Friday, October 19, 2012

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 4 Issue 30

A couple years back I was down in The Nasty visiting some friends (and more than likely striking out at the bar) when my buddy and I were talking a little late night chat. It was one of those late night talks where the alcohol isn’t at all involved and you’re 100% level headed. I’m sure at this point in the night we had already talked about politics (thanks again social media for ruining the Presidential race) and religion (I would have a smart-ass comment here but I’m afraid God would smite me for it). Naturally the next uncomfortable topic of conversation for 2 am is crazy shit in life; for instance, let’s say my health.

“So man, tell me the truth. Will you ever be free?”

I responded without any hesitation.


At that point of time I truly believed that I wouldn’t. I mean look at the facts I was dealing with here. First over the past two years I had been in two separate hospitals (or psych wards if you want to be a dick about it) due to my manic episodes. Deuce I had yet to find a doctor, or insurance for that matter, because I’m such a profit risk with my pr-existing condition. Thrice I was having more than a little bit of trouble supporting myself. IV, you know I think you get the point by now.

I really did believe that my BMD would have control over me for the foreseeable future. I felt like despite the fact that I had done it right, I worked hard, bought my time, kept my head down and did the things I needed to I was still in last place. I would see how everyone else was moving on with their lives and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t get even the opportunity to do so. Why I was given BMD that was unfairly and without reason causing havoc on my life?

I guess I was just lucky.

It’s still true today, there are feelings of unfairness and uncertainty in my life but I don’t really think I’m imprisoned by them anymore. Of course it has been a sad long time since I’ve been on a date but I’m going to blame myself for that one (oh and South Solon). I still from time to time want to run off to a tropical climate and disappear from the bullshit in my life but who doesn’t struggle on cold Ohio mornings? The drawn out point that I’m attempting to get to is that as of late I don’t feel really all that enslaved by my BMD. I actually can feel pretty free.

See I’ve been telling this same friend that I was going to do stand-up for the past few years. I have no idea why I want to do it but it seemed like a lot less work than learning a new hobby like Kayaking or Quidditch. I mean I even have a bluegrass song about a vibrator that I’m going to close the act with (it’s pretty damn funny if you don’t mind me saying). I actually spent some time this week working on the other bits (that’s industry talk for jokes; I think) for my act and am definitely going to try an Open Mic night.

I truly believe that in my life before the episode and all that madness I wouldn’t have had the nerve to do something like an Open Mic night. I would have been too preoccupied with more “important” things in life (the quotes mean they really weren’t all that important BTW) to do something I’ve always maybe wanted to try. In a way the BMD has freed me so that I’m willing to go after and do things I never would have before because I figure I have really nothing else to lose. I mean I know what/who I am and I think a lot of other people out there don’t and maybe that frees me and makes me lucky in a way (it would also probably help with the song if I learned to play bluegrass music though; I mean Steve Martin won a Grammy in it so how hard can it be?).
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,

Friday, October 12, 2012

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 4 Issue 29

Before the scoreboard controller had the time to put the 1 up on the score for the Giants in the NLDS yesterday I was already bitching.

“Game Over. Fire Dusty. Biggest collapse in National League Divisional Series history.”

I was just a bucket of optimism yesterday. So much so that even the bartender was throwing jabs at me for my lack of confidence and fan-hood (wasn’t even drinking). It was bad; I was being a little bitch (at least I didn’t call myself a little cu…mmm, ok maybe that’s too much).

I was driving around the country yesterday because I also hate grocery shopping for some reason right now and I needed to eat when I started to daydream. I have all the reasons in the world to be in a good mood right now. I mean I’m finishing up my Masters and graduating (not too shabby for a psych ward stay mixed in that time), I’m moving down to the ATL soon and will finally be healthy (or as close to it as possible) for the first time in four years. But yet I bitch.

I couldn’t figure it out why I was being such a moody prick all of sudden in the past couple weeks. I should be excited and looking forward to the coming weeks like tailgating the UGA v. Florida game at “The World’s Largest Cocktail Party” but I just couldn’t. Then for some reason I recalled what a Witt Abnormal Psych student had said to me when I visited her class:

“It seems when you’re in depression in your book. Your sentence structure is simpler; there isn’t the creative description like in the other sections. It just seems that you can sense the depression in your writing at the beginning.”

Prior to hearing this I hadn’t ever really considered that the Big D could affect me so much that it could be seen in my writing. But after the description from the student she was definitely right and I think I’m unfortunately starting into depression again. It was about this time last year that I had troubles and if my BMD isn’t one thing it’s a cyclical punk ass (also it’s kind of a bitch).

I think maybe I got a little too comfortable because things were going so well. I mean I listed all the reasons for being positively optimistic in my life earlier and add on top of that that my book did great in the Abnormal Psych Class at Witt, I’m being reviewed by the NAMI Advocate soon and it should start to feel good to win. But instead I’m consumed by the thoughts of “what if” right now.

What if I can’t find a job? What if I can’t handle the pressures of the job? What if the past four years were what my life will be? What if I end up back on the farm?

I can’t live life like that, hell no one can, let alone someone with a rather severe case of a mood disorder (just not healthy you know). Maybe things were going a little too well for me and I needed to be brought back down to earth. Sometimes I get feeling so good I forget that there’s no cure but it always seems at about this time the Big D is there to remind me. Last year when I was fighting this I would try to divert my attention away from the BS and to focus on the positively optimistic things in my life; like maybe the cowboy boots and skirts tailgating in my near future.
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,