`Once well underground,' he said, `you
know exactly where you are. Nothing can happen to you, and
nothing can get at you. You're entirely your own master, and you
don't have to consult anybody or mind what they say. Things go
on all the same overhead, and you let 'em, and don't bother about
'em. When you want to, up you go, and there the things are,
waiting for you.' - from "The Wind in the Willows" by Kenneth Grahame
I am a diagnosed, Paranoid/Delusional, Bipolar with ADD & OCD.
I'm also a guitar player, but that's not what I'm writing about today.
I've been completely off all medications since the end of July. Now I'm gonna tell you why. But I gotta explain some things first.
When I was "hospitalized" last May, I was taking Seroquel, Prozac & Adderall daily. My first psychiatrist was a grumpy old Polish woman. She did this one thing I used to hate. Either because she tried to help me with my tendency to ramble on and on or because she was just plain annoyed by me, she used to put a timer on her desk and whenever she asked me a question I had 30 seconds to answer it. I rarely ever got an answer in under the buzzer. What a bitch.
I figured if after a year under her care, the best I could manage was to end up not being able to work in a year and ultimately in a mental institution then I should probably find another psychiatrist. So I did. I found very nice doctor who told me that the reason I was getting all sorts of cardiograms in the hospital was because Seroquel and Prozac taken together can cause a rare condition where you heart can just suddenly stop. Nobody told me this, including the doctor that prescribed the shit to me.
What a bitch. The solution, get me off Prozac, and Adderall, put me on something called Lamictal and double my dosage of Seroquel. Let's talk about Seroquel for a little bit.
Seroquel is an anti-psychotic, mood stabilizer commonly used to treat schizophrenics and bipolars. In small doses like 50-75 milligrams, I hear people sometimes take it for insomnia, and I believe it because this shit will knock you the fuck out I was taking 400mg/day and now I was being upped to 800/day.
I did notice an immediate effect on my mood. Despite the fact that at the time me and my wife were separated, the, fear, overwhelming sense of panic, dread and suspicion, the bad voices, all that shit went away. It was the equivalent of watching TV in color vs in black & white. Or just maybe it was the massive amount of medication I was taking, but maybe it was because I didn't have a job, was living with my parents and spent 12-15 hours a day sleeping, and the rest of my waking hours watching TV or in the local library. I wasn't living in real life. I was living in my own protected little world where nothing could get to me. Guarded by medication and the seclusion of Queen Creek, AZ, I was virtually invulnerable. Who wouldn't be happy? or at least relatively unstressed, and content.
But then I found a job. A job I really enjoy doing, and one I still have today. When you sleep 15 hours a day its kind of hard to wake up at 5am so you can commute across town to go to work. Then expect to be alert and awake and productive while you're at work.
And as both my psychiatrists and the doctor in the mental hospital has said, being a Paranoid/Delusional, Bipolar with ADD & OCD isextremely hard to medicate. To get the right medications in the right mix is just very hard to do.
The sheer amount of medications needed to handle all the shit that's wrong with me is just enormous. It's possible of course, but it doesn't seem like it can be done without it resulting in me basically spending my life like some sort of ZOMBIE.
NO! NOT ROB ZOMBIE, DAMMIT!
I want to work and try to have a productive life that doesn't just involve sitting at home collecting disability and sleeping all day long. I also don't want to keep trying different medications and risking possibly dangerous side effects- like my heart possibly stopping. At least not before the next round of star wars movies comeout.
So I live with the the highs and lows, and depression and dread, and suspicion, and the bad voices that try to convince me of all sorts of crazy shit. I go to work, I eat healthy and try to keep myself in shape. I rarely drink and don't do any other drugs.I try to keep my marriage intact and basically I just try really hard thru sheer willpower to keep my shit together andmake sure that I'm always around people and in situations that are conducive to my mental health.
Its not perfect and not even entirely successful, but after almost 10 months off all medications, I'm still alive, I'm not in a mental institution, I'm still married and Ihave a job and I think that's a pretty good start.
