Roy worries about me. To be honest, that worry is returned, but in this case he has substantive journalism to back it up, so he wins.
As many of you are aware, actor Heath Ledger died not long ago from an overdose. Of course, that word can be misconstrued, and following his death, especially given his profession, morbid speculation was rampant – because let’s be honest with ourselves, we live in a society that loves gossip and morbidity above all things. Had I not survived my own close call with Ativan in 2006, many would have chalked it up to suicide, perhaps speculating that it had to do with my divorce and not the affects that an anti-depressant was having on me with regards to amplifying the symptoms of a mental illness and my exhaustive desire to combat the mania produced because of it.
In an Op-Ed piece in yesterday’s Los Angeles Times, Gayle Greene wrote the following regarding Ledger’s death and insomnia…
“When a star dies from an overdose, there’s a tendency to write it off as “drug abuse.” That amazing combination of drugs in Heath Ledger’s body, for instance — what was he thinking? Blame the celebrity, chalk it up to reckless living, a self-destructive lifestyle, a pursuit of pleasure through recreational drugs.
But the drugs that killed Ledger — three types of benzodiazepines, an antihistamine, two pain relievers — are all substances people take for sleep. Ledger, we know, was desperate for sleep. A month or so before his death, he told the New York Times that he was going night after night on no more than two hours of sleep.
He was described by his ex, Michelle Williams, as having a mind “turning, turning, turning.” That might explain the variety of benzodiazepines he took that night — Valium, Zanax and Restoril. All are effective at quieting a whirring mind.”
Being that I have suffered from insomnia, on and off, my whole life, I understand what it’s like to turn to a variety of different sedatives in an attempt to get some sleep – even though it’s not what one would call real sleep. I have, in the past, relied on dangerous cocktails that include everything from prescriptions drugs combined with cold medicines to over the counter drugs, such as Gravol, taken in excess. Even these days, as a part of my daily drug regiment, I take 1mg of Clonazepam at night, and after a year and a half it has little to no affect. After taking Ativan routinely over a period of eight months, it too had diminished affects. In the summer of 2006 I was able to operate on up to 7mg’s of it a day. Put into perspective, a single milligram is enough to usually knock a person out within a half an hour.
Looking Glass
I saw myself yesterday at the airport, three rows of seats away, my legs bouncing up and down ever so slightly, my hands fidgeting, my brow light with sweat. I was in my mid fifties; my countenance betrayed my discomfort with my surroundings, my desire to be anywhere other than where I was.
It wasn’t me, of course, but a complete stranger. But as I sat there watching him I saw myself reflected in him. And it hit home, perhaps more than it ever has, that when I am that age I will still be in the grips of the chemical betrayal within my brain, a compliant prisoner that has learned to live with a view that will never again be without bars corrupting it. No matter how effective the medication, no matter how healthy I might perceive myself to be, it will always be there, just under the surface, like a drugged Kodiak too immobilized to lash out.
When I got sick in Los Angeles I was unable to keep my medication down for a while and the ramifications of that hit home in the days that followed. My mania returned, mostly at night when I was alone in hotel rooms, causing unbearable insomnia. I would watch films, half paying attention, or pace around, opening and closing the curtains of the room to check if the sun had come up. I fidgeted with digital clocks, brushed my teeth incessantly, stood in showers, rearranged my suitcase, cleaned the contents of my toiletries bag, attempted to reason my way out of the unknowns still caged within me, and smoked like Atlanta after Sherman was done with it.
In the end the only respite available to me was to turn to a combination of pills to knock myself out.
Someone asked me not long ago what full a full-blown manic episode is like. I told them to imagine the one thing that they were most terrified of, then to times it by a thousand and imagine themselves trapped with it in a buried coffin that’s shrinking. To be honest, that doesn’t even come close to really describing one, but was the best I come up with at the time.
I look back on my life and realize that I spent years tormented by something that I thought normal. Sometimes I think that maybe thinking it normal was better than knowing that it isn’t. I have no idea where I would be right now, alive or dead, still fighting to keep my head above water in the middle of some immensely large and terrifying body of water, or zombie-like in some back alley somewhere not to far from this apartment. Sometimes knowing is just as bad as not. Sometimes knowing provides solace and a sense of salvation. But in the end salvation isn’t something that’s possible, only the solace provided by the realization that you’re aware that it never will be.
In every life there is a little hell of our own making. For some, hell was provided them before they had the chance to create it. I can only sit here and imagine what it must be like to suffer such a hell in a place that also outwardly reflects it - in the confines of some refugee camp, in some remote impoverished village where blogs and rock music are laughable when compared to the importance of basic sustenance, in the trauma filled neighbourhoods of Iraq. Who am I to complain, when all is said and done, when there are those that must suffer both?
I am no one.
Mine is an illness of arrogance in that I am afforded the luxury of living in a society in which help is available. That’s not to say that it isn’t without its problems, one only need to walk the streets of the Lower Eastside to figure that out, or stroll into an emergency ward and ultimately be sent home with a pat on the head despite the fact that you are teetering on the edge of oblivion. But at least there aren’t bombs falling from the sky. At least I can wander into that emergency room without the risk of being shot on the way there. When I do sleep at night, I dream of the past as if stretched on a torturer’s rack, but am still whole and physically uninjured when I awake.
I’ll not bullshit you, that reality shames me more than you know. Despite my illness I have indeed been fortunate, even though the price paid seems highly disproportionate to me most of the time. But all I need do to put myself back into place is to imagine what it would be like to suffer from such an illness where no help is available, where death and trauma are daily features of life, where insomnia exists because of the fear that your front door might be kicked in by soldiers, your father and brothers hauled away in bindings, your sister and mother raped.
