ECT: A Journey out of Darkness

The end of a chapter, the beginning of another

2007-02-25T10:54:00.000-08:00

One last post...to this blog. For those that read this blog regularly, I apologize for dropping the ball and not writing more often. I was thinking that, being 10 months down the road from my last treatment, that my "ECT Journey" was over. This blog began as a way to record the day to day activity as I went through ECT treatments. Those treatments are over and the dust has settled. But, as SallyT informed me (thanks SallyT), my ECT journey will never really be over (assuming that the side effects never go away and I never become rid of this mood disorder.) It just continues in a different sense and it seems logical to chronicle the "going forward" part in a new blog, one focused on being a former ECT patient and on dealing with bipolar disorder after ECT. So...onward. Join me at the new blog site: http://ectsurvivor.blogspot.com/. Thanks for reading and for your many comments. Stay tuned.

2006-12-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

Today is the day before my 17th wedding anniversary (weÂve been married HOW long?) Today, we used the equity from the sale of our Denver house to buy an Arkansas home. Bigger, newer and in a great neighborhood, and much more affordable. Today, and for several days in a row, my mood has been level and very good. Today, IÂm alive and with my family, and I feel lucky to have that.

We made a couple of changes to my meds regimen. Melissa and I have learned (actually, she learned and educated me) from our psychiatric adventures that one rule holds true always: You NEVER change more than one medication at a time. Never. I was taking Risperdal in the morning and then as needed mid-day. My local pdoc changed that to 200mg at night. It seems that Risperdal has a strong sedating effect in addition to quieting mania. Better taken at night. I did that change for a couple of weeks before changing anything else. Good change. I also switched to extended release buproprion and a little more of it. I like that change too. And then, I dropped the extended release alprazolam and went to just regular alprazolam at night. Between the alprazolam and the Risperdal at night, I have no need for the Lunesta I was taking. I usually fall asleep before IÂm ready. All-in-all, some good meds moves have resulted in some improved and more level mood days. (my life is tabulated in "mood days", in contrast to most people moving in "calendar days.")

I have decided, once we get moved and get life moving forward again, that IÂm going to continue my diving education. I hope to start working on my Divemaster rating before spring. It should take me about a year to get through that training. Hopefully, by then, I can find a way to get to some good diving water for my certification dives (Beaver Lake is closeby. Its far from a desirable diving location. The water is murky with about 6 feetvisibilitylity and a thermal at about 30 feet. The Caribbean it ain't.) Then, if all goes as planned, IÂd like to move into getting my instructor certification. Something to shoot for. Maybe, several years down the road, I can spend my winters in a warm sunny place teaching people how to dive or taking them on underwater tours of some spectacular scuba areas.

So thatÂs the latest update. Nothing much on the mood front. Lots going on in life generally. It will be nice to get this move done and be out of Âthe boxes.Â It seems weÂve been living out of boxes for 8 months now, since we decided to put the house on the market in April. Whenever I need something, no matter what it is, I can be sure that its located in Âthe boxes.Â It will be great to have a house to work on again. Lots of little home improvement projects to keep me busy. IÂm still working a very meager number of hours at the liquor store. Just enough to let me feel like IÂm out of the house a reasonable amount of time. Its good social interaction time.

The Missing Past, the Unrememberable Present

2006-11-09T13:35:00.000-08:00

Melissa is increasingly frustrated with me around my memory problems and my inattention to detail and inability to complete tasks and remember to follow-up with things. You have to understand…I’ve always been (until the last 9 months) a perfectionist, detailed, organized and in control. Example: Melissa makes me a list of things to do. I do them, but one of the items can’t be done completely right away for some reason. I often forget to go back and finish that item once it can be finished. Her frustration with me causes frustration for me. I write things down and I do the best I can do. I’ve tried different ways of staying organized, all with some degree of success. The “best I can do”, however, doesn’t meet my standards, just like it doesn’t meet hers. I feel embarrassed of my shortcomings and useless and upset with myself for failing to be reliably able to get things done. My frustration leads to mood changes, which further frustrate Melissa. When she reminds me of things, I’m often short with her because I’m embarrassed that I’ve forgotten or because I feel insulted that she thinks that I might have forgotten (if I haven’t.) Then, she feels like she can’t talk to me about things without upsetting me. On top of that, my talking to her about my mood and the problems I am having on some days overwhelms her, with everything else that's going on in life. So, the end result is a communication break-down wich we have to find a way to avoid.

This continued and increasing realization that I can no longer do things I used to be able to do gnaws at me constantly. My mental capacity isn’t getting better. My memory isn’t improving. Its as though when I elected to undergo ECT to relieve depression, I unknowingly (I know, Sally T, some of you told me) elected to change who I am, what I am capable of doing, and what contribution I can make to my family, my community and the world. I knew about the possibility of lasting memory loss. I didn’t understand that ECT would create a new “me.” ECT did improve my mental illness. At the point in my life at which I chose ECT, my options for a future were limited. And in my case, I had a family pleading with me to undergo ECT before I elected to leave them via suicide.

What if I had just, on my own, decided to undergo ECT, side effects be damned, without my family’s support and encouragement? A novel by Keith Ablow, “Murder Suicide”, poses an interesting philosophical question. In the story, there is a brilliant scientist who suffers from a seizure disorder manifesting itself at times when he pushes his brilliant mind the hardest (or maybe too hard). While he is a brilliant man, his own brain limits the usefulness of his mental capabilities, leaving him unable to fully tap into his intellect. He is contemplating undergoing elective and experimental surgery which would remove the part of his brain responsible for the seizures, leaving him to live a life free of this ailment and free to use his brilliance to its fullest. The surgery would, however, almost certainly leave him with a nearly complete amnesia, removing any memory of his former life or his family and friends (while, presumably, leaving his learned knowledge intact.) In the man’s journal, he asks the following question: (Those that I know personally, please understand that the book poses an interesting question, but I do not seek to abandon my life or my loved ones. The scenario is just so closely relatable to that of a person undergoing ECT, assuming the worst case side effects, that the philosophy is interesting. The facts specified in the passage below do not match my own situation.)

Does a [person] have the right to begin life anew? Is he the full owner of his existence, or is he merely a limited partner? Example: A woman is married 20 years with teenage children and a husband. A home. Pets. Photo albums and scrapbooks brimming with memories. What happens when this woman no longer feels any passion for a shared future with her husband and children? What if she feels non-existent?

Is she depressed? Does she need Zoloft? A higher dose? Or is it possible her life has carried her so far from her internal truth that she is, for all intents and purposes, a zombie – one of the living dead?

Is that woman within her rights – morally and ethically – to leave her home and friends, leave them so completely that she has no memory of them? Having brought her children into the world, does she owe them the rest of her life or is she free to celebrate the past and move on to create a new future without them [but congruent with her true destiny] ?

A person can be spiritually deceased, the carcass of his soul adrift inside a cage of skin and bone that has outlived him. What sort of mother or father, sister or brother, husband or wife would put his or her attachment to a shared past [with a loved one] above [the loved one’s] future, [forcing him or her to continue this soulless life of the living dead]?

True love would never exact such suffering.

If ECT could ease the suffering of depression and remove a patient from the verge of certain suicide, but with side effects of total memory loss: Ethically/morally/philosophically, where does a person’s (the “Patient”) right to begin life anew, free of the constant pain of depression, end? With respect to those sharing the Patient’s life, where do their rights to continuity begin? Consider the comparison between the “beginning life anew” scenario and one in which the Patient elects suicide instead. Does the Patient violate the rights of those sharing his life when he abandons all hope and commits suicide? Would suicide be easier for “those in one’s life” to handle, knowing that the Patient left life, as a whole, rather than abandoning the people in his life for a new life without suffering (and without them?) How does choosing amnesia for the sake of obtaining a life worth living (without depression) differ from just deciding to leave your old life behind and start another (for example, just moving to a different city and leaving your family and “life” behind)?

Finding one's self

2006-11-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

Tomas makes an interesting point in his comment to my last post. He comments that he didn't realize that there would be a new "self" to discover following ECT. I guess I thought that, once I had some control over depression, I would see the "old" me coming back. In reality, however, there is a third me that now exists. There was the pre-depression me, the depressed me, and the post-ECT me. All are very different. Maybe just aging and gaining life experience is part of that evolution, but ECT certainly has changed some things about me that I wasn't expecting to be changed.

Update...

2006-11-01T08:43:00.000-08:00

As you can see, my postings are getting further apart. Not because things are necessarily going amazingly well, but simply because I seem to not have the time or the desire to write. There are lots of things going on. Let’s catch up.

First, I THINK we have our HOUSE SOLD. If the deal goes through (everybody cross your fingers) “I” actually sold it. My realtor had nothing to do with it. When I switched from my first realtor to my second, I got this letter in the mail. It was from an investor group telling me that they could buy my house and get me all of my equity. I think they target people who are coming out of listings, which I was (in the switch.) I threw away the letter. Daddy always told me “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” A month or so ago, they sent me another letter. This time, having nothing to lose and no leads ion selling my house through “conventional” methods, I called them. Their transaction structure actually makes sense, gets me the same equity from my home that I would get selling through a realtor, and we will close next week. I checked them out, they are legitimate, so don’t worry. Anyway…a bright spot on the horizon. Could it be the sun rising after the long night?

I got rid of my Jeep Wrangler. After much debate and changing my mind about what I wanted, I decided that I needed something 4 door so I could get kids in and out of it, something that gave a nice quiet comfortable ride, something that got a little better gas mileage, that cost me no more than my Jeep (hopefully less), that had some warranty left, and that could carry a small amount of cargo, if necessary. I settled on an ’03 Hyundai Santa Fe. So far…love it.

I settled with my Long-Term Disability insurer. It wasn’t a huge settlement, but it was significant given where we are financially, and really, more than they would owe me under the policy, given SSDI, had we gone to trial.

My mood: Well, my mood has been stable relative to where it was a year ago, certainly. My mood is really pretty good. My acceptance of my “new life”, my new roles in our family, and the increasing realization of the changes in my capabilities following ECT are my real problem and a constant drag on my mood. Sometimes they win the day and bring me down. I really don’t like being a “stay at home dad.” Its just not what I was cut-out for. I would much rather be working full-time if, for no other reason, than to feel productive and useful. I realize, about daily now, that I couldn't work a real, full time job right now if I needed to (good thing that SSDI was approved.) My memory and concentration are horrible, and my mood wouldn’t remain stable if I had someplace to be and something the least bit stressful to do five days a week. So, I’m doing what I can to be happy (or at least survive without being miserable) in my new roles. It still feels a lot like ”getting through today so I can buck up and do it all again tomorrow.” But I guess it could be much worse. I could be convinced, pretty easily, that my hold on “normal” mood is slipping slowly and that I’m getting sick again. Melissa says that I’m just having normal up and down days and that I’m so afraid of getting sick again that I focus on it too much. Maybe. I hope she’s right. Time will tell.

Enough for now.

Sorry for my absence...

2006-10-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the long absence. There hasn’t been much going on, so I haven’t posted in a while. In general, things are going fairly well. I have found a new therapist and am waiting to get into see a new psychiatrist, which takes a couple months. My mood shifts up and down but, since my SSDI got approved and some money concerns have improved, there haven’t been any real lows. It seems that the low periods (days or parts of days, nothing lasting much longer) have been “mixed state” events, arising mostly from either anxiety from more manic feelings or rebound from more manic days. I also have days which seem to have more mental clarity than others. Days on which the confusion and haze that I’ve had since ECT and maybe a little from the depression before is lifted and I feel more like my “pre-depression” self (that would best be explained as feeling self-assured, motivated and not feeling at a loss of all of my previous mental capacities.) Other days, most days, actually, aren’t as clear.

The house isn't sold, but we have a buyer seriously interested subject to being able to make an addition he wants to make. He's checking on that. I'm also working with an investor group and talking about selling "wholesale", which is a long story, but puts us out with about the same equity is we sold the conventional way. Without the house stress, I just wouldn't know what to DO with myself, I would be so stress-free.

I received my official notice from Pulte Mortgage that I was being terminated. Their policy provides for termination after 9 months of continuous disability absence.

I’ve started playing racquetball in a little dumpy club. Its not much, but its what is available. I might be the best player in the place, which I’m not used to. There are some serious “alpha-dog” things going on with a couple guys that play there, with a new and experienced player encroaching on their territory. I’m sure that will work itself out.

Things with Mic are tough. He seems to be gradually getting worse. That, along with getting bigger, poses a threat we aren’t used to…a physical violence threat. We are also at a tough place with him from a health care prospective. Mic has been on Medicaid every since I left my last job and began treatment because our household income has been low enough that he qualified. Now that my SSDI has been approved (it was approved on a bi-polar basis, for those that had asked previously), our household income is too high and he no longer qualifies. Melissa has insurance with her job which begins in November. According to Melissa, however, the provisions of that insurance state that it exempts, for the first 6 months, coverage for anything pre-existing. I think, if I remember my ERISA and COBRA rules correctly, that an insurance policy can’t carve out such pre-existing coverage as long as there has been “continuous coverage”. I need to check out the policy information and convince myself of this exemption, if it exists (I’m just that “show me” kind of guy.) So, with respect to Mic, we have Medicaid coverage until the end of October, and then, unless we buy Cobra coverage (still waiting on the COBRA package), he and I are without insurance until June 1, 2007. That’s a bit scary. Both of us will be covered under a Federal program referred to as Title 20 (about which I know very little, at present) which pays all of our expenses for treatment while “in crisis”, but nothing on an on-going or maintenance basis. The place Mic and I are receiving treatment now offers a “sliding payment scale”, which will help some.

My primary struggle at present is with Mic, and his effect 0on my mood and my ability to remain mentally healthy. I know that my mental health will never be safe as long as it is subject to Mic’s mental health. Melissa is so good with him very much of the time, and I aspire to be better in dealing with him. But no matter how hard I try, it seems that “accepting” who he is and what he means to our family and our way of living just isn’t something I can find a way to do. Maybe I never will. Maybe there will come a day when I just can’t balance maintaining my own mental health with the demands of dealing with his mental health issues (a day when staying mentally healthy myself requires removing myself from dealing with Mic on a day-today basis.) That day will bring some hard decisions for me, and I hope it never comes. For now, one day at a time.

'Til next time

Rainy Sunday

2006-09-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

One of the things I forgot about Arkansas that is a joy to come back to…rainy days. “The sun shines 360 days/year in Colorado.” Its no BS line. It really does, the few days without rain are in the winter…snow days. There just aren’t any days when it is cloudy and rains all day long. These days are strangely refreshing.

My mood has been pretty good and level since I found out about my SSDI approval. Amazing what a little financial security will do for a wobbly mood. At least I know we can make ends meet now and we are no longer sinking. Someone asked after my last post whether my Social Security Disability was approved on a “mental illness” or a brain damage from ECT” basis. Simple answer: I don’t know. I was told by my caseworker that it has been approved. My back-pay check has come. But my paperwork identifying my approval is yet to arrive. The commenter said that an approval on a brain damage basis would “set precedent and might be helpful to others.” “Bonzer” (a random commenter), back in April, claimed to be the first and only case in which SSDI was approved for someone with brain damage from ECT. So, mine wouldn’t be precedent setting. I’ll let you know when I find out what the findings were. Does that record come automatically?

Mic’s illness/mood continues to be uncertain, but things are in the works for him as well.

Work at the liquor store (which is easier, making $8/hour, now that I know I have some other income behind it) continues to be interesting. Wine snobs, to winos, to grungy hillbillies with no shirt on, to sorority girls. We get the full spectrum. “Bill from the Hood” suggested I keep a journal of liquor store stories and that there would enough anecdotal entries from which to write a book in no time. Not a bad idea.

I’ve begun to look for somewhere in NW Arkansas to play racquetball. Its not as easy as I had hoped it would be. There aren’t many places which have courts and offer some kind of organized play (leagues, challenge courts, ect.) Spoiled by Denver. I’ve found one place, which is a dump and not terribly close to my house, which has three courts and claims to have 25-30 players that play in there. I think I’ll give it a go at trying to put together some way to get 2-3 days/week of play in.

I’ve started looking into Vagus Nerve Stimulation (“VNS”) as a back-up in case I need an adjunct to ECT. For VNS, a little “pacemaker” device is implanted in your left chest and hooked up by wires to your Vagus Nerve (main cerebral highway to your major organs, I think.) The device is programmed externally by your psychiatrist, and it “stimulates” the nerve on a set schedule and for a set time. This is another case of “we don’t know why it works, but it does.” The bad news is that it takes up a year to really begin to show the benefits (according to my ECT doctor who calls to check on me from time to time.) The good news is that there are really no known side effects of the magnitude of ECT. More on this later.

Just when it looks like all is lost...

2006-09-12T08:06:00.000-07:00

Below is an entry I wrote last night, but hadn't posted yet. The last several days have been very difficult. My son's mental health is very much in crisis and, with all of the financial stresses and the move and everything else, his effect on my mood stability is magnified. So, needless to say, my mood has been in a very bad slide, up a little, down a lot, up a little, down a lot. One step forward, two steps back. Read last night's passage, but read on afterwards:

Things are, well, pretty shitty. Mic is very ill, probably in connection with his lack of success at reintergrating into a public school setting. He's psychotic (the "clown people" are back, telling him to kill himself.) He's told me that he's tired of "being here" and that he wants to "go on up to heaven now." He's out of control, screaming, punching walls, throwing things, and telling us that he hates both of us and calling us names at least once a day. He told a therapist today pretty much all of this, but that he isn't a danger to himself, so they didn't hospitalize him (which is what needs to happen...Melissa and I disagree.) My mood directly correlates to his, thus, I'm not doing really well either. Add to that financial stress because our damned house won't sell and you have a pretty lovely picture.

I had an experience today unlike anything I can remember. I wasn't sad or crying or desperate...I just mentally shut down when I got home. I had dreaded being home with Mic all day. When I got home, I just checked out. I lost the ability to concentrate or think, I wandered around sitting in room after room and staring at the floor before moving to the front porch to avoid the ruckus that Mic was causing. I sat and stared at a clump of grass for nearly an hour. It was like I was just in a shell or elsewhere.

I'm worried about Mic. I'm worried about Melissa. I'm worried about Maggie. I'm worried about me. I'm worried about how I feel about Mic. I'm worried about how I will feel if Mic hurts himself. I'm worried about finances. I'm worried about insurance. Enough. There seems to be no part of my life that I'm happy with or which allows me to escape the drag of all of the worries.

That was last night. Today, after some phone calls to Social Security, I found out that I have been approved for Social Security Disability! That takes a big part of the financial stress off of things. We still have a house payment AND rent to pay, but the SSDI monthly payment isn't bad, and the "back-pay" to the date I became "disabled" according to SSDI is a nice chunk of reserve cash. Legend has it that good and bad things happen in sets of three. Mic was approved for medicaid last week, social security was approved today, and hopefully there is one more thing to come. Its amazing how having just a little of the dark clouds blow away makes the world seem a lot brighter.

Those people out there disabled by mental illness and those going through or who have been ECT, take heart. Getting SSDI without a lawyer and appeals and years of waiting CAN be done. Stay after it.

Eggshells...

2006-08-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

Because our house hasn’t sold, and because we have had a couple would-be buyers walk away because of “pet smells” (aka pet urine smell), we are spending a couple grand having the carpets replaced today. It’s painful spending money to upgrade a place I don’t even live in anymore. Hopefully, this will do the trick and the house will sell.

My mood seems a little fragile today. Maybe I’m just feeling fragile. Last night, with a full load of alprazolam on board (that would be 2mg of extended release and 1.5mg of regular), I was very worried about what my mood today was going to be like. I don’t think that I've ever had that kind of concern before. Once I take the alprazolam (usually about 6:30 in the evening), I generally don’t worry about anything at all. And I usually don’t find reason to dread the next day’s mood. I usually don't see bad moods coming at all. So, maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy that my mood when I got up this morning was a little down. But I recovered nicely by staying busy and out of the house all morning and working from a list of “things to do” all afternoon. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the bottom to drop out. Maybe its just fear of depression in general. Whatever it is, the last 15 hours have been odd.

Better again

2006-08-30T14:41:00.000-07:00

After my post earlier this week describing how my Saturday went, things have gotten better and been pretty stable. I think I alarmed some people with my last post, and I apologize for not following it up with an “I’m better” post sooner. I forget, sometimes, that I’m not just writing for me.

As quickly as Saturday’s bad mood came, it left. I wouldn’t say that I’ve been exuberant since Saturday, but certainly better than I was. Melissa and I had an interesting bit of conversation Monday. She is always the optimist. She is very good about lifting me up when things are bad and redirecting my focus onto the positives in my life. We were talking about Saturday and how my mood had plummeted from Friday and how quickly my fear about my illness worsening rises when things get a little bad. I made the comment “I don’t think I have another major fight with depression left in me.” What was interesting was her response, which didn’t occur to me until later. She said “I know you don’t.” In the past, that response would have been something like “Yes you do” or “We’ll get through it.” Maybe the stress of our present lives was just demanding too much of her for her to contest my statement. Maybe she sees that I don’t have another fight in me. She and I have talked, recently, about how it would make her very sad and it would be very hard for her if I wasn’t around anymore (aka if I suicided), but I think she has become comfortable with the notion that if that happens, there was nothing more that she could have done for me. I absolutely agree with her. I could never have asked for a more supportive and caring partner through all we've been through. I have no plans for ending my life. I have no intention of taking that step. But I guess her response, acknowledging that my capability to survive another serious depression is limited, is on some level comforting. It lets me know that, if the day ever comes when I just can’t take any more, Melissa knows better than to blame herself for anything, and she knows that she can be confident that she did absolutely everything that could have been done to help me.

Over the last few days, in looking back on all of the stressors in my recent life and the things that still cause stress today, I continue to realize how much I (my family and I) have been through recently. I know that those difficult things continue to cause stress and that they will for some time to come. I think the trend in my bad moods, the worsening of each dip in my mood over time, can be explained by the stress sustained. I think, as that stress fades into the past, the trend will turn around. I realized today that there is only one major, financial, stress in my life at present: I have a house to sell. That stressor is spawning several other financial concerns, but they all come back to “the house.” All of the other things that I would point to as negatives relate to life change. I know those things will improve with time and patience, as will “the house” stress. I know, in the state of mind that I am in today, that given time, things will improve. Its those periods when my mood drops and my perspective on everything shifts that I worry about.

Until next time…my mood is better and things are running smoothly.

The rise and fall of the tides

2006-08-28T17:00:00.000-07:00

About the time I finished my last post, I realized that I have been being, potentially, dishonest with myself, my family and everyone else, too. I have refused to realize and denied the presence of a slow trend in my mood. I simply cannot stand the idea that I might be getting depressed again with a depression that isn’t superficial and short-lived and circumstantial. I can’t live with the idea that my real illness, the real mood swings and depressions, might be returning. Acknowledging that fact scares the shit out of me, and required me to put a burden on Melissa and my family that I just can’t do.

As I said in my last post, my mood is fairly stable. That’s the short, incomplete story. My mood is stable as long as I ignore several things in my life, isolate myself from Mic to a large degree, and stay very busy. Absent those practices, my mood fluctuates more.

I’ve noticed a more and more predominant depression creeping in each time my mood dips. The depression is like a tide coming and going. There are high tides and low. During high tide, depression is more evident and I have to work hard to get through the day and ride it out. That looks, to people around, me like a grumpy, bad mood. Until the last couple of days, I have allowed myself to write those high tides off to too much work, or too muych time with Mic, or the downswing to a more manic period, or to the overall stress level produced by the move. The truth, however, is that, looked at carefully, I’m not so sure my mood IS stable. And the depression is getting worse with each swing. Its like every high tide reaches a little farther up the beach than the previous. Each depression grows in intensity just a little. At first they were just bad moods. Then they became really bad moods during which I could fight off the thoughts of hopelessness and suicide if I tried really hard. I’m to a point, now, that these depressions are effecting my life, and they show through my attempts to hide them. When I’m in one of these depressions, I’m certain that its not situational, and that I’m getting sick again. When the depression lifts (usually not more than a day or two), I can more easily believe that the mood was “move” related. Its just so hard to tell.

Today, Saturday, I’m pretty down and I’m writing this post in that context. In the last few weeks, two people connected, distantly, to my life have committed suicide. One was the girlfriend of a co-worker, the other a pharmacist that worked with my mother-in-law. If honest with myself, I don’t look at those events in the same horror and tragedy as everyone else seems to. Somewhere, not quite on the surface yet but closer than it has been, is an envy or a realization of the peace that such an act might bring. I find my thoughts, with each period of depression, going more and more to suicide. Mostly to HOW I would do it, which is usually an early stage. When I get to thoughts of the ramifications for those I leave behind and rationalizing the act as “best for everyone around me”, that’s when I am dangerous to myself.

The times between depressions are good. Some days are a little on the manic side, and there have been those days since the end of ECT. The depression days were completely gone for a while. And they stayed gone through a long and very stressful period leading up to and through the physical move to Arkansas. I am coming to realize just how scared I am of depression’s return. I’m scared to death. I can’t DO another round of ECT. The first round did too much damage for the sake of lifting the depression for that to be an option. IF my mood is on a down trend that continues, I don’t know what I CAN do to combat my illness other than continue to avoid focusing on the negatives in my life, stay away from Mic to the extent possible, and stay busy. And I fear that those things will only forestall the inevitable return of the Beast. The fear of depression returning is that, now, I’ve tried everything to make it go away and stay away. I’ve used the weapons of mass destruction. If the enemy is still alive in me, I don’t HAVE any more weapons for battling it. I can run, and I can hide, but I fear that those are temporary remedies. I also fear letting Melissa know what’s going on. I’ve asked too much of her already, and she is carrying too much load for me to add another round of my illness to it. Between work, and Mic, and Maggie’s tough time settling into a new school, and missing her friends in Denver, and dealing with the idea that she has to be the bread-winner, Melissa is already carrying too much. I can’t, I won’t, add another round of my illness for her to deal with. And, from my own perspective, I can’t do another big battle with depression either. I just don’t think I have another big fight in me.