I have gotten back into counseling too. Hopefully that will help me keep an even keel and stay off medication. But I'm not naive and I realize that medication may eventually be the only way to keep me healthy. But for now I'm doing ok.
But all the bad stuff never really goes away. It's always there, like some annoying kid yelling in your ear, fucking with you, doing everything they can to try to make you lose your cool.
Queen Creek Sherrif: Do you know why I stopped you today? -
Me: I'm assuming it's because of that right turn that I made coming out of the library -
Queen Creek Sherrif: You didn't think you came out of there too fast?
Me: Do I think that turn merited police intervention? No.
In retrospect, I can think of some better ways I could've answered that question. I was annoyed at the question and responded poorly. I have a habit of giving in to my short temper and mood swings. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, regardless of what may happen later. I immediately feel better, but then sometimes days later, when my mood subsides I have to start making apologies.
This lash out first, apologize later method has cost me jobs, relationships, marriages, and friendships. Hell just ask my wife, I get irritated at the slightest little thing. Ava is being bossy, and whiny or she goes to bed 5 minutes past her bedtime, or someone was cooking in the kitchen and didn't pick up after themselves. She'll get annoyed at me, and thats all thats needed for me to feel, as Pink Floyd put it, One of my turns coming on... I'm overwhelmed by this 'verbally assault you before you do it to me' attitude, and I say a bunch of stupid stuff that'll either get me kicked out of the house, or just generally ignored and ostracized, until I come back to my senses, then I've got to apologize, which I always do, but someone can only take so much of that type of behavior. Eventually all the apologizing in the world isn't enough. I walk that fine line on a pretty much daily basis.
Jake's apology and laundry list of excuses is reminiscent of what I have to do almost daily.
These days with a change in my medications, a new psychiatrist and months of therapy and a brief period of institutionalization later, things have improved somewhat. I still let my temper and mood get the better of me, but its not as often and instead of it taking days for me to get back to an even keel, it may only last hours. It's not much, but I'm getting there.
It seemed the cop kept me deliberately waiting there much longer than usual. I'm assuming he ran my information thru every cop database there was looking for any little thing that he bust me for. Meanwhile, I'm sweating it out wondering if I've done anything wrong. Parking tickets, photo radar, are all my lights and blinkers working?
Fortunately, I was clean, and the cop let me off with just a warning, but I can't rely on getting those kind of lucky breaks every time I say something stupid.
I guess thats part of being bipolar. I have made some progress with this. I was given some great tools in the mental hospital that I still try to use whenever I feel, "one of my turns coming on."
It's called The Roadmap to Piece of Mind. It's a group of tools used to retain your brain. I won't bore you by breaking it all down, but basically the premise is that when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. I fly off handle, or get easily irritated and upset because of my own opinions and beliefs, and real positive change begings when you can begin to challenge those opinions and beliefs instead of just blaming others.
I used to blame everyone and everything else for driving me to the point I loose my cool, but for the first time ever in my life, I've come to the realization that no matter what someone or something does/says/etc... It's always me that chooses to act on my negative behaviors.
Yeah I know that sounds like something I should already know, but you can read that all day long, you can hear it all day long, but when you're in the middle of a bipolar mood swing, it's simply easier said than done. The highs are so incredibly high and the lows are so abysmally low that it can be downright impossible to take yourself out of the situation in order to begin to see things more productively.
I've heard it said once that 'you can't learn to swim by reading it on the internet.' You can read about swimming and how to do it, and proper technique all you want, but you will not swim until you get yer ass in the water and do it for yourself.
For the first time in my life, I've started to challenge my old ways of thinking. 'maybe the problem is on my end, and its ME thats choosing to be irritated. Every time I question my usual ways of thinking, I make a baby step. It's the difference between reading that you can change, and KNOWING that you can change.