For every hell in this life there is one that is far worse. For every simple pleasure that we take for granted on a daily basis there are millions besides that would consider it a miracle – something as simple as running water.
Your Petty Problems
Can’t get your hands on that hot new purse? Worried about your figure? Worried about being able to afford that new sports car or that trip to Vegas? Pissed off that your new haircut isn’t perfect or that the hot girl you met the other night isn’t returning your calls?
You’re not dead. You’re not in a shrinking coffin with your worst fears amplified. You’re not living in some war torn, third world shit hole. You’re right here, and yet still spend most of your time bitching about it. If that’s not luxury then I don’t know what is. And to think, even as it pertains to our responsibilities with regards to playing an active role in the conduct of our own governments, we’re still the most apathetic people on the planet.
Crazy? My friends, we were born crazy and we’ll die crazy. You don’t have to have an actual illness around here to be considered nuts. Everyone’s doing a fantastic job of playing the part no matter.
As they say in journalism, “If it bleeds, it leads”. Unfortunately, a lot of people are drawn to the tragic than the mundane. More sensational would it be to read “Suicide” than “Natural Causes” or “Accidental Overdose”.
Sure glad there weren’t any headlines with you in them.
A hightened sense of awareness seems to bring with it a world of feeling guilty, but so overwhelmingly grateful at the same time. With that emotional confusion, it’s a wonder that we’re able to get anything accomplished at all.
I couldn’t agree more with the end of that entry “we were born crazy and we’ll die crazy. The fact of the matter is that the average person would never admit to being so. So we hide in our perfect little world trapped. I always say find yourself and be yourself or at least die trying to. i know the feeling of seeing that person sitting on a plane, party, or meeting fighting it left and right. your life begins when you start dealing with yourself first hand.
Today’s quote by Heartmath:
“Be careful what you pretend to be, because you are what you pretend to be.”
Some of those totally boggle my mind but this one is no exception…
But in the end, I think if we’re all honest about that we were all crazy to begin with and crazy at the end, maybe we’ll actually have some fun with it, in between.
just don’t leave any rolled up 20’s lying around
I worry about many people close to me dying because of varying reasons from old age to crib death to unknown causes. I know you’re not suicidal and I hope that you’re seeing to your meds regularly.
All this from a 50 year-old who cracked open a coke first thing after the shower this morning and who loves nothing more than testing the fortitude of his tires every time he makes that nice right turn off 99 south and onto 17 during the daily drive home from work.
foot off the brake, stay outside, dial in the apex, and accelerate out
Eric, good post…. that is so awesome.
I’ve been crazy since my friends and family can remember.. and they all accept me.
I find people that meet me now don’t know how to take me so I rarely meet new ‘friends’ anymore… I cherish the ones I have that accept I’m a nutbar and to hell with the rest of them.
Be who you are….
Quoting D. Lilly:
Dial in the apex.
Oh Dan, you need to be an author on this site. I look forward to your daily postings…. you need to post more, dude.. I like your perspective. When are we going out to play?
Hi. I’m a new fan, having only recently been exposed to your excellent music, and therefore have a limited knowledge of your mental health history. A friend recently emailed me a link to a talk that was given by a neuroscientist who witnesses her own stroke and has an amazing realization. After reading your blog entry I wanted to send it along. I hope you find peace.
http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/229
Fucking amazing entry, my friend.
Your points are absolutely golden.
“For every hell in this life there is one that is far worse. For every simple pleasure that we take for granted on a daily basis there are millions besides that would consider it a miracle – something as simple as running water.”
Well said, and welcome home.
Great read, Matt; thank you for sharing. The news regarding Ledger’s death had broken no more than 2 hours prior when I found myself defending him from my peers.
Maybe I’m more exposed to it than others in terms of friends I choose and people I converse with, but I seemed to be the only one to realize that “died of a drug overdose” does not equate to shooting heroine.
Yes. Just yes.
And in all my rants, I never once said that that was your best post to date. I loved it!!! Especially about the bombs dropping from the sky.
I’m still reading it….. 3rd time now…
We’re born crazy, we die crazy. And in between, we drive ourselves crazier trying not to be crazy.
The average person doesn’t admit that they are crazy because they don’t want to be seen as not part of the pack. They bitch and complain strive for the next hot thing watch reality TV (shudder) and do noting because they do not want to cause a stir.
The people who do something about the world at large admit that they are some kind of crazy because apparently you need to perceived that way to get anything done. It makes life a little more interesting in a weird way. Now I can’t sit back and watch the world go to hell in handbasket so call me crazy I freely admit it.
Coming to grips with anxiety has helped me at least identify, maybe only in retrospect, that wallowing in horrors concerning everything in my life isn’t a normal thing. There’s a gnawing voice in the back of my head when it’s happening that tells me I’m going crazy - well, it doesn’t tell me, it asks, politely, suggestively, “Michael, are you going crazy?” - and I listen to it. I listen to it because my sister is bipolar with borderline schizophrenia (she’ll get so manic that she’ll hear voices, feel a divine hand direct her actions, see clearly how the devil has influenced the actions of those against her), and I know it’s elsewhere in my family.
At the worst of it I find that I try to distance myself from the causes of my anxiety, meaning that I’m pushing the ones I love away. I somehow think that I can sink the ship with my violent splashing, so I kick off and find myself alone in the middle of the ocean, drowning.
But you know, I’m alive. I’m here. I’m well. Fuck, I’m happy, mostly. The ocean is in my head, the wind is only my breath, and the people I love are there for me regardless of my complexes.
For what it’s worth, I’m breathing well. I’ve started focusing on that like Zen meditation. I started doing it when I was having an attack, focusing on my breathing, trying to still my mind. Now I’ve taken to doing it when I’m not panicking, and I find it helps me a great deal. I find I’m more altruistic as of late and I’m grateful for others, for life, for a lot of things.
