Of Medications and Minefields

Hello My Dear One,

So I was going to preface this whole thing with some background and history about the past few weeks and the changes in routine and what was going on in my day to day life that could have precipitated the recent events in my mental health life.  But when you're dealing with mental health, sometimes no amount of history will explain the crazy that can happen to you, no matter how much you want it to.

Unfortunately, it turned out that history played a huge part in the crisis I found myself stumbling through, but I didn't know that at the time.  And that's the hardest part of dealing with my beast of mental illness.  It never wants to remember the mistakes or the harm it caused it wants attention and it wants it now.

So, I had been more than a little irritable for about 10 days and at 5:30am one morning I had the full meltdown.  The "scary" voice returned, the one I remember my mother screaming at me in my childhood, and how even when it comes out of my own mouth now, I flinch in fear.  I was sobbing with depression intermixed with a rage that was uncontrollable, and I began to wish that suicide was a valid option.   My beast was grabbing at the wheel of my life and screaming out of control at a hundred miles per hour.

I tried to rationalize all the stress, all the triggers, all the schedule and routine changes that have occurred in my life recently.
I tried to feel the calm of the woman I love beside me telling me that it was OK.
I tried to believe that I could handle this.
I tried to believe in anything.

And in that moment, I knew that there was more to this than all the stresses and triggers in the world.  I thought about how the insomnia had been creeping in.  I thought about the extensive cleaning I had been doing.  I thought about how angry I had been at my family for no apparent reason.  And as I thought that, I knew that my tried and true response to problems in my life, was itself the real problem in my life.  I had been feeling depressed and I wanted to fix it with medication.  I wanted a pill to take away the pain.

I had begun taking a low dose of an anti-depressant once a day and then after one week, followed the direction to take a second dose later in the day.  This was the chemical part of the crisis prior to the emotional explosion.  And although this is a widely used anti-depressant, known for its efficacy and low occurrence of side effects, I'm "special" when it comes to medications.  I have what can be liberally called an unusual biochemistry, that causes me to experience rare side effects, even to the point of anaphylaxis.  I am known as an "outlier" on the statistical charts for reactions to medications.  And this safe, low dose drug wasn't working the way it was supposed to, at all.

I began to feel exactly as I had when I was taking stimulant medications.  I half-jokingly refer to myself during that period of time as an "FDA approved meth addict."  And to be honest, I was.  Trust me, on stimulants, I make the 'crazy-homeless-guy-walking-naked-through-the-park-in-a-snowstorm-carrying an-umbrella-and talking to his-own-beard,' look completely and totally sane and rational.  As I once heard someone say, "Meth is a hell of a drug" and I know how real that is.  I spent over a year on prescribed meth, yes the medications are more refined than the street versions, but the chemical compounds are essentially the same.  And that first high, you'll never get it again, no matter how hard you try.  You'll need more and more, and get less and less.  And yes, I'm still talking about prescribed medications here.  So, the antidepressant I was on can be used as a substituted stimulant/amphetamine for people with ADD who can't tolerate stimulants.  It has many similar characteristics to methylphenidate, and therefore I became a "meth addict" again for a week or so.  And I am not a pretty addict.  No one is.

In the short period of time since my Deconstruction or hospitalization/institutional stay less than 6 months ago, I had managed to forget how horrible it feels to be out of your mind, ramping into a manic episode.  I had forgotten the hellishly insane man that I am on these drugs.  I had forgotten the destruction I create for my family, my wife, my sons, when I am in that place.  I had chosen to forget.

I was falling apart and had no vision of how to put myself back together.

And all of this led me to understand some vital truths about myself.

I want quick fixes to my problems.
I want to numb the horror and run away from the pain that I have lived.
I want the nightmare of my past to vanish without the pain of dealing with it.
I want my beast to be vanquished.
I want to be "normal."

But I learned something else in that moment too.

I have changed.

I have changed, because the pain I was feeling led me to a completely different place than it ever had before.  I looked at the anguish and knew that I needed to do something about it.  And this time, it wasn't choosing to fling myself deeper into the rabbit hole, watch myself burn and take everyone around me down that twisted path to Hell.

Instead of choosing to suffer, and let my beast take over, I chose wellness and wholeness because I could see exactly what was happening.  I called my provider and told the truth.  And I was given the gift of compassion, respect, dignity, and the ability to schedule an appointment to get back to where I needed to be.  And I was given the gift of being able to stop taking the medication and come back from the cliff my beast was ready to plunge off of.

For the first time, I was able to turn to my beast and stop it in its tracks.  I was able to start walking away from it.  I was able to listen to my wife when she said that this was not me, and that the meds weren't working.  I was able to see that I was in trouble and no amount of rationalization, denial, or avoidance was going to make it go away.  And I knew that this was a turning point in my life.

For the first time ever I was able to honestly admit that I am an addict.  I had been enjoying the high of the mania and all that I was accomplishing.  I was loving my new found energy and my heightened awareness.  I was being seduced by the grandness of the manic swells, and I was slipping into my addiction without even realizing it.  And when I saw it for what it was, well, I knew.  I knew the pain.  And for the first time, I didn't want it.

So, today, I admit that I am an addict.  Not only to the drugs that can sometimes numb the pain, but to the pain itself.  I am addicted to the beast and the attention it craves as much as my mother is addicted to her beast.  And I am choosing sobriety instead of addiction to the meds, the pain, and the beast itself.  And yes, this too is a first.

Though words are often never enough, I will say them anyway, to at least begin the journey back to who I am called to be:

I ask forgiveness for the harm I have committed against my loved ones.

I ask forgiveness for the the pain I have caused, and at times reveled in, in myself.

I ask forgiveness for the separation, the love of the pain rather than the love of abundance, that I have put between myself and G-d.

It is time to heal.  And it is time to start putting the pieces back together, but this time in a new way.
My crazy mixed up million piece puzzle with no box, is once again laid out before me on the table of my life. And by the grace of G-d, there is more than one way to put it together. I'm ready to make a different picture this time, and with G-d's help I know that I can.

Thank you for looking at the puzzle pieces with me.

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

-Ari