I'm nowhere near where I'd like to be as far as the roadmap to piece of mind goes. Sh*t as I'm writing this, I barely spoken to my wife in days. I've been isolating myself from my family so they don't have to deal with all my bullsh*t, and thats not cool. No matter how much I'd like to just come out of my room and interact with everyone like a normal person, I just can't do it. I can't explain it, it's like being trapped. I know I need to just drop all my crap and join in whatever everyone else is doing, but it's a fear thats so great, I simply can't adequately convey, how hard it is to get past it. That fear of me being exposed and vulnerable to me loosing it is just too much for me to overcome right now.
But I am trying to get past it, in a positive way. The way 'The Roadmap to Piece of Mind,' says you gotta do it.
At this time last year, I would've blamed everyone else for my predicament. I would've told you that's its all their fault that I'm hiding out from everybody. But I know that it's my fault, and the only way I'm going to get past this, is by challenging myself and convincing myself that I'll be ok if I step out of my comfort zone.
It's just a baby step, but at least its a step in the right direction. I know it may not be enough for my wife and family, but it's all I got right now, and instead of beating myself up, I'm choosing to at least be content that I'm even trying at all.
___________________________________________
Ok enough seriousness, Let's end this on a recreational, controlled substane break, shall we?
2. Timothy Leary was not there. Although I like to think he was there in spirit though.
3. You are allowed to scratch your balls.
4. The drugs were good, but not that good.
5. Jimi Hendrix wasn't there, but there was a guy who smeared feces on the walls of his room.
6:00 AM: The orderly/nurse guy wakes you up to take your vitals. Young, black dude, long hair, kinda looks like Arizona Cardinals wide receiver Larry Fitzgerald, but way more effeminate. Oh dear. Aw, what do I care, at least he's nice, and besides, I'm the last person to be judging anybody right now.
Blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. The room has no door. The bathroom is in its own separate room like in a motel, but there is no door. two single beds no windows, two lights above each bed, two small tables, two chairs, two small dressers.
My roommate, still sleeping, just grunts and sticks his arm out. I'm not sure why, but I didn't think that was very polite, so I sat up, and said good morning at least. A minute or two and he's done. Breakfast isn't until 8:15. The day doesn't officially get going until then. I'm still groggy. I take Seroquel every night before bed. It's an anti-psychotic mood stabilizer. It also knocks your ass out too. They give everybody a sleeping pill with whatever bedtime medication you take. It's optional, but f*ck it, I took it anyways. I've stopped fighting. Last night after evening group therapy, I decided to finally accept my present circumstances. Just because you can voluntarily go in, doesn't mean it's that easy to just voluntarily get out. Especially when just yesterday you tried to kill yourself for the 2nd time in less than 12 months. I decide to stop fighting life, and allow myself to go wherever life decides to take me. And right now that means getting my ass back to bed.
7:15 AM: My roommate wakes me up. He kinda reminds me of Seth Rogen. He is very chipper. This immediately has me worried, since he's usually very withdrawn and sullen. He's Jewish, with black, curly crazy hair, big beard, dressed like he's about to play tennis at a country club. I wonder if he knows this is a mental hospital. I hope he doesn't. Hell, even I would rather be at Wimbledon or some sh*t right now than here if I could choose. More power to him, I'm not gonna be the one to ruin his trip.
Dude, you snore! my roommate says in a rather good humor, more surprised than annoyed.
Aw, hell I'm sorry man. Hope it didn't keep you up. I'm rubbing my eyes, groggy, still trying to wake up.
Nah, man its cool. I only woke up once, and I thought for a sec that you were my last roommate, and I got up cuz I was gonna punch you in the head, cuz I f*kkin hated that guy, but then I realized, Oh sh*t! no, it's cool, that's just the new guy. So I went back to bed.
How lucky for me.
8:00 AM: My world consists of one long hallway, My room is at the far end. On the other side is the lobby, which consists of the nurses station where there are two phones you can use during designated times. Next to the nurses station is an adjacent small ass room that has a decaf coffee in styrofoam cups. That sucks ass, but there are also Honeygrams crackers too. I stuff my pockets every few hours and munch on them throughout the day. There is regular coffee in the cafeteria on the other side of the premises, but my doctor has not not yet granted me cafeteria privileges. So its decaf coffee, and all my meals are brought to me. An adjacent side room which is the day room, with books, games, coloring and a television, with CABLE. We don't even got cable at my folks house.