At the same time, I turn and I watch the kids I’ve grown up with snort up their life in white lines, and it pisses me off to no end. Maybe it pisses me off because of some sort of progress I’m making with my own problems. Maybe it pisses me off because I’m aware that cocaine isn’t just a personal issue that causes all kinds of deceptive, self-inflicted deterioration but also a huge social issue of global proportions. Maybe it pisses me off most because it’s the most ignorant mark of Western excess and it seems so foolish next to the very real, inevitable, suffering elsewhere in the world.
I have no mark I’m trying to hit. Just a thought vomit-response to your entry.
i love everything that you type.
it always has such an impact and makes me re-think the ways i’ve been going about living.
thank you.
Whenever I complained as a child, my mother would recite what HER mother had taught her: “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” I still hear those words in my head whenever I get caught up in self-indulgent worries.
Part of what drives me crazy– so to speak– about my depression is that I KNOW I have abso-fucking-lutely nothing to be upset about. I know, rationally, that my actual problems are petty and few. So, when I feel like the world is closing in on me and I don’t know how to go on even one more day, it makes me feel even worse, because I think to myself, “This is all just tricks being played on you by the chemicals in your head… you have NO REASON in the world to be this forlorn and hopeless and inconsolable, lots of people would kill to have your problems, and you’re being spoiled and selfish by not appreciating what you have.” And yet I’m still unable to fight it off, because, of course, depression is not something you can rationalize away.
We’re born crazy and we’ll die crazy… damn right.
I was doing my daily surf of the usual sites today when I came across this…
http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/102097.php
Your commentary is pretty insightful, but I still believe that unless you have lived through it, there is absolutely no way anyone can imagine what it’s like. I was that person; the one that would judge people that spent time on a psyche floor as being mentally weak Even with a degree in psychology, there was NO way to make a true connectiion between learning and knowing about a disorder and experiencing one. It’s funny, because you make a comment about living with mania as if it was normal; not knowing any better or different. I guess I was in the same boat but wasn’t aware of it. My experience was somewhat different from yours but still hit me like a ton of bricks. I was able to function quite well for a long time until I crashed. Now, in retrospect, I look back at all the years of ailments, unexplained fatige, ongoing insomnia and just chalked it up to my personality. But there was an underlying reason. Now, I know. Life is pretty cool for me presently, but it took the worst year of my life to get me to this point; Not to mention a very caring doctor and lots of genuine support. I still don’t really feel all that comfortable talking about it in public because I know people judge. I remember wishing I had cancer instead; I thought that would be better than what I was going through. Anyway, Matt, I digress. I could pobably go on forever. I wish you well and hope you find your balance.
Dearest Matt, your fragility and your humility shame ME. You have NOTHING to be ashamed of, nothing. None of us here can even begin to understand what you continue to go through. It’s so easy to sy, “oh, when I was like you…”. But the truth is we weren’t, and never will be.
I am trying so hard not to cry after reading your post but I am truly, honestly, failing miserably. Lots of virtual hugs, lullabies and kisses.
xxx
amen
“Can’t get your hands on that hot new purse? Worried about your figure? Worried about being able to afford that new sports car or that trip to Vegas? Pissed off that your new haircut isn’t perfect or that the hot girl you met the other night isn’t returning your calls?”
Don’t treat these people too harshly. For some, these problems are more real than anything else and they are all the worse for it.
Crazy? Just think of how many children are put on meds for various behavior problems without any legitimate reason when they are not even out of kindergarten yet - what will become of them when they turn 14, 15, 16? Antidepressants too - not everybody has clinical depression and yet so many people are prescribed meds for that. Truly is a crazy pill popping world.
I myself am taking 3 different meds to treat my seizures, some of them are also often used to treat bipolar disorder. Two years ago I was waking up seeing spider webs in my room - quite an interesting experience, you really have to have strong will to convince yourself that it is not real. Never told my parents because they are the people that I care about and they would be the once who suffer the most when something bad happens to me. Turned out that I had a bleed in the brain…
Excuse me for suggesting it if you are already, but are you seeing a therapist? When my wife ran off with a mutual friend I found it helped me considerably.
Thank you. That puts everything into perspective. Really, what the hell do we have to complain about?
Wow, Matt. Out of all the articles I’ve read by you, which is every single one since August, this one is the best so far. Fabulous job of putting things in perspective.
Right on
There are no words for the demons in all of us. Mankind can give you the most wonderful things but it can also reflect the most cruelest things you can ever imagine. We sometimes are our worst enemy. The mind can be a glorious thing and it can cripple us in no time flat.
If people all around the world just reached out and did one small thing for someone else, we as human beings would not alow wars to begin, people to be homeless and alone, and we would not prejudge people.
All it take is to each out your hand to someone else.
amazing read matt, loved it.
whenever you talk about yourself this way, i am always at a loss for words. matt you cannot be so hard on yourself! you are by far one of the most caring people around, none of us here would ever peg you as the selfish type. and i completely understand what you’re saying about there being way too much unnecessary complaining being done, some people just need a good slap in the face. and as for heath, all i can say is the poor guy was taken far too soon, he would be turning but a mere 29 this friday (i think i will always find myself thinking of him this time of year as he and i share a birthday). at least he got what he wanted in the end, a nice long sleep.. its just a terrible thing for his daughter to have to grow up knowing this.
This entry made me sad. Your words are so true… Why don’t you try using pot to help you with what you’re experiencing? I’m sure you already know that it’s been proven to alleviate anxiety. Just a thought. You can’t run away from your problems, or make them go away, but at least an herbal alternative is safer for your body than pharmaceuticals.
