Bad Day

Day 75

I really don't want to write this post. I'm forcing myself to do it. Today was a bad day. I have had bad days many times in my life. This one wasn't any more bad than other bad days I've had. The difference between other days and this one is that I'm writing about it. For 36 years, I would just suffer through it alone. I couldn't really tell anyone, because then they'd just worry. You see, "normal" people have bad days, but there's usually a reason or a cause. They can talk about it and say, "Today sucked because (insert sucky reason here)." When you can name what caused it, you can generally devise a plan for fixing it, so they blow it off or tackle it tomorrow, fix it, and go on. It doesn't work that way for "crazy" people.

When we have a day like this, we just have one. We don't know why things suck. In fact, if I recounted my day to you moment by moment, you would probably say, "That doesn't sound so bad." That's because there isn't a cause or clear explanation when you're "crazy." There's only sad. Big, hairy, painful, ugly sad. It's like the worst sadness ever in the world borrows deep inside your bones and you can't shake it no matter how hard you try. You just have to hurt until it doesn't hurt anymore and try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.

Medicine complicates things. Before the meds, I would freak out and completely lose it emotionally. It was three kinds of ugly but at least there was some sort of release. With the meds, I don't lose it, so I'm less likely to hurt myself or anyone else. The downside is that I don't feel, I'm just numb. There's no release - no crying, no screaming, no yelling, no anything - just silent hurt. I'm sorry if this post brings you down, but this is part of the "getting better" thing. I have to tell the whole story. I have to talk about all aspects of this stuff. This is what I promised those of you who, for some unknown reason, have chosen to love me.

So, when it's all said and done, there's always tomorrow. I can only hope that it will be better than today. Life can't suck forever, right? Who would read that?

Back at the Keys

Day 72

OK World, I'm back. Thank you to all those out there who have inquired about my whereabouts. I'm happy to report that my recent disappearance was strictly work related. I was involved in several political campaigns in the recent primary election. After that, I had to climb out from under the mountain of work that had piled up on me while I neglected my regular clients due to my political pursuits. Anyway, I have returned.

The next hurdle in the "getting better" challenge is my appointment with Doc Brown, the shrink. I see him on the 19th. He will evaluate my prescription and decide where we go from there. You may remember that my current dosage is only an introductory strength of 50 mg. Coach says that regular clinical strength is anywhere from 100 to 150 mg. Also, since the Xanax ran out, I haven't been sleeping again. I dance with the "Blue Death" occasionally, but I try to use it only in desperate circumstances. Dr. Thurman doesn't like me to mix OTC and prescription meds in the long term.

I have noticed that I function better around "normal" people since the Zoloft reached full potency. I have to admit, though, that I haven't begun doing exposures and challenging my rituals yet. Not having the pressure of hiding them from my friends helps, but it also enables me a bit. I know I will have to take them on eventually. I'm just waiting until I know what a full dose of meds will do to me.

Coach tested me at my last session and officially declared that I have ADHD. This is something I have known for years, but I finally have a real diagnosis. Now, here's the true definition of "crazy." I have one disorder that is managed by routine and organization. I have another disorder that is routine and organization elevated to the level of sickness. In Gatlinburg, my wife found a T-Shirt that reminded her of me. It said, "You're just jealous, because the voices only speak to me." The trick is learning which ones to listen to, I guess.

In other news, I have actually started playing music again and having some semblance of creative thought. I sat down at the piano and enjoyed myself for the first time in a long while recently. For those of you who know me it may be hard to believe, but the "crazy" got so bad that I literally didn't play for over six months. I couldn't focus long enough to make it happen. It borders on tragic to think that something so integral to my very being was beyond my reach. I can't tell you what it means to me to have the music back. I can hear it in my head and make sense of it where, for so long, there was only noise, confusion, and cacophony. I have also been able to laugh again in the last few weeks. I love to laugh. It's healthy. But when you're imprisoned by the "crazy" nothing is funny. I have a long way to go, but it's slowly getting better. That's good news.

3 Weeks of Pills

Day 48

Today marks three weeks on Zoloft. I can say that I have felt a difference. My "freak outs" are at least manageable. They are still pretty intense in my head, but I can get through them using breathing and visualization. Coach says that the dosage I'm taking is an introductory dose and that therapeutic levels are usually 2 to 3 times as much. I'm sure that that Doc Brown will want to increase my dosage when I see him in May. I'll probably need the help as I haven't started intentionally doing exposures yet. The strength I'm on now basically allows me to muddle through.