I got the television to myself for the first time. I decide on deadliest catch, until I'm interrupted by "Angry Coke Head" guy. He's a middle aged white dude, kinda reminds me of Glen Cambell's mugshot.
He walks in, and demands the television be put to CNN. He watches for 2 minutes then leaves. But he will come back. It may be 5 minutes or 50 minutes, but he will return and claim he was watching the entire time and demand it be put back to CNN. He's harmless if you just let him watch his 2 minutes of CNN until he leaves again. There is a lot of drama around the television, so I usually just stay away from it, and either read or color.
As I wait for my breakfast to get here. My doctor finally comes to talk to me. Our conversation lasts all of 15 minutes. He says if I make an effort to get involved in the activities instead of just hiding out in my room. He'll consider letting me go in two days. I tell him that if he doesn't grant me full privileges today, I'm checking myself out against medical advice. He tells me that he has no problem granting me full privileges but if I attempt to check myself out, he does have the right to appeal. If I loose the appeal, that will land me in the county mental hospital.
I get to eat breakfast in the cafeteria. Omelette, bacon, sausage, donut, fruit, bagel, orange juice, caffeinated coffee, all you can drink. I don't even eat this good when I'm in Vegas.
8:45 - 9:15: Morning medications.
9:15 - 9:30: Community Meeting. Staff and Patients time to meet and discuss issues and crap. Today's highlights.
more markers to color with please
whoever is throwing puzzle pieces away just cuz they can't put the puzzle together, please stop doing that.
More Honeygrams in the small kitchen please.
Weird girl has a fit throwing hell ride. I call her "Dances With Headphones." she's bitching about having her privileges revoked. She has to be forcibly removed. She reminds me of Amy Winehouse's Mugshot.
9:30 - 10:30: Educational Group. Different topic every day, informational crap. Today's topic. Medications and side effects. I still have the handout they gave for that one. It was pretty interesting.
10:30 - 11:45: Group Therapy: Group therapy uses a textbook and a method called. "The Roadmap to Piece of Mind." I kept the text book and I still try to consult it when I feel myself loosing it.
Group therapy is the only time you really ever find out what other people are there for. With the exception of some of the younger folks who will usually ask right away why you're there so they can size everybody up, most people, especially the older folks, wanna keep the conversation light. Any conversations I'm having with anyone outside group revolve around either what's on tv, or what kind music we like.
I don't want to give any specific details out but some of the things that sent people to this place include, schizophrenia, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempts, people grieving of recent losses, and various other drug and mental problems.
Nobody is forced to attend group. People come and go. Shit smearing wall guy, gets pissed when he's interrupted, starts telling everyone to f*ck off then storms out. He storms back in then he's forcibly removed.
11:45 - 12:15: Free time. I spend my free time making phone calls and coloring or calling my wife, I'm not allowed shoes with laces, shorts or sweats with drawstrings, or pants with belts. All I have is my slippers and same sweatpants and shirt that I've had on for the last two days. Some people don't look like they've changed in weeks. Some have a seemingly endless wardrobe. Some people have elastic bands keeping their shoes on. Just like that lyric in Pink Floyd's Nobody Home.
I'm not allowed a razor, and I ask if it's possible if I can have a shave. They tell me that I can be taken to get a shave (seeming to imply that I won't be doing it myself) during the alloted time in the morning, however this coincides with breakfast, so if I choose to get a shave then I forfeit my cafeteria breakfast and have to have my food served to me in the ward.
F-that. Any chance I get to leave this building I'm taking.
12:15 - 12:45: Lunch. There are several different wards in this place. The only time we cross paths is in the cafeteria, if you have cafeteria privileges. It can be tense if you're not used to having people stare you down, wondering what you're in there for, but it's not like jail. No fights, just a lot of crazy people, staring down alot of other crazy people.
