Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 4

Where I come from Carhartts, lacers, FFA, and tractors are cool. Where I come from talking about the fields, discussing the weather, and debating township issues are the mainstream topics of conversation. Where I come from dip, chaw, chew, and spitters are a sign of social acceptance. Where I come from everyone is your neighbor and in times of crisis help isn’t asked for, it’s already been given. Where I come from may not be perfect, but its home and I’ve begun to realize that just maybe where I come from is exactly where I needed to be.

Before anyone has the bright idea to take that above passage and slap it on a wooden plank, paint it, and sell it I just ask that I receive 10% of the gross profit (we’ll also need to negotiate distribution plans and marketing strategies so please email me with appointment requests). I was talking to El Doc yesterday and I must admit I wasn’t having the best day so my mood wasn’t the greatest but anyhow I ended up going on a tangent about healthcare. There’s not quite another feeling in this world (or at least one I’ve experienced, and I’ve experienced a lot…mood disorder) than hearing someone tell you that you are too much of a risk/liability for them to cover you (even though there’s nothing that is your fault about it). I wish I could say that I was He-Man (“Masters of the Universe”=Courteney Cox’s best performance) afterwards but that would be a lie, I holed for a good five to ten minutes in my bathroom.

I was telling this story and it was obvious I was passionate about the subject. I guess I’ve been raised around people who actually care about others (we may have a unique way of expressing this, but don’t tell us how to help each other; we don’t tell you how to be assholes). When Stubby lost his hand (unfortunately we never found it) I can recall the entire community coming to help during harvest (that’s a big deal city folk). There has never been a time while growing up that if one of our own was in trouble that help wasn’t soon behind.

This mania has brought people into my life that are simply irreplaceable while at the same time it has driven people away that I never thought possible. At times I’ll hole (simply fall into a black hole within my mind) and basically dwell on this but I can usually pull myself out. I try to be strong and appreciate all that I have in this world because deep down I know there are a lot of people out there struggling more than I can imagine. During this I, like so many others, ask myself what’s my calling? My purpose? Why did all this happen to me and what am I suppose to do with it?

I think the answer may have come from Cuzin Art:
“There is something speaking through you, once you learn to harness it you’re going to be unstoppable.”
& El Doc:
“You should be an advocate; they could use you and your skills.”

I am obsessed with the Revolutionary War Era with its secrecy, “treason”, and new ideas on life. I am particularly fascinated by the Founding Fathers whom stood up and gave voice to others who simply couldn’t or wouldn’t. They risked all that they knew to make a change for the better of all. How amazing would it be if I could mimic this in some way with BMD? To give a voice to those who are unable or unwilling. There are so many things I see wrong with this diagnosis (calling it a disease and illness to begin with, we are not sick and contagious and that’s what those words imply) and so much I want to change. It’s almost too much to really believe at this point for me. But then I remember where I come from and know I’d rather try to help too much than do nothing at all…

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 3

I am going to use this post to discuss religion and spirituality so if you are easily offended by such conversation please stop reading now.

It has been nearly a month since my last episode and the only physical aftermath left (aside from the scar from the cigarette burn on my palm, I should get a palm reading and see what they say about that) is the cracked dry skin between my fingers on both hands. This was caused by my obsessive need to pray during my episode (I’d say I recited the Lord’s Prayer only about a few hundred times, purely a guesstimate). There are a few underlying themes that come to light during my episodes and the dominant one (well co-dominant but I’m not ready to share the other quite yet) is religion/spirituality.

I (like 50% of all BMD manics; and yes I asked the doc yesterday for that stat) have been blessed with psychosis during my episodes. This simply means I hallucinate, am delusional, and have intense feelings of grandiosity (so basically for me it’s like going to bed and then waking up feeling like I’m on psychedelic drugs, yeah it can get a little weird). In any manner it fascinates me that these symptoms are so common among BMD manics that no matter where in the world one may be the symptoms are strongly similar. I’ve gone over this in my head countless times in the past two years trying to find some sort of answer or clue (the same can be said for countless research studies around the globe, of which I’m rockin’ one with UC right meow) and for me I believe it’s boiled down to one simple phrase; my God has a hell of a sense of humor (right here is where the people who didn’t take my warning serious are more than likely seriously pissed).

