toss-up at times; ask me today and I’ll say Tolkien, ask me tomorrow and who knows what I might say.

But back to Infinite Jest…my first question: is David Foster Wallace crazy? Such a mammoth of a novel, and with 300 pages of footnotes to boot! To answer the question, though, no, he’s not crazy. His brain just worked in amazing ways. If you’re interested in checking out Wallace’s work, I would recommend starting out with A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again or Consider the Lobster. One day I will finish Infinte Jest, and then I just may retire from reading altogether. Go out with a bang (kidding, kidding)! Ol’ Stephen King said that if you do not have the time to read you will never have the tools to be able to write. Pretty astute, yet common sense, if you think about it.

I could go on, and I know I’m missing many books that I could include, some even in my “Top 10”. But I don’t review books for a living, nor are any of these recommendations. These are books (and different styles of writing) that have shaped me and have a place in my heart, almost like little literary milestones. These aren’t just favorites, they’re the books that triggered growth in me as a person and a writer (no, I’ll never attempt to sit down and rewrite On the Road, but the impact it had on my life is there).

Books, just like music or whatever else it may be, are an escape for me, as they are for many. They are eye-opening in the sense that it’s clear that creativity and dedication really do pay off. You may not write the next Infinite Jest, but dedication and a little magic can go a long way.

MY TOP 5 LIFE CHANGING BOOKS (in no particular order)

East of Eden – Steinbeck
It – King
Big Sur – Kerouac
Madness (memoir) – Hornbacher
Brave New World – Huxley

What are some of the books that have shaped who you are and how you approach your writing?

What’s In a Name? “Manic Depression” or “Bipolar Disorder?

anonymous woman with rainbow light on face

“Yes, I’m Bipolar but I’m as normal as you except the times when my mind thinks like two.”
– Stanley Victor Paskavich

I have not outwardly been attacked or “judged” for suffering from bipolar disorder, but it’s the under-the-surface opinions people have that make it even more difficult to manage. So, judge me, I say.

What do you think when you hear the words “bipolar disorder”? Of course, the connotation and stigma are there, at least on a general level. But where does your mind go? What do you think when that label gets tossed around?

Now, same question but with the label “manic depression.” What feelings does that label signify to you?

I suffer from both, seeing as how they are the same thing. But which one sounds less stigmatizing? If you said “manic depression”, then we are in agreeance. “Manic depression” encompasses all aspects of the disorder while sounding singular.

“Bipolar disorder” is the same illness, yet the vernacular is more divisive. “Bi-” implies two, ultimately signifying a split of some sort, or two different personalities, which isn’t the case.

Bipolar disorder is a mood disorder, not a personality disorder, so I feel the term is used interchangeably at people’s convenience. This in turn creates more stigma that only gets in the way.

This is my proposition: Bring back “manic depression” so those of us with “bipolar disorder” have a fighting chance.

When both terms mean the same thing, but the one we use isolates more people than not, I think it’s time for a change.

#ManicDepression2022

You Walk on Eggshells, I Walk Thru Fire

orange flame selective focus photography

“Some days, I feel everything at once. Other days, I feel nothing at all. I don’t know what’s worse, drowning beneath the waves, or dying from the thirst.”
– Unknown

Someone close to me recently had their first panic attack and described it as the most frightening experience of their life. Equating it to what a mental/emotional/physical heart attack might hypothetically feel like, it was evident that this person had been truly affected by this incident. And not in any positive way. This person, being aware of my “situation”, came to me to ask if I could remember my first panic attack and what it was like. I paused, struggled, and slowly accepted the realization that no, I could not remember my first panic attack.

I’ve grown accustomed to the panic attacks and the anxiety, just as I have the depression. It all runs together. Not to belabor the point, but this state of mind has become my normal. In fact, I probably wouldn’t know what to do without the highs and the lows and everything else under the sun. Isn’t it funny that the one thing in the world I would do anything to change is the one thing I would miss the most and be lost without? It’s a trap, one of God’s little jokes. And he’s the only one laughing.