Today's menu: We got a choice, pizza, hamburgers, hotdogs, fries are standard and offered every day. There's even a dude making wraps and salads too. There's a different specialty theme every day. Today's is Mexican food. I have frijoles, rice, enchilada, some grilled chicken, fruit, a piece of cheese cake, coffee. The cafeteria is packed, but I am the only one who has a table to themself.
I always have a table to myself.
12:45 - 1:45: Afternoon Meds followed by Free Time: I just ate and I'm dying for a cigarette. No smoking allowed. I'm told that they'll give me the patch or the gum, if I want. I've tried the patch before. It works, but it gave me real eff'ed up dreams at night. And no I didn't wear it to bed. So I try the gum. It seems to work.
Cash Cab is on tv. I sit and watch some. I kick everyone's butt with the trivia questions.
How the hell you know all those? Have you seen this one before? I'm asked.
No, I'm kinda like Rain Man, except I'm not good at math. That's my standard reply. A lady sits next to me. She reminds me of Yasmine Bleeth's mugshot.
She says I look just like Andrew. I ask if that's good or bad. She says its someone she used to have a crush on. I say "oh ok," and return to Cash Cab. I'm unimpressed and now slightly irritated. She asks me if I scare her. Now I'm worried if I continue this conversation that she'll think I'm trying to flirt with her. "F*ck Off," I say loudly as I stand and walk out of the room. I felt kinda bad about that, but it had to be done. It was just business. Last thing I want is this bitch thinking she's connected with me. Then she'll never leave me alone. That's the cool thing about being in a mental hospital. You can get away with sh*t like that, and nobody really gives it any thought. After all, you don't know any better, you're crazy.
1:45 - 3:45: Group Therapy: The trick to thriving in an institution such as this is to surrender to the routine. Get involved in whatever is going on. Even if you just go to group and sit and not talk. You gotta stay busy. If you keep yourself occupied enough you forget you're institutionalized. There is comfort in the routine. People are always coming and going throughout a group therapy session. Nurses and techs pulling people out to take vital signs. Case workers trying to get people approved on AHCCCS, looking for housing for people in halfway homes, drug rehab facilities, and outpatient treatment. People checking out, checking in. I get pulled out for an EKG. Its the third one I've had in two days. They tell me the EKG's are standard for all patients, but I don't see anyone else getting them. I ended being told by my new psychiatrist after I was released that taking Seroquel and Prozac together can cause a condition where your heart can suddenly stop. It was not normal for me to be getting regular EKG's they were making sure I wasn't experiencing heart failure. I guess they thought I was too crazy to be informed of this. 3:45 - 4:15: Free time. I decide to call my wife. She wanted me to call but part of me doesn't want to. I'm doing ok here but whenever I'm reminded of the outside world I get sad. It's a double edged sword. I love talking to my wife or my mom but after I hang up, I'm very depressed. I love having my wife and my Dad visit me, it gives me hope something to look forward to when I get out of here. But as visiting hours come to an end, I fight back tears. I don't want them to go. But in the end, my need to connect with my loved ones, outweighs my need to isolate myself so I don't get homesick. Isolation is the reason I'm in this place to begin with. I isolate myself from everything in the world that bothers or depresses me, and I don't let anything out, or in the little bubble I live in. Thats not real life though. Whats real, is the yin and yang, opposities. It's necessary for the world to exist. Within every bad experience is the seed for its opposite good experience and vice versa. So I call my wife, and my parents, and I look forward to and enjoy their visits and accept the inevitable sadness I feel when they must leave. In the end everything and everyone eventually leaves us. We will ultimately loose everything, including ourselves. To fight this is to fight life and the universe itself. I may be stupid but I'm not that stupid. This crazy old bastard is asking someone at the nurses station to look up some shoes for him on the internet. This asshole is always walking around complaining and f*cking with people. He reminds me of Phil Spector's mug shot.
A real loudmouth. He's harmless and all, just a real pain in the ass. He was the guy who was smearing his walls with feces last night. Today they are cleaning and painting his room. He's been bitching about the fact he can't nap in his room right now. I don't even think he sleeps. At 6am he's already wide awake roaming the halls trying to start shit with whoever gets in his path.