I have to laugh at my situation because it can be just so ridiculous at times. My mania feels like a game inside my head where all the rules of the natural world are thrown out the window and it feels like my life (and the lives of all of humanity, apocalyptic feelings aren’t real fun) is at stake. I have to laugh at it in hindsight due to just how redunkulous it is. I heart using analogies/metaphors (I always use them interchangeably and incorrectly so I figured I’d just drop them both in there) so it can feel like I’m sitting down to play a single hand of poker with the Devil and my soul is at stake. The dealer deals out the cards and somehow I’m playing with UNO cards and the re-deal rule doesn’t exist (lucky for me I got a couple Wild Draw Four Cards and a Skip Card).

One of my questions during my research interviews at UC (Ooooooohhhh, Ooooooohhhh, Ooooooohhhh, clap, clap, clap, U-C) centers around if I believe I have a special relationship with God that others cannot have. The first few times I heard this question I responded by saying no, I didn’t want to think that I somehow was better than anyone else and thus implying that my relationship with God was something no one else could have. But after thinking about it the past couple of weeks I do think I have a special relationship with God that no one else can have, and everyone else should think that way as well. I can’t begin to try and imagine what the other billions of people in the world are going through (I mean the entire country of Haiti right now is suffering beyond belief) so I believe that God works with them in a way that they need and only they can understand individually. If all our relationships weren’t special and one of a kind then we all would lose.

I can’t stop smiling and laughing at some of the things I’ve experienced in my life that at first glance seem absolutely absurd (for instance my belief I put the phone company on hold, was playing a global game of hide and seek, all the while at the same time Stubby and I were pulling the best practical joke known to mankind on the world to make it laugh during episode deuce) but in the end I’m getting the last laugh, because it turns out that my hand of UNO cards ended up dominating that poker game (even if I did cheat and got a lot of help from the Big Man Upstairs).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 2

The TV is on but I have little to no interest on what is actually showing. I am more concerned with the game being played between my reality and the perceived truths of the “outside” world. I had tried to watch the game earlier today but every time I concentrated I adversely affected the outcome. Players were dropping like flies and the controllers of the game, the refs, had been compromised and this totally disgusted me. It is a cruel and devious act to take away the one ultimate pleasure of mine and one that I shall have revenge for. The tingling begins to slowly travel up my spine and down my legs and I smile as the feeling is beyond euphoric. I look to the clock and the “time” reads a quarter till midnight, the same time I stopped at the clock tower in Denver. I take a deep breath as it has suddenly become clear; this is the second phase and final phase of my awareness. I am but a single pawn in the game of life being torn apart from the inside out in the name of good versus evil. An orgasmic energy to the 10th power overcomes me and I am in a state of complete ecstasy. I take out a cigarette, slide open the glass door, light it, and inhale bringing the calm back to myself. I exhale turning west to east as the smoke mixes up with the moisture from my mouth to form a symbolic hazy mist directly in front of my view of the lifeless, leafless, tree directly in front of me. I take a number of hits as I begin to center myself again as the realization that this is just the beginning of the end overtakes me. I glance at the clock and it is midnight, I take the half smoked cigarette, open my right palm, and put the cigarette out in the middle of my hand. The nail is now gone and the revelation is now complete. I grab the ice cold railing outside the door with both hands and squeeze as the pain and relief overtakes me while life reenters me…

518, 400

Those are the number of days, hours, minutes, and seconds I had the distinct pleasure of being in the hospital after my last episode. Please do not feel bad for me as I do not feel bad for myself (there is some fun involved when you’re convinced you’re the Wizard of Oz and the world is your playground, but that’s a bedtime story I’m saving for that special someone). I am writing this not to prove a point or to make a huge statement, but rather because I feel it’s the right thing to do. Now to actually believe it’s the right thing to do is a whole other story, especially when you take into consideration the above passage because when I was manic that little ditty (Paperboy “The Ditty”=bangin'; shouts out to the big man on the grill at Steak 'n Shake for the term bangin') seemed like the right thing to do so I can get a little confused sometimes (there’s nothing quite more fun than figuring something out from mass confusion, well maybe dollar beer night at the Cyclones game can give it a run for it’s money now that I think about it). In any manner once again I am babbling without getting to the point so I’ll jump to the conclusion.