For now, I’ll keep remembering that I have just gone through, hell, am still going through, an interstate move, one of the hardest emotional things a person can face. I’ll keep remembering that much of my mood swings and depression is likely to be associated with the move and the many changes it has brought, and the incredible stress related to those changes. I’ll keep trying to focus on all of the positive things in my life and being thankful for those things. But, for the first time since early 2006, I’m scared. Scared that all of the anti-ECT people are right, that ECT, if it works, is temporary and its effects fade with time. Right now, I am living day to day watching for signs of the return of the Beast. If nothing more, I have bought myself a happy, albeit chaotic, 8 months with my family that I would have not had absent ECT. Somehow, knowing that death is always an option is a relief, and makes thoughts of suicide less pressing when things are at thier worst. I keep coming back to (1) that everyone is subject to downward mood swings, and (2) that I have just gone through one of the most emotionally difficult things a person can go through. I just need to give it time, and hang on to where I am.

Making Lemonade

2006-08-26T13:17:00.000-07:00

My mood has been fairly stable lately. The less I think about our house in Denver not being sold and the less time I spend with Mic, the better my mental health is. I feel bad, guilty, admitting that time with my son is a negative in the mood category when time with my daughter is a positive, but it’s a truth. My frustration tolerance, overall, isn’t quite what I would want it to be, but it may never be. Work is going well (it gets a bit boring at times, but then its not a very tough job either.) I’m not making much, and its not glamorous, but its more than I was doing a month ago, and I’m handling “work” better now than I have in 5 or 6 years.

Friday night, the family had planned to go out for dinner, and afterwards, mom and Maggie were going to get Maggie some new clothes. It seems that tomboy Maggie and her “boyish” clothes weren’t fitting in quite so well at the new school. Maggie is feeling like an outsider already, being the new kid, and the clothes were just exacerbating the problem. Maggie wanted to go a little more “girlie” (but NOT frilly). I told her that she didn’t need to change a thing to fit in, just to be the same old Maggie and friends would come with time, but I’m just the dad…what do I know? Clothes shopping with Maggie is like fishing in the bathtub…not much chance of catching anything. Especially if I’m holding the pole.

Given the plans and Mic’s mental status this week, it was foreseeable that Mic would have a say in what the family plans actually turned into. About 30 minutes before we were to leave, Mic had a total screaming, cursing, hitting himself in the face, hitting walls, crying, throwing things melt-down. Its been a daily event this week, and the episodes are getting more outrageous and violent with time. I really worry that he’s going to hurt himself soon, or worse, hurt Melissa, or worse yet, hurt Maggie. He’s taken a swing at her once and threatened to hurt her or kill her more than once. I think my concern, even some fear for myself and my family, is warranted. Maggie has voiced that she is afraid of him. I can’t even remember what last night’s ordeal was over (aka where it began. After the origin, the continuation of the fit is always just irrational psychotic chaos.) I think school in the current setting is just WAY too much for him. Melissa and I differ on this point, but I think Mic and all of us would be better off with Mic in a higher level of care (probably residential.) Anyway, I decided, after about 30 minutes of the fit, that I wasn’t going anywhere with him for dinner or anything else. I was prepared to stay home with him while the girls went shopping and to eat, but the stress of being in public with him was just too much for me. The stress of staying at home with him was easier to deal with. The girls could just bring me something and I would fix something for Mic and get him to bed.

I’m just the dad…what do I know? Melissa and I haggled for about 45 minutes about who was staying home and who was taking Maggie, each wanting the other to go. Melissa: “No, you and Maggie go. I’m prepared today to deal with Mic and I don’t want your weekend mood set by this episode. Go and have a nice dinner and get Maggie some clothes.” Me: “YOU go. You deal with him most of the time, I’m not really hungry or in the mood to go have a good time after all of this crap, and what do I know about shopping for Maggie’s clothes? We will wind up with no new clothes if I go. You two go, have a nice meal, GET some clothes, and bring me something to eat. I’m ok to deal with Mic this evening (and I was.)” Back and forth we went, interspersed with random flare-ups from Mic. I lost. Maggie and I set out and I had little optimism that I would be able to help her find anything suitable to wear (between what she WOULD wear and what was girlie enough to fit in.) But I was ready for the challenge, and I love spending time with Maggie.

We shopped for a couple of hours. Old Navy, Target, other places…and actually found some shirts! At Target, I FOUND three shirts for her that she agreed to! Me…dad…found the shirts for Maggie. Who would have believed it? Then, she and I shared a great meal at O’Charley’s (sort of a limited menu Chili’s…not sure if there are other locations or not.) By the time we got home (two and half hours after we left), Mic was asleep, mom was settled and comfortable, and all was quiet on the home front.

So, from a horrible start (another horrible afternoon) (aka lemons), came this wonderful several hour period with just Maggie and I doing something we never do together (shop) and having dinner alone (aka lemonade.) It was a great evening, and something we need to do more of. It was the first meal with kid or kids in longer than I can remember (remember that “as long as I can remember” isn’t very long) during which the meal wasn’t subject to the constant threat of a Mic explosion or Melissa and Mic going over and over Mic’s horrible table manners (I keep expecting his eating behavior to improve…and I should realize that its not going to. Another topic in and of itself, but he crams food in as fast as he can, like someone’s going to take it if he doesn’t hurry, and chews with his mouth open with food all over his face. It drives Melissa NUTS.) It was a nice, enjoyable, normal dinner and evening out, only over-shadowed by my guilty feelings because Melissa was missing out on it by staying home with Mic. A good example of enjoying the moment, and ignoring all the things that are wrong with my life.

The System

2006-08-22T16:34:00.000-07:00

Today is better than at last posting. Actually, yesterday was better too. I really think working two midnight shifts back-to-back was problematic for me. Anyway, the kids began school. A very tense day for everyone. Maggie is beginning to meld, and Mic, well, I donÂt know what to think about MicÂs transition. Its almost like it didnÂt happened. Like there was no change at all. But at the same time, his mood and behavior over the last week or so have been characteristic of lots of stress in his young head. As usualÂvery strange.

We found out Monday that Social Security Insurance was terminating MicÂs benefits. It seems that, because we let SSI know that we had moved, now they view the house that we have for sale as an asset which is too big for Mic to still qualify for SSI. Never mind the fact that we are paying a mortgage AND rent now. Because we no longer live in the house, it is now an ÂassetÂ instead of a Âresidence.Â So, today, I got to go to the Social Security Office, take a number and have some alone timsamplingsampoling of the mass populi and a good book. If we had just not let them know about the move and let the US Post Office taken care of getting the monthly check forwarded to us, all would have been cool.

The motivation from the system SHOULD BE to do the right thing and notify SSI of the move. But like so many features of our governmental systems, SSI motivates one to keep his/her mouth shut and keep them in the dark about the move so as not to interrupt services. I think the US government as a whole needs to just scrap the entire set-up and start over. Our government and all of its entities are bonkers and well past the point of being correctable. But yet we see fit to force democracy on others. Sorry, end of rant.

Analyzing a bad day

2006-08-20T15:48:00.000-07:00

Today began badly. My mood when I woke up seemed ok. I got up and showered but, by the time I started my day, my mood was very flat. It got worse quickly. We went to eat lunch with my mother-in-law. Something I should have enjoyed. But it was miserable (the food was good.) I drove the whole way to the restaurant trying to fight back tears. I won the fight, but only because I couldn’t imagine trying to explain to my mother-in-law what was wrong with me. Maybe the late night shifts at work are getting to me. Two back-to-back might have done it. Yesterday wasn’t a good day, after the first of two night shifts. But today got a little scary bad. Thoughts of hurting myself, thoughts about how I was sick and tired of fighting this fight every day and “pretending” to be happy. Very bad, negative and withdrawn. As much as I hate to admit it, very depressive. I feel like admitting that I was depressed is the same as conceding that I’m sick again and that the ECT treatment benefits are gone. I KNOW I’m going to have good days and bad. I know I’m susceptible to short periods of depression. But that’s a fact easily forgotten when things go south.

Actually, I think things might have begun last night . I found myself, at work, feeling really down on myself. All of these middle-aged guys come into the store dressed nicely and enjoying the weekend break from their “real” jobs. Its easy to see myself as inferior because I work at a liquor store for $8.00/hour instead of working a six figure salary job. Someone asked me, last night, if I owned the store. I took that as a “you must be the owner because why else would you, a middle-aged guy of seemingly reasonable intelligence, be working here?” Perspective. I’m having trouble keeping things in perspective.

So, now that things are feeling a bit better, I’ve come up with a short list of what might be driving this mood dip: (1) the “start/stop” schedule I now have, unlike the furious fast paced life I led while getting the house ready to sell and preparing to move (periods of “nothing to do, instead of being restful and tranquil, give my mood a chance to slip); (2) intermittent trouble remembering that I’m living a “new life”, and to let the old one go; (3) WAY too much time with Mic…stressful, which is just a lubricant for a bad mood (my mood battle is hard enough without the added constant stress of waiting for his next explosion); and (4) the stress from our unsold house as a backdrop to everything else. The first two items I can do something about, and I have to keep working on them. The second two I have little control over. The house will sell when it sells. Mic is who he is, and he’s part of my life, like it or not. But Mic is certainly one of the things that my mind dwells on when I'm not well (how much easier life and my fight against depression would be without that added daily challenge.)

Live the moment, damnit!

2006-08-19T12:26:00.000-07:00

Today seems to be a little rough around the edges. I worked at the liquor store 8:00 to midnight yesterday. Midnight is WAY past my bedtime. It was close to 1:00 before I got to bed, and I was EXHAUSTED. Its tough being on your feet for 8 hours when you aren’t used to it . I’m sure it will get easier. I slept until 10:30 this morning, and I feel pretty tired today. I work the same shift again tonight (next week I go to days, as the kids will be in school.) I have a little bit of the “What have I done to my life?” feeling today. It has come and gone a few times since we’ve been here. Its still easy to look at life from the perspective of “what I have lost” instead of “where am I going?” I have to keep reminding myself that what has been lost is in the past, and out of my control. What is in the future is, to some degree, subject to my direction (with the understanding that life goes where it pleases.)

I always feel like I’m looking forward to today being over and to getting to the next “stage” of life. For example, all week I was looking forward to next week when school begins. Before that, I was looking forward to starting work at the liquor store. Before that it was getting out truckload of things to Arkansas. Before that it was the movers getting to out house to load out things, Before that, it was Melissa getting back to Colorado from her 2 weeks in Arkansas without us (aka my two weeks alone with the kids in Colorado.) Instead of living the moment and enjoying where I am and what I’m doing, enjoying time with my family, I’m looking down the road and longing for that time to arrive. I can’t seem to be happy in the moment much of the time, unless I’m busy and just not allowing my mind enough time to think about “life.”

Time with Mic seems to be getting harder for me. Maybe its just that I’ve had so much time with him lately, and that his behavior and illness are getting worse as the stress of starting a new school and all of the new things he has coming up increase. But time with him, right now, is simply a bad mood waiting to happen. I have to find a way to accept him for who he is, and finding that acceptance has always been, and continues to be, my biggest challenge. I know that my life and my mental health would be much better without dealing with the constant dread of his next outburst. And I know that that life, without Mic’s challenges, isn’t a real option. But somehow Mic still has a huge impact on my mood and on the battle I have to face every day to keep my mood at a reasonable place.

Life goes on. The more I figure out, the more I realize there is to figure out. I keep telling myself to live the moment, and I have to find a way to get better at that very skill.

One order of Normalcy, Coming right up!

2006-08-17T14:07:00.000-07:00

OK, so, in the new house (notice I didn’t say “home”) with our stuff now or 10 days. Its coming together and it looks like a home now. Not crazy about the house, but it’ll work for now. Our house in Denver is still not sold. I keep thinking that, if we could just get that sold, then my mind would be at ease and my stress level would be diminished. I know, however, that once that stressor is gone, I’ll just find another to replace it.

My mood has been pretty stable. A little up some days, a little down others. No big swings. I’ve bordered on some mania or some manic-like things. I got really into online poker before we actually moved. Not playing for real money, but playing. I got and have read a book on strategy. I mostly just got VERY into the game itself and the nuances. Wines are the new thing. Nothin over-the-top. Not spending any ridiculous amounts of money on manic runs (not my usual, but it could happen.) All seems good. I’m a little bored during the day, but I start working days next week.

We had to find a new home for beau, one of our dogs. Beau is a Lab/Catahoula mix (a Lab what???) it’s a Louisiana hunting dog, very high strung and full of energy. He’s the dog I ran with in Denver. Great dog on a spiritual basis, but very destructive. Having no fence at this house, having a law against chaining your dog up in the yard, and a leash law left us no choice. I DID find Beau a new home (not an animal shelter. A couple my mother-in-law knows from work has three dogs and 13 acres in the country. Beau went to “the farm.” They let the dogs roam the land. PERFECT. He left Friday in a very emotional send-off.

The kids start school Monday. THANK THE GODS! Maggie is doing fine, but she's not out socializing any. The pool in the neighborhood (her one haven and social outlet that MIGHT have worked until school starts) is broken and the water is a nice deep shade of green. Its too hot to do anything else outside. She’s spending lots of time with my in-laws. Mic had a TOTAL F****NG MELTDOWN Monday night. He physically came after both Melissa and I. Tried to run over me in an effort to get to the door (or something), and then ran at me to try to knock me down. He would up on the short end of that endeavor. Banged his head against the wall and the floor, yelled and screamed about hating himself and that we hate him and that he hates us, took a swing at Melissa and pushed her a couple of times. When he ran into me, I flattened him (or he flattened himself.) Then he started yelling about child abuse. I went and got him the phone and told him to call and report me. This went on for about an hour. He was supposed to go to Vista Health for an assessment Monday night, which we had to reschedule. The assessment is where the health services provider evaluates the patient and tells you what they might be able and willing to offer. He went last night. After seeing his history and meeting him, they offered whatever we need, day treatment, residential, pdocs, therapists, etc. He's getting too physically big to act like a six year old in a tantrum.

Work at the liquor store is interesting. You should SEE some of the dregs that come in! The real gems, however, come to the drive through b/c they are too drunk or fat and lazy to get out and come inside. Its the princesses that are too busy on their cell phones to roll down the window and tell me what they want, and the ones that want me to go see what margarita mixes we have and let them choose that crack me up. If you know what you want, the drive through is great. If you need to shop, get in the store and shop. And if you need to hand me an empty fifth of vodka to make room in the car for another bottle, please be off the road by the time I drive home!

Some people come by so often and get the same thing that the young guys who have been there a while know what they want before they get to the drive-up window. The other day, this cute lady pulled up in her SUV. I was working the register in the drive-up window. She pulled up and her order was sitting on the counter waiting for her. I told her her total and she said "For what? What am I getting?" Very strange look on her face. No one had actually taken her order, they just went and got it. "A 1.5 liter Yellow Tail Merlot." She gave me this look and smiled and said "How did you know that?" “I’m psychic like that.” And I left it at that. I was thinking "Why don’t you just buy a case, make the trips to the store and get a discount??"

There was this cute young lady in the drive-up Saturday night. I carded her (I card everyone unless you look older than me.) She said "Thanks, make me feel even younger than I am!" I told her that when she got be my age, she'd appreciate people thinking she was younger. She said "You can't a day over 30." I told her I'd be 40 in October. She said "Well, you look great for 30, much less 39, and besides, I think bald guys are HOT anyway."

Another lady cam up going on and on about her husmand putting pictures on the internet of him and his 20 year old girlfriend. She bought a fifth of vodka, a liter of tonic and got some cups and ice. Her comment: "F**k him, I'm going to have a little photo session of my own.

Its a fun job. People are fun to observe. And its a great workout, mentally and physically. Remembering what a car in the drive-up wants long enough to run back to the cooler and get it is good for my brain and my body. I actually got 2 CARS at the same time Tuesday night!! They were easy ones (“a case of Busch” and “a case of Bud Light Bottles”), though. Damn, we sell a LOT of booze out of that place.

Live it like you mean it.

Moved in, Moving on

2006-08-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

Monday, the moving truck arrived. The chaos of the day was very trying. By Tuesday night, we had most boxes unpacked that needed to be unpacked, TVs hooked up, bedrooms set up, etc. By Wednesday, I had the garage boxes and other stuff separated into holiday decoration boxes on one wall, boxes that I needed to keep in the garage (but not necessarily unpack) on another wall, and bikes out of the way. Enough so that we can get one car and a motorcycle in the garage. Everything has been taken to the storage building we rented. Very hard work.

Monday, I got a job at a liquor store that a friend of the family owns. I've worked two shifts so far. Its a blast. I work with a bunch of kids half my age (some of them were talking about "when school starts" last night.) Its fast paced (a very busy place with a drive-through), and a lot of fun. Works for now! Kids start school a week from Monday. YEA!

We are having to find another home for Beau, our Lab/Catahoula mix. I'm sure I've mentioned him before. He is SUPER high energy, and very destructive when contained. We have no fence here, its illegal to chain a dog up, and Beau quickly figured out that he can chew through rope. Not to mention that he barks constantly while tied up. He either has to be in with us or in his crate when we are gone. He's pretty miserable. So, my mother-in-law knows someone with 2 dogs and a home on 13 acres of land. They just let the dogs roam, chase squirrels, and be dogs. Perfect for Beau. AND, we can visit him. He leaves today. I can envision us all standing in the drive way crying as he gets driven away. The right decisions are usually the hard ones.

We have arrived

2006-08-04T17:56:00.000-07:00

The drive from Colorado to Arkansas was much better than I expected. I'll tell you, however, that driving cross country in a soft-top jeep at 75 miles/hour is a NOISY, ROUGH ride! The dogs (all three of them) did great (we drugged them with benedryl.) The kids did great too (and we didn't even have to drug 'em.)

Of course, our truckload of belongings isn't scheduled to arrive until the last day of the "spread" they gave us. They said, before moving day, delivery in the range of August 3 through August 7. Its going to be the 7th. So, 5 days in a house with three beds, a TV (which we borrowed) and 4 folding chairs. Its like camping with an air conditioner and no campfire. Then, the movers (Atlas) tried to pull a fast one on me (as a good friend has said of me "They haven't discovered that your an attorney, and a dick, yet, have they?") All moving interstate moving companies are subject to Federal tariffs and have to bill according to those tariffs. Everything is billed by weight. My Atlas representative came out, months ago, and estimated our weight to be 19,999 pounds which, as he told me then, was "way too high, but he wanted to be sure to give me a number they could guarantee." The coordinator guy told me yesterday that they "forgot" to get an empty weight for the trailer before they loaded our stuff, so they were "just going to charge me based on the estimated weight." "The hell you are!" We have gotten rid of three beds and a 700 pound weight set since the estimate. I told him very clearly that it wasn't my problem that they failed to get a weight pre-load, that my shipment was lighter than the estimate, and that I simply was NOT going to pay the estimate. They figured out that they had a "standard weight" for the trailer (duh!) and that they would bill me based on that weight and then weigh the real trailer once it was empty and adjust my bill based on the actual weight. Do some people really let them get away with that shit?

We never have intense thunderstorms in Denver. Never. We might have some rolling thunder in the distance and some sprinkles, but never anything more. As the movers were finishing up on Tuesday loading the truck (which took them from 9:00 am to 7:00 pm), we had this VIOLENT storm with pouring rain (things were washing down the gutter streams) and very proximate cloud-to-ground lightening. It was a brilliantly symbolic send-off for the Harrell's departure from Colorado.

We did 3 hours of the drive Tuesday night, slept in a smelly Super 8 Motel (so we could sneak the three dogs in) and finished up Wednesday. Now, if only we had some belongings to go with our new (temporary) home...

Take care.

Down to the wire…

2006-07-28T16:23:00.000-07:00

The move is looming ever-closer. Four days from now, strangers will have loaded my belongings onto a huge truck and left my house. The house will be empty, quiet, and in need of a good dust bunny extermination. We have movers coming Tuesday, cleaning people coming Wednesday, and carpet cleaners coming Thursday. We plan to leave Tuesday, after the movers are done. Two cars, two adults, two kids and three dogs will hit the road on a one way road trip of 880 miles. I can hardly wait (sarcasm).

Melissa has been gone (in Arkansas, starting her new job) now 12 days. Each day has gotten easier, it seems, playing “single parent.” Maggie takes care of herself. I’m amazed at how independent and responsible an 11 year old can be. Mic is gone to school every day (except weekends) from 6:45 to 3:30. All I have to do with Mic is get him up at 6:15 and out the door and when he gets home I just do something with him for a few minutes, feed him, get him his medications, and put him to bed. Melissa has missed much of the packing, but there will be plenty to do in the two days between when she gets home and when the movers arrive. All of us are anxious to see her.

Mic and I spent all day Thursday at Six Flags Elitch Gardens (the Six Flags owned amusement park in Denver. Its situated downtown, which adds a really cool twist to the Denver skyline. When we moved here, 17 years ago, Elitch’s was this little independent amusement park located in the outskirts of Denver proper. Its grown up significantly, since, into a really nice park with five roller coasters and a host of other great rides. One coaster, The Mind Eraser (how ironic is that name?), is one of the three best coasters I’ve ever ridden (The Rock’n Rollercoaster at MGM in Orlando still takes top honors.) We rode The Mind Eraser 3 times. I figured, even if its name held true, what was the risk?

Back to packing tape and boxes. Live the day!

Moron being a “loser”

2006-07-17T16:05:00.000-07:00

Just a silly play on words…sorry. In giving this new problem of losing things some thought, I might have come up with a reason why it happens (some, but maybe not all of the time.) Pre-ECT, I might be on my way to put something in its place and realize that there was something else I needed to do. For example, I might have a piece of paper regarding the sale of the house that needed to go in the “Home Sale” file and, on the way to the file, realized that I needed to turn a sprinkler in the backyard off. Before ECT, I would have made a mental note to turn that sprinkler off after I filed the paper, or I might have put the paper on the table, turned the sprinkler off, and then picked the paper up and filed it. Now, however, I think I am more inclined to do the sprinkler thing as I think of it, instead of after filing the paper, because I’m afraid that by the time I get to the file cabinet I will forget what it was I was going to do next (i.e. turn the sprinkler off.) My short term memory still leaves much to be desired. Now, I lay the paper down on the table, turn the sprinkler off, but FORGET to pick the paper back up and file it. It then gets swept into the “great-unknown place” where things not put in their rightful places go, and it never makes it to the “Home Sale” file. I sacrifice organization, unknowingly, to cover the deficit I suffer in short-term memory. Just a theory.

The rest of that theory is that, where before ECT I could put something in a place and then remember where I put it, now I put the thing somewhere and then just can’t remember where I put it. Also, before ECT, my personality and mental approach to things led me to put things in certain places which made sense, allowing me to later remember those places and find those items. My post-ECT personality and mental approach to things differs. This difference results in me putting things in places which make sense at the time, but which may not align very well with the places I look for those things later. Hmmm. Interesting stuff.

ECT has turned me into a “Loser.”

2006-07-14T18:34:00.000-07:00

The former “me” was ultra-organized. I never "lost" anything. I knew where everything in my life was located. Need a receipt for that box fan we bought in May of 2002? Got it. Need that screw that fell out of the curtain rod in February? Got that too. I never lost anything or was at a loss for where anything was. Everything had a place, and it was in that place. Call it part of an OCD problem, but it was a useful part.

Now, I would literally lose my head if it wasn’t attached. I leave home without my wallet about 1 out of 3 times I leave (which I don’t discover until I get to the checkout at some store.) I never know where my keys or my cell phone might be. And I can’t keep up with paperwork. Everything might have a specific file into which it goes, but it may or not be there. Melissa won't let me keep important files anymore, or she watches me put things into those files if I refuse to relinquish control of them. Melissa referred me today as a “loser.” She said she has always been a "loser", Mic is a "loser" (Maggie is organized and rarely loses anything), but I have never been a loser until now. Another side effect of the dreaded ECT. At least I am now emotionally stable enough to find that which I have lost.

The quote of the day (no, I don’t have a quote every day, but I do have one for this particular day) is from Voltaire: “If God didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him.” I won’t get into my philosophy about the existence of God, but let it suffice to say that Voltaire hits a nail on the head. End of needless sidetrack.

A certain commentator made a point of telling me, some time ago, not to “assume any previous learning” in reference to my mention of scuba diving. That was, at the time, good advice, and I find it more meaningful the further from my ECT regimen I get. It seems that more recent learning is more fragmented than more distant learning, but I have found parts of things I learned some time ago to be gone or very hazy. And, certainly, beneath 100 feet of water is no place to discover that I don’t remember how to scuba dive.

Live today like it was your last.