Ummm… your not born crazy, you can have a genetic predisposition to mental health issues though, you dont have to die crazy either. Just get you feet planted on the right things and around right people.
Egoism & Narcissism Capitalism & Consumerism = Mental health issues. Simple as that, there are writings on this all over. Ok Ive done my social work thing.
Saw a great show of your for the 1st time in NYC (never heard of you before), but I was dragged along and pissed off because I had to miss Joan Baez’s concert. But I was pleasantly suprised! Im a fan now and great show.
You should consider stand up comedy as a fall back if music doesnt work out. The Last Unicorn was my favorite movie growing up : )
Kitty-le-meow, marijuana also can also be a major CAUSE of anxiety. I’m not sure what it’s dependent on, but in just as many cases as the ones that it alleviates anxiety it causes it.
How do you stay so positive and inspiring in the midst of all of that?
I have watched my mother struggle with Rx drug dependency over the last five years… she has really bad anxiety, and eventually checked herself into a rehab centre to get herself off the medication.
I think its amazing that people blame her, yet the years of spousal abuse are never mentioned. Or no one mentions that the drug is only supposed to be prescribed for a year because of its addictive qualities, and she was on it for five. Of course, its all HER fault. And now that she is struggling to live without the drugs, its still all her fault and no one wants to “put up with” her “depressing” phone calls.
One night, she was arrested for defending herself against her husband. He tried to hit her while she was eating and she held up her arm to protect herself, but was holding a steak knife. It cut his hand and when the police arrived, having been phoned when the neighbours heard shouting, they saw blood and arrested her. As she spent the night in a max security cell, the rest of my family decided that the would not pay her bail because she was probably “better off” in there and could probably get “help”. She was terrified.
We are always so willing to blame people for these “problems” but forget that we are all human beings and there are reasons behind things. It doesn’t make the “problems” go away, but it would definitely help us have a more healthy and compassionate society if we could actually try to listen to people instead of blame them.
And yes, a matter of perspective is always helpful. “Woe is me” only goes so far when I’m typing it on my MacBook, sitting in my two-story home in a quiet suburban neighbourhood while someone is cooking dinner for me.
…I worry about you too, even though it’s not my right. (Not because I think you are suicidal; I don’t think that.) But I empathize with (although can’t *understand* fully, since I haven’t experienced) what you go through, and I wish there was some way to ease the episodes and struggles. Can I ask (because I am *not* an expert on mania) - are the episodes at all triggered by certain anxieties, such as being alone, being in a strange place, or being in the dark? I wish you had someone who could just be with you through the manic episodes - maybe it would help.
For the sleep drugs that no longer work (like Clonazepam) would it be worthwhile to stop taking them for a bit and see if you could get to sleep just as well without them? I’m not suggesting you’d be better off without your meds, but I wonder, if there are some that aren’t effective, if it wouldn’t be better in general to just not take them at all, the resulting sleep or lack thereof being the same in either case. (Again, maybe this is a stupid suggestion; I don’t know).
You make very good points about the life of privilege many of us lead - however, I wouldn’t downplay your own difficulties. Just because your anguish isn’t physical doesn’t mean it isn’t just as real to you as a physical problem might be to another.
Don’t know what to say other than thank you. Lately I’ve been feeling like crap and have no idea why, but after reading this I think I’ll be able to pick myself up because you’re right - there are those who have it much worse than any of us. Next time I feel like crap I’ll just have to read this and wake up again. Once again thanks.
Quoting Kitty-le-meow:
Dude, pot does not allieviate anxiety for all. In many cases,and for people I know, including myself, it makes me parnoid…..
A bunch of robots just trying to survive.
We all have our demons…..but it is how we ultimately deal with them…that makes us who we really are.
I think I had a panic attack last year and I never ever want to go through that again. I’m not sure what they are supposed to feel like, but I know I thought I was going to die and no one could save me. The most awful feelings came over me and I had no control. It scares me to think of ever having one again. It is truly amazing that pills can make one think otherwise, but in the end maybe they just supress them and they really just stay buried inside….one day finding their way to the surface.
You make me think even more than I already do.
I’m wishing you peaceful dreams……..and pleasant thoughts……….
Love from Buffalo,
Michelle
Oh and p.s… sorry , I don’t mean to be rude. I just find it odd that people keep telling Matt to smoke pot, because maybe he already does smoke pot..
The problem faced by every Human Being in the World in general is that each and one of us has to fight for ourselves. Whether it is shelter, food, health, or (just to be mean) a good hair cut. Nobody but yourself knows the whole story and words are never good enough to express it. Whoever you talk to will always put their own spin on it either through no fault of their own or intentionally. And they will generally say that it is in your best interests.
I wrote above that some time ago I had a bleed in the brain, well I had a headache for 3 weeks, going to a hospital didn’t help - they did a CAT scan but nobody looked at it, there was a change of doctors and they just dismissed me saying that everything is OK. I was so exhausted that I didn’t care to check anything out. Going to my family doctor didn’t help - he took out a list of my meds and said that it is a side effect (pretty much any of my complaints can be dismissed as such). My neurologist was the caring one but I had to beg for an appointment - everyone knows of the shortage of doctors.
Medications and disorders and treatment of patients (although it was just a fraction of the book) always makes me remember “Requiem for a Dream”
Oh god, when will there be an edit key again? For those daze when I say re-dick things on here…
that all came out wrong what I said.
I think no matter who we are in this world there will always be someone who has it worse, no matter where we are. As insignificant as I may be, nobody benefits from my not being around.
Ah… the human mind is the biggest mystery of all. From what I’ve seen in this life, high intelligence is usually held by tortured souls. If one is lucky enough to find a medium to express one’s highly sensitive nature and intense perceptions of the world around him - the potential is creative genius. But, I suppose the biggest hurdle is harnessing all that intensity and keeping some sanity to function. In my own personal opinion, all the best art out there is from people that suffer from a mental illness (diagnosed or not), or one that is drug induced.