I guess that’s kind of my point. For someone with bipolar disorder, learning to live with all of its manifestations and idiosyncrasies becomes an art form, and in the purest sense. I have weathered the storm long enough to not be “used to it” but be accustomed to the qualities you may see as a “hindrance” or a “disability”. It’s quite the opposite at times; bipolar disorder strips away all that you are until you are in your rawest form or mindset. From there, you simply learn to ride the wave because the waves don’t stop. They are forever, and all we can do is attempt to reach a moment of clarity and relief.

I’ve grown so used to being like this that I remain in a constant state of disillusionment. My naturally adopted cynicism never fails to make an appearance. I’m on a constant loop; I’m up, I’m down, I’m level. Up, down, level. By the time I actually do level out and can adopt some perspective, it’s time to get back on that rollercoaster and do it all over again. Never “sane” long enough to enact any real change.

So, anxiety and panic attacks are just par for the course for me. I remain suspended in a mess of pure hopelessness. The difference between us, though, is that I can manage. I can hang. I can hang and you can’t. It may sound like I’m bragging, but I assure you I am not. As it turns out I am not proud. If I didn’t approach this topic with a kind of conceited, bare bones attitude I would be a total mess, and no one needs that.

So, no. I do not remember my first panic attack. I am anxious to a debilitating point at least once a day anyway so you can’t hold it against me. It’s certainly not something I can apologize for. I live in a constant state of panic and anxiety. It’s not that it’s easy or that I’ve gotten used to it. It simply is what it is.

And They’re Coming to Take Me Away Now: A Rant

“When you are mad, mad like this, you don’t know it. Reality is what you see. When what you see shifts, departing from anyone else’s reality, it’s still reality to you.”
– Marya Hornbacher, Madness: A Bipolar Life

As someone with bipolar disorder, I have a lot of experience in feeling awkward or out of place because of my condition, when said condition is known. It’s nothing new, and although it never “gets easier” you learn to go along with it. Sometimes you got to get ahead of the charade before you become the charade.

That being said, I think it’s a well-known fact that there are major flaws in the modern American healthcare system, especially on the mental healthcare side. In a world where you’re supposed to feel accepted and are taught to “treat everyone blah, blah, blah”……even in a world where I’m taught that I’m no different because of my illness, I STILL have had to jump through hoops, still have had to play the game to just get by. I have been extremely fortunate for the most part, I must say. One instance (that ironically ended up happening on several more occasions), however, was centered around a time I was in just enough control to try and take the reins before something really bad happened.

I was about as manic as one can get without being totally “gone” yet was aware and knew I was going to end up in jail or worse at the rate I was going. It was a type of mania where the amount of clarity provided was too much; I was on the brink, and I knew it. It was like a bad trip, but without the total loss of one’s basic faculties. I was more aware of what was going on than I ever had been, and that was not necessarily a good thing.

So, before things got any worse, I called my psych doctor. I pleaded with her to get me into the short-term facility at the hospital where most of my medical treatment was based out of. She agreed that I was going to end up in jail at the rate of things, and would end up being involuntarily committed. So, this was my dilemma: I needed to become legally adjudicated to “need” a stay in a short-term facility. So, that meant I needed to engage in odd and/or criminal behavior – which was exactly what I was trying to avoid – just to get me a bed at the Mulberry Center.

It was then explained to me that hospitalizations of this repute were generally geared towards the “depressed” and those on that end of the spectrum. I was then told that if I wanted a bed, I knew what I had to do.

Yes. Yes, I guess I did, but I didn’t think that it would come to that. In the end, I was given the ultimatum of entry by being a “threat” to myself based on the level of my “depression”. That or go on my merry way.

So, out of fear for myself and those closest to me, I feigned having “suicidal ideations” due to “depression” – the only way I could get the help I needed (or at least to get away from the general public).

I came out seven days later (this particular go-around, that is) with a stack of color sheets and lists of coping skills and positive affirmations. I was no longer dangerously manic, but only because of yet another med change.