As the World Turns

2006-07-11T13:35:00.000-07:00

In three weeks, three weeks from today to be exact, the moving truck will be at my house loading everything we own for the trip to Arkansas. Since our *vacation* to Arkansas, Melissa and I have been packing machines. We have a house in Arkansas now, a "destination." She has a job. The house is really beginning to feel like a home that is moving, like someone else's house. The garage is full of boxes and the walls are getting bare. I feel like I'm pacing myself: Getting enough packing done to be ready for the move August 1st, but not working so hard or so quickly that I run out of things to do before the big day. With all of the stress of the move and the fine mood balance I still work daily to maintain, staying busy is a critical skill.

Melissa leaves Monday to begin her job in Arkansas. That leaves me and the kids, without her, in a mostly packed house in Colorado for two weeks. Two weeks of packing and surviving (and two weeks of managing Mic on my own) and it scares the hell out of me. I'm not too macho or proud to admit it: I lean on Melissa a lot and I need her. As time goes on, I realize how much I don't know how to do anymore, how much I used to do that Melissa now handles, and how much I've forgotten. Today, for example, Melissa said something about going to the bank and getting some money out of our account. I had to ask "How do I do that?" We moved to the credit union we use while I was very ill, and Melissa has done all of the banking since then. I should be able to figure out how to extract some money from an account, but that sort of abstract thinking makes my head spin. I can't cash a check (because we are about out of checks and don't want to order more before the move), we have no debit cards, and I literally couldn't put together a plan (on the fly) for how to take money out of the bank. I'm sure, if I had to, I could sit down and figure it out on my own. But before depression, before ECT, it would have been something I didn't even have to think about (partly because I did most of the banking and was familiar with how things like that worked in our family, but mostly because my brain just worked a lot more fluidly than it does now.)

The new me that lives in the same old world continues to "re-learn" how to exist. I continue to find holes in my abilities and knowledge. I continue to be reminded of recent memory that is missing and older memory that is very blurry or spotty. I continue to try to figure out how much of the memory damage is from ECT and how much is from the depression preceding the ECT. I continue to wonder who I've disappointed and who is glad to have "this me" instead of no "me" at all. And I continue to be happy for myself that, despite the side effects and neccessary re-learning curve, I am alive to see my kids grow up and to grow old with Melissa.

Here's something straight from the heart of my personality. I've always thought it would be cool to have a nick-name. I've never had one, but I've always wanted one. I realized this weekend that, moving to a new place and meeting mostly all new people, I could just invent a nick-name for myself. My daughter and Melissa think I'm nuts (ok, bad word choice, but you know what I mean.) I could just introduce myself to new people as "Hi, I'm Mike, but my friends call me ______." Now, the hard part: Coming up with the nick-name. I have some possibilities in mind. Something that speaks to the transformation form thbe old me to the new woudl be ideal. Something simple. I would accept any help anyone cares to give (BE NICE.)

The Winds of Change

2006-07-04T09:06:00.000-07:00

Its the 4th of July. Yahoo! (that was sarcastic.) This used to be one of my favorite holidays. Our neighborhood puts on this big party. They serve a big catered lunch always from the same bar-b-que joint (which is very good), there are midway-style games for the kids (which Maggie is now too old for, but Mic, who is two years older, still wants to play.) And then there are **Adult Games**, which is a team competition and involves silly little games at several stations for points. The over all points leader at the end is “the winner” (which sort of stinks because you have to host the games the next year.) Oh, and did I mention that this part of the day involves LOTS of beer?

Since I decided in 2001 that alcohol is an evil which makes my depression spike, July 4th just hasn’t had the same luster. I remember, as a kid in Arkansas, buying fireworks and playing with them for the whole week around July 4th. These were REAL fireworks (bottle rockets, fire crackers, M80s, Roman candles, things that soar into the air and things that explode.) In Colorado, nothing that leaves the ground or explodes is legal (which leaves sparklers.)

Maybe it’s the stress of the move and packing and the disorder and chaos (all fueled by this obsessive NEED to get this damned move done), but I just don’t feel like being around people today. It’s a very people intensive day. All pf the neighborhood will be at this party today, and I'm just not in a "mingling" mood. Instead of eating the great bar-b-que, we are sharing lunch with some friends (because the bar-b-que tickets are too expensive.) Then, we are going to a cookout at some other peoples’ house tonight. I don’t know if I can put on my smiley face all day today. Plus, I know that everyone I talk to will ask me “Any nibbles on your house yet?” “NO! No one has bought our house yet!” Maybe I should have had a t-shirt made so I could avoid answering that damned question over and over. It is amazing how, just less than a week ago, i was consumed by the stress of this $100,000 lien against the house and, suddenly, with that stress resolved, the joy of that resolution has vanished and the stress of selling the house has come right back. I just want this chapter of life to be over, and to get out of Colorado and out from under the pressures and expectations (which I’m sure I create in my own head) that my community holds for me, and start over, fresh. Free from the big **Mental Illness** banner that I carry around, free to work in a liquor store or at Wal-mart or whatever without the people we used to consider friends (back when July 4th was a fun day) snickering behind my back that the once high flying lawyer is now working an hourly job. I look forward to the new context that the move should provide.

I noticed, again today, something about suicide. I’m not depressed. I don’t feel that desire to hide or the hopelessness and contempt for life that once filled every day. I’m not sad or feeling worthless or any of that. I’m stressed, and I’m tired of it. I’m like anyone would be with the constant stress of the last eight weeks surrounding this move and the changes it brings. Like other people would be, with an exception. Once you’ve allowed suicide to be an acceptable solution to the things that trouble you, once you’ve stood on that ledge and looked into the abyss, into the eyes of the Beast, and come to the conclusion that death was better than life, you are a changed person. The threshold at which suicide returns to mind as an option, even if not an option that I would consider at this point, is infinately lower. Melissa doesn't understand how anyone could consiuder suicide. I don't understand how anyone could NOT consider it in some situations. Now, when things get tough, the thought always crosses my mind. Since my last treatment, and for many weeks before that, I haven’t considered suicide as a viable option, but it always presents itself in times of even the slightest doubt. I’m pretty sure that that isn’t true for most people. I’m pretty sure that most people never even think of killing themselves when things get tough. Those of us that have been to that ledge have to walk the ledge carefully. Once you’ve been there, you never get very far from that ledge again, and the danger of falling in, even if jumping into the abyss isn’t your intent, is very great.

Beyond the philosophical bullshit, there have, at least, come some answers and solidifications to our life situation over the last couple of weeks. We have decided to rent a nice house in Arkansas for 6-9 months until we decide where we want to buy and what our current house will provide in the way of equity and while we establish an employment base and income base which will facilitate getting a mortgage (we know where to send the movers now.) The title issue has been resolved and the proper documents have been signed and filed to remove that nasty lien. Melissa has found a full-time, real job in Arkansas which, with a little help from me either through SSDI or part-time work, should (at minimum) make ends meet. And I have planted the seed in the mind of a guy for whom I would like to work (I’ll follow-up with him, a friend of the family, when we get moved.) Positives, positives…focus on the positives.

Happy Independence Day!

Vacation in Arkansas

2006-06-30T18:58:00.000-07:00

I'm spending the week in Arkansas for my neice's one year old birthday (easily the cutest baby ever born.) We are also residence hunting, and decided to rent a house for a few months until we can decide exactly what we want to buy, and where. It means moving twice, but if it avoids making a bad purchase decision, its worth it. I had a TRUE Arkansas dining experience last night. We went to a joint called the "Backwoods Barn Catfish Buffet." It was called "Backwoods" for a damned good reason. This place was so remote, out this two lane highway, down this barely two laned just-better-than-gravel road, in Goshen, Arkansas (population 762) I am surprised anyone can find it. Its in this old barn, is open Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights only, and had a line out the door. The buffet is salads (including green tomato relish, usually, I beleive, only served with squirrel stew), corn served in a VAT of butter, and then fried: okra, hush puppies, hashed potatoes, chicken and catfish. I'm hopeful that the entire staff is CPR trained, because they must have at minium one cardiac incident there a day. And the food was incredible. I have more teeth in my mouth than any other 4 other people in there combined. I had a guy in line behind me, easily 400 pounds, who said (in reference to how hungry he was), and I quote, "[to be read with a serious hillbilly accent] I'm so hungry, my backbone is about to rub a hole through my belly button." It don't get no more Arkansas than that there, folks.

Its gonna be good to be home.

Ok, so, I mentioned in a post entitled "Freaked Out" a few days ago that there was a major title issue with selling my home. There appeared on title a judgment lien for $96,000 plus costs and interest (about $122,000 total). At first I was bown-away by this issue, but, after some reason, I thought it was all just a paperwork snag, and that the lien really had already been removed and just not filed. WRONG. The lien existed. It SHOULD have been dealt with at the time of my BK filing by my BK attorney. "Somehow" the secured position of this creditor got "overlooked", the the lien was never figured into the secured position against my home and never faced the homestead exemption and preferential transfer hurdles. WHAT?!?!?! SO, I really DO have a F***ing $122,000 lien against my house which will have to be paid at closing, leaving me with NO EQUITY? It seemed so. The horizon was DARK indeed.

I was able to get in touch with my BK attorney, after camping on his phone line for a day and a half. I think he saw pretty quickly that he had dropped the ball and had his reputation, as well as his malpractice policy, on the line. We could have re-opened the BK case and had the lien removed, but that would bring the trustee back into the matter and, with my house being worth $80,000 more now (3 years later) than it was then, there was a chance that he would remove or lessen the lien, but that HE would want part of the equity. Things seemed dismal, and Melissa and I were just zombied with stress. There were a couple of VERY dark days. Days in which it seemed that we basically had zero net worth (because our net worth is equal to our home equity.) My BK attorney assured me that, at worst, we could negotiate a compromised settlement, and only give away half of our equity. Yahoo!

My BK attorney was able to contact the attorney on the other side (the other attorney wouldn't talk to me) and convince him that if he reopened the case, the creditors would likely get nothing. The creditors, not wanting to spend the moeny to fight about it, offered that, if we would draft the paperwork, they would release the lien. I had expected to have to negotiate SOME buyout lesser than the lien value. We got out for ZERO, nothing, nada. Some good news, at last! Needless to say, I was exctatic. I ran, whooping and hollaring, through my front yard (if you know me...not my personality) in excitement (although reserving some excitment for the time at which I actually had the signed and filed Release in my possession.) Much angst, many lost hours of sleep, and several new gray hairs came free with this ordeal. Today, I got copied on the signed and filed Release. Relief!!

An equally great feature of all of this stress and tension is that, through it all, my mood held fast. Yep, I was stressed, and worried, but I was focused and thinking of ways to work out of this problem, and what we could do in the worst case scenario (not giving up, quitting, and seeing doom in everything in life.) A situation even a fraction of this magnitude a year ago would have sent me into an endless tailspin and I would have been no help at all getting it worked out. ECT has its problems, but it DOES work against depression.

On another topic,

Response: Have I seen the report my psychiatrist wrote to SSDI?

2006-06-25T21:18:00.000-07:00

Yes, I have. I have also seen the report she wrote at my request for LTD insirance purposes. Both state that my treatment has caused severe memory and cognitive impairment whcih , at this time, prohibit me from returning to work. They also state that, while my ability to return to work may increase over time, at present, she cannot release me to work and she expects to be unability to release me to return to work to for, at minimum, 6 to 18 months.

To "The Same Anonymous"

2006-06-22T18:35:00.000-07:00

We seem to be talking past each other. You are correct. I write this blog for me and my friends and family, and about me. I'm not taking up anyone's cause in doing so. I'm not advocating for the greater good or trying to change anyone's perception of ECT or anything else (except to the extent that, in describing my experiences, someone discovers something that they didn't know or they are motivated to look further into a question that they might have.) I'm reporting on my experiences (period.) I think its a little overboard to say that I don't "give a darn" about anyone else. I am a caring person and care for those around me. But in the realm of ECT, you are right, and I have no problem admitting, that my blog is not meant to be for the betterment of anyone else. My blog is about me. Again, if writing about me and my thoughts and feelings without becoming an expert, first, on ECT and its effects on other ECT patients makes me "selfish", then selfish I am.

If I can ask, what makes you an expert on ECT? Are you a psychiatrist or in the medical profession or a psychologist? Were you or a loved one an ECT patient? What interest do you have? From where does this passion that you seem to have come? I'm genuinely interested in your perspective. Feel free to e-mail me directly if you would prefer to converse other than in the public forum. ectjourney@yahoo.com. Otherwise, I'll keep publishing your comments as I have been.

Freaked Out!!

2006-06-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

Oh, the fun just never stops. Ok, so, Tuesday night my realtor calls me to ask me what I know about a judgment that is on record against me for $95,000. That would be a matter of someone having sued me and won, and the court awarding them the amount of $95,000 in damages. That’s basically my entire equity which I hope to walk away from this house that I have for sale. Somehow, the judgment came up in a Title search that the title company was doing in preparation for the house selling.

Freaked out!!! I didn’t actually talk to the realtor, Melissa did. It was at 6:00 at night…too late for me to find out much or do much about it. We had a bankruptcy that discharged in 2003 after the failure of a business that I owned. This judgment was in favor of the landlord for that business space. I had personally guaranteed the lease. The judgment SHOULD have been wiped out in the BK. Was it possible that I FORGOT to include the landlord in the list of creditors? Had I pledged my house in the personal guarantee for the lease? OH MY GOD!

Of course, as I calmed down (thanks to modern medicine) and thought through things, I realized that I couldn’t have pledged my house in the guarantee. We got a 2nd mortgage less than a year ago to buy new windows, and the judgment didn’t show up then (and it would have.) I realized about 8 months ago that, somehow, I have LOST the entire file on the BK, so I had no way of confirming that the landlord had been in the creditor list. But I was 99% sure that there was NO WAY that I and my lawyer could have forgotten to include them. But that 1% chance, that speck of doubt which could mean that I would have no equity from this house and would be unable to buy another house in Arkansas after the move, kept me awake and freaked out all night.

Of course, after getting a copy of my record from the BK Court on Wednesday and seeing that the landlord was included and realizing that this judgment was just a paperwork glitch, everything got better. But what I realized was that, while I have been SO FOCUSED on the house selling, during this 18 hours of insanity and doubt, I forgot all about the house SELLING and was focused on whether or not the house selling even MATTERED. Another lesson in perspective. I only wish life could have spread these important lessons out a little for me, had a better organized lesson plan for me. Learning so much in so little time is really pushing my mental stability to the limits.

I saw my long term disability insurance lawyer Wednesday. He has begun working on my case against The Hartford. He works for free unless he wins, so I’m out to rip The Hartford a new **shole. As one of my friends remarked “I guess they haven’t figured out that you are a lawyer, and a dick, have they?” I guess not.

Today (Thursday), I spent the day at Water World with my kids. Last Thursday, Denver had record heat, 100+ (in June!!) Today, or course, it was cloudy, windy and 73. A little chilly at the water park, but a great day, nonetheless. And a day that I couldn’t have enjoyed last year at this time.

Later.

Responses to Comments

2006-06-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

There have been several recent comments. Following are my reactions to those that call for reaction:

(1) Sorry to be ignorant, but I don't know who Peggy Salter is or why I would be more sympathetic to her jury. I don't claim to be an expert on, or necesarily up to date or well read about, ECT and its effects on other people or the experiences that many others have had. I write about my own experience and my own philosophies.

(2) Grandma: I have found a psychiatrist that is working with me toward getting some things done on the "permenant disability" front. She is my own treating ECT doc, and we are working on getting my student loans from law school discharged because I will not be going back to that line of work. Likewise, she has written a supportive "report" for SSDI, supporting my claim for extended, if not permenant, disability. My intention, however, is to return to work, full time, as soon as I am able. I have no intention of being the "house-dad" for any longer than necessary.

(3) And for the anonymous writer (who still lacks the balls to put in a profile so we can see where the comment is coming from), I began writing my blog for me, and me alone. Maybe I should say me and my family and friends. It began as a chronicle of MY experience through ECT and statements about MY philosophies regarding many things. The fact that others, like yourself, found my blog and don't like what I have to say is not only not my concern, it is entirely irrelevant. You say that I "can't prove" my statement about the fact that I would be dead without ECT. Here's a flash...I don't HAVE to prove it. I'm not trying to convince anyone. I'm merely reporting MY experience. And I am saying that if anyone asks me (which is what you have done by reading MY blog written for MY purposes), then my response would and will continue to be that ECT is effective in the treatment of depression, but there are side effects.

Your statement that it is "morally wrong" for me to elect a treatment, when others are being damaged by the same treatment is laughable. I didn't force anyone to agree to ECT. ITS A MATTER OF CHOICE. The fact that some doctors/facilities don't provide full disclosure (or a level of disclosure that would make you and others happy) had no bearing at all on my choice to undergo ECT. That's a matter of public policy, which is much greater than the purpose for which my blog was written I was worried, at the time, about ending MY pain. I elected ECT because my family pleased with me to give it a try instead of giving up.

I don't hold the opinion that the treatment is right for everyone. I don't hold the opinion that any one thing (be it ECT or Jesus or anything else) is right for everyone. People and thier circumstances differ, and each person has to make his/her own choices and be responsible for those choices. Frankly, I don't really care who decides to turn to ECT for help and who doesn't. But, at the same time, because some people don't like ECT for a number of reasons, I would NEVER advocate taking the option away from everyone. People should be able to make thier own choice (adter weighing the options and consulting with those they trust) how to treat the depression that haunts them. Like I said before, suicide was the option I had chosen before ECT, and I agreed to try something else for my family. I'm glad I did try the something else. But if my opinion of that choice changes, I still have the suicide option. The stats on the number of suicides pre versus post ECT are meaningless. Maybe all of those post-ECT suicides would have been pre-ECT suicides if the ECT option hadn't been there. Maybe ECT should just BE an option for those standing at that critical crossroad: suicide or ECT. Maybe it should be administered less often. Those are public policy questions that are not only beyond my reach, they are well outside of the purpose of my blog.

I'm not walking the streets with a picket sign advocating ECT or anythying else. I'm living my life and reporting how that life is progressing through and after ECT. Apparently, you ARE taking up the cause of ridding the free world of the ECT option for treatment of depression. Good for you. You go, brother. But if reading MY blog, which was written for MY purposes and to which you were never invited in the first place, bothers you so damned much, then DON'T FUCKING READ IT. I didn't come to you and push my opinion on you. You came to me and asked my opinion. You got my opinions. If writing a blog for my own purposes and about myself makes me a selfish boor, then it does. Ignore the thousands of dollars I raise for The Children's Hospital Psychiatric Services group through find-raising events and ignore the 3 marathons (out of the 6 that I've run) that I have run to raise money for the fight against leukemia, and forget the other things I have done in my community for others. Label me selfish for writing about myself for myself because I KNEW my memory was going to be disturbed. But remember, you came looking for me. I won't lose any sleep over your short-sighted opinion. But if you don't like what you found when you came looking for me, if you don't like what I have to say, too damned bad. Go looking further for something that says what you want to hear.

Little update

2006-06-20T11:14:00.000-07:00

The weekend was pretty good, with Father’s Day and all. Nothing remarkable either good or bad. I’ve noticed, over the last couple of days, however, a marked drop in my enthusiasm about everything. Like, my energy level has dropped, my motivation to run or swim has fallen off. In fact, the usual one or two “hobbies” or obsessions I have (which change pretty often) aren’t even there. I’ve found myself bored often, and I never feel bored. I know this whole house selling, house buying, moving ordeal is kicking the crap out of me emotionally, and I’ve been pretty resilient to this point. I worry that this change over the last couple of days is depression creeping back in through the door that all of the stress has left open.

I now have 7 swimmers that I am “tutoring” privately a couple times a week. I enjoy doing it, but it will all come to an end on a couple of weeks as the summer swim season wraps up. I am giving some thought to looking into what it would take to become a coach for a youth league swim team (not high school, but club level.)

Being a "selfish boor"

2006-06-16T13:51:00.000-07:00

This entry is in response to the "anonymous" comment which labels me a "selfish boor." First, have the balls to put your name or some profile in the system.

I accept your opinion that I am selfish. But you missed the big boat, buddy. I'm not an advocate for ECT because I hated my work. I hated being the mortgage counselor that I was, but previously, I loved being a lawyer. Depression took THAT away, not ECT. I advocate for ECT because it saved my life, which has nothing to do with whether or not I liked my job. And I don't advise ECT for everyone. Everyone has thier own circumstances and has to judge, for themselves, if the risks are worth the potential reward. If you read enough of the blog, you will see that I was at a crossroad and my choices were to end my life and end the pain from my illness, or give ECT a try (having tried all the meds available.) Choosing ECT had nothing to do with my profession. It had to do with saving my life. Would I advocate ECT to someone to address heart disease? Of course not. Would I advocate ECT to someone who still had treatment options available to them which might work to better thier depression? Maybe, but probably not. Would I advocate ECT to someone at the end of the road, preparing themselves and thier family for suicide? Hell yes.

I KNEW going in that there were risks inherent in ECT. I chose not to delve too deeply into those risks at that time because i really didn't want to know. What was the purpose? My choices were simple, and I was already scared enough. The risks inherent in ECT were certainly no worse than death (in my opinion.) I always had (and still have) the option for death, if ECT went aray or if I can't live with the side effects.

Many people oppose my view, and they have the absolute right to do so. Many people are pissed off about the experience they had with ECT, and they have the right to that also. But why dwell on that? There's a legal system for things like being wronged by the medical professionals that treated them. Use it, if you have a case. Otherwise, in my situation, I can only look at the fact that there is a new "me." Actually, its the third "me." There was the "pre-depression" me, the "depressed" me, and the "post-ECT" me. I've accepted that, and accepted the fact that I'm alive because of ECT. My family would rather have me alive but changed than dead and gone. I agree. And understand that I didn't WANT to go the ECT route. I didn't want to put my family through that. At the time, I wanted to simply end my life and give my family access to the rather large life insurance policy that I have in place (and on which I am WELL past the "suicide" clause.) It was only after my wife pleaded with me for quite some time that I agreed to give ECT a try, for better or worse. So, selfish can be your opinion, oh wise unnamed one. And I know that everyone isn't as fortunate as me, to have the support of a family through the recovery period (however long that turns out to be.) I know that not everyone has good things to say about ECT. But would you advise people in the position in which I was to kill themselves, instead of trying a controversial and risky treatment as a last resort? Would you take away from those in my position the option of ECT because you and/or yours had a bad experience? Who's selfish?

An old Chinese proverb goes something like "One should avoid strong opinion on that about which he/she has little knowledge." And, by the way, you didn't have to choose your words so as to avoid sensorship. I don't "sensor" anything. If you have more to say, say it in the words to which you are inspired. But try stepping outside of your little world and understanding that ECT is a good choice for some people. I'm sorry your experience (seemingly) was negative. I know I lost a lot with ECT. But I'm alive to discuss the pros and cons. Without ECT, I wouldn't be alive.

SSDI and Long Term Disability Insurance

2006-06-16T13:47:00.000-07:00

Thursday, June 15: Met with SSDI psychiatrist today for official evaluation. I think it went well. He told me he wouldn’t disagree with any of my doctors’ diagnoses or recommendations, and that he was writing the report to support my claim for disability. We shall see. I have an appointment to meet with a long-term disability attorney next week about going after The Hartford. They denied my LTD claim on appeal, relying on a “pre-existing condition” clause, claiming that my depression pre-dated the policy and that my disability is caused by that depression. My argument will be that the disability isn’t caused by depression, but by the treatment FOR depression. Not the same thing.

Mood has been pretty stable, with minor ups and downs (I think everyone has those, right?) The house sale is still progressing, but slowly. No offers yet, but much more activity since dropping the price and changing realtors. The job horizon for Melissa (in Arkansas) is looking up. She has applied for (and is quite qualified for) several jobs that she is excited about. Life goes on.

Just when I think things can’t GET any worse…

2006-06-10T16:41:00.000-07:00

I just keep thinking that we are at the "bottom" and that things have to start improving because they canÂt get any worse. I have decided that this is "life" teaching Mike a lesson. Things can ALWAYS get worse. The house isn't sold, that job in Arkansas that we thought Melissa had locked up didn't materialize, and we can't seem to catch a break in any way. Or can we? Am I looking at the glass half empty?

Today was the 2nd swim meet of the year. As I have mentioned, I have been tutoring a couple swimmers on the side, sort of private lessons. So, today, instead of just yelling for and coaching my own daughter, I had 4 kids to keep track of. Maggie swam like the champion she is, bettering her best times in 2 of 3 personal events (and it would have been all three except she had a bad turn in the 50 meter freestyle.) One of my prodigies, Mick (a 7 yr old boy) was fixated this week on improving his 25 meter freestyle time by a whopping 4 seconds so that he could beat this friend of his from school who swims for the team against whom we swam today. 4 seconds is an eternity in any swimming event, but something as short as 25 meters? Give me a break, please. I told him not to get his hopes up, to race against himself and his own times and not worry about the other kid, and all of those other "coach" lessons. When he dropped the 4 seconds, and some, and beat the other kid I was out of my mind ecstatic, like I'd done it myself. I was whooping and hollering like he was my own kid. When I found out that the kid he beat was the LEAGUE CHAMPION last year? You've got to be kidding me! I might have missed my calling as a swimming coach.

Today, we had the first showing of our house in 2 weeks. I also switched realtors today. Partly to get a realtor with a little deeper experience, partly so that my home, at the new lower price, would show up as a new listing again. I knew better than to do business with friends. I have never seen Melissa as emotionally upset as she has been the last few days. There is a lot of stress in general right now, but I think a lot of it was from the whole realtor-friend thing. Telling our friends that I was canceling my listing with them, but didnÂt want to lose their friendship, was damned hard. Melissa was an emotional wreck, so I stepped up and did the dirty work. 6 months ago, I couldn't have done it.