He's looking for Nike running shoes. He asks the nurse what website she's looking at and she answers its Nordstroms website. He becomes enraged at this and calls her a "stupid, f*cking c*nt, whore." he's cursing her out for at least a good minute or two until three large black orderly dudes come and take him away.
4:15 - 4:45: Community Meeting. Once again time for staff and patients to touch bases.
Tomorrow we are being visited by therapy dogs.
Anyone with full privileges can spend 30 minutes outside tomorrow walking the grass or playing basketball.
4:45 - 5:15: Free Time: Power Nap. 5:15 - 5:45: Dinner: Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, fries, fruit, cheese cake, coffee. If I had money, I could get a fountain soda or starbucks, but I have no money. I'm just happy I don't have to drink the decaf coffee they got back in the unit. 6:00 - 8:00pm Visiting Hours: Only two hours a day for visitors, but I suppose it could be worse. Me and my wife sit and talk in the lobby. She's not allowed to where the rooms are located. We have the lobby and the day room available to us. After a while they open up the door in the dayroom that leads outside. If you don't have full privileges then this is the only time all day you get to go outside. There are a couple benches, and a small open area covered in astroturf. The walls around the yard are at least 15-20ft high. There is no scenery to look at. We lie on our backs, hold hands and talk as we gaze up at the moon. We laugh, smile and have a good time. It was a great visit. I was sad when she left, but I didn't fight it and the sadness didn't overcome me this time. I think I'm making progress. 8:00 - 9:00: Snacktime, then more meetings: Tonights snack, chocolate pudding. Then you have a choice of group therapy or 12 step. I go with group therapy. 9:00pm: Nightly meds, and my additional sleepy pill. I hang around in the day room, reading, and watching tv, while I wait for my medicines to kick in. One of the guys starts talking with me. He gives me props, for saying alot of good things at group today. I'd never heard him speak before. We chat for an hour or so about, music, concerts we've been to, marriage and kids. It was a very pleasant conversation. Kinda hard to imagine that within the last 48 hours we had both nearly succeeded in our own suicide attempts. He was a nice guy, but he reminded me of Tim Allen's mugshot.
10:00pm: The day room is shut down. The television is turned off. Some people remain in the lobby reading or chatting with staff. Most go to their rooms, not everyone is sleeping. I'm reading in bed. I just realize my roommate screams in his sleep. I hope he doesn't choke me to death in his sleep.
My experience of being in mental hospital was that in some ways it is good to learn to develop routines, and learn to socialize with others, get stable on your medications and get some good information from the group therapies.
But in many ways the system fails you in that at no time did anyone ever personally speak to me about what I did, and why, and why I shouldn't do things like that, and what are healthier ways to cope with things. Any personal one on one interaction was only to ask whether or not I still felt suicidal. And if you still do, then their job is to babysit you until you are no longer a danger to yourself. It is simply a timeout for adults.
Ultimately you are just a name on a file, a collection of symptoms, which must be managed with a collection of medications. My problems, my issues, my behaviors are complex and to only see me as a collection of words in a file is not doing me justice.
Some people are so out of touch with reality that they have to be babysat 24/7. These places are necessary for those people. But for others this is not a place for long term care. It should be considered a rest stop. A place to rest, gather yourself, examine where you've been and where you want to go and then you leave and get right back on the road. Because ultimately you can't learn to deal with reality by isolating yourself from it either in an institution or by isolating yourself from the outside world and living in your own little bubble like many of us, including myself do.
To fight reality is to fight the entire universe and creation itself. Many of our so called "problems" we face in life are ultimately nothing but our own attempts to resist the natural flow of life. This is probably the most important thing I learned from this experience.
I'm starting to realize that when you accept your present circumstances, and stop fighting the flow of life thats when the really cool sh*t starts happening. If you're not fighting against life, then by default life is cooperating with you, and things start working for you, and you start meeting the people that you need to show up in your life.
blah, blah, blah, ok I'm done. I don't feel like writing anymore.