This is just one instance where bipolar disorder has made me feel like an outsider (even in a clinical setting where I was supposed to be receiving treatment, I was an outsider). The whole of it is just a microcosm of a bigger issue. Just another crack in the healthcare system that I, as a member of the “bipolar community”, so depend on.

Another Pause: The Little Things

white ceramic teacup with saucer near two books above gray floral textile

“Resting and relaxing is as important as going out there and making it happen.”
– Hiral Nagda

So, we decided to stay another night just to have a full evening of recovery and relaxation (reading for me) before we make the seven-hour plus drive home. We’ve had a full day of family fun and it seemed like a no-brainer to take a night to unwind before we headed home; no need in going home so worn out that the trip becomes something we want to forget. Also, we all seemed to be excited at the idea of just getting to sit around and read or write or color.

Tomorrow, we return to reality (my wife has to work, and we both have two other children to return to). Not some futuristic definition of reality, just back to our everyday routine. There is nothing wrong with that; reality is, I assume, preferable to the alternative.

This post isn’t going to be too long, so I won’t take much, if any, of your time (assuming you’re even reading this). We’ve all enjoyed this little trip but are also excited about a night of nothing. Even though we’re doing things we can do just as easily at home doesn’t mean we always get to. Life can always get in the way of you being able to finish the last chapter of that book you’ve been reading for two months.

So, I guess my point (other than providing another unnecessary update) is to appreciate the simple things. Real original, right? But seriously, no vacation in the world can make up for the little things that are always right in front of us.

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A Pause for the Cause

“In America, there are two classes of travel: first-class and with children.”
– Robert Benchley

Just checking in.

We’re on day three of what has turned out to be a nice little vacation. My wife, son, and I are in the hills of Tennessee in a nice little cabin with all the “essentials” needed to survive out here with a 5-year-old boy and yes, that means free Wi-Fi, too (it’s inescapable these days, though I do find it amazing how it’s possible to even have electricity and running water in such an isolated area – let alone free Wi-Fi).

We’ve done very little as far as “touristy” things go, to be honest, but that’s been just fine with me. I come down here enough to know that this is the part of the trip that matters. My son has been fascinated by just us staying in a place that’s not a hotel. I’ve also been able to work and mess around on a few things while here, and my wife has her endless supply of “things to do” with her, too.

So, it truly has been a getaway. 75% of what we’ve done on this trip could’ve very well been done at home, so I’m glad this hasn’t been a vacation with a lot of bells and whistles (my wife hasn’t demanded as near as many as pictures as I would’ve expected). It’s been nice to just have a change of scenery and to be able to live on a slower (though not by much) plane of existence, if only for such a short amount of time.

Yes, we will be leaving and going home tomorrow. The end of a trip, especially a good trip, is always heartbreaking. Rolling back into town can be utterly depressing. But that’s how it goes. In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the afternoon at the arcade with my wife and son before a nice dinner and night back here at the cabin.

a day in the life: one day at a time

red flower near white flower during daytime

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”
– Leonard Cohen

As I write this early Tuesday morning, I can in good faith look back and reflect on how good yesterday was. Not that I can sit here all “woe is me” like I never have good days, but yesterday felt like a fresh start.

First off, work is picking back up as the warmer weather is (maybe) finally starting to settle in. I work for both a lawncare and a construction company. Yards will need to be mowed; houses will need to be built or repaired. Things are about to pick up and get busy. It’ll be mornings of rushing to get the kids shipped out to whoever is watching them on that day by 6 am. It’ll be the “get-up-and-go” this household really needs.

On another note, I had my second ketamine treatment last night and the relief was immediate. No, there was no “high” or “buzz”, as I’m often asked. It takes a few minutes to wake up and come to after the infusion, but there is nothing other than that if you’re someone trying to chase the dragon. I just felt all of the stress go away. I’m less tense and uptight, and I can even handle some of my OCD/superstitions that could laughably be debilitating. But that in and of itself is proof there is something to this ketamine regimen.