So, this lesson that "things can always be worse" is taunting me. I have convinced myself that until I can learn to stop looking at what is BAD in my life, and start looking at what I have that is GOOD, I am damned to keep getting the shit kicked out of me. I think life is like this invisible pendulum, an ebb and flow kind of thing. We had 9 really good, hell, even great, years out of law school. 12 years on the upswing, if you count law school too. The last 7 or 8 years have been on the downswing of life's pendulum. Until I stop expecting things to turn around, stop looking for "better" times to start, accept that things will, eventually, turn around, and learn to be happy with what I have and where I am, the downswing will probably continue.

But how am I supposed to be happy with a house that I can't sell and can't afford anymore, no income, a seriously ECT damaged memory and cognitive capacity, a severely mentally ill son and an increasingly sad, stressed-out and despondent wife? I guess I have to look at the fact that I have a great family that takes care of each other, feel lucky to have the greatest daughter in the world, fell lucky to have a mother-in-law that has been there for my family in time of need, learn to accept my son for who he is instead of who I wanted him to be, recognize what a great spouse I have and what a great home I live in, and figure out how to make the most of those pieces of this wacky puzzle we call life. Then, and only then I think, can things begin to improve. I'd better get to work.

My turn in the "Watch Tower"

2006-06-08T20:12:00.000-07:00

Today’s Business Section headline: “Selling your house? Good luck!” There are more houses on the market in Denver right now than ever in history. Over 30,000. What a time to be trying to sell our house, and quickly. I find myself trying to be the emotional strong point in the family today. Not a role I'm used to, nor one i could play six months ago even if necessary. Melissa is really down and sad. Stress from the house not selling, the job situation in Arkansas, her new part time job here, money, etc really seem to be getting to her. My mood has been pretty good all day. I wrote Melissa an e-mail trying to lift her spirits a little (and reminding her how absolutely amazing she is for her family, and that she is entitled to a down day or two), mowed the lawn, and wrote a letter to go in a card to my mother-in-law thanking her for all she has done to help us out through my treatment and some very tough times. We all really need for this move to Arkansas to take some steps forward. First, we have to sell this house.

I have begun teaching “private” swim lessons to kids on the neighborhood swim team who’s parents want them to improve. I used to teach lessons, group lessons, to kids that, for the most part, didn’t know how to swim at all. I’ve done a limited amount of coaching also. But as a state champion swimmer (THAT was a long time ago!) and someone with some extensive swimming background, I’ve had parents approach me about these lessons. I’m up to 3 “clients”, and I’ve talked to several others, each seeing me a couple times each week. I absolutely love doing the sessions. Its like working on a car engine. I check out how it runs, figure out where the problem areas are, tackle the big problems first and then tweak little aspects until I get a stroke that looks like I want it to and that works better for the swimmer. I tweak a kid’s freestyle stroke a little here, it throws off something in another place, and then I fix that little part of the stroke and find a way to get the whole stroke put back together and all of it working correctly in harmony. And then, I get to watch them swim faster and better at swim meets, and congratulate them on a great race. Very gratifying work, and the pay, per hour, is pretty good too. More than I’m making otherwise right now.

I have come to the conclusion that, in my head, what I’m really doing is what I saw (no kidding, in “Psychology Today” magazine) described as an “inner makeover”: Instead of thinking about things I can no longer do, focusing my energy on things I can contribute now that I couldn’t before (due to illness or time), such as being an influence and mentor for my kids, volunteer work in my community, and being a bigger part of my world than going to work every day and coming home and being generally miserable.

Another concept I am trying to get drilled into my head is that a sense of optimism and hope, gratifying relationships and purpose in life have much more influence on happiness, and much better defines who one is, than financial status and what one does for a living. With the changes in my life, this seems to me to be a poignant philosophy.

Overwhelmed

2006-06-06T17:56:00.000-07:00

I’m still figuring out how much memory and learning I have lost. I was working on some mortgage and financial stuff for the move and the new house. It became apparent to me just how little mortgage profession I still have in my head. Simple things, like how mortgage insurance applies to an FHA loan, what qualifying ratios are for conforming loans, that non FHA and non sub-prime loans are referred to as “conforming” loans, how long after a bankruptcy you had to go before a conforming loan would work, and which lines of credit I had to include in calculating my debt-to-income ratio. I know that I couldn’t pull a credit report or run an automated underwriter if I wanted to. Plain and simple, there’s no way I could go back to my old job, today, and know how to do it.

This evening, my mind feels like it is going a thousand directions at once, and none of them are productive. Today has been overwhelming. My day has consisted of falling down the stairs of our house (first thing this morning), then going on a bad run with Beau on which he was scared of traffic and tried to run over me a couple of times, running errands with my kids all morning, mowing the lawn, meeting with Melissa and Mic’s therapist to discuss a “plan” for Mic, Mic having issues while at the “skate park” with neighborhood kid (why I thought he could go someplace with someone and NOT have issues, I have no idea), teaching swimming lessons to a friend’s child (a highlight of the day), Melissa starting a new job that she hates, and finding out that Social Security Disability wants me to meet with their psychiatrist for evaluation. We are having NO activity on the sale of our house and our realtors are out of town on vacation. A friend of mine has told me that he doesn’t think he can get a mortgage done for us on a new house (although I know there is a way to get it done with the help of my mother-in-law if push comes to shove.) My long-term disability insurer has denied my claim on appeal, and I'm thinking about hiring an attorney to fight them. Melissa told me today that she doesn't think my memory is getting better, but that, if anything, its getting worse 9and I appreciate her honesty, but its hard to hear.) There is WAY too much tension in this house and in my head tonight, and I can feel my mind just shutting down in an effort to defend itself. I find myself sitting and staring at nothing. I feel like hiding away in the basement, isolating. I don’t like this feeling. It feels like the foreshadow of depression. THAT scares the hell out of me.

Building the city walls

2006-06-04T18:59:00.000-07:00

Beau (my 4 yr old lab mix dog) and I did a 9 mile run this morning. It was a great run. One of the things I will miss terribly about Denver is its immense trail system, most of which is fed by the “Highline Canal Trail” (which is where we ran today.) The “Highline” runs a total of 66 miles from the south-western metro area (Waterton Canyon) to the northeastern part of Green Valley Ranch in the northern metro. I’ve run all of it at one time or another. The northern part is concrete and not a good place to run, but I digress. This trail system is a beautiful place to run, hike bike and ride horses (you have to pick up after your dog, but its ok to let your horse shit all over the trail (?)) This morning was incredibly gorgeous, and the prelude to a really hot sunny day. I’m not sure how far beau can go, and I hesitate to take him much beyond 9 or 10 miles, but he LOVES it. He sees me putting on my shoes and he goes nuts. He’s really become a good running buddy, leaves people and most other dogs alone, and just runs in front of me at the end of the double length leash. Great morning, and the beginning of what was really a great day.

Melissa and I were talking about life the other evening. It’s those conversations or times similar to those that make me look inward and examine what really drives my feelings and my fears and my enthusiasms. I realized, the other night, that from the time I graduated from high school, and maybe before then, I spent my life building a wall around what I had, what I was acquiring in life and what I wanted for myself. I fought hard for an education in college and two graduate degrees, something no one else in my family had ever had. I went to work during law school, working as a “Legal Assistant” doing grunt work and lining myself up for a lawyer job when I was legitimate for such a position. I fought hard to get that position, and fought hard to advance in that profession so that I could reach the highest level possible in the shortest time possible. I left a good job, at which I had been working and advancing for seven years for a more prestigious position at a fledgling company. Man, I was there. I had a six figure salary, a huge office with fifteen feet of window that looked out over the Rocky Mountain front range, an administrative assistant, a paralegal and a lawyer working under me. I had a health club membership, drove the car of my choice, and had stock options that were just about to mature and vest. I had savings and investments. I was on the top of the world for a “bottom third of my high school class redneck from Arkansas”, and I was reaching for the top of the universe. And I was as discontent as I thought I could ever be. Nothing was enough, nothing was good enough, and I wanted more all the time. I thought that what I had was mine forever, and that more and better was the only direction I had to go.

You see, in my mind, these things weren’t things about which to be proud. They were all ways of isolating myself, securing myself and my family, against all of the many vulnerabilities that might lie in wait out there in the world. Those vulnerabilities that would gobble up other people, but not me. With money comes security. With a powerful job comes assurance that there were other powerful jobs out there just waiting to be had. Being vulnerable was something that scared the hell out of me, and I was doing everything in my power to secure myself against it. I assumed that if I ignored possible pitfalls and just worked as hard as I could toward building my walls, nothing could get me. I was working furiously to build the city walls to keep the barbarians at the gate, and away from me and mine.

Naivety is a great grease for the slippery slope of life’s potential pitfalls and setbacks. Naivety is one of the easy causes of disaster when coming from the country and moving into and up in the big city. And man, was I naïve. My hording, wall building life-concept is also one that can, to some extent, be explained by an OCD/manic nature, but I won’t try to lay it all off in that direction. I would only be kidding myself. I have no idea where to draw the line, if a line exists, between where my “personality” ends and my “illness” begins.

I had this concept that I could work and buy my way to happiness with a perfect family and enough money to secure my future and barricade myself from the pitfalls and potholes of life. I had the concept that it didn’t matter “who” I was, but rather, “what” I made myself to be. Maybe in what “costume” I dressed myself, ignoring the fact that the same old, country boy, “me” was still driving. It didn’t matter how I treated people, but rather, it was all just a big competition to see who could get the highest, farthest, and become the most “successful”, defining “success” with material things. And let’s just say that I wasn’t the nicest, most altruistic, compassionate and caring person. It was all about me. Altruism flies in the face of hording and wall-building, a dead-on conflict. And I boosted my own ego, compensated for my own short-comings and allied my own fears about failure and the pitfalls I was desperately trying to avoid by minimizing, laughing at, and mocking those less fortunate than me. I made myself believe that I was bullet-proof, while building a karma-debt that I was unaware that, someday, I had to repay.

There is a song (about which I can’t remember the artist or the song title) with lyrics that talk about life being a liquid running through your hands, not a solid that you can have and hold. I knew when I heard the song, I should have written down the title, artist and exact lyrics, because I knew I would want that info at some point. Anyway, the lyrics are very poignant. I thought, at one point, that I had “life by the horns” and was in control of my destiny. I thought that I had secured my future, and built the city walls. And then came my son, Mic, and his mental illness. And then came my own mental illness, and then came those walls, crumbling at first, and then crashing down. As I look back on the rubble that were my city walls, I see that the foundation and structure is all still there. The things that were real, the things that really matter, haven’t gone anywhere. Melissa, my wife, is the foundation upon which the walls were built (albeit, I didn’t recognize this fact for many years), and I was lucky enough to build a solid foundation (from a bad foundation can only come a bad structure.) At the time Melissa and I got married, I had no idea that I was putting in place a foundation upon which the rest of my life would be built. The foundation and structure is all still there. But it’s the fascade, the filler, the part that I fought so hard for and was sure would keep the bad guys out that has eroded, betrayed me, and fallen around me as life has progressed.

I guess the lesson is that all the hard work, money, and material things in the world can’t secure a future of happiness and contentment. Its only those things that make you “who you are” in your community and in your family and in the world that can bring security. Everybody needs someone to lean on, someone’s help, at some point. Needing someone else is a vulnerability that has made me uncomfortable. Having someone there to help has been a life-saver. Those things that you do for others, the compassion and altruism and help that you give to others in need and the love that you have for those around you is what keeps the wolves at bay in times of trouble. Those things are either “re-paying forward” the help that someone has given you in time of need, or building that karma investment account for use later, when you need help. Melissa and I are in different places in this context. She’s always been building the karma account, and is now drawing on it. I’m building a debt that I will be paying forward in the future. All of this has been a hard lesson for me, and one I’ve had to learn the hard way. Melissa seems to have learned it much sooner than I, and her practice of that lifestyle is what has kept me alive long enough to begin to understand a better way of life. Taking it as it comes, being there for others, and living the moment to its fullest, taking advantage of what you have now, instead of always longing for what you want to have in the future.

Live life as it comes, and enjoy every precious minute. Later.

Opportunities

2006-06-02T13:48:00.000-07:00

Had a good run today. No shin problems. I stretched really well and massaged the hell out of both of them before starting my run. I figured the more blood flow the better off I’d be. There was no hint of cramping. Good sign. I was getting concerned that I was mistaking cramps for shin splints.

I’ve begun swimming on my non-running days. No, for those of you paying attention, that doesn’t mean I’m depressed, with the outdoor pool open and a quearter-mile from my house, its just easier than loading up to play racquetball (plus, I’m at the pool about every day at some point, anyway.). Really, only the A players play ball in the summer. I’ll go back to it when fall rolls around.

I was asked yesterday, by a friend of the family, to do private swimming lessons with her son. He’s about 8 and is on the neighborhood swim team, but she feels he needs some individual attention. This is going to bring back memories of some good times gone by. I taught swimming to groups of kids for about 7 years and individual (“private”) lessons for much of that time as well. I love teaching kids to swim, and it will be such a thrill to watch Mick (the child in question) excel under my tutelage. I’m looking forward to it very much.

I was also given the opportunity yesterday to go on a church “mission trip” to Belize this summer. Those that know me know that I’m not religious in the least. Dealing with the church part of the trip will be a little trying. But I will be spending a week building a pre-school in a very poor part of a very poor country. The experience, the chance to help someone out and feel good about every day when I wake up, knowing that my time will be for a worthy purpose, and “roughing it” for a week in the sweltering tropical weather will be a “religious” experience of its own kind. And lest you think that this is purely an altruistic venture, I will have the opportunity at the end of the week to scuba dive the largest barrier reef complex in the northern hemisphere for a couple of days, including (I think), the infamous “Blue Hole.” Time to put my newly acquired (last summer) advanced scuba certifications (deep diver, advanced open water, and navigation diver) to some use!

Another writing from my past. This one was written July 30, 2003. I had stopped living my life, and was just existing. I hadn’t experienced the epiphany of living life as it comes, and enjoying it while its here, with all of its many experiences and learning opportunities.

Life…

Here we sit, all living on this planet. What is YOUR purpose? Do you know? Have you given it ANY thought? Do you agree that you must have a purpose? Why else would we be here? Is this just a stop-over to someplace else? Is this IT? Is there nothing else to life, existence, and being other than this ruthless monotonous pattern practiced day-in, day-out, week after week?

My typical day involves waking up, showering, getting dressed, drinking coffee, work, work, work, work, eating lunch, work, work, work, and then rushing home to workout, eat dinner, get the kids to bed, get stoned to ease the pain of the day, and sleep so I can get up tomorrow and do it all over again. THIS is what I have come to call “living”. But when you look at it, and dissect it, there is no living going on. There is NO fun involved, unless you count the social interactions with colleagues or the workout. Neither of those, and none of the rest of the day, generates that emotion people call “happiness.”

I have always remarked that “I do not live to work. I work to live.” Its bullshit. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what happiness feels like. I forgot how to have fun. And until I can return to “working to live”, my life will be a dismal one.

Half of the Family Out of Town

2006-06-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

It is Thursday, and Melissa and Mic have been gone since Sunday, leaving Maggie and I at home to fend for ourselves. Maggie has been at the pool nearly every waking moment since it opened on Saturday. She got her dad’s “pool rat” genes. We’ve done well, kept the house clean for the zero showings we’ve had, and not starved to death (quite the opposite, in fact.) My mood has been very solid. I have managed to get some things done around the house, clean, pack most of the basement for the move, and still allow myself some leisure time. The allowance of leisure time is something that, until ECT and Respirdal, I was unable to do. Between the Risperdal controlling one of my primary mood triggers (OCD/mania) and my other trigger gone for the week (Mic), things have had no reason to be anything but good.

In looking back through old journals, and after some consideration, I notice that I usually don’t let stress get to me while things are stressful. I can think of times when I’ve felt stress while it was happening, but it’s not usually until its over, and some time passes, when stress effects my mood. In many places in my old journals, and in several anecdotal incidences, I find that it may be a day or two after a particularly stressful time when my mood takes the beating from the previous stress.

Something strange (“strange”, “typical”, call it what you like): Since ECT, I have noticed that smells linger with me. What I mean is that I can smell something unpleasant and that smell will stay with me for the next 24-48 hours. I will smell it from time to time, usually just faintly, but in the strangest places (places where I know the same smell doesn’t really exist.) Its like my mind takes a “snapshot” of the bad smell and then shows it to me every so often for a day or two.

Memorial Day

2006-05-29T16:52:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day, 2006. Melissa and Mic left for Arkansas yesterday. Melissa has appointments to talk with several school principals next week about teaching for them starting in the fall. Melissa was also going to look at “neighborhoods” (not houses specifically) while she’s there. As it turns out, she’s looking at “houses”, and has found one the “is perfect.” I keep telling her to not get her hopes up on anything, yet. That whole cart before the horse (we need to sell a house before we go contracting to buy another house.) For the person with the most patience in the world when it comes to people, she has no patience when it comes to things like selling and buying houses.

Today, I ran the Bolder Boulder, which is one of (if not the) biggest 10k road races in the country. I think I heard that they had 50,000 runners today. It was a fun experience, and one that I needed to live one more time (I’ve run this race once before) before I move away, but I had a shitty run. My shins cramped for the first three miles, and were just relentlessly knotted up. I tried stretching them, rubbing them, pounding on them. Finally, during mile 4, they gave me a break. I’ve never had that problem before, and can only attribute it to (a) getting older and/or (b) not having run any on hard surfaces (all of my running has been on treadmill or dirt trail) since starting to run again. Given the adversity, however, I had a great day.

Finding the holes...

2006-05-27T20:06:00.000-07:00

Today, Saturday, is a special day. It is the day that divides the rest of the year and “summer.” Today, the pool in our neighborhood opened. As I’ve mentioned before, I was a swimmer and lifeguard growing up. I have always been a major “pool rat.” I still am. At every possible opportunity, I, with a select handful of neighbors and my family, am at the pool, narcissistically sunning myself and practicing my only religion: Sun Worshiping. Adoro el sol! Summer is my absolute favorite time of year, and it always has been.

Today, I also noticed some big holes in my memory, which I was unaware of before. Maybe they are things of which I just haven’t been prompted to think about previously, but there seemed to be an abundance of such things brought to my attention today, specifically.

First, I picked Maggie up from a birthday party today and saw the father of the little girls whose birthday it was. I had met him several years ago when Maggie and the girl played soccer together. I remembered his face, his name, etc (even though he didn’t remember me.) There was another dad there, and I remembered his face, and I knew that I should know him, but couldn’t for the life of me remember why or who he was. Apparently, I had dropped Maggie off at a party at their home not long ago, and this guy stopped by at our garage sale and I spoke to him at length about our move.

Then, I was at Starbucks reading today, and this young guy came in carrying a book. I knew I should know him because I recognized his face. But there are so many faces I recognize at Starbucks because I’m there, at the same one, a lot and I see a lot of the same people. But most are people that I have never talked to. This guy, however, seemed more dominant in my memory than most. When he came over and said “Hey, Mike, how are you doing?”, I knew I was in trouble. We chatted for several minutes. This guy, I want to say his name is “Dan”, knew things about me (like my name) like the books I read, that I am a lawyer, that I run and swim. We talked about books, running, swimming, etc, all the while I was trying to put the pieces together (and too embarrassed, which is unusual, to admit that I didn’t know his name or remember anything about him other than I had spoken to him in the past and that he was a nice guy. I think I didn’t admit to my memory failure because I kept hoping it would come back to me.) I’m sure I met him around the time I started ECT, I think he was studying for or had just taken the Bar Exam, and I know that he does some running. Other than that, he and Adam look a lot alike.

Finally, as I have mentioned, 2 and 3 summers ago I personally organized and conducted an event at the end of summer called “Miles for Mic”. The event was a swim-a-thon benefiting The Children’s Hospital Psychiatric Services group, and named in honor of my son, Mic. The goal both years was to raise money by swimming as far as I (we) could. The first year, I raised funds and swam alone. The second year, I had 14 swimmers (including my daughter, Maggie) and we raised a total of a little over $8000. For this second year, we had t-shirts for the participants. They were ref shirts with an event logo and Children’s Hospital logo on the front. I was wearing my shirt today and realized that, even though I know that I designed the shirts myself, I have no recollection of doing so, what software I used to make the design, how we ordered the shirts, or anything else about them. Luckily, Melissa was there to fill in the hole for me. This hole in my memory is unique, being from a time nearly 2 years ago and not proximate at al to my ECT treatment, but during a very severe depression (remember, I swim when I’m depressed.)

Theories of ECT's Mechanism of Action

2006-05-24T21:33:00.000-07:00

Tuesday and Wednesday were both good days. No mood shifts or mood issues at all (once I got the phone call to my now former employer (the one day job) out of the way.) Did some serious work around the house. I rebuilt the fence in my backyard which is designed to keep the dogs off of my newly seeded lawn (the bar spots caused by dog traffic.) We’ve been playing this game for weeks. I build the fence, they find a way under/around it. I patch the hole, they find another way under/around. The fence was made of chicken wire and those little green metal fence posts. I went nuclear on them today and bought a roll of that orange plastic construction zone fencing. I think I’ve won this time (again.) Its me against the dogs in this intellectual battle, and I seem to be losing.

Someone, David from my climbing adventure on Sunday, asked me what my manic or OCD spells feel like, if they feel good or bad, and how I recognize them. As I’ve mentioned, until recently, I couldn’t recognize them until long after they had passed. Now, I can catch them. After some thought, the best analogy is that mania feels like being a moth trapped in a jar. My mind flutters wildly from one task, one thought, one idea or one urge to another, never landing firmly on anything or finding a way to focus on one thing, banging into the boundaries of one thing and switching to another, and then back to that first thing again later. I never seem to get anywhere with any of it. Its frantic, but not panicky (most of the time.) It feels hyper-productive, like I have all of these great ideas and things I want to pursue. Later, after the manic spell, those things all seem trivial and not worth my time or the frustration. I am learning to realize or identify these manic periods and to be able to make myself write down all of the ideas I have and wait a week before pursuing any of them (by the end of the week, the mania is gone and I can evaluate the ideas with a clearer head.)

Grandma keeps writing about “brain damage” from ECT. Brain damage is ONE of many theories on how ECT works. I tend to favor option (c) below, as it makes most sense to me and the way I feel following my course of treatment. The problem is that there is scientific evidence that ECT is effective in the treatment of depression and other mental illnesses, but no one knows why or how. Here are the primary theories: (a) Neurotransmitter: ECT has effects similar to anti-depressants, altering brain chemicals like serotonin, dopamine, etc., but in a more “permanent” manner; (b) Anti-convulsant: ECT conditions the brain to become more convulsion-resistant (over the course of treatment, seizure threshold increases and seizure duration decreases due to increased transmission of brain GAMA [sorry, couldn’t find a meaningful definition for this acronym] and opiods resulting in marked improvement in depression and mania symptoms); (c) Neuroendocrine: ECT affects the hypothalamus, the part of the brain that controls important functions like sleep and body temperature. The disruption in homeostasis forces the hypothalamus to “reset or “re-regulate” the body, correcting the imbalance causing the mental illness ("The evidence that E.C.T. affects the hypothalamus is mostly indirect, though the uniformity with which the hypothalamus reacts to almost every form of stress leaves little doubt that E.C.T. will act similarly." (W. Ross Ashby, 'The Mode of Action of Electro-Convulsive Therapy,' J. Ment. Sci., 1953); and (d) Brain Damage: ECT causes damage creating the illusion of stability. (Based on the findings that differences in responses to Rorschach’s test were similar after ECT or diffuse brain damage. This theory has been heavily criticized because the type of “damage” hypothesized does not explain common behavioral changes, no substantive evidence of brain chemical change has been documented and because using various radio-imaging techniques as well as human autopsy methodology, no substantive evidence of brain structural alteration was found.) For a very thorough, albeit very medically technical, paper on these theories and the background for each, see “Theories on Mechanism of Action of Electroconvulsive Therapy” at http://www.gjpsy.uni-goettingen.de/gjp-article-grover2-ECT.pdf (also added to the “Links” section in the right sidebar to this blog.)

Shortest job ever?

2006-05-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

Monday, I went to my daughter’s awards ceremony at school. She is graduating from the 5th grade and moving on to “middle school.” How did she get to be 11 already? Those deep depression years seem like they were part of some bad movuie I watched while I missed that part of her growing up. I have a lot of catching-up to do with respect to being a “dad”. My wide and I got a special invitation to the ceremony because Maggie was receiving the “President’s Citizenship Award”, given to one boy and one girl from her 5th grade class. Of all of the awards that they give, this one, in my opinion, which comes from caring about her classmates and helping people out when they need help, is one of the more special ones. I’m very proud of her.