Although I am perceptive, I am just not s-m-r-t enough to be a genius.
As for the manic attacks, I couldn’t even begin to understand what that’s like, but it sounds like a personal hell. It must be hard to swing around like that, and then try to function normally. At least you don’t have to hide anymore. Don’t feel bad that you have more than others, everyone has their problems after all, and you do alot to make life better for other people. Yes, we can always do more, but you should focus on doing what you can.
I know that will do very little to settle your mind, but I hope you can find a way to sleep. I’ve seen what people are like with insomnia, and I’m just thankful I don’t suffer from it.
Quoting D. Lilly:
Dan, I’ve noticed that every post you make involves coca-cola.
I’m learning a lot about myself and other people since I’ve been trying to get help for Agoraphobia and anxiety associated with it. I get so mad at myself for feeling anxious and I try to think logically about situations that are an internal whirlwind… What I’m trying to get at is; I’m realizing people are a lot more alike than they’re not.
I’m glad that you’re you Matt… As always thanks for the words.
Quoting T-Lee:
My ex-boyfriend was bipolar and his worst anxiety attacks were brought on by smoking pot. Then again, one of the medications he was on was seroquel, and from my limited understanding, the synergistic effects of seroquel and pot are pretty nasty. Anyway, just my two cents on that issue.
As for this entry–what a thought-provoking piece, Matt! The bit about the petty concerns over purses and sports cars, etc. reminds me of that Goethe quote, “Nothing is harder to bear than a succession of fair days.” If nothing is significantly wrong in our lives, is it human nature to create problems? I hope not. But it does seem to be the case that the higher the standard of material living gets, the more we have to struggle to appreciate what we have.
With that said, I don’t think anyone should belittle or feel ashamed over genuine personal problems just because those problems aren’t technically as bad as being a refugee or starving to death, etc. I agree that if you start throwing fits over not being able to get the iPhone or staining your favorite designer dress, then you need to take a step back and get some perspective. And I agree that we should remember those less fortunate than ourselves, and try to act on their behalfs.
But I think the perspective thing goes both ways. If a person is struggling with mental illness–or more minor issues, like heartbreak, or working in an emotionally abusive environment–I think they should be able to acknowledge that, yeah, it’s not the physical end of them or the world, but on the other hand, it sucks and it’s not a crime to acknowledge that either.
The shrinking coffin description is actually a pretty good one, there’s always that sense of urgency to do something, but I never know what the something is, and then I start to get confused and don’t think straight, and that’s where I get into trouble. I’m not sure whether my downs or my ups are more dangerous ever.
Wow! Funny (the last part about everyone being crazy) but a seriously alarming post. I can’t imagine taking that many drugs and still not falling asleep feels like. I’d like to comment on the part about worrying about sports cars, designer jeans, and material possessions and not being dead. Well in short I’d rather be dead, at least I feel like that. My immediate family has passed on by illness or strange accidents except my mother who has Multiple Sclerosis and is heading down that road as well. I’m still young (30) and have had to deal with death and funerals for a number of years during my 20’s. Having little or almost no material possessions as a child was always a source of embarrassment and a way for other kids to pick on me. I worked my ass to exhaustion to put myself through college and now can afford what some people would consider normal things like a nice pair of jeans or a car that is reliable and runs every time I start it. So I yeah it does give some sense of gratification to look around the room and say I EARNED that with my own damn money. But what the FUCK good is it when the people you love and miss aren’t around to see what you’ve accomplished? It doesn’t mean shit. I’d trade anything to have them back and healthy.
Self medicate only works for so long. The you get tired of feeling sick and tired. The walls still do creep in slowly. I take clonezepan for sleep too. But, i find it numbs me to think i am sleeping even when I am not. I cant remember what a good sleep feels like. I see your mirror pictures Matt and It mirrors me…long nights aren’t they? Who is that person in the mirror? I try not to look so much.
“Even these days, as a part of my daily drug regiment, I take 1mg of Clonazepam at night, and after a year and a half it has little to no affect.”
I’m not a professional, but I do have to ask if you are planning to visit your doctor soon. A year and a half with a medication that’s not working? The moment I start talking about a low period in the four months since my last appointment, it’s almost certain my doctor is going to raise the dose of what ever I’m on. You truly have to be patient with the medication process. In three years, I’ve been on at least seven different medications, had countless adjustments and I’m finally to the point were I’m not dreading the month of April. Stability, however minimal, will come eventually.
The feeling of hopelessness, however, will never stop. There will always be those tens of thousands of people who will never have the privilege of receiving treatment. There will always be there be those who are more than happy to tell you it’s all in your head and the shame isn’t worth it. And when you start thinking about the treatment you were brave enough to step up to the plate to receive regardless of the millions of reasons not to, in the back of your mind, there will always be the realization that no mater what you do, you’re trapped for the rest of your life and you will never win.
But deep in the back of your mind, you know you have to keep going, no mater what. For every one gold digger/asshole who didn’t love you in the end, 20 lives will shatter the instant the doctor is forced to call it.
And, in the end, even though it may seem virtually impossible to physically help those in the war torn areas of the world, you know damn well that at you made a thousand minds aware of the real shame behind mental illness. That’s the least that anyone can ask of you.
You’re a brave man. Don’t forget that.
My father introduced me to this poem by Max Ehrmann awhile back when I was going through some “teenage depression”. I think of these words every time I get down about petty things in my life that I can’t change:
“Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.”
one day you are going to look at yourself in the mirror and just say, “Fuck this bullshit.” I am not going to let this condition define ME. I know it.