I am thankful for my family and am slowly starting to realize to not push them away. I’m learning how personally devastating it is to be bitter and to hold onto those little feelings every day. Let it go. I have an amazing wife and three beautiful sons that need me. And they need me to be me, not the person I have been and will still (unfortunately) become at times.

But even after writing that last sentence I still can find some level positivity in the situation, if only by not dwelling on the issue. That is new for me. My usual moody attitude would’ve normally kicked into full gear, and I would’ve ended up dead or in jail.

It’s nice to be able to reflect in a positive sense, not having to worry about getting fixated on a topic that concerns me in no way. That’s an intense state of mind and I’m happy for the relief. At this point in time, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Just remember when you wake up every morning to find or think of a few positive things right off the bat. Easier said than done, right? But it can be done. I’m doing it as I’m typing these words right now. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’m in the beginning stages of a cycle. Fortunately, I am not on any drugs, and I am lucid and have been for some time now. So that’s a nice feeling, too.

Well, it’s early and it’s about time for work (don’t you know there are yards to be mowed and houses to be built?). I just wanted to check in and remind anyone who needed reminding that, even through the madness, there is light. You may have to look a little bit harder some times, but it’s always there.

Happy Tuesday everyone!

On the Fear of Death, Dying, & Drowning

close up photography of concrete tombstones

“Death is as natural as life. It’s part of the deal we made.”
– Mitch Albom

It’s a subject as old as time, and a personal dilemma everyone experiences at some point in their lives: the fear of death and dying.

It would almost be negligent to let on that I’ve never fixated on the thought of dying and, of course, what’s to come after.

I’m not of the belief in a “Christian God” or a “White Jesus”…but on the same token I’m terrified of going to hell. It doesn’t make any sense, I know. But it’s true.

I’m not scared to die, though. I think I’d die for anybody. I would just want it to be quick, painless (who wouldn’t, right?). Don’t get me wrong. I in no way want to die, but you have to accept dying as a part of life or you’ll get too hung up on it, and that can be dangerous.

I get hung up on a specific fear of dying: drowning. I’m outright terrified of water…yet it never stops me from getting in; I’ve been in pools, ponds, lakes, and two oceans. But the entire time I am I’m in a state of anxiety and fear like no other. I hate water. I’d rather burn alive than spend my last moments in that type of fear accompanied with drowning.

The fear of drowning is called aquaphobia. In fact, aquaphobia is the irrational fear of drowning. I would say, partly because of my “condition”, most of my fears are totally irrational. For instance, I have to have the volume on the TV on an even number. I know it’s insane, but it’s a true fear. I honestly believe your shooting dice with the Devil if you have your TV volume on an odd number. I’m as neurotic as they come.

Fears can either teach or they can torture. They say you have to “face your fears” to conquer them. Most people try to avoid them completely so as to not have to even bother with the thought of it. I mean, how can the fear of death and dying be conquered? At best, it can only be accepted.

The fear of the possibility. That is a true fear I suffer from, and it can be debilitating. The anxiety that comes with just the possibility of something bad is phenomenal, except not in a good way.

The fear of death and dying is definitely a rational fear. It’s the fear of the unknown. The fear of what you have to leave behind. It’s rational, I just “handle” it irrationally.

I’ve decided to avoid the time spent on thinking about death by just never dying. I never want to die so that’s the plan. It may be irrational, but whatever gets me through the night, right?

But am I scared of dying? I don’t WANT to die, of course. but it is a part of life. And I have accepted that.

I agree the idea of not dying may not be a good plan, but it’s all I got (If I didn’t laugh all I would do is cry). We’re all going to die. And I’d like to believe we just drift off into the stratosphere, but as a nihilist, I honestly believe that after we die it’s all just black, an eternal void.

If I’m wrong, I just hope that when I die I make it to hell before the Devil knows I’m dead.

And then there was Ketamine…

“Bipolar robs you of that which is you. It can take from you the very core of your being and replace it with something that is completely opposite of who you truly are.”
– Alyssa Reyans, Letters from a Bipolar Mother

So, I go in for my second ketamine treatment on Monday, and boy, am I relieved!