Monday was also my first, and my last, day of work at my new job. I'm sure that there is no end to the list of people that start a job, and then just don't go back for day, or at least call and let the employer know that they won't be back. That's not my style, but I DID call a nd let them know. I’ve never been good on the phone. I’ve never liked talking in the phone. I’m much better in person. Since my childhood stuttering days, the phone has been a scary world for me. My new job is entirely on the phone, talking to strangers and trying to close deals on “handyman” jobs at these people’s homes. In addition, talking about money with people I don’t know is uneasy for me (strange, given my several year history in the mortgage business, which seemed different for some reason.) My new job is filled with discussions about what these handyman jobs will cost, estimates, service charges, etc. I was so thrilled that someone wanted to hire me, after getting shunned by REI, that I overlooked the part about whether I would enjoy this job, and whether it would be a good endeavor for maintaining my currently good mental health. I stuttered and stammered and struggled all day on the phone, under “on the spot” pressure with potential customers while trying to figure out this web-based estimating software so I could give them reasonable estimates for what their repair work would cost. I held myself together all afternoon, in fact didn’t realize how stressed and losing it I was, until I got home. Then, in the privacy of my own home, I crumbled from the day’s stresses. I absolutely fell apart, couldn’t talk about it, wanted to be alone so I could just roll around in my self-loathing. Last evening, not fitting well into this job seemed like an admission that I was unable to do anything ever again. There was a battle between my pride (it gets me in trouble a lot) telling me to get back in there and make things work, and my common sense telling me that this job was bad for me and for my family in the big picture. Today, in a clearer light, I can see that “this job” wasn't going to working out. I’m back in the hunt for a Home Depot or Lowes floor job.

Melissa, once again, was my guardian angel. She is so supportive. “Its not worth your mental health for whatever they are paying you to do this work. I support you if you decide to go back tomorrow and give it another day, and I support you if you call them and tell them you are sorry, but its just not going to work out. You have to make that call, and I know you will make the right call.” I know that I don’t deserve her, but I am infinitely grateful that I have her in my life.

Not just an ordinary Sunday

2006-05-22T18:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, a show of hands: How many people have gotten to fly in a "Flight for Life" helicopter?

There's another collection which I passively-obsessively (can I use those words together??) pursue. Colorado has 52 mountain peaks that reach over 14,000 feet above sea level. There are none reaching 15,000 feet. We outdoorsy types in Colorado refer to the 14,000+ peaks as "14ers." I collect 14ers of which I have summited (reached the top.) Its not as easy as it sounds. All of the ones I have done are "walk-ups", meaning that no technical (rope) climbing is involved, but as you ascend further from sea level, the air gets progressively thinner (contains less and less oxygen.) Breathing gets more labored, your cardio-vascular fitness gets tested, and your muscles, deprived of the oxygen they need to function, weaken and fatigue. Subservient to this collection of 14ers is a collection the topographic maps for each mountain region highlighting the route I or we took to the summit.

Pikes Peak, one of Colorado's better known 14ers (but not the tallest), is one I've climbed. In fact, I ran the Pikes Peak Marathon which begins in Manitou Springs below the mountain and runs to the summit and back (26.2 miles, but not much actual "running" goes on above 13,000 feet as the route becomes made of nothing but huge boulders and the air thins to nothing.) In preparation for this race, I've run (again, "run" means run the bottom of the routes and hastily hiked the top 1000 feet or so) Mt. Torreys, Greys Peak and Mt. Bierstadt. Still, climbing these peaks for all but those in very good physical condition is a challenge not easily forgotten (except, of course, for ECT patients.)

Today, I and a friend (David) set out to add another 14er to the list of summits reached, Mt. Evans (The huge mountain that looms over the metro-Denver area to the west, and the closest peak to Denver. You can actually drive to the top of Evans (if youÂre a wuss.) Our course was to take us up the same trail as for climbing Mt. Bierstadt, and then breaking off to the north before the final pitch to the Bierstadt summit and crossing a saddleback called the "Sawtooth." Its still a bit early for climbing, and there was still a fair amount of snow to deal with, and snow-melt-mud in most other places below the summit area. Today was the first climb IÂve made since beginning to take Risperdal for my mania. Side effects of Risperdal include decreased activity, lack of coordination, dizziness, tremor, decreased blood flow and respiratory distress. This list would have been a good thing to study before this climb.

I noticed that I was breathing harder than normal pretty early in the hike, but just assumed that it was my level of conditioning, and that I would acclimate to some degree and be fine. Well, the trail cutting off to Mt. Evans was very illusive, and we never found it. So, we decided to summit Bierstadt (again) as long as we were there. I noticed feeling dizzy at about 12,500 feet, again just attributing it to conditioning and oxygen deprivation, but beginning to think about Risperdal as a culprit.

As you ascend most 14ers, you get above "tree line" (above which no trees grow) at around 12,000 vertical feet. Toward the top, you usually run into "skree" which is loose small rock that is a little tricky. Most 14ers feature "boulder fields" as the last couple hundred feet of ascent. Think rocks of sizes ranging from bowling balls to VW Bugs, and a 75-90 degree vertical pitch (some hand climbing, but, again, nothing technical). About 200 vertical feet below the summit of Bierstadt, I was in the middle of the boulder field, struggling for air, and feeling pretty dizzy but determined to reach the top. Ah, pride, the cause of many a misstep. It only takes one bad step.

I stepped up with my right foot to a rock about 3 feet above my present position, and as I brought my left foot up, the right one lost footing and slipped off. The result was a fall straight backwards (remember, there's nothing but big rocks and a steep pitch for a couple hundred feet below me), landing first on my back, padded by a backpack full of extra clothing (padding). "Ouch", but my immediate hope was that the fall would end there. But when I felt my feet come over my head in a backwards summersault as I left that first landing spot and fell off of that first spot into the air again, I knew the pain was about to get worse. I recall thinking "cover your head, this is gonna hurt." I got my face covered, but I landed on the crown of my head on a big rock. Total fall: 30-35 vertical feet with one bounce in the middle. I wound up lying on the back of my head and neck with my body sort of jumbled above me in a crevasse. I recall smacking my head (that bright light flash and sharp "crack" and ringing you get when something hard hits your head), then darkness, then my left knee hurting like hell, and just after that, a roaring headache. I managed to roll over onto my butt and slump forward and revel in the pain of mostly my knee. I was trying to assess the extent of my injuries and I noticed the headache getting worse and the world making this continuous slide to the right. Dizziness after head trauma...bad. As I looked off into the distance, the dizziness intensified into a spin. I sat with my knees pulled up and my head slumped forward, and I could feel the blood from the gash on top of my head pouring down my face and dripping onto the rock below me. Its tough knowing you are hurt and bleeding, but not being able to see the wound to know how bad it is. But I knew I was hurt, and hurt bad enough that I wasn't likely to walk off of that mountain on my own any time soon.

I yelled "DAVID!" Nothing but echo. I yelled again, and a guy coming up the mountain heard me and yelled "Are you all right?" "No!" I responded. He told me to sit tight, and he came to me. My luck was bad enough to allow me to fall and split my head open, but good enough to have me discovered by a guy on a "training" hike (he's leaving Friday to climb Mt. McKinley in Washington) and carrying 8 liters of water in his pack just for added weight. Those liters of water came in handy in washing and freezing (they were frozen liters when his hike began) my wound so he could use his first aid kit (something I didn't have) to bandage me up and get the bleeding to stop. Someone else happened upon us and went to get David from the summit. He arrived a few minutes later. David, Steve (the guy that found me) and I discussed whether to call for help. David had a phone that had signal, and I had a GPS unit in my pack. Given that I could barely stand, David called 911 just to let them know what was up, and that we may need help getting me out of there. It was an exciting day.

With blood dried in streams down my face and on my clothes, dry heaves which were never kind enough to go the distance and let me vomit (from concussion, I think) and two banged up knees, the three of us slowly made our way down the mountain about a mile and a half. There was lots of snow, and I was able to glissade (aka "ass-sled") down quite a bit of the route. Getting out of the boulders with the nausea and vertigo and legs that weren't working too well was tricky. But we had to go the mile and a half just to get to a spot flat enough for the helicopter to land and pick me up. David stayed in contact, off and on, with the Cook County Sheriff. About 2 hours after the fall, I was being put into a neck cuff and loaded onto the chopper for flight to the hospital. The bleeding had stopped, and the further down we came the better the vertigo got (although it never got very good, and the nausea remained), but the headache got worse. Damn, how embarrassing! I consider myself to be a well conditioned, athletic guy. I've RUN up this mountain before! And now I'm being flown out. And to top it off, the flight nurses CUT my brand new "Cherry Creek Sneak" shirt off of me for access to put in an IV! Did they HAVE to CUT it?!?!

So, an x-ray, CT scan, a concussion diagnosis and three stitches to the scalp later, Melissa took me home and cared for me and my battered head. David and Steve hiked on down and David drove my Jeep back to town.

Melissa tells this story from am different perspective. She arrived at the ER after I had called her and said "Don't worry. I'm ok, but I'm at the hospital", told them who she was and was escorted to a room by the security guard (this was a hospital in a pretty bad part of Denver.) Eight doctors and nurses stood around this person on a gurney. The person wasn't moving and his skin looked gray. As Melissa entered the room, all of the medics turned and stopped her and one asked "Are you family? Melissa said "Yes, I'm the wife." You're who?" the doctor asked. "You should be at the chapel with the rest of the family." The security guard popped back in and said "Oh, sorry, wrong room." The person on that gurney was dead, and Melissa was thinking "I just talked to him and he sounded fine." As if I don't put her through enough trauma.

And all of this excitement from a simple "I'll be home by three" day-hike. Life doesn't get much more interesting than that!

Boing

2006-05-20T17:52:00.000-07:00

Today, I woke up feeling fine, called and signed up to play racquetball in the Saturday morning “shuttle”. Competition on Saturday mornings is at its best. Not long after I got out of bed and got dressed, Melissa and I had a major fight over money (which turned out to be about nothing like what I thought we were fighting about…Mars versus Venus). I was in a horrible mood and wanted to punch a hole in a wall and was convinced that my day was ruined. I’ve had this “crick” in my neck for 2 days and I was pissed off and I knew that my racquetball game would be lame given those two factors, so I just skipped it. Its 3 hours later as I write this, the fight is over and my mood is great again. Before ECT, my whole day would have been ruined and the fight would have raged all day and maybe into tomorrow (in my head, anyway.) THAT is a benefit of ECT: The ability to rebound and recover from emotional trauma or upset. It just didn’t happen before.

Mic, my mentally ill son, has been deteriorating quickly since we decided upon this move to NW Arkansas. The stress from not knowing where we will be in a couple of months, when the move will take place, when our home will sell, etc is tough on everyone, but particularly difficult for Mic to deal with. He was relatively stable (albeit hard to deal with) prior to learning of the move, but slowly regressing emotionally and mentally. He really behaves, and must be handled, like a six year old (he’s 13). We are now down to daily outbursts. As I have mentioned previously, Mic is one of the two triggers I have identified which have serious effect on my mood. He is extremely lucky to have Melissa, who continues to handle most of his problems so as to shield me from him. Mic is generally non-violent to other people. He destroys things (usually his own things), but has never before put his hands on another person during one of his emotional outbursts. Today, (by Maggie’s account, and I have no reason to disbelieve her) he pinned Maggie against the wall by her shirt in an effort to intimidate her into doing what he wanted. I worry about his steady and now quickened regression, and what the future holds for him if this move can’t be completed sooner rather than later.

He's Employed!!

2006-05-19T21:49:00.000-07:00

Today, I got a job. I am the new Customer Service Representative for the local franchise office of Handyman Matters, a corporate handy man service. I happened to run into the owner (with whom I worked and became acquainted with while a lawyer at Convergent Communications back in 2000), as irony would have it, while dropping off my application for the job (for which I was DENIED) at REI. I start Monday, working the same number of hours I sought at REI, and for $3 more per hour than that job would have been. Fuck you very much, REI. The more time that goes by, the more I realize that I just need to let go of the life I planned for myself, and live the life that presents itself and enjoy it while its here.

My Nail Salon Experience

2006-05-17T18:30:00.000-07:00

First, Bill, I don’t know if you are someone I actually know, or one of my “blog friends”, but either way, thank you for the strong words and the great insight. There is much wisdom in your comment. Thanks to all of my friends that wrote to prop me up, either in the blog or personally.

The good thing that came from the REI denial is a confirmation that my mental health is better than it used to be. Before ECT, this REI denial would have sent me into a tailspin of morbid depression including suicidal ideation and the whole bit, or made me so pissed-off that I couldn’t focus on anything for days. I was over and done with REI a couple hours after I got the call. That was one “no” in a sea of possibilities, and a “no” on a job that I only intended to keep for a couple months until the move, anyway. So, onward.

Today has been a great day. I got little, if anything done, but it was a great day. I had to be out of the house for a couple hours for showings. Melissa, sort of out of the blue the other day, suggested to me that I get a pedicure. Hmmm, that bad, huh? Those that know me personally know that I’m not the “metro-sexual” type. Manicures and pedicures aren’t my style. Now, remember, I’m about 6’2”, a pretty brawny athletic guy, shaved head and goatee. Today, I was wearing a black biker t-shirt from a motorcycle rally in northwest Arkansas. It has the logo of a drug store sponsor on the front, and on the back in great big white letters it says “OFFICIAL DRUG DEALER.”

So, here I am, pulling up to the nails salon on my big motorcycle in my sunglasses, shiny head and biker “Drug Dealer” t-shirt, strolling onto this nail place (carrying an iced coffee from Starbucks, no less) manned entirely by Asian women and full of (a) over-weight middle aged women and (b) high school chickees getting their hands and feet worked on. Before I walked in, I realized that I was going to stick out like a turd in a punch-bowl. So, I decided that, instead of being embarrassed, I was going to walk in there like I belonged there and just take inventory of people’s reactions. It was PRICELESS! It was all I could do to keep from laughing. People were whispering, pointing but trying not to be seen, one chickee even picked up her cell phone and called another chickee that was also in the salon to have her check me out. I just wish I had had on my bandana on my head and it had been cold enough for my black leather and studded jacket too.

Below is another writing from the past. I’m just tossing these in as I come across them to further pain the picture of where my mind used to be. I find them interesting now because they give me something to which to compare my current mental state. This one is consistent with my current philosophy, but only in an ill state of mind would I have written about it.

February 16, 2005

[05/15/06 Note: This was written after my first hospital stay, during a time when I “thought” that my depression was better. If it was better at all at this time, it was temporary. Much of the fear of the “Monster” has faded and continues to fade. Fear of being unable to escape the Monster, should it return, will likely never leave me.]

Fear

What are you afraid of? What really strikes fear in your mind? Most people have some phobia. Maybe snakes, public speaking, heights, water. Perhaps death. I am amazed by the Christians who fear death. “It’s a better place”, they say. “You will live at the right hand of God.” If you really believe in those things, why is death scary? Unless, of course, your faith isn’t what you pretend it is.

I don’t fear death. In fact, on many occasions, I beckon it. I wish it to come. On many occasions, in fact, I have even intended to bring it upon myself to stop my pain. What I fear (in addition to spiders), however, is the inability to bring about my own death should I choose to. Unable because I’m physically disabled, or incarcerated, or for other reasons. But being unable to end my pain is far more frightening to me than death itself.

Now that my depression is better, I also very much fear its return. I live in fear of it coming back. The medication I’m on works great during the day, but it seems like, as the sun sets, the meds wear off. And the fear comes. Sometimes I can hear depression, “It”, creeping in the shadows. It sounds like barbarians at the gate, Mongolians at the city wall. I so fear the return of the “Monster” that at times I think the fear is worse than the Monster itself. When It is here, at least I know it’s here. We are one. I am it and it is me and there is nothing to fear at that time. The pain envelopes me and causes me to lose perspective on how things really are and how they should be and how much I have in my life to live for. If I had to point to one thing I fear most, it would be being unable to escape the Monster, and being unable to end the agony it brings.

Over-qualified and Unemployable

2006-05-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

I found out today that I am a hardworking, honest lawyer with an additional graduate degree that doesn’t qualify for a job at REI. To say that I’m disappointed would be like calling lava “hot.” I know they get hundreds of applications every month in that store and I know that I’m overqualified. But I still fully expected a call welcoming me to the team and telling when I started my new job. I’m down. I feel like a loser and I can’t figure out what I’m going to do with my life when I can’t DO the job I AM qualified for, and I’m over-qualified for the grunt job I CAN do. I’m between the cracks, and it seems that I’m stuck. I wouldn’t say that I’m depressed, I’m just very sad. Sad that I can’t do more for my family. Sad that I can't be a role model father for my kids. Sad that Melissa has to carry as much weight as she carries. Sad because this thought keeps sneaking into my head that everyone would be better off without me around, although I know that that's not what anyone in my damily wants. Sad that I have lost that lofty spot I once occupied bringing home $10,000 a month. And sad at the idea that my mother-in-law is sending us money to help support my family. I completely expect that she is sending the money because she won’t let her daughter or grandchildren suffer, but that she doesn’t give a damn about me, the loser son-in-law, who is failing to pull his weight. I don’t know what to do from here, except ignore all of these things that make me sad and wait for the house to sell so we can move to a place where I know I can get a job doing something, even if I am over-qualified. Waiting has never been my strength.

Obsessions? Me?

2006-05-15T18:06:00.000-07:00

Obsessions? Interests? Mania? Hobbies? Call them what you like, they were coming at me way too quickly last week. It really seems that ECT had positive effect on both depression and mania, but much more effect on the depression. The OCD/mania still seems to come and go in minor, unthreatening waves.

Earlier last week, I got into darts. I played darts all the time in law school. It was what I did to take study breaks at night, throw a couple games of “cricket.” So, I dig around and found my three sets of darts not easy when some things are packed for a move), blew the dist off of and opened my dart board (hanging on the basement wall since we’ve been in this house, rarely used) for the first time in years, dug out my dart rule book to recall the distance from which I was to throw, put down a strip of tape to mark the throw line, and threw three times a day for about 4 days. Then, the interest was gone as quickly as it arrived. Today, its web design mania. I have thought, from time to time that I want to learn how to design a web page. I got a copy of Microsoft FrontPage 2003 from a friend and I want to design a web page for my journal from before ECT. I sort of tinkered with FrontPage, but I also ordered a book on how to use the software. I also plan to build a site to sell tie-dye on the internet (tie-dye is another “enthusiasm” from earlier this week which seems to pop-up from time to time, most often in the summer.) Now, also, laptops are heavy on my mind. I want one so I can write (another “enthusiasm”) while not at home (for example, when I’m forced out of my house so the house can be shown to prospective buyers.) I can’t afford a laptop, but I went today to Best Buy to find out what the cutting edge technology is so that when I can afford one I can figure out what to buy. My head seemed to be running a bit fast last week, as the list of interests above depicts. It seems to have slowed now and things are calmer. I’m just glad that the quickened pace from last week didn’t leave to a depression this week.

I’m reading “Electroboy” by Andy Berhman. Its not what I expected, and really not very good at all. Boring. The story line goes into WAY too much detail about his life before diagnosis and ECT. If it was painting a clear picture of who is was and how he got to the point of needing medical help, fine. But why would I care about most of the stuff that’s covered? I’m 175 pages in (of 272) and he just got his 1st prescription for depression.

Given my “enthusiasm” for tie-dye, I was giving some thought to new designs I would like to try. The idea came to mind to use bleach on color fabric instead of color on a white fabric. So, I bought a black t-shirt, tied it up for a spiral design, and used a strong bleach and water solution (Bleach is really already a water mixture, so I guess all I did was reduce the chemical parts per million -- chlorine is really a gas at room temperature. The gallon of bleach from the grocery store is really the chemical sodium hypochlorite mixed with water in a 5.25-percent solution.) I applied the bleach mix as if it was colored dye. The result was this really cool black shirt with this spiral pattern emanating from the center in varying shades of grey.

Ya know what drives me nuts?

2006-05-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

I have a favor to ask of everyone reading this blog today. If you are here, reading today’s entry, would you please submit a comment with just “Read it” or “Been here” or something simple. I just want an idea of if I still have readers, or if I’m writing for myself now. Thanks.

Friday and Saturday were reasonably good emotional days for me, but they were otherwise from hell. Friday morning, I interviewed with REI (Recreational Equipment, Inc.), a sporting goods store (one of the coolest stores on earth) for a cashier or floor job. If I don’t get hired, something is wrong with the world. I’m just looking for a part-time job to have something to do this summer and to make a little money. Also on Friday, Mic had his wisdom teeth out. Don’t misunderstand. I love my son and I want the best for him. I care about his life and the difficulties he has, and those that he will always have. These things make me incredibly sad and guilty and, I suspect, they are a large part of the reason that I have trouble dealing with and being around him. The feelings that come from my realization that he isn’t the son I always thought I would have (the star athlete, the boy I would play catch with and take fishing and to ball games and play video games with, etc.) play havoc with my own mood problems.

My idea of what is “best for Mic” and Melissa’s ideas differ, and at some times our opinions clash and result in some bitter disagreements. I mostly let her handle his care. Mic is the hardest person on earth for me to be around just on an every day basis. He is emotionally about 6 years old (he’s 13) and getting younger, he is very learning challenged, volatile, as contrary as anyone can be, and just generally drives me nuts, no matter how or what I try to relate to him. I try not to show these feelings to him (he can’t help who he is) and keep them inside, and sometimes I’m successful with that. When Mic is sick or hurt, he usually is less difficult to handle, more mellow and agreeable. But this time, maybe its just that he’s older, maybe it’s the pain medications, but he’s a constant time bomb, fragile and volatile.

A couple months ago, Mic traded his Gameboy, all of his games, all the accessories, as well as some cash which he got as a gift for Sony’s newest top of the line portable game system (Portable Game Platform or “PSP”.) It’s a pretty impressive $250 piece of electronic equipment. Since then, he has acquired games (about $40 each) and movies (why anyone would want to watch a movie on a 16 square inch screen beats me, but they run about $40 each, too.) As I’ve mentioned in the past. Mic seems to have peaked in his emotional maturity. His emotional control seems to be deteriorating much more quickly lately. I hope its just the stress of moving and selling the house that is effecting him. Its effecting us all. So, Friday Mic was lying on the couch, drugged up and playing his PSP. He gets frustrated with the games often and has little ability to know when to put it down and cool off. I was the same as a boy. Melissa and I were on the porch talking, and we heard him just start screaming and wailing and crying. Melissa jumped up and rushed in to check on him. He was screaming about breaking his PSP, that he “dropped it” and it just broke and that it was ruined. She also found the remote control to the TV with the battery cover off and the batteries strewn about. The PSP had a spider web crack radiating outward from the center of the screen to the edges. Remember, he “dropped it” and he hung on to that story and got very upset and out of control when we questioned him about it. Its obvious that, what really happened, is that Mic got mad while playing a game, picked up the remote control and struck the PSP screen with it. The PSP is destroyed, can’t be fixed, and a lot of money has been wasted. Money we don’t have right now. I feel sad for Mic that, because of his lack of control, he ruined one of his favorite things and can’t replace it. I also feel sad and very frustrated that, despite the pain this incident will cause Mic, he will likely take nothing positive away from it, and learn nothing, no matter how much we talk about it. He is still, now 2 days later, clinging to the story that “he dropped it.” He could have dropped it from a ten story building and not done this damage. Otherwise, a good day.

Saturday, we had to be out of the house all day for showings and an open house. We were gone from 11:00 to 6:00. Long day. I’ve been savings up little tasks and things to read that I can do at Starbucks. So far (week) 3 showings, 2 previews and an Open House. Slow week, the realtor thought, because of Mother’s Day.

So, these adversities in the last two days, and the reaction from my mind and mood stability was nothing more than a bit of a bad mood for a couple hours on Saturday. The rest was difficult, boring at times, but of no real trouble for me. I’m happy with that.

Ya know what drives me nuts? I know this is a small detail, but I was raised, despite growing up in Arkansas, using proper English. I know not to use a preposition at the end of my sentences (“Where are you at?”) and to use the proper tense of my verbs (not “I seen the man at the mall.”) And it drives me nuts when people talk in present tense when describing things which occurred in the past. I have noticed that the entire book, “Electroboy”, thus far is written like this. An example would be “And then, we go to the bar, and the bartender says to me ‘Where’s you get that hat?’ And I say to him “I got the hat around the corner.’ So he goes to the hat shop and he buys the same hat.” instead of “and then we went to the bar and the bartender said to me ‘Where’s you get that hat?’ And I said to him ‘I got the hat around the corner.’ So he went to the hat shop and he bought the same hat.” I can’t figure out WHY people adopt this style of story telling, but just pay attention to conversations with people or that are going on around you and notice how often you hear it. That ends my “quirk of the day.” Thanks for listening.

Ups and Downs

2006-05-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a rollercoaster. I got up and was good in the morning. Happy, felt good. I played racquetball at 9:00 with my Thursday morning regulars. I just couldn’t seem to get into the game. My chest was really sore from weights on Wed, and I think that was interfering with my racquet swing. Soon, I lost confidence in my shots and had this mental “don’t miss this shot” psychology going on as I set up every shot. Its amazing how a little mental glitch like that can take you from “good player” to “total shmoe” in no time. I managed to win a couple games, but not a pretty day on the court. I did surprisingly ok, mentally, with not playing well. The perfectionist in me usually has more trouble with having a “bad day.” Maybe I’m getting somewhere.

Came home and took a 2nd Risperdal just on Dr. Galasow’s suggestion. He suggested taking 2 a day every day until I got the rapid thoughts back under control. I did some work around the house. My task list for home projects is getting short. I am beginning to have time, for the first time in a while, to work on other projects (i.e. a little tie-dye business for the web – working on a web page, where to host it, how to set it up – mostly just a hobby which has the potential to become an obsession if not careful. Also, working on getting my past journals into web form so I can share a little deeper glimpse of how my illness progressed.)

