Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (13 page)
Read Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart Online
Authors: Derek Thompson
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JP: I’d like to thank the Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance website at
http://www.dbsalliance.org
for this information.
DT: Many thanks for that acknowledgement, JP. I really don’t wanna get sued for copyright infringement. I mean, I know the slander and defamation of character suits are on the way, so I’d like to limit my legal issues as much as possible.
KEY TERMS:
HIGHLIGHTS,
EMPTINESS, PRIVACY, THE CIVIL WAR
Submitted on 9/8/09
Green
I think you can make a pretty accurate judgment on what kind of experience you are in for from the selection of reading material in a waiting room. As much as I hated going to the dentist growing up, having those
Highlights
magazines there to entertain me during the minutes leading up to the oral misery made the trip seem not so bad. While awaiting my turn in the barbershop chair, I can always count on getting caught up on my sports with
SI
,
ESPN the Magazine
and other sports-themed mags (and the occasionally skimming-through of
Glamour
is purely accidental, mind you).
While working in my sales job in The Nasty, I would from time to time be on appointments in which I was forced to wait until my contact was available to meet. During those times, I could be found browsing through periodicals about hunting, cars, the Civil War, politics, and television. Each of these themes would mentally prepare me, good or bad, for the encounter I was about to undertake. I’m not sure whether this quirk of mine is shared by others, but I somehow tried to envision the person and experience I was about to undergo based upon that material sitting out in the waiting room.
Imagine my complete dumbfoundedness (yeah, obviously not a word since I get that red squiggly line under it after I type it, but I’m keeping in all the same) when I walked into the Mental Health and Psychiatry Department of THE Ohio State University Harding Hospital and found but one magazine in the waiting room. It was so awful, I can’t even remember what genre I would try to categorize it under. This wasn’t a good start for me.
At this point in my life, I had made the trek back from the mountains to settle into the familiar flat farming fields of central Ohio; I was home. While I really didn’t know if I wanted or thought I needed to see a psychiatrist or psychologist, I felt so lost and confused with this whole thing that I agreed to go, partly to entertain my parents’ wishes, partly to look for answers, and partly because I felt it was the responsible thing to do. Granted, I did not have the best experience with my medical care in Denver. But that was probably due to the fact that at the time, I could not come to terms with the BMD diagnosis and therefore felt that I was not different and did not need any help--strike one. However, after hearing that my mom had gotten me into THE Ohio State University Harding Hospital, even though I had no referral and the wait list was about six months, I figured it was a good thing. She has a gift for persuasion; some would use other terms to describe it, but it’s definitely a gift.
Sitting in the waiting room with nothing to read and no idea of what my doc looked like, I kept pulling the fake stand-up move whenever someone would walk by and make eye contact with me. Finally, a shorter man with glasses and a beard walked into the room and beckoned me to follow. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I followed.
We entered his office, and I asked if he was doc so-and-so (that wasn’t really his name, but I’m a man of ethics and decided to respect his privacy) and he replied yes. He explained to me that he didn’t use names in the waiting room for confidentiality reasons. I didn’t get it. I was in the mental health hospital at THE Ohio State University. It’s safe to say the majority of people around me had a good idea of why I was there, but que-evs, it was a nice gesture nonetheless.
He opened the conversation by asking me to tell him what happened and who I was in a nutshell (that’s ad lib, he really didn’t say nutshell). I was a little set back because I wasn’t sure how to answer. For some reason, I felt embarrassed and uncomfortable in this procedural-like interview process. It felt almost as if the doc had a standard set of questions to ask with no real interest in the answers, only that there was an answer so that he could make his way to the next question. I started out by telling him my name, where I was from, where I went to school, what I had been doing with my life, and recalling as many details from my episode as I could. It did get easier to talk to the doc as the conversation continued, but I never felt comfortable with it.
I felt ashamed of myself for what had happened, and nothing about being in that office made me feel any differently. That was probably my fault. Just as I had no expectations from the lack of reading material in the waiting room, the feelings of no expectation were the same in the office: there wasn’t any chemistry between us. While these feelings of emptiness were out of my control, I could have handled the situation better.
