Archive for the ‘Mental Illness’ Category

Sitting in my office, jamming to some tunes suddenly from a far I hear feet shuffling on the freshly waxed floor. A smile comes across my face, because I know soon I will see my best friend Dale Brown. 
Through the Taoist point of view Dale had reached the rare state of enlightenment, where he was able to see the world through the eyes of a child. I am aware that this state was partially contributed to his illness, but none of that mattered. The brief moments where we were able to interact was always the highlight of my day. It is amazing how we seem to appreciate things so much more when they are gone.

It was the day before Thanksgiving 2009; I spent most of the day by Dale’s side. His biggest fear was being alone I held his hand, and tried to tell him that he is not alone, and everything is going to be ok. I feared that he was so far in the process that he was not able to hear me.

 Dale had just recently been taken off hospice, so he did not have someone by his side, on this day he seemed more alert then the days before. He had spent most his days just laying in bed, on this day Dale was moved out in the common areas in what I call the “death chair”. I call it this, because the residents who sit in this chair pass soon after.

When the day came to an end, I saw him sitting there, I said my goodbye’s knowing in my head that this would be the last time I would see him. There was so much I wanted to say to him, for some reason it did not come out.

I received the text on Thanksgiving eve that he had passed, looking back there are so many things I wished I would have said. I wish I would have given him a hug, and told him exactly how much he meant to me. I wish I told him he is loved.

I still hear shuffles coming from the hallway; I look up with a smile waiting to see his smiling face. I never see it, it has almost been two months and I still have not talked about it, accepted it, or discussed my feelings.

I did not intend on forming any relationships with the residents I work with.  Dale came into my life at a point where I needed a friend. The conversations we had were delusional, yet very personal. I could be myself, I did not need to hide my disease or who I really was, and neither did he. His smile was infectious and always brightened up my day.

He was here my first day at work, and in my mind I thought he would be here for many years to come. I hate that I never took the time to just sit back, and be mindful of the moment. I am angry and sad that I will never get that chance again. I am regretful I did not let him know the impact he had on my life. I wanted him to know that even in death he will always live on in my heart. Even as I write this my eyes well up in tears, yet I refuse to feel through it. I refuse to accept and let go.

Since his passing my days seem empty, and my heart breaks every time I hear the shuffling, only to look up and see that it isn’t him.

Repost. I still miss Dale, and know he had very few people in his life that cherished and loved him for who he was. I know Dale would pass no judgments on my own mental health. Miss and love you.

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I started this blog almost ten years ago. My ultimate goal has always been to write from my mind and heart with complete honesty. Over the years my writing has produced so many bad outcomes I am left to ponder on whether or not to continue writing. 

When I write I do not hold back, and as a result around two years into this adventure I changed my blog to include a pen name in hopes this will minimize the damage caused. For the most part this worked, but the feedback I would receive was negative. My wife has always worried about our kids or our children’s parents reading my deeply personal musings. This fear caused me to stop writing all together, and my blog just sat out there in limbo. 

Writing has always been cathartic and therapeutic. Ever since I started to have real feelings I slowly began to write again. Last night my wife told me that our 13 year old son and his friends have discoverd and read many posts, and was told my writing has caused my son’s friends parents to not allow their kids to be friends with him.

This was a devastating blow because my intentions are good, and I find it sad that other parents are so judgmental they punish him for the sins of his father. 

It is decision time. As I see it my options are to cease and desist my blog and any future damaging posts, or continue to write from my mind and heart with complete honesty. 

If you are one of my regular readers you know I battle with a mental illness. I am one of the lucky few who have both a mood and personality disorder. One of the many things I need to navigate through a mind lost in chaos and screaming. These feelings can be so overwhelming I resort to self-harm, because my focus becomes the pain quitting my mind for a moment. 

When it comes down to survival where I am my most dangerous enemy a person has to do what a person has to do. 

http://www.higherperspectives.com/brain-test-1997532395.html?utm_source=mobileapps_android

I was surprised by the results… it’s either astrology level bullshit… or I don’t know myself as well as I know myself. 

As I am shamefully about to post this I heard cheering from the school down the street. Yesterday it was really loud because Shakopee won it’s playoff game. I don’t recommend anyone with a history of psychosis to have to endure the uncertainty of wondering if what you are hearing is real or just in my head. 

I can’t remember the last time I have written a post, I know it has been awhile before my last hospitalization. I continue to fail at my daily goal of a post a day, but in my defence I have been receiving ECT treatments. I started them during my hospitalization and continue the treatments on an outpatient basis.

Before I go further I feel it’s important to note that as a side effect to these treatments is the difficulty I have formulating thoughts which makes my writing confusing because now I have to transfer my hazy thoughts onto the computer. I believe it is a certainty that my grammar is going to suck… I just did a … because I wondered what exactly my grammar was going to suck. 

If you don’t know what ECT is I will write a separate post  describing what it is actually like. My focus is on how these treatments have crippled my brains ability to remember things and to formulate thoughts, along with making simple daily living activities complex and scary. 

I have been getting more headaches, but nothing as intense and painful as the headaches following each treatment make me nauseous. I feel like I may be over using the word “but” I probably am but fuck it right. 

All I am saying is just getting this posted is a huge step. There I said it, and it can’t be unsaid. Because I have put it in writing so shame on me. 

My intended focus is to break down, analyze, and apply my methodology to three single events with the intended outcome of making the correct choice.

1. Do I stay or do I go? I have repeatedly replayed the same haunting moment of seeing my son still and quiet on his bike as he watched me get in the car to go to work. In that moment I could see in his eyes the internal conflict between acceptance and denial that his dad is slipping away. I could see and understand all too well the sadness he was trying so bravely to hide. 