I was supposed to go help a friend take apart a swing set, but forgot an appointment to go to my son’s “school” for the “Learning Fair”. I had to call, apologize for my oversight, and cancel the swing set project. I dread those things at Mic’s school. Partly because its just so hard to see substantive evidence of where he is education wise, but mostly because those functions always lead to a total emotional melt down for my son on the way home or after we get home. The dread of that breakdown and the breakdown itself are just so BAD for my own mental health, and that creates this very negative cycle for him and I. I feel like we would both be best served if I just skipped those types of things. Yesterday was no different. He started triggering before we even left the school, revved up on the way home, and totally lost it at home. Melissa and Maggie went to something at her school (poor, busy Melissa) and I stayed home and dealt with Mic. All the while, my stomach was killing me from something I ate. So, a pretty good day went to shit by evening and just ended badly. Then, our realtor called with the first negative feedback on our house (on the market.) Its one set of feedback, nothing to get too worked up about, but its still a bummer and sort of throws a kink into planning the whole sell, move, buy process.

Today, Mic had two of his wisdom teeth out, and I get to be at home with him for recovery. Fun, fun. At least we didn’t have 6 showings booked today forcing us to be gone all day with Mic in pain and drugged up. He’s been “out” on the couch all day.

Manic Mike?

2006-05-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

Howdy, folks, This is Manic Mike comin' atcha on a fine Wednesday. Worry not, I'm not "manic". Maybe a little speedier than I should be, but under control.

Monday and Tuesday were pretty good days. Certainly nothing to whine about in comparison to a year ago or even as recently ago ad December of last year. I can feel a bit of “quickness” in my thoughts, things racing a little. Not even so much that I’ve taken a second Risperdal. And maybe its just me getting more sensitive to changes in my head. Monday, still had lots to do to get the house ready. Tuesday, we had our first showing (exciting!) and so the morning was a little frantic getting everything exactly perfect.

Today, Wednesday, began with, we’ll call it, “The Manic Extra Mile.” I don’t think it was really manic, but it was classic me: push, push , push . Last week, I did 40 minute runs in an effort to build up my stamina so that I can begin to really train for the Marine Corps Marathon beginning in June (the race is in October.) Today, I decided to do a 50 minute run. Rationale: Lets just step it up a notch. Last night, I decided to make it a 45 minute run, figuring that I had increased my pace (this is all treadmill running…cold outside) also last week, so adding 5 minutes at the faster pace was enough. This morning, I started my 45 minute run, felt great at the increased pace from last week. About 15 minutes into the run, I had to use the potty. I jumped off the ‘mill and ran up the stairs. I was probably gone 3 minutes. So, I decided to make it a 50 minute run. Rationale: Make up for the time lost on the restroom break. I play a little game with myself to keep my mind off of the clock when I run. I cover the console with a towel, I watch TV, but have masking tape on the screen everywhere that the time ever shows up on the local news or “The Today Show”, and otherwise keep myself from clock watching, which makes the time seem to drag on forever. So, I look at my watch when I start my run and spend the first minute or two figuring out what time I will be done. Then, every time I look at my watch between that time and a time within 5 minutes of my “quittin’ time, I turn up the speed on the ‘mill by a notch.

Today, I got to 42 minutes before I looked. I turned it up a notch. Only 8 minutes to go. An hour has historically been like an invisible barrier for me. Coming up from underneath, when I break that barrier, I can run as long as I decide to go. If I can run an hour, I can run two, and if I can go 2 hours, I can go four. Its getting to that 60 minute mark that takes some time, patience and hard work. Today, at 42 minutes, I felt pretty good. I decided today’s run would be 60 minutes. Rationale: Isn’t it obvious…this close to the barrier…I HAVE to go for it! Couldn’t I just do 45 and call it good? Noooooo.

Today, I will have to be extra diligent about the pace of my mind. I have a psychiatrist appointment (an “I’m about out of meds” or “I think I need an adjustment” meeting.)

Melissa and I have had this discussion vaguely, and this morning it became a little more concrete. My personality has “changed” somewhat since ECT began. I’m now coming up on 5 weeks since my last ECT treatment. I feel differently than before, certainly. It’s a much better than before, also certainly. But Melissa and my kids have reported my language (use of “bad words”) has gotten worse. They are right, I’ve noticed that too. And the only thing that Melissa could put her finger on this morning was, as she put it, I have less “impulse control” than before. I say things that I wouldn’t have said prior to ECT.

My perspective differs. I feel like I have always been one to “bottle up my feelings (another symptom that can lead to depressive episodes), to not share with others what I’m thinking and to rarely give a clear glimpse of how I really feel about something. I think it has something to do with my childhood and being told to “shut up” by my mother, and sometimes even being yelled at for expressing my feelings. I have a hard time remembering those times, but they are there, somewhere in the fog of my childhood (which was foggy before ECT).

To me, it feels like, because I’m feeling better, maybe better than I ever have, I am just expressing my feelings. I’m saying what’s on my mind. The swearing was one of Melissa’s examples, but she also brought up the fact that I said something about smoking pot in a discussion with our realtors, who are a couple that I do know, and our “stager”, this super-cool little lady who they brought in to arrange our house (fine-tuning) for showings. It was something made in a light-hearted, laughing conversation. And Melissa is right:

A year ago, I never would have said what I said. But then, and for years before then, my only expression of myself was through writing that I never showed to anyone (because it freaked me out, and I was sure it would freak others out even worse. I feared being locked up (abandoned?) in some psych ward someplace.

There is definitely change that has occurred, but putting my finger on what that change is will take a little more time. Until then, I’m just going to be me and enjoy my life (while trying not to swear in front of my kids.)

A Writing from the Past

2006-05-09T16:18:00.000-07:00

I was going through some old Word files today, looking for the several Journals I have kept over the years. I intend to create another BLOG, linked to this one, with my past journals so that the "life" leading up the start of ECT can be seen. Toward that end, I have been gathering up the old journals.

I looking for those files, I can across some writings from the past. Some of them are as wacky as can be. Some are very disturbing. The one below I found very interesting in that my thoughts on most of the things in the writing haven't changed. The writing is from February 20, 2005.

Life Circles

"What comes around, goes around."
"You reap what you sow"
Yin & Yang
Karma
Night and Day
Winter and Summer
Life and death

Everywhere, life revolves in circles. Some small, some larger. But it all travels in circles. I remember when I was younger and I paid no mind to anyone but me. I was not exactly nice to some people. I might have made fun instead of understanding. I might have judged instead of helping. I laughed at people doing the best they could because they were less able than me. As I aged, I had life by the horns. I was a lawyer, well paid, discontent, wealthy for my age, two beautiful kids, youth, health, and a wife who loved me and was loyal to me. I was arrogant, cynical, sarcastic, deceitful at times, and judgmental. I was, at least in my own mind, bullet-proof, better. I was blind to life's little circles.

One day, my great lawyer job ended. No loss for me, I hated that job anyway. Today, I would give an arm to have those opportunities again. Those chances I then didnÂt appreciate. To be able to attack that kind of work with the confidence that it could not hurt me. When my job ended, we opened a business which later failed. All of our savings were gone...GONE. We were bankrupt. I previously had thought that people who filed bankruptcy were generally losers, deadbeats, irresponsible.

My son, we've learned, is severely mentally ill. Something, earlier, of which I had no knowledge and of which I would not have been kind or caring. Compassion has come, but at a great price.

I travel today watching my youth slip away, having aged greatly by my trials. I am desperately clinging to the last bastions of my youth. My own mental illness has manifested, bi-polar disorder. Those vary traits which guided me to my lofty perch were also, in fact, my demise. Pressure, stress, fast pace became anxiety, depression, mania and an intent to kill myself. Slowly, my disease has not only become present, it has become me and I have become it. My best friend's father, only 4 or 5 years prior, committed suicide. Dr. Elliot was a successful doctor, had a great house, more money than he could spend, and a great family. All I could do when Mark called me, looking for support, was wonder "what could he possibly have been so sad over? How could he kill himself?" I didn't understand. I was afraid to try to understand. I wasn't there for my friend. Now, having been there, having stood on the edge of the abyss trying desperately to decide what, in my belief system, was over that threshold, I now fully understand.

I know now that I may be on the path upon which I have traveled all along. The path, however, is going to places I did not foresee. Walk not on the path you wish to be on. Walk the path upon which you are. You cannot force your course. You can merely guide your travel along your destined path. I do not know to where my path may take me, or when that path might end. I know, however, that I now carry tools with me which will prepare me for the path ahead. Taoism teaches that struggles and trials are not to be avoided or resented, for it is these struggles that make us who we are.

The one aspect of my lofty life I have not lost, at least not yet, and the sole anchor through this long storm, the only person responsible for my being alive and able to write this piece, has been my wife, my traveling partner. And even she is traveling in circles of her own. When we met, married, had kids, she was dependent. Afraid of the city. Weak. Now, she could take on the world and not stop for lunch (literally). She is strong and creative. She is the advocate for our son, getting him the services he needs to make the most of his life. She is my advocate, getting me help or helping me when I am unable or unwilling to help myself. She certainly is no longer dependent or weak. She is independent and able. Strong and persistent. She has ridden this wild ride from top to bottom with me, but has herself moved from bottom to top. She might not yet realize that her life is moving in circles which will take her places she is yet to go and places she might never expect to see. The difference for her, perhaps, is that where I was callus and judgmental, she was caring and helpful. Good brings good. Karma says that you are repaid in kind for what you give. You reap what you sow. Full circles. Always.

My only hope is that through my difficult learning I can help others in their travel of the same circles I have traveled. Maybe in doing so I can right some wrong. Maybe I can balance my Karma. Maybe I can give what I have taken. Maybe, if IÂm diligent, I can come full circle.

The Tao teaches that "If you've never done anything wrong, why worry about devils knocking at your door?" The poem accompanying this proverb talks to a Shaman and the meditation speaks of the fact that when the spirits possess the Shaman, they do not worry about appearing normal. Rather, they allow the spirits to guide them and control them. During times of deep depression, I do not seem or feel normal. I feel like someone else. Is it possible that at those times I, too, am possessed by spirits, but those spirits are negative spirits or demons which fill me? Could these be the demons resulting from wrongs I have done, or an incorrect approach to life? If so, can they be set right?

Ah, another weekend.

2006-05-08T14:38:00.000-07:00

Most people look forward to weekends. I prefer weekdays.

Saturday featured a terrible beginning. Got woken up early by my wife getting read to go to a flea market. She’s not exactly quiet, but usually I can sleep through it. Seems lately I have been waking up earlier and going to bed later. Melissa and I have sort of been “at each other” for the last 3 or 4 days. I know part of that is that she’s irritable from that thing we aren’t supposed to talk about (sorry, ladies, not playing on a stereo-type. I think she’d ‘fess to it as well.) and part has been that she’s upset about the move. Sometimes we all each are excited, and other times we each are saddened and in the “I don’t want to leave/do this” mode. She’s in the latter at present. When anyone but me is in the “I don’t want to do this” mode it makes me feel bad and guilty because I know that we are moving BECAUSE of me and me alone. And its confusing because this is what Melissa has always wanted: To move “back home” and, now that she’s got it, she doesn’t want it. The rest of why we’ve been at each other is me. Some of it is the guilt I feel. Some is just a general irritability I’ve had with Melissa that I can’t identify, yet.

So, I woke up and, somehow, it feels like I got lambasted right out of the blocks about the way I’ve been acting. It might not have hurt so badly, except Melissa stated in terms of “Even Maggie has said to me that you haven’t been being nice to me. And she’s upset because you are ‘cussing’ so much.” That part is accurate. I don’t know what’s driving it, but for several weeks, maybe longer, my verbal impulse control has been diminished. I swear out loud without much thought about whether the kids are around or not. I know I’m doing it, but it doesn’t occur to me until after the words are already out. And its not swearing AT anyone. Its swearing about frustration with a THING or situation usually. So, anyway, the fact that Maggie was brought in as being upset with me hurt very much.

I feel like I’ve been trying SO HARD to be a good dad, now that I’m more able. I’ve been getting up early and cooking Maggie breakfast, doing more things with her (I took her to a 5k race last weekend) and generally been more engaged. And it feels like instead of seeing and acknowledging all of that effort, everyone is focusing on the negatives and bashing me with them. This morning, I was just overwhelmed by this “I can’t win” feeling. For the first time in a month, I cried. Just laid in bed and cried. It wasn’t the real “depressed cry”, it was just a sad “I can’t win” cry, a cry from overwhelming frustration, like whatever I do just isn’t enough. More than anything, more than the substance of the incident with Melissa itself, I’m was most bothered by this worry that things are coming apart. A couple bad starts this week, a little bit of a general lack of tolerance with Mic. I’m just seeing these little cracks in the wall against my illness I’ve worked so hard to build and worrying that the foundation is crumbling.

Adter I got up and got ready to go play racquetball, I sat at my computer, wrote, and listened to Dave Mathews. Always very calming. I decided that I just needed a little extra effort today. Watch my potty-mouth and be diligent about my positive approach to things in general. – I WILL work through this, but its going to take some work.- As my therapist said “You didn’t get a vaccination against depression or feeling bad. Everyone is in that boat from time to time. Its what you do with it that matters.”

I’ve been realizing this “fear” I’ve had since some of my earliest childhood memories: The fear of being abandoned or left alone in the world. I remember when I was a kid, like 7 or 8, there was this orphanage right up the road from our home. We past it every time we went anywhere. I had this fear that my parents were going to take me there and leave me. For a while, every time my parents were on the phone, I would listen to see if they were arranging the “drop-ff” at the orphanage. Growing up, I was worried about my friends leaving me. I especially worried about girlfriends kicking me to the curb for acting wrong or screwing up. Now, I’m just amazed that Melissa hasn’t sent me packing for all I’ve put her through. Strange how that fear or paranoia has been with me throughout my lifetime, but I’ve never really focused on it until now.

Sunday went pretty well. I got up and went for a run with a couple of friends. Just a 3.5 miler (which in the scheme of a marathon training season is a “nothing” run.) Dan, one of the guys, is in better shape than both Brad and I. We mistakenly let him set the pace on the way out (we ran an out and back, out 17 minutes (1.75 miles) and back.) Dan and I both had a dog with us. I was hurting from the start and thinking it was just me. This was my 8th day in a row of leg work (running or racquetball), and I just figured that it was general fatigue. On the way back, I was just crashing (legs ached and breathing felt really labored) and had to walk several times to get things together (unusual for any of us to pull up and walk mid-run.) It wasn’t until I got done that I realized that we were running what must have been 9:00 miles or just under on the way out. My treadmill pace has been 10:15 miles or so (**I’m Slow, I Know, Get Over it** is one of my favorite t-shirts.). Doing all of my running on the ‘mill’ is great , but it denies me the chance to learn to set my own pace. So, although the lack of a rest day in the last 8 days made the run less than I wanted it to be, at least I know it was a pace problem. Not just me being a wuss. J I got to take my lab mix, Beau, out with me. He’s five, and this is his first real run. He did great and acted like a complete gentleman. He qualifies to go again soon. I had him hooked to my water bottle belt, and he gives a little pull like a sled dog.

The rest of the day was good except for dealing with my son. I get frustrated with myself for getting so frustrated with him. Remember, he is one of my two identified triggers. He just has this total lack of ability to “go find something to do.” He’s right on top of someone all of the time, and that’s annoying. When I told him to find something to do for the 5th time, he said “I can’t think of anything!” in a very rude, *I’m about to lose it* tone. I rolled off a few ideas: his new scooter, video game (hand-held that he just HAD to have), bike, skates, skateboards, books, his model, movies, TV, playstation in his room. His response, of the ten things I listed, was “I don’t have a playstation in my room! Maggie has it in her room.” Of all the things he did have, he focused on the one thing he didn’t have. Classic Mic. Classic *awefulizing.* He was *triggering* most of the day, which led to an escalation and outburst about 2:00 when asked to help with getting the house clean and ready to show to buyers. I told him, at that point, that he had lost his opportunity to be around me for the day, that I was having a pretty good day and I wasn’t going to let him ruin it with his lack of control. That’s the way it ended, and I kept my mood fairly in check. I’m glad tomorrow’s Monday.

Swallowing Difficulty - Risperdal?

2006-05-05T22:11:00.000-07:00

An ananonymous commentor (Thanks, who ever you are) suggested that if the problem arose after starting Risperdal that it might be one of the less common (but more significant) side effects of the medication. I don't remember exactly when it began (again, its only happened twice, and neither time lately), but it very well could have been just after starting the med. Interesting.

Another change, I've noticed, is that I bump my head (mostly)and feet, legs and hips on things as I walk or move around. Its like my sense of proximity to my surroundings is just a little off in ways that it didn't use to be. And I notice that I bump my head on things I never used to or, if I used to, I do it much more or harder than I used to. And its things like my road bicycle which hangs from the ceiling in my garage. it hangs just below the height of the top of my head. I run into it almost daily and, everytime I bump into it, I smile to myself and say "why do I keep bumping into the same thing? remember its there!" But I don't remember. This one is NOT listed as a Risperdal side effect.

I did what?

2006-05-05T21:39:00.000-07:00

[Written but not proofread.] I just finished watching the Colorado Avalanche get totally dominated by the Anehiem Mighty Ducks (this is NHL hockey playoffs I'm whinning about.] 5-0. 5 to 0!!! It better mean that the Avs take this as a slap in the face and come back in game 2 with a lot more game than they played in this one!

I woke up early this morning. I was a little worried about my mood right out of the blocks, but for no apparent reason. The "spring in my step" from recent days gone by was just seemingly missing. There just seemed to be adversity from the beginning of the day, and I didn’t take it well. I seemed more frustrated than I have been lately. I have had this ongoing battle with the master bath shower door. It leaks water under the door during showers, I –fix- it. A couple days later, right after I put away the tools, it finds another place to leak. I -fix- it. And so on. I’ve -fixed- it about a dozen times and thought I had it beaten this time. It leaked again this morning. I sort of lost my temper, said I wanted to kick a hole in the f**king thing, but then caught myself and decided that I wasn’t going to let a bit of a bad start ruin my day. I actually pulled the day together nicely and played some good racquetball in a noon -shuttle- (An organized regular event, 4 of them a week at the club where I play, in which you play 4 or 5 fifteen minute games and then, depending on whether you win or lose the game, play another player in the next round either better than the last player or a little less skilled. Its fun because you are always playing someone different, which is how you really learn to play racquetball.) I decided today that a new racquet isn’t optional. It has to happen. I’m playing at a significant disadvantage with an older, shorter and less powerful racquet. I demo’d some racquets (again) and found -the one.- Its really amazing what a power difference an extra inch of length makes. Tennis racquets are 27 inches long (regulation) with about 115 sq inches of hitting surface. Racquetball racquets are now 23 inches long with around 107 sq inches. It won’t be long until a racquet is a racquet, regardless of sport! Turned out to be a very good day. Productive, happy, level headed. Just a good day after a rough start.

I have added another obsessive -hobby- to the list of OCD/manic activities. For years now, I have collected pennies. Not collected them like most collectors, maybe I should say I horded pennies. I have put into a jar and then rolled every penny I get as change for as long as I can remember. I was sure that the government was going to stop making them soon b/c our economy was too big to need them (actually, the government revealed just recently that it now costs more to make a penny than it is worth.) At first, I separated this huge jug of coins by coin denomination, and then I separated the pennies by year. Then, I decided that that wasn’t good enough, so I separated the years by mint. Then, I rolled then in mint years. I have roll after roll like this. Then, it just became all pennies. Last week, I took $96 (192 rolls) in rolled pennies to the bank. Just a month ago, I took in $108 in rolled coins (other than pennies) to the bank. Obsessive? Nooooooo. The up-side is that the $200 in coins I took in allowed me to buy a couple accessories for my iPod which will let me use it in combination with the home stereo, in my car, and to carry it safely while I run.

I think I have always had a hard time (and still do) keeping a clear the line between -enthusiasm- with a hobby or activity (or maybe even with people) and obsessive behavior. The problem, I think, is that I am also a master perfectionist. I always have to have the best of whatever it is I want or need. Nothing can ever be second rate. I’m never quite satisfied with anything. So, once I'm into something, I stay at it until I have all of the thing there is to collect, or I'm the best at the sport, or the thing is perfectly organized, or the writing is perfectly edited, or I have every piece of equipment I might need or have built the perfect equipment (i.e. the perfect triathlon bicycle). Or, I obsess until I realize that achieving perfection isn't possible, which pushes me away from the thing or activity, but there is always something else waiting in the wings. I wanted to learn Spanish, but it had to be Spanish such that I could converse with any Spanish-speaking native fluently, or it wasn’t good enough. I wanted to learn guitar, but it had to be such that I could jam with the proficiency of Jimi Hendrix or it was a failure. So, being the perfectionist just fuels the obsession. It gives me a constant motivator to do more and more until whatever it is just sort of overwhelms me and caves in. Recognizing these things about myself is educational, amazing, funny, and embarrassing (all at once.)

These traits, these OCD/manic tendencies, I’m discovering, have been with me as far back as I can remember. They are what made me good at sports as a kid. They are what allowed me to be state champion in 3 events in swimming when I was 18 and what gave me the motivation to make myself able to run 26 miles, or swim 20 miles. These obsessions have certainly had an upside in some situations. And had these things stayed solely manic, without the emergence of the depressive side, maybe had they stayed at the level which pushed me above and beyond most people and not escalated to the ridiculous stage, they would have been acceptable and tolerable. I think as the stress in my life increased, as my career took me to higher and higher places with more responsibility and more pressure, the little cracks in my mental wellness began to fail under the pressure and widen into big cracks and then gaping holes to the point in 2001 when I broke for the first time. Nothing has been the same since. But, thanks to the treatment I’ve received over the last 6 months, not only am I still alive but I’m beginning to be able to put the pieces together and figure out my own psyche. These revelations make me more able to manage and avoid some of my more obvious and controllable triggers, which let me get stringer and stronger.

Staying well is a day-to-day battle. I fight every day to stay on top of how (and what) I’m feeling. But I continue to believe that it’s a battle that I am now, for the first time in a long time, winning. Live it to its fullest, everyone. You never know when it might end. Take care of yourselves and those you care about.

Putting together a puzzle...

2006-05-03T18:44:00.000-07:00

...with less than all of the pieces. Its a strange life, but always entertaining.

[Written, but not proof-read.]

Things continue to go well. Very well, I should say. There have been several great opportunities for my mood to leave the tracks over the last week or so, and I have managed to keep things moving in the right direction.

As I think I’ve mentioned before, one thing I notice when I’m not well is that I have this very repetitive conversation with myself all of the time that I’m alone. What I mean is, I will state a phrase, maybe just in my head, maybe out loud, as if I’m conversing with someone (aka talking to myself), and then repeat the phrase over and over and over. Usually probably 6 or 8 times. Then, I move on to another phrase in the same or a different conversation. The subsequent phrase will be concerning something I thought of while repeating the first phrase. I notice this “habit” most often while driving and while doing any kind of work when I’m alone. I realized this week that I DON’T practice this habit when I’m feeling well. I asked my therapist about the habit. He says it is a very prevalent practice among OCD or manic people. Some, he says, do it to the extent that it is debilitating (i.e. it is so rampant that it prevents them from focusing on doing anything else.) I guess I should consider myself lucky that it just seems to be something my mind does to prevent boredom.

Anyway, as I said, I notice that I don’t do it when I am well. I take a Risperdal in the morning with my meds which is targeted at preventing OCD/mania. I noticed that, on a couple of days this week, I began repeating phrases to myself mid-day. On those days, I could actually feel my mind beginning to speed up, my anxiety level creeping up, and my tendency to overload my day and set irrational expectations of myself taking over. On those days, I took a mid-day Risperdal (I’m dosed at three times/day as needed.) This mid-day hit, on all occasions, was successful at reversing the OCD/manic slide, slowing my head down, and putting me back on a reasonable path. YEA! PROGRESS! I think, which will be borne out as I continue to keep an eye on this repetition habit and handle it with Risperdal, that I am recognizing the repetition as a red flag for OCD/mania. A flag which I have never recognized before. It seems that OCD/mania and trouble dealing with my mentally ill son are by far the two most pronounced triggers for my depressive slides (the only two, in fact, to which I can point.) It makes me very happy to discover things about my condition and find ways, within myself, to battle and win against mood shifts. There is this clearly circular pattern appearing: I find that the better I am mentally, the more I am able to identify little red flags and triggers to my mood shifts, and the more red flags and triggers I identify, the stronger mentally I am able to become. Fingers crossed for a continuance of the cycle.

There’s something I have not written about before, and which I thought might just be a passing thing or an anomaly. I didn’t understand it the first time it occurred and now that its arisen twice, I still don’t understand it. There have been two times, once lasting about 2 days and once lasting only a day, when I have been unable to swallow. Not like swallow food or liquid (liquid to some degree, but minimal), but, rather, ability to just generally swallow like you might to rid yourself of excess saliva in your mouth. (Is this making any sense?) Its just sort of that reflexive swallowing that goes on pretty much without you noticing it. On both occasions, I have just been unable to voluntarily swallow. My throat just wouldn’t do it without significant effort, and then it was sort of a forced, half-hearted swallow. Both times, the problem has subsided on its own 9in fact, both times I just noticed afterwards that the problem was gone.) Has anyone ever had this problem or does anyone know what might cause it?