On my final day at the hospital I was speaking with the doctor in charge of my unit (Southside!) and a key to handling this BMD (from what I am told) is to have a plan. This for me is good and bad because I unfortunately have an issue with overplanning everything but we’ll get to that at some other point. I had a plan for the doctor that encompassed canceling my Denver trip (totally sucked for multiple reasons but most notably I had tickets to the Cavs vs. Nugs game and it was a great game), picking up old hobbies I had forgot about (puzzles rock), heading back school, and finally writing. The doc felt all my ideas were good and even complimented me on my positive and acceptance demeanor with BMD (thank you very little) however he advised me not to post this on the web (his intentions and insights were meant to be good but I feel narrow in scope, or at least that’s my story to make myself feel better). His belief is that it could only be detrimental to myself due to the negative connotations and stigmas associated with BMD (as well as other mental health issues).

I can sympathize with the doc’s point of view but that’s where the commonalities cease. I do understand that there is a chance an employer may someday find this blog and either terminate me or it could prevent me from getting a job (although quite illegal I’m not a complete fool, I just play one in my manic episodes, and realize this could happen). The issue conveyed to me is that we as a society do not know much about BMD and the like therefore we do not talk about it and attach these detrimental labels to people associated with them. So in theory by keeping this private I would be benefiting myself.

Right there is the problem or issue that I see. If no one talks about it then how is anything ever going to change. It simply can’t, and I refuse to be ashamed of something that is completely out of my control. Will this blog and my mania prevent me from achieving my dreams? No way, it may make me take a different path or road to get there but I’m going to enjoy the ride, who knows what can happen? (which I just realized is the greatest puzzle I could ever do).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 1

New Years has never been one of my favorite holidays (I always fancied, yeah I said fancied big whoop, St. Patty's Day) but this past year it will be one that I will soon not forget. As I've mentioned before I've prided myself on "fighting" this BMD with no help from meds. For reasons that are out of my comprehension (ok that's BS, you called me on it), rather reasons that I was afraid to admit I refused help.

Call it my manly instinct (a.k.a. how to pick-up chicks instinct) that I was under the belief that i could conquer BMD all by myself. I was convinced that if I could live my life without meds I was making some statement on just how manly I was (this of course is easily refuted by a quick examination of my immense fear of pricks; needles that is). I was under the assumption that I was somehow stronger than I really was. The past few days have opened my eyes; once again.
I am writing this post from the hospital, for once again my mania has gotten the best of me. The past few days I have experienced things that simple words can not adequately describe. I had another episode and am fighting to understand.

Since episode uno I have tried to work and beat this BMD by handling it with my writing, working out (the scenery isn't bad at the gym either) and trying to be happy but that just isn't enough. I've read blogs of others stating how they've overcome BMD med free and I envied and imitated them (even posted a video on support of this, don't taze me bro). However I am only human (I think...) and can admit when I was wrong and ask for help. I need all the help I can get.

They say New Years is a time of new beginnings, a time of resolutions, a time of change. Maybe that's why I disliked New Years so much, I didn't want to admit I was weak and needed change (funny how my mind can play tricks on me, if I had to guess I'd bet my conscious loves Halloweeen). I have said some things and acted in ways lately that I never thought were in me. Am I proud of these things? To a degree I am which leads to even more quesions, but it makes me smile because I would hate to get to that point when I no longer need answerrs.

There is a single question on my mind right meow though and one that I hope the answer comes soon. Will my new medicine help me? Deep down I hope and believe it will but only time will tell and I am grateful that I still have the time to wait and see. Happy New Year (this holiday is slowly climbing up my chart btw).

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,