Coming to terms with a mental illness is a long and arduous process. Now maybe I’m just being presumptuous, but it seems like the last few posts in which you talk about dealing with your illness you feel as if you have this condition that has taken complete control of you, and you are powerless over it. Now, I don’t have bipolar disorder (but at one time a psychiatrist thought I did because of my terrible insomnia which causes mood swings), but I have dealt with depression and anxiety throughout the last several years of my life, and I know how that powerless feeling feels. Eventually, I examined myself and said a big “fuck you” to the depression and anxiety. There are days where I didn’t want to go out and deal with people because of the anxiety it would bring, or I felt too sad to do anything but sit in bed and watch tv….but when I did that, I was letting the depression and anxiety win. I forced myself to do things that I didn’t want to do.
Now I know I brought this up in a previous post…but the only way I really was able to learn how to do all of that was through talking to a therapist weekly and participating in group therapy. Now, I feel like I have much more control of my emotions and behaviors. To anyone who is struggling with a mental illness, I strongly suggest you to check out therapy. I know it can be embarrassing at first, and you may feel self-conscious about it, because that’s how I felt. But it’s worth it. And if you don’t have health insurance, many therapists have a sliding scale fee, or you can try community mental health places that can help you for a lower cost.
I’m curious though…does Canada’s health care system pay for mental health services? I know that many of the “decent” HMOs and PPO’s here in the states pay for a certain amount of visits…because they consider it “short term care.” …Which is crap because mental illness can be a life long condition requiring lifelong care. I’m really hoping that this will change in my lifetime…
Quoting Hope:
I believe this to be sooooooo true in our “wonderfully” pretensious society. At the end of the day, staying true to myself is probably what helps to keep me “sane”. If people want to think I’m crazy b/c I’m different, then I celebrate being different b/c at least I’m genuinely happy. And some days I’m truly bitchy. WE HAVE BECOME A SPOILED & UNGRATEFUL SOCIETY WHO IS AFRAID TO FEEL! Life’s too short be fucking happy to be breathing…be happy that you can walk and talk! Be happy for your not so perfect family!
Quoting ohashely:
Another sleepless night…I will ponder Matt’s words and everyone elses.
I commend you Matt for your very personal posts whether its political, personal or just sillyness. I love reading yours and everyone elses and w/regard to the mental health topics, how cool is it that b/c of your honesty, your fans can post their own personal stories so we can all learn from them. Incredible!! I’m not sure if you respond to any of them but I do hope that someone contacted that 15 year old and gave him some sound advice.
Be well, Everybody!!
Dan: “testing the fortitude of his tires every time he makes that nice right turn off 99 south and onto 17 during the daily drive home from work”.
yes…finally someone besides me who loves that corner.
Quoting superboots:
I’m thinking yes… because I’ve seen my family doctor who referred me to people who specialize in anxiety and I’ve been offered to go to meetings and such… all free. Also the psyches and stuff I might end up seeing I was also told are free. I don’t know if it’s because I work full time and have benefits or not tho… I don’t think so. The place I was referred to is free… possibly because I got the referral. The free meetings and such might run out tho or be skimpy because I’ve heard of that happening to people who don’t feel like they’ve received adequate help…
love this entry matt… i’ve always thought the same (that there are far worse situations out there) and referred to that realization whenever i was down. like a slap in the face to come into grips with reality and out of self pity to a degree…
Take good care Matt! Long walks and fresh air. Share the burden m8..But Im sure it’s painfully isolating.
Quoting Charmaine:
Psychiatrist, yes. Psychotherapy, no. Even with my benefits, I’d be paying somewhere around $80 a session. For the time being, I stick with seeing my free psychiatrist every few months and putting the $80 towards a month’s worth of well need music therapy. (Nothing easies the pain more than a guitar lesson with the best guitar teacher in town, who took my minor hint of a McCartney worshiper on first visit to his full advantage.)
VIKA –“Can’t get your hands on that hot new purse? Worried about your figure? Worried about being able to afford that new sports car or that trip to Vegas? Pissed off that your new haircut isn’t perfect or that the hot girl you met the other night isn’t returning your calls?”
Don’t treat these people too harshly. For some, these problems are more real than anything else and they are all the worse for it.
I agree.. these things in the scheme of the world are not a big deal, well.. actually the worried about your figure one kills people every single day… but the other things.. these are things that some people feel affect their quiality of life, I am thankful for evrything I have in this world and especially for the health of my loved ones but I am not going to hinder my quality of life because it could be worse. Even if my problems are far more pety — and neither should you Matt - just because someone has is worse doesn’t mean you should question yourself. You get one life.. be thankful for what you have — but don’t think that it’s not that important..
“Mine is an illness of arrogance…” As long as you are still referring to the same issue and haven’t changed pace secretly, I’d like to say that you’re full of shit.
It isn’t a competition to see who has the worst life. And if it is, lets change pace for a moment. You mention pain and suffering. What about those that hold people hostage and shoot off their guns and terrify their captors but it’s all over in a matter of hours or days? Or the sick fucks that like to screw small animals? What about that? What if it was one of YOUR animals? They torture them and rupture the large intestine and leave them writhing in agony while the contents of their intestines leak into their torn body to poison them. I’ve seen the end result and let me tell you it isn’t pretty. I’d say that is a pretty horrible life too. And just because someone else is suffering ‘more’ than you, how does that decrease the validity of your suffering? It doesn’t. How do you measure suffering? Brief, violent and intense vs erratic or ongoing? Although I know it is fairly basic, don’t forget that it is a highly individualized thing. There is no Snellen chart for this, most of it is perception.