As my mental state continues to deteriate, he now sees a dad who struggles with simple daily living activities. His bravery falls apart.

It is difficult for me to release my sadness and sorrow through the shedding of tears. The only time the outside world can see what I try so hard to hide, is when I cannot hold back my tears. At that moment, just as in this moment writing about it I cannot stop the tears. Many people say that crying is supposed to be this wonderful release of pent up emotions. It’s not like that for me. Tears feel like razor blades running down my face, slicing through self-denial and exposing my weakness and vulnerability. Regardless of how many times I have been told I am selfish and only think of myself, at the end of the day my meaning in life, and my purpose is to not break his heart. I am well aware I will never win the father of the year award. To be honest with you I don’t even know if I’m a good father. Despite what I am told I know I have always tried to be the best dad I could be. 

2.  Time holds no logical meaning anymore. Remembering the day, date, even what year it is. I destroy everything I touch. Answering the question I posed earlier… it is best to leave. As my depression gets worse so does my will to live. 

3.There are only so many pieces someone can be broken into before they are unable to be put back together. I now need to come to terms with the sobering reality that I will become in my own eyes everything I ever swore I wouldn’t. I will become my fathers son. I am desperately seeking, yet fear I will be unable to live with the guilt, or forgive myself.

4. Children are not stone, nor are they steel. They are dirt and clay, molded by the hands of experience. There is no way to reconcile the loss of my son’s happiness and hope due to the harsh reality of my life, which I have viciously infected upon my family. Despite my frequent mental transformations I made the decision to get married and have children; in that single moment I destroyed their lives. I suppose I was caught up in the perceived human need for significance, by my own sense of insecurity. Here is where I cannot deny my selfishness. Broken dolls are meant to walk alone.

In moments like this I want to hide within the minds of Soren Kierkegaard and Albert Camus covering myself in the blanket of Absurdism. Believing all struggles for life is for nothing. There is only birth and death, and everything in between is our feeble attempt to find meaning and purpose. This concept is wonderful, but in the back of my mind I’m burdened with this question. What if birth and death were only two points, that they were inconsequential compared to what happens between them?   

Although completely useless majoring in Philosophy was one of my better decisions. On one side I have tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt pursuing a degree which is useless in the working world… on the other it opened my mind up to critical thinking, logic, and the common sense to question everything. This is a blessing and a curse. The curse is getting trapped inside my own mind and becoming lost within the bright lights of neuron blasts. 

Thought bondage I think of my reality, my existence… trapped. I cry when I realize this will be the perpetual cycle… never-ending. For as long as I am alive I will forever be tormented by my own mind, so easily broken around ever corner.

I used to fear deaths embrace, but being scared and beat down by life will turn fears into wishing.

It is cold and lonely in here. Locked away, as easy as being thrown away. If there is a God why would he play such a sadistic trick on me… I am the puppet he abuses when he becomes filled with anger and Wrath.

My existence, the reality of my existence so short and insignificant. In the grand scheme of things my life is but a short dull blip when compared to the cosmos.

My life holds no meaning when compared to this. Turning inward I ponder if this is what my short insignificant meaningless existence is. Honestly is this all it fucking is? Will there be anything else… anything more to this shit show?

Here is the face of evil and part of an ongoing blog series recounting the horrible story.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search

 

I don’t belong in civilized society less my madness be spread to the masses. Over the last few years the madness has become impossible to hide let alone deny. If my madness is factual and cannot be denied than what Kierkegaard is saying is the acknowledgment of my madness will inevitable perpetuate the insanity. 

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the positive self talk advice which is usually followed by the statement “fake it until you make it.” This statement encourages denial and self deception. 

Prior to my complete mental breakdown I lived in a reality of self denial and false realities. 

Day after day I wore the mask of the masses, until I no longer had the strength to put one on. As I have stated in prior posts this shift occurred once I discovered emotions, the evil which lives in all of us. I cannot contain my crazy because I lack a social filter. This deficiency causes me to stay locked away alone in my home. Isolation is like throwing gasoline onto a fire. 

A recent example was getting thrown out of stamp dealer store. This dude was being a dick, what’s worse is I was fully aware of his strategy. To make a long story short this man was not expecting nor appreciated the verbal vomit of honesty spewing from my lips. I don’t know if it was my honesty or my liberal use of the word “fuck.” The end result is being permantely banned from this establishment. My honesty being without a filter almost got me arrested. 

The Pandora ‘s box of my insanity and the curse of seeing the truth of our society, a society blinded by complacency and ignorance. Most great minds are plagued with madness, they must have faced the facts of their reality and still have the courage to use it as a tool to enact change. 

The following link leads to the face of true evil.

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search 

https://coms.doc.state.mn.us/publicviewer/OffenderDetails/Index/254746/Search

I was advised to stay quite while as a family we went through hell and back thanks to this piece of shit my daughters life has been changed and damaged by him, and not writing about this has been very difficult. Over time I plan on telling this story although for the sake of my readers I will reframe from posting one long drawn out post. 

If you want to see the predator who took my daughter and I in to his home during a very fucked up time. Mentally I was fucked, all the while this man who was supposed to be my friend and as he called it we are a family like “My two dads.” One of the things that eats at me is he systematically kept me sick and fucked up on purpose to groom my daughter. 

I want it to be noted I am an overly honest person when it comes to writing and the posts to come will be from eyes and I will be painfully open, but out of respect to my daughter any details regarding my her and this douche fuck will be limited to “grooming.” 

I will attempt to unravel this cluster fuck in future posts.