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 many of you know, I suffer from Bipolar Disorder (Type 2, to be specific). A friend on Facebook from the UK sent me a link to a series of videos by British Actor Stephen Fry, who himself suffers from it. Here is the first part of the series. You can find links to the rest of the episodes below this first one.

Part One:

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen

I wanted to post this because I receive a lot of email from people all over the world about their experiences with the illness. Knowing that I have it, and have talked about it in the past, many have chosen to share their stories with me. I thought posting this video series might be a positive with regards to it being a vehicle for them as well as those who might not understand it.

I woke up this morning to an utterly overwhelming amount of email to which I am unsure how to respond. I can promise you that when I get the time to sit down and respond to all of them I will, and that may take some time so please excuse me if they’re simple one liners or just a thanks.

One particular email that I’d like to quote is rather representative of a lot of the emails I received. It’s from Jeff in Stoney Creek, Ontario…

“Hey Matt. I just wanted to say that you personally have made a big difference in my life. About a year or so ago, I sent you a quick email asking you for advice about panic attacks/anxiety. The reason I asked you is because I had read on your website on a few occasions that you had suffered from one or the other at some point in your life. You responded back and urged me to see a Doctor. I probably would have never seen my Doctor if it had not of been for you, because I didn’t want people to think I was crazy. I probably would have just kept living with anxiety and panic attacks. I have since seen my Doctor and I am on medication for Anxiety. No more panic attacks and no more senseless worrying at all hours of the day. For that I have you to thank.�?

To such things I don’t know what to say. It seems to me that any decent person would give such advice to someone with such troubles, but being that I have suffered the ignorance of others and the fear that comes with trying to tell other people about anxiety and depression, the majority of times having been met with ridicule and consternation (even by those closest to me, even by those promised to stand beside me through such trials), I’m glad that Jeff ended up getting help because I responded.

I’m going to take the next few days to respond to these emails and think about what I’m going to do with regards to the blog. It seems to mean a lot to a great many people, so I’ll spend some time thinking about it. Thank you all for your kind words of support. I have a feeling I might actually even sleep on the flight home today.

Oh, and just because it wouldn’t be me to not mention at least a few things. Juan Cole’s recent Salon piece on the execution of Saddam Hussein is a must read…

“The body of Saddam, as it swung from the gallows at 6 a.m. Saturday Baghdad time, cast an ominous shadow over Iraq. The execution provoked intense questions about whether his trial was fair and about what the fallout will be. One thing is certain: The trial and execution of Saddam were about revenge, not justice. Instead of promoting national reconciliation, this act of revenge helped Saddam portray himself one last time as a symbol of Sunni Arab resistance, and became one more incitement to sectarian warfare.

Saddam Hussein was tried under the shadow of a foreign military occupation, by a government full of his personal enemies. The first judge, an ethnic Kurd, resigned because of government interference in the trial; the judge who took his place was also Kurdish and had grievances against the accused. Three of Saddam’s defense lawyers were shot down in cold blood. The surviving members of his defense team went on strike to protest the lack of protection afforded them. The court then appointed new lawyers who had no expertise in international law. Most of the witnesses against Saddam gave hearsay evidence. The trial ground slowly but certainly toward the inevitable death verdict.�?

Events unfolding in Somalia are also of import. From Eric Margolis…

“Ethiopia’s invasion of Somalia under cover of the Christmas holiday was a blatant aggression that is likely to widen the arc of conflict across the dangerously turbulent Horn of Africa. It also marks the opening of a new front in Washington’s war against Islamic militants and reformers.

Claims by Ethiopia that Somalia, a nation without any real military forces, threatened its border were as fanciful as assertions by Washington and Addis Ababa that the so-called “transitional government” they had installed in the town of Baidoa represented anything more than its own well-paid members.

The US-backed and financed Ethiopian offensive was clearly designed to crush the first stable government strife-torn Somalia has had in 15 years of civil war and anarchy. The new Islamic regime, known as the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC), recently managed to bring law and order to much of southern and central Somalia. In the north, a secessionist group has proclaimed something called independent “Puntland.”

The Union of Islamic Courts ended Somalia’s long civil war by crushing local warlords who were being armed and financed by the CIA. The US claims the Islamic Courts is a second Taliban-style movement containing “terrorists” involved in the 1998 bombings of US embassies in East Africa who will turn Somalia into a hotbed of anti-American subversion. The UIC denies these allegations.

More important, under the Bush/Cheney Administration, any movement that has the audacity to call itself “Islamic” immediately becomes a target of American hostility. The embarrassing total defeat of US-backed Somali warlords by the Islamic Courts militia led directly to Washington’s decision to press Ethiopia to invade Somalia.

Ethiopia has one of Africa’s more powerful, well-trained armed forces with over 1,300 tanks and a modern air force that are now increasingly equipped and aided by the United States.�?