Having the means to combat a problem does not constitute as arrogance. Speaking of it to others doesn’t either. If you gave up any and all help available to you, it would not be forwarded to another worthy individual. That’s not the way it works. You can’t trade it. Besides, all the assistance in the world doesn’t always fix things. If they don’t get fixed can you forgo the guilt over it? Are you now closer to being on par with those you mentioned? Being broken is awful. Staying that way intentionally proves little.
Look, my brain has the same issues yours does. Don’t allow yours to trick you into something that strays this far from the truth. Even so, brains are like that. Mine convinces me that I should be ashamed for having food when others go hungry. Then I put off eating because I feel so guilty that I have no appetite. Next thing I know my blood sugar has dropped to the mid 40s yet I’m still conscious… most likely the stubborn part of me that wants to be sure I experience every bit of suffering that I should for having food. When this happens in a ‘phase’, when my brain tricks me, it spreads out from there and I truly believe I’m responsible for every bad thing somehow. Logical, no. Does it happen, yes.
That’s why I said you were full of shit. Sounds like your brain is tricking you. I get angry having a differently functioning brain also. Overwhelming though it may be, give yourself credit where credit is due. Show yourself the kindness you bestow on others.
my best friend has suffered from multiple mental illnesses since childhood…some were-I believe- caused later in life by premature medicating for illnesses that may have been diagnosed out of convenience…or perhaps simply misdiagnosed…I’ve stood by her and sat by her and listened many times for hours about things that I cannot see the travesty in…but I also know that I can never completely understand what it is like…she’s a wonderful person and I’ll always be there for her…
wow it was like I was writing that post.My best friend ended up with anxiety some years after me and although I hated to see him go through it I was glad to have some one to go through the hell with.The number of times we’ve both shared those views just like yours above is uncanny. Your new to the anxiety/depression thing and I can assure you in time you can handle your enemy once you know it better. Boy I too wish I did not have a name to put to the face of my depression. Ignorance is bliss
Maximillian…….Please understand me, that this is an attempt at humor!
I read your post, and realized you hade made a “Take my wife, please”joke.
Taken out of context you wrote: ” When my wife ran off with a mutual friend I found it helped me considerably.”
Sorry……….. I hope things are well for you now.
Hey, no biggie. I’m better off without her. And it is kind of funny out of context.
What I found interesting about therapy is that the therapist didn’t say anything I hadn’t already thought of myself, it’s just that I’d also come up with half a dozen other, less likely explanations. Somehow, an external observer’s opinion held more weight for me than my own, despite it ultimately being the same viewpoint. Guess it’s just the self doubt everybody carries around to some extent. Of course I don’t seem to have anywhere near the mental anguish a lot of the posters here seem to be suffering through, so their experience would probably differ considerably.
My sister has manic and depressive episodes, and despite my urging, will not be diagnosed and seek treatment. She has no body fat (hence no hormones), exercises for hours every day (I think that helps her sleep), eats only watery vegetables, and looks a decade older than she is. She is on steroids now for an infection and her amplified mania is even more difficult to deal with. Depression will follow when the steroids are done. I hate to admit I have very little patience with her because she knows she is heading for a breakdown but refuses to take any steps to try to prevent it–despite the lows and despite thinking she is ‘crazy’, she actually enjoys the ride.
She worries me because she doesn’t have the sense to appreciate the seriousness of her condition nor get the help that is readily available.
Every day I think about my charmed life and try not to feel guilty about it.
Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes. Matt, that was fucking excellent and if we all felt and thought like that this world could be an amazing place. Those exact thoughts go through my mind a hundred times a day, and it is so depressing. But just when I start thinking that things suck in my own life, I remind myself to take a look outside and see the poor homeless guy begging at an intersection, or a crippled person trying to make their way through an impossible day. All that guy wants is a pair of legs that work, ya know? Sure, we all have problems, but we are also extremely lucky to live in this country for the most part. It is peaceful and safe and for that alone I am extremely thankful.
Quoting mmaw:
And that’s precisely it. There will always be someone worse off than you, but keep in mind that there are always some that view YOU as the one who is worse off than they are because it is subjective. But it’s not a contest. That’s why I said what I said in my previous comment; sick as it is, life is about parallels and angles that, while are horrific at times, it works in it’s own perverse way no matter who agrees. Sounds like alot here stomp, shout, protest and challenge it head on - which is often the only reasonable way to deal with this portion of life.
I wish you luck with your sister. Hardly anyone acknowledges those that are left to deal with the scattered pieces of mental illness and related chemical imbalances. More needs to be done about that because I know that without even trying, I’ve led those close to me down a path that would make a jog through hell seem appealing. ;) I don’t think you should feel guilty about your life. Lucky perhaps, but there is no reason for guilt. =)
Quoting livewire:
EXACTLY! That’s what I was trying to get at but I am not the best at expressing myself lol thanks
Quoting foresthouse:
You CANNOT just suddenly stop taking Clonazepam or any benzodiazepine (ie you cannot “cold turkey” these meds) if you have been on them daily for a long time (3 weeks or more). It is very dangerous to stop those medications suddenly; you can have seizures. You have to taper down gradually.
To find out more about benzo withdrawal for anyone who is interested type “Heather Ashton” into google. http://www.benzo.org.uk/profash.htm She is the top expert on benzodiazepine addiction and withdrawal.
Matt I really feel for you with the insomnia. I have struggled with severe insomnia for half my life (I’m 28). I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder (I’ve had four manic episodes; severe depressions; I’ve overdosed on ativan and had my stomach pumped - urgh… you know all the fun stuff that goes along with mania, depression and the desperation that chronic insomnia causes. You know what I’m talking about unfortunately).
In my case, I was mis-diagnosed with bipolar. The bipolar disorder treatments didn’t help me because I have an infection that caused my manias and depressions.