I ended up heading back a few times to Harding Hospital, but then I took a job in The Nasty and stopped my meetings with the doc. I wouldn’t all together change anything in my life, but at times I do wish I had done a few things differently. If I could do over that initial meeting, I
would walk in with my head high, chest out, and a smile on my face and started out by saying: “ Session JP: Getting treatment for bipolar disorder is not a one-time effort. Bipolar disorder is a chronic illness, meaning that people with the disorder need to take medication and visit with their doctors routinely for their entire lives. Here are some questions that may help you decide on the right doctor or other health care professional for you:
Finding a health care professional you trust, and who makes you feel comfortable, may make following your treatment plan easier. DT: Damn, that’s good advice, JP. Where were you two years ago when I needed that? JP: Oh, I see how you are; only interested in my past when it could have benefited you. DT: Derr. KEY TERMS Submitted on 9/15/09 Green Seeing how the NFL kicked off its season last week, I feel I have an obligation to cover some aspect of the opening weekend. I think they would revoke my Man Card if I didn’t. Seeing how I’m not one to sit and analyze the games, I’ve decided to give you a couple of points to ponder from my NFL opening week observations. Numero uno is that I am no longer on speaking terms with the city of Denver. This is a bit sad to admit, as I always felt like our relationship would somehow rebound after the episode, but it is evident Denver wants nothing to do with me. I knew we were in trouble after I found the city to be negligent (can you tell I’m taking a law class in grad school or what?) after my episode, but I retained hope that someday we could make up and be happy again. While I was open to trying this, Denver obviously had different intentions, as evidenced when the Broncos ripped my heart out and wiped their butts with it in the play I’m simply calling “The Tip” (I refuse to go into more detail because it hurts too much). Next, I’ve always thought it would be hilarious and downright fun to have a little person (I’m pretty sure that is PC but if not, to the five people who read this blog, I’m sorry if I offended you) dress up in the same outfit that I was wearing and follow me around for a day. I wouldn’t acknowledge the creepiness involved or that they were even there, despite the fact I would have them mimic my every move. However, it was pointed out to me that I would simply be ripping off the intellectual property (another law term; on fire) of Mike Myers, and I don’t want to get on the bad side of any Canadian (I like our Northern neighbors) so I dropped the idea. So, inspired by the NFL kickoff week, I’ve decided that I would want to hire one of the “professional” water boys of the NFL to follow me around for a day. I’d have them dress up in green and black, wear .e4 gear along with my logo (that’s the thing to the right on the blog, we’ll get to that one day as well, once again please try to control your excitement). Every so often, when I’m thirsty, I’d blow a whistle and stop the clock for a timeout and have them run over and squirt water into my mouth while they covered my chin with a towel. A little weird, but so refreshing. OK, now that I feel I’ve done my due diligence as a man to comment on football this past weekend, I’ll go ahead and talk a little bit about what brought me to those observations. My stepdad made his way down to The Nasty this weekend as we had plans to attend a fly fishing school on Saturday and the Bengals game on Sunday; all in all a nice weekend, despite the misery associated with being an Ohio football fan. I’ve also since decided that I’m jumping on the UC Bearcats bandwagon because I figure if all the Ohio Steelers fans can be fair weather fans, why can’t I? To start out the weekend, on Friday night we decided to try a local Brazilian steakhouse downtown, and it was the bomb diggity (that means good). During the endless plates of meat, we got to talking and stumbled upon the topic of what I think would have happened if I never moved to Denver and stayed in the ATL. I had never given much thought to the idea because I felt that what happened was destined to happen, no matter where I was. I’ve become a firm (ha-ha, I said firm, shouts out to my Southern sis) believer that everything works out like it’s supposed to. And even if something strange, unpredictable, terrible or horrific happens to you (say you believe you’re a soldier for the light, fighting against the darkness of evil to protect a sacred blood line, or something to that effect) it’s what you do afterwards that defines you as a person. We continued our discussion, dissecting the “if” scenarios of staying in the ATL. “If you were in the ATL, do you think it would have happened?” “If you were in the ATL, do you think the episode would have been as severe?” “If you were in the ATL, do you think the episode would have lasted as long?” “If you were in the ATL, would you have worn long