Also, I'm out of the tiny amount of Xanax I was given to help me sleep. I slept last night, but I noticed that my dreams weren't peaceful. I found myself running from things, worrying about things, and fighting things. They weren't as bad as the ones that used to wake me up several times a night, but they were definitely heading that way. I'm interested in seeing how I feel next Friday after 4 full weeks with Zoloft. At this point, I'm just thankful for what relief I have.

Balloons

Day 44

I was going to tack this on to the previous post, but I decided it deserved one of its own. My business partner has some very good friends who lost their son recently. Dwaine was a remarkable person from what I have learned. He was severely mentally handicapped and from birth he was left at the hospital for dead. This woman, a nurse, took him in. She and her husband adopted him and raised him. He lived to be sixteen and brought joy to countless people.

One of his greatest loves was balloons, purple ones to be exact. So, at his memorial service, hundreds of balloons were released in his honor. Last week I was designing the "Thank You" cards that his family would send to people who attended the service. On the front of the cards is an illustration of purple balloons floating into the sky. After I drew the illustration, I realized some things about balloons.

You can't push, pull, throw, or launch them into the sky. In order for them to fly, you need only to stop holding them back. Once you let go and release the balloons, they do what they were created to do - fly. As I continue to struggle through this recovery, one day at a day time, I will think often about those balloons and realize that worrying is like trying to push balloons into flight. The magic only happens when we let go.

Besides the side effects...

Day 44

Well, World, last Friday marked 2 weeks on my medication. This means that, by now, I'm supposed to have seen all that Zoloft can throw at me with regard to side effects. At this point, I still wake up nauseous every morning, but it's getting better. I have learned that eating a small amount of food for breakfast such as a muffin, a banana, or some cereal helps to calm things down. I've also learned to pack a snack to help me through the 3 pm crash. I still don't have much of an appetite and I'm down about 10 pounds, but that's OK with me. I could lose about 40 more before I worry about it and I doubt that I'm going to be that fortunate. Most of the people who report weight loss with SSRI medications say that they eventually gain the weight back anyway. I'm going to try not to let that happen. Besides, all my life I have eaten for comfort and if the meds do their job I shouldn't have the anxiety that caused the medicinal eating.

In other news, My son begins Little League tomorrow. We bought the glove and bat yesterday. I was so excited to pass on the love of baseball. There is something American, something spiritual, something downright manly about baseball. It was such a massive part of my development as a young man. I learned to play on a team. I learned to win and lose with dignity and pride. I learned to overcome my fears. And I learned to push myself beyond my limits to grow in my abilities. Baseball united me with my friends, my family, and most importantly my dad. I am truly overjoyed to share this with my boy. This will be good for both of us.

Mountain Music

Day 37

"Oh, play me that mountain music
Like Grandma and Grandpa used to play
Then I'll float on down the river
To a Cajun hideaway"
-Alabama

Leslie and I got back from Gatlinburg yesterday. It feels good to be with the Murmels (our kids... more later) again. I missed them. There is a sadness, though, that lingers at our house. We found the beginnings of some real healing down there and a longer stay would have been nice. We're planning a family trip for the summer - I look forward to returning. There's something about seeing mountains that reminds you of how there are bigger and more important things than the daily crap you face.

Leslie went with me to see Coach today. She's on Spring Break and I'm glad she had the chance to meet him. I think it was good for him to see our relationship in action as well. He seems reassured that our marriage is strong and that she is on board with this whole "getting better" thing. We discussed side effects of the medications and how to deal with re-entry (coming home to work and life again). We talked about finding ways to go back there in my mind when the freak outs come. That's where the music and the food come in. These are my two greatest sources of comfort. I'll have to work on ways to bring Gatlinburg back to Ohio - even if its only in my mind.

For now, I'm still sick every morning from the medication, I have no appetite, and I'm buried in projects with insane deadlines, but we just muddle through, right? On a positive note, I noticed that my thyme and oregano plants are coming back alongside my chives. Also, my apple trees are blossoming and the bumble bees are hard at work helping them make babies. I love the fragrances of spring. Soon the lavender will bolt and the mint will take off. Before you know it, we'll be planting tomatoes and peppers. Maybe, when the medicine evens out, I'll feel like cooking. How's that for positive thinking?