I have already emailed you about this in the past but thought I would post about it again. I have tick borne infections (borrelia, bartonella and babesia) - more commonly known as “Lyme disease” and co-infections.
I am not saying you are mis-diagnosed with bipolar this is more of a general comment about Lyme disease being mis-diagnosed as bipolar. If you have a history of camping it is possible you have tickborne infections (especially if you have a history of camping in British Columbia; there’s a ton of tickborne infections in BC). I used to do a lot of camping (I got Lyme in BC and other places too but was mis-diagnosed for over a decade). In my experience not many doctors in Canada know much about Lyme disease and they don’t know it can cause psychiatric symptoms but it can. For more information about Lyme disease in Canada type in the “Canadian Lyme disease Foundation” into google.
I have struggled with severe TMJ (worsened by the Lyme disease) and bad gastrointestinal symptoms and severe bouts of anxiety (probably caused by the bartonella infection; bartonella causes a lot of central nervous system symptoms including anxiety/agitation and other psych symptoms).
Anyway I find it interesting to know that bipolar can be caused by many things including brain infections. The truth about bipolar disorder is they don’t know what causes it. I used to think of bipolar disorder as a disorder in its own right but now I’ve come to see it as a collection of symptoms with many possible causes.
Also, I have been reading through these comments a bit and some people are suggesting Matt go to therapy. Matt already mentioned way back in pervious posts that he has been to therapy.
Matt I admire you for opening up about your experiences! It can’t be easy to discuss these things. I find it *very* hard to open up about my health issues because people are quick to give advice (usually very bad/patronizing advice). I have found that generally speaking people seem to think they would be able to cope better when in truth they have no idea the hell you’re going through.
Ever given Melatonin a shot? I find the quality varies from health food store to store but if you can find a brand that works it’s good for some “spit on the pillow” sleep…with the occasional crazy dream thrown in there. It can leave you in a fog the next morning…but you’re from BC so you’re used to it.
I’ve got that mental gymnastics think going on too…hard to shut off sometimes. A hard workout helps…as does drinking but that isn’t nearly as healthy. I used to tell an old girlfriend she just needed to shut down that busted head of hers every once in a while…and relax. Hers’ wasn’t a case of a powerful mind as I could hear the marble rattle around in there…but the message is essentially the same. Just got to shut this damn thing off every once in a while. I think I used to use her as a distraction to take my mind of other things…
I’m of course over simplifying for all those with real problems/disorders…. My noodle just needs a rest. Keep up the good work Matt…musically, literally…you’re ahead of the curve.
This post is a bit old, so no one will likely read, but here goes my anger again, but unless you have suffered from insomnia (i mean the real deal, no sleeping for 2-3 days, maybe 15 minutes only to be awoken by neighbor slamming door), you simply have no idea.
When I was pregnant - no drugs allowed! - I would literally sleep for 15-30 min a night towards the end. I was a bad bad girl if I took 25 mg of Trazodone to help me sleep, but that hardly helped. It’s not about relaxing, or yoga, or chilling out, or just stop thinking!! It’s a physical thing. In the final weeks of my pregnancy, when I confessed I was sleeping less than an hour a day, my midwife (God bless her clog-wearing self) shot me up with demoral and gave me some type of opiate/mix/painkiller (I also have a herniated disk, which when you have an 8lb baby and placenta ameneotic fluid, etc. pushing upon said slipped disk = really fucking hurts). My midwife (please y’all go the midwife route, it’s humane), she grabbed my arms as I was crying and not wanting the meds, and she pulled me in close and and said - don’t listen to the doctors, etc. that tell you that you can’t take these meds. Your baby is full-term. You are not sleeping and in intense pain. I care MORE about you than I do this baby. That’s my job. You need to not feel pain and to sleep. And, I wish you would have stayed with your normal dose of Trazodone throughout your pregnancy. Finally someone who understands the harmful affects of insomnia and better yet, understands that it is not about a rouitine, or caffiiene or smoking or yoga or just thinking too much.
The drama continued. If said mother is no longer breastfeeing (btw, while pregant sorta ok to take Trazondone), then Trazodone is a ok. Breastfeeiding? Trazodone (sorta ok while pregnant) is then a big NO-NO. No one could explain why. BUT….AMBIEN with a newborn and breastfeeding is A-OK. Doctors, the FDA, lack of female research, etc. have come up with this doctrine. So, physchiatrist says ok, go with the Ambien while you are with child, but btw, shrink says that she is also having a baby and retiring so when you need a refill of the Ambien, you’ll have to go to your regular doctor. I did. She screamed! I don’t give Ambien to anyone, and the type of person that should NEVER take it is a new, breastfeeding mother of a 6-week old. OK…then….what do you suggest? She says that she has never seen a new mother with an inability to sleep. Huh? Yes, I am your case study. It must be me. I am exhausted and stressed and in pain, but I can’t sleep because…? She says, I will give you another 30 days of Ambien - but that’s it! - and you can only take the Ambien if you continue breastfeeding. If you stop breastfeeding, I can give you the Trazodone. Now that’s a conundrum. Sleep v. feeding baby? (the Trazodone’s affect had been lessening over a long period of time, hence my hesitation to go back on that, and oh, kinda big deal to stop nursing based upon my insomnia meds).
This has really become too much of an aside, tirade, rant and pretty much irrelvant unless MG impregnants an insomniac, so I will end with the only solution I could find. (1) on to Seroquel to sleep swallowed after a couple of drinks; and (2) obviously no more breastfeeing and I can only rarely get up if my son wakes up. Pretty much daddy’s on night duty.
Moral of the story: insomnia is a serious tragic non self-inflicted condition. Tea, yoga, melatonin, etc. doesn’t do the trick. Down to the bits that I left uptown. I need a fix ’cause I’m going down.