**Warning: following is a story that is divergent from the main topic of this BLOG, written entirely for my own purposes so I don’t mentally misplace (aka forget) what I learned.** Monday I attended a wonderful seminar presented by the leader of the “Crisis Management Group” at the facility where my son goes to school. Dan leads the group that intervenes when a child is losing control and escalating into an irrational outburst. A child’s crisis cycle moves from baseline (all is good) to triggering (child is feeling bad about something, and looking for ways to deal, which often involves causing a problem so that he/she can act out against the bad feelings) to escalating (child’s frustrations and feelings are reaching a level beyond the child’s ability to cope) to outburst (an entirely irrational state of mind during which the child is beyond reason and out of control and unable to learn from the situation and develop new means of coping) to recovery (during which the child is calming, might be embarrassed by his/her behavior and is trying to make sense of what has happened. One of my triggers, causing my mood to slide from good to bad, from happy to manic or depressed (depending on the situation), is dealings with my son. I have a very hard time with his irrationality, disrespect, and antagonistic behavior when he is moving through this cycle of crisis. Just as learning to recognize my mind moving from stable toward OCD/mania is imperative to stabilizing my mood, learning ways to deal with my son is equally important. If I took nothing else from the seminar, there is a very simple lesson that was well worth the time: Remember that its all about the FEELINGS, not the behaviors caused by those feelings. My getting upset and responding to the behaviors is merely a continuance of the crisis cycle. I am the only person able, in most cases, to break the cycle by dealing on better ways with Mic during his crises. Solving the circumstances causing the bad feelings shortcuts the cycle and avoids the behaviors. Interestingly (to me anyway) is that the Chinese symbol for CRISIS is a combination of the Chinese symbols for DANGER and OPPORTUNITY. During crisis, the situation can become dangerous as the child escalates into an irrational state and possibly (depending on the child) becoming physically violent to him/herself or others. A crisis is also a great opportunity, handled correctly, for education, planting the seeds for coping tools to be developed, teaching life skills and building relationships.

Finally, Monday, I was running on my treadmill (over the last couple months, I have brought my racquetball game back toward its once tournament level proficiency and revived my running routine) and watching the Today show. I caught this segment with The Naked Chef (don’t ask why they call him that, he was clothed) for this oven fried chicken that looked great. I decided, mid-run, that I was going to fix it for my family. Understand, I don’t cook often. But when I cook, I cook big. So, this whole cut apart chicken was roasted/fried in the oven with olive oil, cherry tomatoes, white kidney beans, new potatoes, a diced red chili, basil and a clove of garlic separated into whatever parts of a garlic clove are called. I decided to up the ante a bit by adding asparagus tops (the rest of the asparagus stalk sucks), sliced mushrooms and an extra red chili. Mixed all together in a wok, it cooked for 90 minutes at 350 degrees. Then, you squeeze the meat out of the roasted garlic and dice is, and serve the whole thing with pasta. If I do say so myself, it was f**king awesome! My family hated me for the garlic, but that was the best part of the whole recipe. Roasted garlic is wonderfully flavorful, and horribly offensive. Anyway, me in the kitchen is a sure sign that things are going well.

Until I can think of more to say…

A good weekend!!!

2006-04-30T21:55:00.000-07:00

Weekends seem especially tough. The last few have been ok, not bad, but not as good as the week days have been. I think much of that has to do with my son being home. As I think I have mentioned, he is "schizo-affective" (a watered-down diagnosis for "psychotic schizophrenic" given to kids before an official schizophrenic diagnosis can be given (due to age alone.) I love him, but he is the most difficult person I have ever known to be around. Melissa handles him much better than I do. She is his guardian angel and, in return, he treats her worse than anyone else. He had his 13th birthday this weekend (and how I became the father of a teenager, I have no idea.) But, Melissa and I have agreed that he seems to have reached this plateau in respect to emotional maturity, learning capacity, and even physical maturing rate (he getting bigger, but not really maturing otherwise.) So, weekends are tough, for one reason, because there are many more conflicts involving my son (during the week the bus picks him up early and drops him off just prior to dinner), which adds mucho stress to the household. In addition, Melissa and I handle his behavior and fragility much differently, which causes some conflict between she and I..more stress.

This weekend was busy! Saturday, we had a huge "Moving Sale." Two weekends ago, Melissa and I spent the weekend going through and cleaning out the garage. From that, we began the "garage sale pile" on one side of the garage. Last weekend, we tackled the basement. Amazing what you accumulate in 10 years. Stuff I had forgotten ever existed! By the end of basement cleaning, an entire half of the garage (one car-space worth) was filled (and I mean FILLED) with garage sale crap. The other half was filled with boxes and stuff we are keeping, but need out of the house for purposes of showing the house to buyers. No cars in the garage. Friday was supposed to be day 1 of the garage sale. We have sun in Colorado 360 days/year, and it almost NEVER rains. Of course, it rained all day on Friday. So, we backed-off to a 1 day sale. I am amazed at the shit people will buy for a few dollars. I think we set a new world record for garage sale revenue (not really, but we did very well considering that we were selling stuff we hadn't seen in years.) We did almost $600 in total sales on about 6 hours and sold about 90% of the stuff. I was very pleased with that result. And I had an absolute ball selling my junk and talking to people and just having a good time. All of this is something that I was unable to do just 6 months ago due to mood issues. People we have known for 10 years keep commenting to Melissa things like "I don't think I've ever met "this" Mike." and "Gosh, its great to see Mike so happy and doing so well." Those things make all the effort and pain of treatment and the fight from there to here worth while.

Sunday morning, Maggie (daughter, 11) and I ran one of the bigger 5k running races in Colorado, the Cherry Creek Sneak. It was her first 5k. I ran this race on 1999, and ran the 5 mile event then. Its grown to over 30,000 runners now. I talked her into running with me because a long time training partner of mine and his 11 yr old daughter were running also. We knoew that the other daughter would be going slow and walking some of the race. I made sore Maggie knew that there was no pressure on going fast or not walking. I let her know that she would set the pace or we could run with Dan and his daughter. We had an absolute ball. After about a mile and a quarter, Maggie had had enough of the slower pace that the other two were keeping and wanted to go faster. She has a lot of her dad in her. :) We walked some short stretches. I suggested, during mile 2, that from the 2 mile marker until the end we try to run the rest non-stop. Maggie agreed. And then as we made the last turn to the finish, I suggested that, when she could see the "Finish" banner, we finish strong and sprint the finish. She left me in the dust and finished like a real competitor. I'm very proud of her effort, and I let her know that. As we walked through the "post-race party", which is a bunch of vendors handing out samples and free stuff and info, Maggie looked up at me and said "Dad, its great to have the "old dad" back again." I had to fight back the tears to tell her "Thanks, its great for me to have him back too."

The house is dangerously close to being market ready. Shooting for May 8 to go on the market. I can't wait. This "getting ready" is hard work!

Anyway, a great weekend with some significantly positive feedback on my mood changes. One day at a time. One GOOD day at a time. Later.

Still banging away...

2006-04-27T21:50:00.000-07:00

Things are still going strong and well. ItÂs been a while since my last post, and I apologize for not being more diligent. Getting a house ready to go on the market is hard work. In general, things have been going very well. My mood has remained consistent and good. I caught myself, this week, beginning to creep back toward overloading my expectations in relation to the amount of work I can get done in a dayÂs time, and setting my standards too high. I find that I slowly, over time, raise the bar a little at a time and donÂt realize IÂm doing it. I was fortunate to catch myself pushing too hard before it had a chance to side-track me. The Risperdal seems to be a big help as well (it just sort of mellows me just enough to keep me from setting the bar too high, and allows me to have the flexibility to change my expectations mid-day when necessary.) So, what, three weeks now since the last zap? And things are holding steady. Day-by-day, baby, day-by-day.

There are readers (and commentators) to this blog who seem to operate on some invalid assumptions about my memory and the return of some short term memory and cognitive ability. With respect to short term memory, in general, I can remember more unique events and periods from my history much more than the more ordinary events and times. Even right before and during treatment, there are many things and events and times I remember, such as my brief hospital stay just prior to ECT, the 1st consult with my ECT doc, the consult with her colleague who gave the 2nd opinion, and very vividly the wild suicidal ideation and serious intent to end my life which was going on just before I began ECT. Those types of things have never faded from my memory. ItÂs the less unique events and times and periods that are missing. Conversations with my wife, trips to Target or the grocery store, that sort of thing. I am a very ÂvisualÂ person. I remember things, almost exclusively, in mental images (I don't know if that makes sense to anyone, but it's the best way I have to explain how my memory has always worked. I have heard it referred to as one of many aspects of a "photographic" memory.) A great example is that I have no real memories, no mental images, from Thanksgiving or Christmas 2005. There are some very vague images, but nothing of any substance at all. We have a family Thanksgiving tradition which has been around since my kids were old enough to converse. We go around the table and each of us tells one thing about which we are thankful. Mine this year was being thankful to be able to spend Âone last ThanksgivingÂ with my family. I have no recollection of making that statement whatsoever. If not for Melissa telling me that that is what I said, I would never believe that I said something like that in the presence of my kids. I would never, in good mental health, have made such a statement. Looking back on such a statement now, with a clearer head and a more reasonable state of mind, it mustterrifyingbly terriying and confusing to be 11 or 12 and hear your father give thanks for "one last" holiday with his family. One of the many things to make up to my kids now that the "good" me is here again. I have my fingers permenantly crossed, hoping that he stays and keeps that "other me" away.

With respect to the return of any of the memory that I lost during treatment, there seems to be an assumption that none of that will ever come back. I know that many patients lose big blocks of memory and it never comes back. I'm sure that every ECT patient loses some memory that never returns. I expect that to happen to me and, yeah, I wish that reality had been made clearer to me before ECT began. But, again, from where I was (I refer to it as a "very bad place"), it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. I was going to die if something drastic didn't change in my life. It was a funeral or ECT. It was just that simple. The drastic change took place, and it had side effects that were not really clearly explained to me before-hand. Neither did I go to any trouble, at all, to ask about these side effects before-hand, even knowing that there were some possible negative possibilities. It could have been that I was too ill to inquire, or that I simply was scared enough already, and didn't want to know. I don't know which it was.

Nonetheless, the assumption that none of the memory that I lost will return is inaccurate. There are things coming back that were gone. There was a time when I couldnÂt get from my house to the place where my son is treated for his illness. Its about 30 minutes from my home, and there was a time when I had no idea how to get there. Now, I can drive myself there. There was a time when I couldnÂt recall the names of any songs I might hear on the radio. I would know and be able to sing along with the lyrics, but recalling the song title or the artist was outside of my capability. Now, I can recall those things (some of them take me a few minutes to get, but most of them I can recall now.) There are several other examples of my short term memory and general recall abilities that I could name that, at a time in the not so distant past, were not within my range of mental abilities. So, some of it, maybe not all but some, does return. And I expect it to continue, to some extent, to return as the last treatment becomes more and more distant.

I noticed a couple of times this week feeling confused about certain pretty discreet things. Directions to places, peoplesÂ names, song titles and artists, etc. I have decided that the confusion that I have felt results from what IS returning and is related to the holes in those cognitive abilities that still exist. Seems a bit backwards, but after some extensive time thinking about things, IÂm pretty sure thatÂs whatÂs going on.

ThatÂs it for now. Big ÂMoving SaleÂ tomorrow and Saturday. If you live close to me, please come buy some of our crap so we donÂt have to throw away perfectly good stuff (that we have no use for.) Later.

In response to comments by "Grandma" relating to "'Moving right Along'"

2006-04-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

This entry is in response to comments (a second round, at that) entered by "Grandma", a frequent contributor to this blog. Please see "Comments" to the entry entitled "Moving Right Along" from a couple days ago. Thanks for the comments, Grandma. I hope I can clear up your confusion.

The fact that I seem to take what you (and others) think personally is simply a product of the fact that I am sensitive about the idea that I will not, for a while at least, be the primary income earner for my family. I don’t like the feel of that scenario, but its what works for now. I still have to say that I’m happy with where I am compared to a year ago, but playing house-husband is an aspect that doesn’t sit well.

The sidebar I changed a while back, and only in response to several suggestions, from people I actually know and others I know only through the blog, that I turn my story into a book. I just sort of tossed it out there as a broad net in case someone in position to get that ball rolling with me happened to come along. Too much going on to actively spend much time in pursuit right now And, while I would be able to tell my story for such purposes, I could only do so because I have recorded so much with the blog. My memory, of the period from about mid November through the end of March, is seriously affected. The stats say that most patients experience transitory short-term memory loss. Some (I don’t recall the percentage, but its high) find that “most” regain the majority of that loss over time. The other side of that coin says that “most” have some short term memory loss that is permanent, and some that is temporary. The length of time that it takes to regain the short term memory that is affected varies from days to months. In addition, some patients experience memory loss which is longer term and may be temporary or permanent. For example, I find that there are areas of knowledge which I had from the mortgage business, things like how to run credit reports and how long interest rate locks last, are either really spotty or missing altogether. Things from farther back, like law concepts and memories from earlier years of my life, all seem to be in place land intact (as far as the things which I have attempted to recall go.) Whether things like the mortgage concepts will return over time, I don’t know. I would like them to, so I won’t say that I don’t care, but I would still trade those cognitive features for the improvement in mood I have received through ECT. If not for ECT, I have no doubt that those lost cognitive abilities would be irrelevant at this time. Dead men originate no mortgages. To recap, however, while I could tell my story, I couldn’t do so from memory. It would have to come from recorded history and the memory of friends and family.

Talk to me about your suggestion concerning being “more proactive. Do you think a simple call to the APA main office would do any good? I’ve never really done anything (official) with them, and I have no idea how open to the idea of using my history/experience they might be. As for charging for engagements, there’s a bridge I’ll cross when I reach it. I have a feeling that those fees are sort of “market” set.

On the book idea, I know I will have to be more aggressive there to make anything happen. I wrote a book (in a very early manic phase) and did much research and proposing to agents in search of someone to publish my work. I have no interest in writing another book. I’m too much of a perfectionist, and the effort would invariably result in an obsession (at minimum) and more likely a slippery slope to mania. So, if an opportunity presents itself, I’m interested. But, for now, otherwise I’ll pass. I suppose its true that the story will always be there to be told, if and when I decide to pursue telling it.

I don’t thank God every day for my wife. I won’t go into my anti-religious philosophy and my stance on God and his followers. But I will say, with certainly, that I am an extremely lucky man to have such a wonderful woman in my life, and to have found someone, when things were much better and we were much younger and well before I had any idea about her amazing fortitude. She has proven to be reliable, resilient, tenacious, loving (is a vast understatement), and amazing on most every definition of the word as it can relate to personality. She is much more than I could ever claim to deserve, and I can only hope that I can provide enough to her in return to keep her by my side in the good times and the bad to come. I can only hope that I will be as remarkable for her if she ever needs me in that capacity as she has been for me.

No, my doctor didn’t go into much detail about the impact ECT would have on my ability to work and how long it might make me unable to carry out the types of work I am accustomed to. At the time, that topic wasn’t relevant. I was on a very short road to death, and life, regardless of incapacity to work, was my doc’s goal as opposed to the very certain and soon to be alternative. Neither my wife nor I had a clear picture of what life was going to be like after ECT, but as long as mentally it was better than things were before, we were of the opinion that ECT was worth the effort. We both are still of that belief, and I think, from a fully informed perspective, there is little argument that can be made with any success. I am, as you said, blessed, and very lucky to (a) be alive and feeling better and (b) in the company of such a wonderful person as Melissa. Melissa, I know you read this blog from time to time. I thank you face to face, but no matter how often I say the words, it will never be enough to express my gratitude for your strength and support. I love you.

So, 2 solid good weeks on the mental health front, and counting. Today was a test, created by my mentally ill son’s behavior (3 day weekends are very tough for him, and a bitch for us all.) But I turned around what was quickly becoming a “bad” day and made a pretty good day out of a bad start. I’m happy with where I am, and I look forward to tomorrow. Something that I never did just 4 short months ago.

Thank you for your continued comments, Grandma. Always thought provoking, and a welcome addition to this blog. I hope you continue to express yourself in this forum. Take care.

"Moving" right along

2006-04-19T21:23:00.000-07:00

Last week, having two treatments as a way of getting my feet back on the ground after a "rough patch" following 3 weeks with no treatments, was rough. It seems that the more treatments I have, now, with each one, they hit a little harder and do a little more significant "damage". Someone asked me, Sunday, if I had to make my decision to go the ECT route again, if I would make the same decision. My answer was a resounding "yes." I still stand on the concept that I would rather be happy to be alive and enjoying my world (most days), even if a little less bright than I was 6 months ago, than to have that small amount of lost cognitive ability back, but wish that I was dead and living in complete misery day after day.

In the last couple of weeks, I have figured out that my manic or obsessive tendencies appear to drive me into depressive days. I have also realized that I am not very able, on my own, to control those manic or obsessive tendencies. As hard as I try, they seem to find my weak spots and creep into my world. But, with the use of Risperdal, which I have only been using for about a week and a half, I have had very good luck, on a very small dose, in maintaining a much more laid back, less driven approach to my world. I'm still driven, and I still don't like being idle and getting nothing done or having nothing to do, but I am much more able to maintain a realistic pace and accept falling short of my stated goals for a day if things come up or if things simply take longer than I had at first estimated. Said another way, I'm still getting a lot of "work" done each day, but I'm not bothered by the fact that I might get tasks A through D done, and done well, even though I had planned to get A through F done today when the day began. With working on getting our home ready to go on the market, there is NO SHORTAGE of things to get done.

I have also discovered that, along with the manic tendencies, the other trigger for my depressive episodes is worries about financial matters. I come from a history of making more than enough money to live life doing whatever it is we wanted to do, with money left over. Now, I'm contributing very little financially while I work on getting my mental health back (and while I fight with Social Security and with my Long Term Disability Insurance criminals.) That difference causes me tremendous stress, if I allow it to and if I think too much about it. I'm relatively convinced that, without financial worries and the manic tendencies, my depressive episodes would be all but gone completely. I have found a way of reasonably managing the mania, and with planning a move from our current home to a home much closer to family (and a much lower cost of living), managing the financial worries has taken a turn much for the better.

As a result, this week has been tremendous. Yesterday, I played a really shitty racquetball match (no concentration, which I'm blaming on the 2 treatments last week), and then I volunteered at my daughter's school. They participate in this social sciences project called "Ameritowne" for which they decide on jobs that they would like to apply for in this massive role playing production. They draft resumes and cover letters, fill out applications and get letters of reference, and then they interview for the jobs they have chosen. I was one of the interviewers. It was a ton of fun. I can't help thinking back to when I was 11, and how I would have handled interviewing for a job in this situation. I was shy and quiet and would have been a nervous wreck. The kids I met with were great, prepared, most of them were calm and confident. It was a great experience. It is so GREAT being able to participate in school activities like this with my daughter (she's a great kid and I'm really proud of her and who she is.)

So, 4 great days in a row, very socially active, very productive from a "work" (on the house) standpoint, good relationship interaction with wife and kids. In fact, my wife, today in a conversation with one of our "friends" (parenthesis indicative of the fact that these are people who were friends as long as everything in life was running smoothly, but people who were nowhere to be found when things got tough and real "friends" would have been nice to have around), was asked if things were going ok between she and I. Her answer was "things are better now than they have been in years, and they are on track to continue to get better." I concur. Things may be different and changing still from where they once were, but they are changing to keep up with life circumstances, and to keep everyone in good stead and happy as the cards continue to be dealt and the hand life has dealt us continues to evolve. You can ignore the ever evolving circumstances of life and fight to keep everything in life "just like its always been." Or you can accept that life changes, and that your approach to life and the way you live it had better change along with it if you expect to have a shot at happiness and fulfillment. Better happy and rolling with the punches than holding your ground and miserable.

Life consists, at present, of painting and getting my home ready to sell (which I wouldn't have been able to do with any endurance in the condition I enjoyed just prior to ECT), looking at property and the types of things available in the category of houses we are interested in in NW Arkansas (I'm amazed at what we can get for the money we want to spend there. The difference between here and there is crazy!), and keeping up my 6 days a week exercise regimen (running and weights 3 days/week and racquetball 3 days/week.) Life is good.

Rock on!

Have I really done this 28 times???

2006-04-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

Treatment #28 really hit me hard. My doc said she wanted to spread treatments back out to every 3 weeks or so, and that I might have some rough times between, but to use the Risperadal and make it through them. Insurance only authorized 3 more treatments at Porter (1 of which I did Friday as #28), and then I would have to start going to Centennial Peaks. Not sure I could use another provider comfortably at this point.

I think IÂm starting to see a harder hit from the treatments now, which is probably equivalent to the ÂdamageÂ others have talked about. Seems that after ÂXÂ number of treatments, while subsequent treatments might have a therapeutic effect, they may also begin to cause more harm than good. This one really left me confused and lost. I got home and couldnÂt remember how to use the remote control for the TV at first. Strange.

I can say for certain that, after 28 treatments, I feel infinitely better than I did before I started. I have also learned a lot about my illness and where my trigger points are. One thing IÂve learned is that the manic or obsessive side leads to the depressive side. In other words, manic episodes or becoming obsessed with something and letting that obsession or mania dictate my day, more often than not, leads to a very depressive day the following day. Using Risperadal, I can head off those manic episodes, it seems, and work at whatever IÂm doing in a more reasonable fashion. Maintaining control of my work habits and focus allows me, most of the time, to avoid feeling depressed the following day (or days).

I have also discovered that, if not for financial concerns (worries about money), there would be few, if any, Âbad daysÂ in the last several months (since ECT began to make me feel better.) While manic episodes lead to depression, there seems to be a required financial concern ingredient as well. Without the mania combined with worry about money, the depressed days donÂt seem to come, or at least donÂt come with the ferocity that they might otherwise have.

We set a goal of May 15 to have our home ready to go on the market. In the less than a week since we made that decision, we have been working day and night to get things ready. It pisses me off that we have lived here for 10 years and not done some of the ÂupkeepÂ things we are doing now to get the house ready to sell. In the next house, these little things like painting and cleaning and fixing doors and cabinets are things that I will remember to do to keep the house in good shape for our enjoyment, instead of making the house better for a buyer.

Went to a friends home today for Easter lunch. There were several other families there as well. There was one family I had never met. We wound up at a table with them for lunch (not by accident, I later found out.) As it turns out, the gentleman of this other house also suffers from depression, is not currently working, has a wife who is supporting the household at present, and has a son in my daughter's class. It was amazing how much we have in common, and how similar our situations, stresses and realities are. I had a great 2 hour conversation with "George", some of the time with our wives involved, and some without. George doesn't enjoy the manic side of the ride, but struggles with chronic, recurring clinical depression. He, too, has tried most of the anti-depressants (both MAOI and SSRI families). His shrink has mentioned ECT, but until today, George hadn't gotten much real information on the treatment. Thanks to many of the people who read this blog and contribute regularly, my knowledge extends far beyond my own experience. While I was able to relate my positive experiences with ECT, I was sure to let him know that I have many "friends" who have been treated, both people I've met through this blog and at the hospital, and not alcompletelyad comp0letley positive things to say about the treatment. It was simoply amazing how much there is that he and I see the same way, how many things that we share in focus and perspective, and how many trials, worries and motivators he and I share. George, if you find yourself here, reading this blog, please know that I enjoyed our conversation very much, I would be glad to talk again at your convenience, and I'm always here for support should you find yourself in need. I am very open about my illness, I find that sharing with others is a great way to learn about myself, and I encourage everyone afflicted with depression or bipolar disorder to take an active role in educating others. If not for my own illness, I would likely be one of those people that think depression is "all in your head" and an affliction of the weak, to be overcome by a positive mental attitude. Being a sufferer if the illness, myself, I have learned (the hard way) that depression is much more than a weakness. It is an organic illness that needs to be aggressively treated by those it afflicts, and that it is nothing to be ashamed of or to hide from those around you. One of the best ways to battle this illness is to educate those that don't suffer from it, and in doing so, educate yourself about your own mind and how it works.

Take care guys. Reach out and lend a hand to someone you know, today, who suffers from a mental illness. Show him/her that someone understands and cares about them. A little effort goes a long way in that arena. I look forward to tomorrow, and the information it holds about where my future leads.

Controlled, but busy say

2006-04-13T16:20:00.000-07:00

My doc prescribed Risperdal, which is an atypical antipsychotic and used to treat anxiety, obsession and mania. She told me to take it up to 3 times a day to combat my tendency to overwork and push too hard on a particular project, which generally leads to a down day the next day. Risperdal scares me. My son was on it for a while and it made him eat like he was starving all the time (like the "munchies" from smoking pot.)

The first time I took Risperdal, it made me dizzy and queasy. That didn't last long, but long enough to remember. It does, however, make me a little more laid back about getting things done and keeps me from trying to cram more and more into my day. Today, the 2nd time I took it, I went straight to work painting inside my house and didn't notice any dizziness. I worked hard all day painting, but never got that "OMG, I have to get this done today, and I also have to get that done, and that and that." Just a nice easy pace, got done what I could (before I ran out of paint.) Of course, Melissa came in after I was nearly finished and decided she didn't like the color, but that's another tale.

Why is it that we live in a house for 10 years and only when we get ready to sell do we paint and fix things and replace light switches and outlet covers? This place is going to look great by the time it hits the market, and I won't get to live here to enjoy it!

I'm scheduled for treatment tomorrow at 10:30. 2 this week just to get things back in line. I guess I'll get them while insurance is still paying for them. I'm bound to get rejected sooner than later.