hair that was combed to the side, boat shoes, short khaki shorts, and sunglasses with Croakies?” (OK, that didn’t really come up in conversation, but I had to take a little jab at the Southern boys, still got nothing but love for ya, though.) After some serious thought, I still don’t know the answers to those “if” questions, but I do know one thing that resounds in me. When I focus too much on the “ifs” in the world, I am missing out on so much more, because they actually are just part of my l Session DT: I never understood Croakies in Atlanta. What, are your shades going to fly off your face so fast that you lose them as you walk down Peachtree Street/Battle/Road/whatever? JP: I think it’s probably more of a style or trend than anything else. DT: Oh, my blunder. KEY TERMS: Submitted on 10/14/09 Green Fat Chicks Rule This was the bumper sticker that I was staring at as I made my way into town on Friday. Some people absolutely love these cleverly revealing stickers attached to vehicles, while others despise them. I am completely fascinated by them, although I have only had one in my life, and it was of a soccer ball, in high school (grass fairy). The soccer ball wasn’t much of a statement and really didn’t bother anyone, aside from the guys still questioning their sexuality and expressing their frustration by calling me gay for playing soccer (you know you are) so I was OK with it. Some people find bumper stickers tacky, cheap, obnoxious, and downright pathetic. But let me tell you why they fascinate me. I’ll begin with a list of some of my faves:
These have no real message to put out there, but I heart them. My reasoning behind this is that while the people sporting these stickers aren’t trying to change the world, they are at least living in their own. These aren’t words of wisdom or the key to life (well, maybe the sticker that reads, “What if the Hokey Pokey Really IS What it’s All About?” has some insight) but they make me laugh and make my day a little better. Prior to my episode, I think I was living my life for some of the wrong reasons. I strove to be good in high school because that’s what I was supposed to do in order to go to college. In college, I tried to be the guy everyone liked, and I never wanted to step on anyone’s toes. I got a job out of school with a big corporation and lived the mundane office life for a few years because that’s what I was supposed to do. I never took a side or position on anything of importance because I didn’t want to separate myself from the majority. I didn’t have a bumper sticker because it wasn’t what “respectable” people did. It seemed like I was living my life for everyone else and not for myself most of the time. Despite the abundance of “No Fear” bumper stickers, I feared being different from my peers, being an individual. I cared so much about what other people thought that I’m not sure I knew exactly who I was. I can recall in college my girlfriend asking me who I was; a few cocktails deep, but a fair question nonetheless. I was absolutely crushed to think that my girlfriend lacked confidence in me, doubted me, and did not know me. I became defensive and felt betrayed by her (all the best to ya though, Jill [Radio Edit], and you were in my dream last night; weird). She was right. I didn’t know who I was at that time. It only took a psychotic episode for me to figure that out, no big deal. I’ve since tried to live my life the way I feel I should. I no longer fear not being accepted or liked or understood. Sure, I’m scared from time to time about BMD and what might happen because of it, but I’m not going to let it dictate my life and prevent me from being myself. In fact, it has allowed me to step out and find who I am. I no longer care nearly as much as I used to if someone doesn’t like me or if they disagree with me; I enjoy it. I couldn’t imagine a world where everyone liked each other because then we’d all be the same, and what’s fun about that? In that crazy world, there’d only be one bumper sticker, and it would probably say something lame like, “Have a nice day.” I’d rather know the opinion of the obese, drunk, crazy, obnoxious, prideful, straight, individualistic, liberal, atheist, spiritual, conservative, alternative life-styled, bastards and bitches of the world. It’s just a lot more fun. Session JP: I think you hit on a subject here that many of us, both bipolar and not, can relate to. The struggle for self-confidence, self-esteem and self-image can torment many of us. A few tips to build upon could be: look towards a model to learn from; act like you are self-confident and you will be self-confident; always smile and stand up straight; and work on your relaxation skills. Have you had success with any of these in the past, Derek? DT: Yeah, except my relaxation skills were to act like a confident prick while smiling to try and sleep with my model I was learning from. JP: Don’t forget to stand up straight afterwards, dick. KEY TERMS: Submitted on 3/22/10 Green Professor X, this is nothing you asked for but everything you need (I promise this will eventually make sense). “ “ “ |
