Posts Tagged ‘Mental Illness’

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. 

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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. 

Tomorrow morning I will be meeting my ARMS worker at Abbott Emergency room to go through the excruciating and frustrating process of trying to beds. Every time I have been hospitalized because of my PTSD it’s not safe for me to have a roommate. This is a big fear of mine that my wife has always been a strong advocate to ensure things go right. 

I have been in and out of the hospital 8 or 9 times in the past two years. The cycle ends up the same I am placed on a 72 hour hold I get in the hospital and have a breakdown because they lowered my prns then what they normally are. Now being heavily medicated the first two days is the only way to do it. So anyway the days pass I start to just want the fuck out of there so I lie and say all is good and they let me go. After 8 times maybe I am not doing something right, so we are going down the route of commitment to save myself from myself forcing me to fight it out and hope I leave with… hope. 

I am at the point of commitment because I can no longer care for myself, I was so depressed and when I found out my dad got my son a gun my mind immediately went to here is our way out. Long story short my dad looks for all his guns as I was trying to rush away and he ran out and took the gun from the car. I am now driving home with my son sleeping next to me without the comfort that soon I will be gone. I was angry I was upset I felt jaded yet again but driving four hours with my son and my thoughts I realized one of my motivations is I want my son to look up to me, and in my current state he has become more of a caretaker. I want to wake up in the morning and have my first thoughts of the day be one of hope and strength instead of death and despair. I have missed my set dates for departure several times. Perhaps I have some greater purpose buried beneath the rubble. 

I have a wonderful support group my wife, children, family, and those who become a family. It took losing unconditional love to discover what unconditional love is and appreciate those in my life who love unconditionally despite of my insanity I have a crew of people making sure I am all right. That alone is a gift many don’t have. My first attempt to seriously look at the problem get on the meds do the treatments whatever needs to be done so I can exit the womb of the mental hospital reborn into a better tomorrow. One can only hope. If I can I will journal during arts and crafts time to keep my progress posted… how narcissistic did that sound? I plan on writing during most of my free time. 

I figure if I can type a post as the time it takes another human being to make a macaroni necklace than perhaps I can use arts and crafts time to at least be able to free my mind all over the complicated interweb. 

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.

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 

I avoid mirrors, I simply can’t handle seeing my own reflection. I naturally have a difficult time making eye contact with anyone, fearing they will see through my mask. The rare moments I make eye contact with the man in the Mirror I grow weary and this is what came out.

My faces of evil

Cleverly hidden 

My eyes…

The window into a voidless darkness…

Soulless 

Stare too long and he takes you away

“Grab my hand”

“I will take this pain away”

“Follow me into the shadows”

“Fear not of voided thoughts”

“Shed no tears”

“We have lived beyond our years”

“Trust in me”

“To take the pain away”

Being poor

Wanting more

Cubburds bare

I wished upon a star

Even trying a rare prayer

An elephant tear

Appears filled with fear

Being poor

Children needing more

Unwaking nightmare

I promised I swore

I tried so hard to ignore 

My final wish to create my final scar

“Every intelligent individual wants to know what makes him tick, and yet is at once fascinated and frustrated by the fact that oneself is the most difficult of all things to know.” – Alan Watts

I don’t know who I really am. In fact I don’t even know how to describe where I am at this exact moment. My mind is foggy… just as Venus is trapped in a reverse green house effect. My intelligence and cognitive functioning gets trapped in the atmosphere, there is no reprieve from suffering, trapped and unable to escape.

In time everything is cooked. Water evaporates with nowhere to go. Gases formed toxicity of death. Mymind is Venus’s mirror the history of our solar system being replayed and recreated within my mind. A reverse Greenhouse effect of the psyche. Everything’s chaotic so many intense feelings, emotions, and just fucking everything.

Where once Venus supported life, my mind as well promoted life by feeling all this hurt and pain purged from my mind and released into the empty space of passing and forgotten thoughts. The chaotic intensity so vivid and crazy is unable to escaped. Trapping the madness and depression cooking my very being, evaporating hope and happiness with only chaotic Insanity. Rational gases of Doubt anxiety fear sadness take over my mental planets the ability to verbalize or explain, the ability to ask for help to be happy to have hope is just as trapped. I am toxic and just as lifeless… as Venus

Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Still working on trying to write the perfect post, causing paralysis. I have found a way to continue writing… I call it ‘Black Out Journaling. I can never recall what I just wrote, when I go back and read them, it’s as if I am reading it for the first time.

I have never feared confessional writing, it’s my only gift. Yet I fear posting any black out entry’s. No more, in order to stay true to myself, I am adding a new series of entries categorized as black out Journaling, and will periodically re-post past entries to complete my project of making it easier to search for specific series.