Of Deconstruction

Hello My Friend,

How are you doing?  I hope you are well.
  
It has been months since I last wrote, and I have a multitude of reasons, hopefully not excuses.

In all honesty I have not been able to focus on the written word for some time now and frankly it is probably better that I didn't try to get onto paper what was "in there" anyway.

I have been debating how to describe the incidents of the past few weeks, as they are condemning, damning, and shameful.  And they are also claiming, restoring, and grace-filled.

I've wondered about what the difference is in society and stigmatization, that creates for many individuals radically different responses to my recent experiences.

Nearly two weeks ago I went to a location where my freedoms and basic autonomy were stripped away from me and I was forced to participate in activities that were meant to bring consciousness and awareness to my own sense of self.  Most all of my creature comforts were removed from me and I was afforded little to no contact with my family.  I was emotionally, physically, and spiritually broken down in order to be restored to someone better.

Now from this account one could interpret many differing scenarios:

1) I went on a crappy vacation.

2) I went on a retreat/conference/sabbatical practice that's mission was to help me get to a greater sense of self.

3) I went to prison.  I was found guilty of a crime and had to serve time to repay my debt to society.

4) I voluntarily went to an inpatient psychiatric facility to deal with a mental illness and have my medications reworked.

In a very real way, all 4 scenarios are true, however it was a week in a psychiatric institution that my insurance will be covering, and I do not have a criminal record, nor have I been convicted of a felony.

And these are not easy words to say, or especially to write down.  Because in polite society answers 1-3 have less stigma, fear, and misunderstanding attached to them than admitting that I needed help to get back on my feet.

I had let my mental illness have power and authority over my life.  I stopped taking the medications that helped my brain function.  I thought that I didn't need medications to replace the missing ones from my system.  It was as accurate an assumption as thinking that I didn't need thyroid medication anymore even though I had thyroid cancer almost 12 years ago and had my thyroid completely removed from my body!  Ironically, I was still taking the thyroid medication, just not the ones that replaced the neuro-chemicals that have been missing or under-functional for over 30 years.

It is the trap of a mood disorder, the theatrical production number if you will, that almost everyone who has one gets stuck in:

Scene: 2 actors on stage, there is clutter and chaos everywhere, it is dark, there is background noise, the sound of children is heard...
 
-Me "I feel fine."
-You "Good, the meds must be working."
-Me "No, I feel fine. I must not need these meds."
-You "Don't the meds make you feel 'fine'?"
-Me "No, they have side-effects.  They make me sick.  I'm ok.  The meds are the problem."
-You "Are you sure?"
-Me "Of COURSE I'm SURE!!! I know my own body...I'm not depressed, or manic, or hypervigilant, or ANYTHING!!! I'm OVER-MEDICATED!!!!" - starts crying, furtively glancing around the room, paranoia creeps in, time to hide
-You, to no one in particular, "Yep, you are obviously 'fine' what was I thinking?"  

And as the rapid mood cycling ensues, the curtain closes so the scene can be reset and repeated.

So, here I am now.  I have submitted.  I have accepted.  I have asked for help.

And as this process continues, of deconstruction and restoration, I ask for your patience.  

I am feeling a little better each day.

I am learning how to live again on medications.

I am becoming the man I always knew I would be.

Thank you for being on this journey with me.

Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.

-Ari