I did my first round a few months ago and I could tell an immediate difference. But the farther apart each treatment is the less effective it will be. In fact, it’s recommended to do six rounds in three to six weeks. At $450 a pop, however, that was just not realistic at the time.

WHAT IS KETAMINE?

Ketamine got its start in Belgium in the 1960s as an anesthetic for animals. Ketamine has since been FDA-approved as a safer form of anesthesia for people, as it doesn’t slow down breathing or heart rate.

But most notably, ketamine is getting a lot of attention as a more serious, long-term treatment for depression, PTSD, and bipolar disorder. It causes what doctors call a “dissociative experience”.

John Krystal, MD, chief of psychiatry at Yale-New Haven Hospital and Yale School of Medicine in Connecticut, described what this dissociation may feel like.

“Ketamine can produce feelings of unreality; visual and sensory distortions; a distorted feeling about one’s body; temporary unusual thoughts and beliefs; and a euphoria or a buzz.”

However, the drug’s potential as a treatment for depression and antidote to suicidal ideations has piqued the interest of many researchers. It has been studied and administered to people for decades with mostly positive results.

“We’re reaching out in a new way to patients who have not responded to other kinds of treatments and providing, for some of them, the first time that they’ve gotten better from their depression,” Krystal says.

BRINGING IT BACK HOME

After my first ketamine infusion, I felt an immediate sense of relief and release. It was so nice to not even be able to remember what being depressed felt like. But if you don’t get the full recommended treatment plan up front, the effects of the ketamine ultimately wears off. And you’ll know it when it does.

It’s also recommended that talk therapy should commence as soon as the patient “comes to” after the infusion. Ken Stewart, MD, expressed this same sentiment.

“It’s my sense that this is important,” Stewart says. “When people come out of this really profound experience, they have a lot to say, and these are people who have a lot of baggage and a lot of experiential pain. A lot of times, ketamine leads to an unpacking of that baggage.”

My upcoming ketamine appointment couldn’t have been scheduled at a better time. When in the throes of mania or in a bout of depression, reality can be fragmented and frightening.

Bouncing around between mania and depression isn’t easy, and if the ketamine infusions are proven to help then I’m going to do what I need to do to achieve some semblance of normalcy and relief.

Hey, whatever works, right?

a day in the life: oh, sweet depression

“Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.”
– Stephen Fry

It’s been one of those days, and if it’s anything like the last half of yesterday then you can count me out.

It’s just one of those days.

I’d rather be down than manic, though. The mania can be dangerous and is exhausting on a whole other level. I in no way benefit from the mania anymore.

It’s strange because March/April is when I usually cycle and experience my mania. So, to be “depressed” or just down is unexpected and, to be honest, seemingly out there in left field.

Even my dreams lately (and I rarely remember my dreams) seem to be a place of ruin where nothing comes together, and sleep becomes a place of complete dissolution. This endless cycle is a prison, and also the only home I’ve ever known.

I have adjusted and adapted to this idea of “normalcy” rather well, but even that is not enough. In the end, it’s all just a matter of timing. Just got to wait for things to catch up.

When depressed, every day winds down to the same thing, the same occurrences, the same happenings, the same void that I go through on repeat. It returns with an almost obligatory vengeance.

My brain beats to a drum, it doesn’t tick to a clock. Still, I’ll remain on this eternal schedule of Hell. And they wonder why I don’t speak of God.

Blame it all on temperament, personality, or a chemical imbalance. In the end, it still falls back on me.

And Don’t Go Out Smiling: A Poem

And don’t go out smiling –

In the reverie of death’s sweet delivery,

a smile would only cloud

and be monstrous.

A vagrant would, but you?

The romance in dying

is like the alcoholic’s valor,

the vine in the wine,

the poison of being intoxicated

I won’t, but I want

Dying:

Body releases soul emissions,

spirit forms, falls,

and encountered are magnitudes of cosmic growth

only attainable in the rays of death

But don’t go out smiling,

stifle your grins and be beckoned by the angel’s smile

Let them, but not us,

oh no

Smile not

and leave this world in great Trumpet Death