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,

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