Imagine

Imagine there are already and have been for a while, life forms that have started away from their homes on planets from the billions and billions of stars in existence.

Also imagine that , at some point, they are going to want to establish communication with the creatures they discover. If we can talk to each other then we can truly understand what we each have to offer.

Whether through natural brain evolution or an outsiders’ nudge in the genetic mutation area, it’s possible to imagine that individuals who are deemed neuroatypical by their contemporaries are, in fact, further along the path to becoming the necessary bridges to other ways of perception and ultimately, communication.

It seems reasonable to imagine that those of us who can see what others can’t, hear things others don’t, or see sounds, exist and survive to pass the genetic changes onward. Luckily for all of us, great, brilliant creativity accompanies this gift in many people. Unfortunately, these talents also bring horrifying disability to many, many others.

Why do these mutations persist in our genomes? They are meant to be there, must be there. It’s just hard to see how humanity is a work in progress. We live in societies that have decided to try and medicate away the expressions of these abilities. We should be trying to help relieve the suffering without silencing the atypical.

I’m trying to figure out how my recently acquired abilities are meant to be helpful, contributory. I’m childless, so no passing my genes on. Pretty average creativity-wise. Unless I’m hypomanic and then I’m brilliant. Right. Just part of the process, I guess.

It is fun to imagine how the status of the extraordinary “mentals” who put us in contact with others will change from one of fear and concern to one of adulation and appreciation.

Doc

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Sadness

I want to write this down before I forget it.

On Friday, D stated “You seem less sad today than in recent weeks.”

I smiled in his direction and said “Good.”

He then asked “Or are you just hiding your sadness?”

“I just hide it.”

D – “Why do you hide it?”

I tried to answer the question, but my brain took off in 20 different directions. I tried to come up with, perhaps, the “perfect” answer but all that did was make it completely impossible to say anything. There is no perfect answer to this question. There are many valid reasons I hide my sadness. Not wanting to appear sad all the time. Not wanting people to continually ask me about it. Not wanting to worry or bother others. Not knowing why I’m sad.

In the end, I let the question rattle around in my brain for at least 5 minutes before I gave up and looked at D.

D – “Did you forget the question or decide not to answer me?”

I shook my head no and D knew it was a lost cause and moved on to something else. But it made me feel stupid and brain damaged.

Doc.

Should i try again?

The past couple of weeks have been sort of “typical” for me in that I’m stuck in this weird non-living, just existing state. I get up too early (I really miss the old days of sleeping in), do something all day, and relish the arrival of “an appropriate” time to go back to bed.

For the last 6 months or so, I’ve been experimenting to see if I was getting anything from taking my meds. I stopped the antidepressant, mood-stabilizer, and anti-psychotic around May 2013. And, I honestly do not believe they made any difference. So there’s that. But I can appreciate that I’m certainly not better.

I think I’ve been expecting/hoping that my therapist would suggest I consider returning inpatient for a new assessment or approach. He tried to get me to consider inpatient care about a month ago but I did not want that then. For several months now, I’ve felt that I’m not doing therapy right and that D is getting frustrated with me and my non-progress. He has suggested a couple of times that perhaps I’m actually bipolar. Not sure if I agree with him but I can recall a few instances of probable hypomania, but I won’t believe it until/unless I actually have a manic event. Maybe this is why none of the antidepressants I’ve tried have worked.

I think I’ve figured out who/what Wolf is. In the arena of brain evolution/evolutionary psychiatry. I’ll try to explain this a bit better another time. Still doing research.

My sister informed me two days ago that I have spent down my entire Social security disability account. Literally. I had to send her a check from savings to cover my current bills. Fucking great. Now, I don’t believe that I spend excessively. I must just be spending beyond my means. My monthly check is all I have coming in. Fortunately, I’ve never had to live on a check to check/month to month basis. Welcome to the real world. I only get about 1/4 the amount of my previous income from SS. Poor me. Actually, given my current and sincere suicidality perhaps if I’m broke it will be easier to leave. Another nail in the coffin.

Anyway, should I try treatment one last time? If I do, my family (and me) will (hopefully) feel less guilty about my eventual suicide. You know, I WAS trying to get better. No meds. though. When I told D I was thinking about having another round of ECT, he jumped on it like a young turkey on a grasshopper.

“I’d highly recommend you do ”

“Really, why? Did it help before?”

“Your mood was a little lighter after the last time.”

A little lighter? – is that all I can expect?

So, i’m just not sure what to do. Apparently, we will revisit this idea “after the holidays”. I will be spending the Christmas holidays with my mother and brother and sister-in-law. As I told D – “my brother will be drunk and i’ll be stoned”. Gotta love the holidays.

Doc.

What is my problem?

I spent the Thanksgiving couple of days at my sisters’ house – dog sitting. I’ve done this before. I liked it before. They have 2 dogs – Daisy is a 40 lb. mixed breed and Rocky is a 140 lb great dane. Both are reasonably well behaved, good natured beasts. But, this time I hated it and I hated them.

But, what did they do that was so bad? Nothing, really. It was me. I was irritable and not in the mood.

Mostly, I was annoyed by Rocky. He’s constantly hungry and gets fed three times a day – at 6am, 12 noon, and 5pm. No problem as my insomnia has me up every night anyway between 3 and 5am. Despite this, he hovered and begged for food whenever I was fixing my food. He also suffers from bilateral lower lid entropion, where the lower eyelid rolls inward slightly and the eyelashes rub his cornea. This causes him to make A LOT of eye goobers which he insisted on trying to rub on me any chance he could. Gross. I didn’t mind wiping his eyes for him, but I couldn’t stand being his living, breathing Kleenex. He also has the bad habit of rubbing up against you like a cat would. So, I always had to brace myself when he came near because he’ll just knock you over.

I found myself yelling and swatting at them and a few times I had to howl, because I didn’t think they were understanding me.

I think I figured out, finally, that I was distressed by the lack of my normal comfort measures. I couldn’t stay in bed and watch TV (no TV in my room), the channels were all different and I didn’t understand the remote, the lady that works with my sister in the home-based business showed up for work on both Wednesday and Friday (FFS-take the days off-leave me in my usual isolation), and other stupid and important things.

I’m just not coping well at the moment.

One thing that weirded me out was getting a text message from my therapist at 4:48pm on TG day. It read “Thinking of you and wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving. Prayers that God grants you love, peace, and happiness.” Nothing wrong with that. Right? A heartfelt salutation to his clients. But, I interpreted it to mean he believes that I don’t have those things and it made me sad.

Anyway, my sister and brother-in-law returned home Sat. evening and by 1am Sun. I was back home. Got the fuck out of there.

I had hoped that returning home would restore me to my usual state of dealing with things, but it has not. I feel increasingly depressed, apathetic, and useless. I’ve been in bed. I haven’t built a fire and the house is cold. I’m eating crap. And I don’t see an end in sight.

Doc.