I apologize that I haven't written in nearly three months, and although I have had plenty of news to share, I have been in a self-imposed silence. I have been giving more attention to my work life than to my inner life. I have neglected parts of my soul so that I could nurture others. And I have paid the price.
My silence is not that of one who has nothing to say, rather it is the silence that comes as in a nightmare, as I stand frozen in horror, unable to make a sound. I have been so overwhelmed by the responsibilities I have, or have created, that I have ceased to even attempt to speak what is on my heart. And because of this, I have allowed my Beast a chance to pull me into his old familiar spaces.
In my life I coexist with the physical illness of an auto-immune disorder, and the mental illnesses of Bipolar I Disorder and Anxiety. And of course, I am an openly intersex and transgender individual, navigating a world that is blatantly heteronormative. These facets of my life are both blessings and curses, as they afford me a unique perspective and understanding about what happens when mind, body, and soul are altered from within.
Instead of the outside world changing me, it is my own body chipping away at itself, systematically attacking the very cells that I am composed of. And instead of my mind being a place of rationality and control, it can become a wasteland of neuro-chemical storms that prevent impulse control, or allow reality to enter in.
And when my rational mind has been attacked, my Beast of mental illness will begin to seep out. And often, when that first trickle begins, a massive flood is not far behind it. The reality of depression and mental illness, is that underneath the happier and safer thoughts, whether spoken or not, are painfully dark and frightening ones. The comic genius and the haunting madness are inextricably fused together. The light and the dark emotions blurring as they spin faster and faster.
And so, I ride the roller coaster of mental illness. Those of us who have been on the ride, never having willingly gotten in the queue, find ourselves unable to get off. Even when the cars have come to a complete stop and the amusement park closes for the day, we are still on the ride. If we are fortunate, we manage to get out onto the platform, yet, in all likelihood we will soon be strapped in again, ascending and dropping, twisting and turning, screaming from start to finish.
Ultimately, 99.99% of the time, roller coasters are completely safe. Rarely does anyone get physically harmed, let alone killed on one. There are tragic exceptions, but for the most part getting on a roller coaster ride is safer than the car ride to and from the park itself. It's the tracks that the cars are affixed to, the seat belts that secure our bodies to the cars, and the technicians who maintain the rides that prevent accidents, that safely provide adrenaline filled thrills for us all.
But what happens when the tracks are not maintained, the cars rusted and gone unchecked, the seat belts tattered and failing to click appropriately into their buckles?
It is the same as when our medications stop working, and when we ignore our bodily needs for rest, or food, or shelter. Or when we choose not to go and talk to our doctors, therapists, clergy, or even admit to ourselves that something is wrong in our lives. It is then, when we have no more strength to move forward, and the depression is greater than anything else, that we crash headlong into the barriers, derailing ourselves, and everyone around us. It is a terrifyingly violent end to an even more terrifyingly violent ride.
But even when I am well, the ride fixed, maintained, and running smoothly, I wonder when the real terror will return. I am waiting to look over at the seat next to mine and see my Beast, grinning his vicious smile at me. That's when the crazy comes back. Suddenly, he and I are screaming through the rises and falls of our carnival ride from hell.
During November and December, the Beast, my Beast, finally did burst through the barriers and flailed into being, a total of four times, for a few gut wrenching hours that saw me cause pain, grief, and insanity to the ones I love most. No matter how hard I fought to keep my Beast in, I simultaneously threw the doors wide open for him, sat down, and buckled in for the ride to start.
You see, that roller coaster ride isn't all bad. There are times when we all desire more excitement in our lives. There are times when we want the thrill of an adrenaline rush. There are times, when the darkness holds appeal, and I want to escape the rational life that I live.
I realize that this is not limited to people with mental illness, but to all of us who feel surrounded by the everyday, a mundane existence, a lack of purpose, and a hope for a more exciting tomorrow. Why else would there be theme parks, vacation packages, and shopping malls, but to draw us out of our everyday, and jettison us into an over exaggerated fantasy where everything can be fixed, for the right price?
In my real life, I actually detest roller coasters, much to the dismay of my family. I don't feel safe, I am trapped, and I am not in control of anything. The reckless abandon that others' revel in when on a thrill ride, leaves me shaken with a a high level of disregulation. I am queasy from the twists and turns. I am dizzy from the fear of the rises and falls. I want to go home.
So, all that begs the question, why do I give in to my Beast's ghastly ride, if I hate it so much?
Sadly, I think it has to be that even though I hate the roller coaster of mental illness, I have the illusion of control when I am participating in it. My Beast and I are controlling everyone around us with our behavior. Maybe, if only for a few fleeting moments, I am the operator of the ride instead of the passenger. And worse still, if my Beast and I can manipulate my thoughts and actions, then we can manipulate others' as well.
In the end, as the ride comes to a stop, the last two months of the solar calendar over, and the beginning of another trip around the sun, I am finally able to get off the ride. I am free to explore the other rides, foods, and attractions that are all around me. I can enjoy experiences without the fear of an unwanted upside down loop the loop that can create dangerous situations for me and for those around me. I can see the joy in my family's successes, triumphs, hopes, and dreams. I am at last present.
And by the grace of G-d, I can spend more time in this reality than in my Beast's sadistic one. And if I'm lucky, the next time I'm there, screaming through the highs and lows of the roller coaster ride of mental illness, I will know that it will end, that I will regain control, that my life is more than this. I will know that I am more than this. And I will cherish the gift of reclaiming the man I am called to be, holding fast to the man I have already become.
Thank you for choosing to come along on this ride with me.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
-Ari