Back to the Tracks

2006-04-11T17:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was treatment #27. Damn. If you had told me there would be 27 of these when I started, I'd have laughed at you. Now, the only thing funny is that it seems that I have to keep going to keep feeling better. I woke up in Recovery yesterday sitting upright in my bed with a nurse walking my way saying "Hi, Mike. How are you feeling?" It was Chris, my favorite Recovery nurse. "Fine, [couldn't remember her name right away], but I wish they would get my treatment over-with." I never know where I am when I wake up in Recovery.

After #27, I certainly feel better, a little scattered today, but not depressed. Looking at the summary of good vs bad days over the last 3 weeks I did for my doc, I should have seen things slipping sooner. I think I didn't see it because I didn't to. I didn't want to think that the "better" wasn't holding. But my summary clearly showed the little depressive episodes getting deeper and closer together.

Its tough trying to balance having a limited number of psych visits per calendar year, knowing that your "employer", with whom your short-term disability has now expired, will be cutting me off from an insurance perspective soon, my long-term disability just got denied, and who knows how long SSDI might take to get approved. If I need to keep going to stay better, there is a problem that will soon arise.

Much of the fodder for the depressive dips has been financial and employment driven. I know I'm not making much, if any, money right now. Melissa is a teacher. So, our life-line is limited if I don't get back to work. Working on job applications and interviewing has given me a good sample of my stress tolerance at present. Everyone keeps telling me to slow down and to worry about getting better and not about getting back to work. But HOW an I supposed to do those things knowing that the life-line is limited unless someone makes money, and my family is relying on ME to do that (at least it doesn't seem that anyone else is in position to extend that life-line.) "Slow down, but hurry up!"

So, Melissa and I have made a decision of which I never would have thought I would be this open and accepting. There are still some questions to answer, but it seems like it just might be better for all of us. We are talking about relocating to NW Arkansas, where Melissa's family is. Big move from Denver to Arkansas. I know because I've made that move in the reverse order. But for the equity we have in this house (we've been here 10 years in a flaming housing market) we can buy basically the same house in NW AR and have less than half the mortgage payment. Cost of living is astonishingly lower there than it is here. The pace of life is slower too, which will probably be good for me and Mic. And then there is family to support Melissa. She can't possibly keep up the pace she's kept for the last several years forever without some help. The "community" is much smaller and her family is plenty connected to get us whatever employment we need to make things work.

The big questions surround mental health services for both Mic and for me. I'm sure ECT won't be available in the immediate area, but Tulsa is 3 hours away and Little Rock is 3. By the time we move, I would hope to be down to "maintenance" treatments, or none at all. Maybe, even, with the stress of money and pace of life diminished, the anxiety, mania and depression will go with them. No answers yet. But we met with our realtors today and will start staging the house for sale right away. If we are going, we want to be moved by the start of school in the fall. And if we aren't going, then we have to figure out what options we have (which, at this point, do NOT seem bountiful.)

It will take, in any event, a mind in better health than I had the past weekend in order to get a home ready to sell. Amazing how much SHIT you accumulate over 10 years with 2 kids and a wife who is absolutely purse and shoe crazy (albeit otherwise amazing.) I'll keep you posted. I think I'm going in for treatment again on Friday just to assure a solid weekend (Even if I am relatively stupid for Saturday...its just packing old crap into boxes and deciding to FINALLY throw some stuff away...) I drift between being excited about "starting over" in a new setting and a new home, and being very very sad and apprehensive about leaving the few people here with whom I have stayed close through my illness. But I am sure, nonetheless, that NW Arkansas can use some outspoken advocates for the mentally ill!

Hang in there

Black and White

2006-04-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 08, 2006

As different as black and white.

Today started pretty good. A little hurried, but pretty good from the mood perspective. I tried to squeeze too much in before leaving to play racquetball, and made myself late getting to the courts. Not an intelligent way to start, and a good way to negate a good start.

I was playing in a racquetball “shuttle” this morning, which is an organized weekly event (actually, there are 5 of them throughout the week, but Saturday morning is the most popular one.) There are 8 courts, numbered, of course, 1 through 8. 16 people can sign-up to play. The shuttle consists of 5 rounds of 15 minutes (five 15 minute games.) A buzzer sounds at the end of each round. Each player is assigned a court in which to begin, #1 being the lowest court and #8 being highest. Players are assigned to courts based on relative ability. At the end of each round, the winning player moves up a court, and the loser moves down. Nice arrangement because you are always playing someone new. After 7:30 on the morning of the shuttle, you can call the rec center and sign-up. On Saturday mornings, if AT 7:30 you aren’t calling, hanging up, hitting redial and re-calling, over and over until you get through, you don’t make the list of the first 16 people to call-in. Tough luck. Sometimes, even if you DO start right at 7:30, you still don’t make it.

Back, five years ago, when I played 3 or 4 times a week, Saturday mornings drew a pretty tough crowd. Better players on average than any other shuttle. Now, I can’t believe the caliber of players showing up on Saturdays! I used to never play below court 4 or 5. Now, granted, I’m still working on getting my game back, but its coming along pretty well. I made it to court 3 today, but courts 3 and up were occupied by solid “A” players.

Anyway, being late, I had to rush, rush, rush to get my shoes on, pick a racquet, find a glove, find a ball and a sweatband and a headband (I shave my head, and sweat a lot, which makes a headband or bandana a must!) So, I got the to court pretty frazzled for my first round. NOT the way to begin. My first 2 rounds were terrible. No focus, no concentration, very anxious, missing shots, choosing shots poorly. All because I over-booked my morning and was late. It took me until the third round to have any game at all (but when I found it, I FOUND it.)

When I got home, my mood was good. I showered and did some yard work. I was working from a schedule for the day that I had put together, trying hard to develop some discipline concerning over-booking my days and setting myself up for bad days. Things seemed to be going ok, but I couldn’t shake completely that anxiety that I created for myself this morning.

Things cruised along ok until, about 2:30, Melissa and were driving along, talking about money, the future, stuff people talk about. My mind kept returning to the fact that I’m not working, not making any money, not yet getting any disability compensation from either my LTD or SSDI. None of that sits well with me on my best days. It is hard being “ok” with me when I’m not supporting my family. Add the fact that Melissa’s job is a school year job and doesn’t go through the summer (nor does the income.) We have family that’s been helping us out some, and that doesn’t work well for me either. If I give it too much thought, it just doesn’t work well for me that I’m not contributing more than I am. Today, I guess I gave it too much thought. My mood fell like a skydiver without a parachute.

In a matter of minutes, 30 or 40, all I could think about was that so many things would be better for my family if I wasn’t here. They would have money (big life insurance), they could sell the house, buy a home closer to Melissa’s family with the equity from this one (which probably would have happened if not for me, already, and is even harder to do given that the mental health system in northwest Arkansas isn’t exactly top notch), Melissa could stop worrying about me and focus on helping Mic, and everyone could just get on with their lives and stop wondering "How's dad going to be today?" I couldn’t get it out of my head, and those thoughts tainted everything else. Everyone I see, in public, on magazine covers, everywhere, I think “Oh, they can live comfortably because they have a job and have an income.”

I have become convinced that I have waited too long between treatments. And now the doubts have started concerning whether this whole fight was worth the effort, worth what I continue to put my family through. Today, taking what seems to be “the inevitable step” just seems more and more the obvious choice the longer these "quick little sepressions" go one. Today, I even got to enjoy the mental images (again and again) of myself sitting in the floor of the shower, having drained my blood through slashed wrists (not the way I had considered ending my life in the past…don’t know where it came from.) Ugh!

I asked Melissa, when she noticed a tear running down my face as we drove along, “Things HAVE been better than they have the last two weeks, haven’t they?” In these quick depressions, I can so easily convince myself that I have never really been better, that it was a mask, just me WANTING to be better, and then reality returns.

I know, down deep, that things have been better until a couple of weeks ago, and slowly these quick but deep depressions are becoming more frequent. Too much time between treatments? Too much effort for the return I’m getting? Too much to ask of my family? Today, I can’t answer those questions. I can just fight my way through the evening, medicate the mood, and hope tomorrow is better. But today, that seems to be becoming a tired routine.

Question for my fellow sufferers out there: Do you talk to yourself, and repeat the same things, same phrases, over and over? I have just really noticed it lately, but I know I’ve been doing it for quite a while (like, years.) I can’t put my finger on what kinds of things it is, but its when I’m alone and usually when I’m working on something, and imagining a conversation with someone else. Talking to myself is neurotic enough. But I repeat sentences over and over, maybe 5 or 6 times each, and then move on to the next one. Anyone else do this?

Oh, icing on my cake! I just got word that my Long Term Disability has been denied by The Hartford. If you are or are considering buying LTD from The Hartford, don’t waste your money. They are denying on a “pre-existing condition” basis. The DEPRESSION was pre-existing, and I worked through it. The ECT treatment was not pre-existing and is the reason I can’t work. I smell a lawyer battle coming up! Melissa was upset, I was upset, Mic was being his “me, me, me” self, and then there is poor Maggie. Stoic, who must be wondering, worrying “What the hell is going on?” but not wanting to ask, bottling it up. What toll is this all taking on her? She came to me three times tonight, [put her arms around me and hugged me tight, and said “I love you, Daddy. Everything is going to be ok.” Melissa and I talked about ways to cut living costs, selling the car that is financed and keeping the one that’s paid for and the motorcycle, selling the house (which won’t do any good if we plan to stay in this city because of the housing market condition…a smaller house would cost us just as much/month as this one.), moving to NW Arkansas (where her family is and the cost of living is much lower), lowering cable, cell phone and other “optional” expenditures.

All of this, without a doubt, put my day over the top. I sat in the base of the shower in the hot water, in tears, figuring out how I would sit, what I would use, and where I would make the incisions when it comes to that time. Not yet…game’s not over yet. But I will NOT be the cause of my wife or kids going without the things they need. I simply can’t live with that. But there is still time on the clock, and a little fight left in my soul.

I have had countless people tell me that my story is book material, and that I should write a book. They are probably very correct. And there is so much more to this story which I have tucked away in a journal which is prequel to this blog. But I don’t know if time or energy is going to allow the story to be told book form. If any author, publisher, agent or anyone else capable of helping get the story published is reading, please contact me. But do it quickly. I don’t know how long I will be able to tell the “rest of the story.”

A Stroll Down Mania Lane

2006-04-06T21:31:00.000-07:00

I wrote a couple of days ago about my bad habit, part of my personality, that requires me to push too hard, to be too driven, at whatever it is that I do. I’ve always been this way, and I know that to be true. Always “One more time”, or “just a little higher” or “a little faster”, or “just get one more thing done”, or “just one more mile.” Its always been there. And it is, in part, what made me as successful as I was. I mean, I went from being a kid from a little town in Arkansas (side story: my son asked the other night “Dad, did you have McDonalds when you were little?” Daughter: “Duh, McDonalds has been around forever!” Dad: “Yeah, guys, but we didn’t have one in MY hometown until I was about 12, and it was a big deal when we got one.”) to being one of the top two attorneys in-house for a large national corporation in Denver, living large, making a strong 6 figures, wearing tailored suits and the whole bit. I owe that to this personality trait. I also owe a large part of my current status to the same trait. I guess you take the bad with the good?

It seems, when I was younger, I could drive myself, create all of this stress for myself, and just deal with it. I loved life in the pressure cooker. I used to get up at 5:00 to be at the gym by 5:45 for an hour treadmill run and enough time to go to Einstein Bagels and grab breakfast and coffee and be in my office by 7:30 for a 10 hour day. Its how I lived, and I lived for it.

That same drive, that same need to press things all the time, now is a problem. As I look at this whole issue, I have identified what I think is a nice, smooth continuum. It begins with (a) Interest in something, then (b) Enthusiasm, (c) Obsessive-Compulsive Interest (I am calmed by doing the activity or thing of interest, but can’t stop thinking about it when I’m not doing it), and then to (d) Manic (I can’t keep from doing the thing of interest, and I take it way too far and cause problems in other areas of my life, before ultimately dropping the interest altogether and moving to something else.) And the difficult part is, I can’t see the separation between stages of this continuum. What begins innocently enough as a little hobby becomes this manic frenzy which is controlling my life, but it doesn’t look that way to me at the time. I usually can’t figure out why everyone is on my back about my “interest” in something. I only see the reality of the situation when I look back on things and have the “Ohmigod!” epiphany (and usually feel embarrassed that I acted the way I did.)

A lot of the activities and things of interest I’m thinking of are things that I usually do while I’m watching TV at night with my family. More of that need to be busy and productive all the time. Its painful for me to just sit there and do nothing, so I find somewhat passive activities. An example is my collecting of the “state” quarters. Started innocently. I bought this cool folding rigid cardboard map of the US with a little spot for each quarter, and I planned to fill it with uncirculated quarters as they came out. I knew it would take several years to get it filed, because they were coming out 5 or 6 a year. Then, I had to have a quarter from each mint from each state. Ok, still not over the top, maybe. Then, I needed a roll of each quarter, but I dropped the “uncirculated” requirement (too hard?). Then, of course, I needed a roll of each quarter from each mint. Then (and this is while I owned my coffee business, which is another mania altogether), I had access to this great flow of quarters because of the cash exchange at the business. So, soon, it became a manic collection of all quarters. I kept them all and rolled them, and kept the rolls. I had a little more than $1500 in rolled quarters in a cabinet in the study of my house.

Soon, the quarter crazy wore off, as all manic phases seem to do. Next, I became convinced that our economy was growing so aggressively that, soon, pennies would no longer be minted, which would make then a collectors item (because, you know, there are only 100 billion pennies in circulation!). So, I started collecting pennies. Soon, I was separating my pennies by year, and rolling them in full rolls based on mint year. Then, of course, I progressed to mint year AND by mint. I still have the pennies I collected (which, in itself, is a bit disturbing.) There are, no kidding, 260 rolls of pennies in the same cabinet in which I kept the quarters.

The penny craze didn’t really fade, it grew into a “coin” craze. I reached a point where I refused to recirculate, to spend, any coins. I paid for things with bills only, and emptied all of the coins from my pockets at the end of the day into a jar. Once in a while, the jar got rolled, and I kept all of the rolls. I had thousands of dollars in rolled coins stashed away. Looking back on the whole thing now, I can see how the “hobby” moved from hobby to obsessive to manic, but at the time, it all just seemed like good fun and a worthwhile, albeit quirky, hobby.

There was also, while I owned my coffee business, a time, after I first recognized that things were going astray in my head, that I decided to learn to knit. Next to my shop was a knitting shop. I had the owner teach me. What began as something fun to do became the only thing I WOULD do. I did it while at the coffee shop, while at home, in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, and I even remember going to Las Vegas for a marathon and making my wife drive most of the way so I could knit. Keep in mind that I’m just short of 6’2” tall and weighed, then, about 225. Not your typical hard-core knitter! Over the course of 6 or 8 months, I knitted 6 pairs of socks and “slippers” (my son still wears his, despite them being too small and full of holes), a 7 foot long Harry Potter style red and yellow scarf, and a XXL sweater for myself (I was actually pretty good, but that’s beside the point and related to my “perfectionist” aspects.) Then, as quickly as it arrived, it was over. I see my knitting bag every once in a while and think “I wonder if I’ll ever do that again?” I’m sure I don’t even remember how.

There was a jigsaw puzzle phase, a teaching myself Spanish phase (my mortgage branch manager said, one day “We need a loan officer that speaks Spanish.”), a scuba phase (I know I will dive again, and probably soon, but it became obsessive, if not manic, last summer, increasing my certification through the “Rescue Diver” level), a learning guitar phase, study of the Tao philosophy and use of Tao stones, meditation, tie dye (big time manic), and too many others to name (or remember.) The coffee business began with a passive and analytical approach to writing a business plan, just to see if I could find financing and progressed to a manic drive to get construction finished. This drive to finish construction led to my first real anxiety break, and was the first time I sought help.

My thoughts on “over-drive” earlier this week sparked memories of all of these little manic runs. I look back on them and laugh, but at the same time, inside somewhere, they are so painful. Painful because I know, as easily as they happened last time, they could happen again and I wouldn’t know it was happening. When I’m depressed, I usually recognize my mood for what it is. When I’m manic, I have no clue. And then there is the difficulty of knowing where the line is, where something crosses from hobby to OCD to manic. It’s such a blurry line that I can’t see the separation until its way too late. In addition to those interests which obviously (now) went too far, there are other collections and hobbies and interests that became part of my life, became important to me, but may or may not have risen to an unacceptable level. Examples include a shot glass collection with hundreds of glasses included, race numbers from running and triathlon races (I have saved every number “bib” I’ve ever worn), completion of video game series (i.e. I have played and finished all of the “Jak and Daxter”, “Ratchet & Clank”, and several other game which include multiple games in the series), and collection of complete movie and TV series sets (I have all of the Star Wars DVDs and all of the South Park seasons.) The same occurs with physical pursuits. Endurance running and swimming began as a way to lose weight and achieve some “me” time, and became, over a lengthy period of time, very rigid, mandatory training regimens which caused great stress and anxiety if interrupted. 6 marathons, a dozen or more half-marathons, 2 half iron man triathlons, and endurance swims of 14 and 20 miles respectively resulted, but resulted from activities which might not have been the product of a healthy mind (some would argue that causing that sort of pain upon one’s self is never the product of a healthy mind. Hehe.)

I thought that this gate to mania had only been opened as my illness began to manifest, 6 or 7 years ago. I thought that, until that time, I was able to maintain control of things and know when enough was enough. Starting in 1996 and continuing into 1997, I wrote a serial killer crime novel entitled “Trail of Madness.” It is about 400 pages in length and, according to all that have read it, pretty good. Never published simply because I ran into a point in my life when I didn’t have the time or energy to pursue that end. But, I read and edited, and read and edited that damned thing a dozen times if I did it one time. I couldn’t call it “good enough.” Looking back now, no question that it was an OCD pursuit if not manic.

Again, being “better” allows recognition of many things resulting from the days when my illness was much worse. That recognition, in many cases, causes more work in healing, getting past and understanding my behavior of the past.

Thanks for reading and for your comments. When I began writing this blog, it was intended as merely a way to keep friends and family informed, and to document times which I knew I might not remember very well. It has become much more.

Judge Not...

2006-04-06T10:29:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, April 5, 2006

Those of you that know me, and those that have spent any time reading this blog, know that I am not a religious person. I never have been, and likely never will be. For that reason, when Melissa brought me a copy of a sermon written by the minister of the Methodist church that she and the kids attend, I was reticent to read it. The Sermon was titled “Judge not: Depression, Suicide and Compassion” (and is copyrighted to Harvey C. Martz, 2001.) For the sake of education, I did read it. I don’t know what I expected, but what I got was something much different.

The Bible teaches (Matthew 7: 1-5) “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged…” and the sermon was, actually, very full of compassion and understanding. Dr. Martz, it appears is well read in the works of Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison (“An Unquiet Mind”, and excellent picture of manic depressive illness) and the like, and knowledgeable concerning the wide range of famous people who have been effected by depression or bi-polar illness ( Phil Graham [Washington Post publisher], Edna St. Vincent Millay, William Styron, Vincent van Gogh, Albert Camus, explorer Meriwether Lewis, Abraham Lincoln, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Ludwig Beethoven, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and I could go on and on. It can be argued that our world, as we know it, was shaped by great people suffering tremendous pain resulting from mental illness. Think of the contributions they might have made if treated for their illnesses.

Dr. Martz’s sermon made the point that 17 million Americans (of 298,458,535 total Americans, or 5.7%) each year experience serious depression (either situational or chronic) and less than half of those seek help, and that 1 in 5 adults will experience a period of depression at some time in their lives. Dr. Martz stressed that those suffering from depression often (as the statistics bear out) have the courage, energy, motivation or combination of these things to seek the help they need. Many of these people decide that the only way to end their pain is by ending their lives, a conclusion that, to a rationale and well mind, usually simply isn’t true. The sermon encouraged people to reach out to those that they know that are mentally ill and help them get the help that they need, be that medication, therapy or some combination thereof.

My pleasant surprise in reading Dr. Martz’s work was that, like many works I have read on mental illness by “people of faith”, Dr. Martz spoke of Jesus and God and turning to faith in times of crisis, but he recognized that mental illness is a biological problem, not a moral flaw or character issue, and not a problem that prayer alone is going to solve. He suggested that medication and/or psychotherapy might be God’s way of sending the help that those seeking God’s help have requested.

I wish everyone had the compassion and open-mindedness that Dr. Martz exhibits in his sermon. Even those that view the world from different perspectives need to recognize mental illness, situational cases aside, as something that actually exists, its always been here, ignoring or denying it won’t make it go away, and the only way to make the matter better is by addressing the problem for what it is: A biological deficit, not unlike diabetes or cancer, which needs treatment, in most cases, to heal.

Situations like chronic depression and other illnesses have a filtering effect. They show you who your real “friends” are, and who are your “friends” as long as its convenient. I have some great friends, who have been by me and supported me through the ups and downs of my fight with bipolar disorder. Some of them have already been in similar situations, needing the support of friends to get through hard times, and I can only hope I have been there for them like they were for me.

And then there are the “friends”, a couple of which were seated right beside Melissa during this sermon, who vanish in the face of adversity. The people in my social circle are coming to an age where many, if not most, will run into crisis of some sort (illness, death of loved ones, etc.) at some time. That’s just life. I hope that the “friends” that have vanished from my life have friends of higher quality then they have been, themselves. I hope they are not judged, as they have judged.

Finally, the sermon cites Psalm 13, which in part reads:

“How long O Lord will you forget me?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I have pain in my soul
And have sorrow in my heart all day long?
Answer me Lord, give light to my eyes,
Or I will sleep the sleep of death.”

That passage brought tears to my eyes (and it is trying to do so now, too.) I can’t even hazard a guess at how many times I have found myself in that exact place, feeling forgotten, miserable, and that things either had to get better immediately, or they had to end altogether. So far, I have been fortunate to have the support of friends to guide me through. If left to my own devices, I would have never found my way out of that darkness. Remember, there is always a better day tomorrow waiting on you, there is always help if you seek it, and there is always an alternative to taking that tragic and irreversible step of suicide.

A Revelation of Human Nature

2006-04-04T18:00:00.000-07:00

Warning: This qualifies as a long blog entry and may have serious side effects such as boredom and drowsiness. Consult your physician before reading.

I think I stumbled onto something today. I think I know why Sunday was bad, and I think it was a direct result of Saturday. You see, I have this part of my nature, this character feature, and I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, which requires me to push, push, push at whatever it is I’m doing. It might be work, or home projects, or training for marathons or endurance swims, but whatever my task, the standards I set for myself are always ridiculously high, and failing to reach them is just unacceptable. All or nothing: I either reach the goals I set for whatever it is I’m doing, of the whole day or project is a failure.

Then, there is the fact that I “need” to be busy at something all the time. Melissa asked me yesterday, “Do you think you could sit down, during the middle of the day, and watch a TV show?” And, as silly as this sounds, to me, that’s almost unthinkable. Unless I’m sick or something, leisure time is limited to an hour or so just before I go to bed. Every other minute of the day has to be productive in some way, and there is always room to squeeze one more thing into today’s list of things to get done.

Saturday, I was working on my baseboard project. I was working in the family room, which is where everyone sort of gathers in the evening to watch TV or whatever. I needed to pull all of the furniture away from the walls, of course, to get to the baseboards. I had to move the couch and the entertainment center (which holds the TV) and the recliner and everything else, and all of this furniture movement made the room unusable as we normally use it in the evening. So, of course, the family room had to be started and finished in one day. So, Saturday, I worked my ass off moving furniture, measuring all of the boards I needed to cut, measuring the cutting all of the pieces of baseboard, removing the old baseboards, installing the new ones, caulking the tops and corners, painting, and moving the furniture back. And, while I was at it, I noticed how dusty and a mess behind the entertainment center was. Normally, you can’t get back there to clean. The thing weighs probably 400 pounds and is just barely mobile at all (and for those of you that don’t know me, I’m a big fella.) Then, there are the cords from the TV, cable box, stereo, CD player, DVD player, etc. They were a tangled mess (an OCD nightmare.) So, I had to clean back there, and, using little black cable ties, I had to bundle all of the cords and make everything nice and tidy.

I didn’t start this “project” until about 11:00, no break for lunch, and Melissa had to make me quit at dinner time. Now, any reasonable person would have seen this as WAY TOO MUCH WORK for one person in one day. But Mike, not knowing how to limit what he could reasonably get done in one day, told himself that he had to squeeze it all in in one afternoon. I worked as hard and as fast as I could from 11:00 to 6:30. My family told me, Saturday night, that I had been pretty grumpy all day long, and that they had tried to give me my space (“stay out of the line of fire.”) I dismissed the comments as “how they viewed my “focus” on the project.” In retrospect, however, I’m sure they were right. I was stressed to the hilt and I’m sure I was grumpy isolated and short tempered. But the crazy part was, I was the only one applying the pressure which was causing the stress. It was my ridiculous standards that were causing the pressure. Now, I always push too hard, but not THIS hard. Saturday was exceptional. And I am trying, in accordance with my doc’s instructions, to take things slower, not go so fast, give your mind time to heal.

When I am depressed, I’ve noticed that I feel like I have to do more, work harder and longer in order to feel worthy. Or maybe its self-punishment, I don’t know. But now I’m the harder I push, the more anxiety I create which results in more depression, which results in me pushing harder to feed the depression. A circular, downward spiral.

Looking back, Sunday started with high anxiety and no concentration and just got worse. I am all but certain that the pressure and stress from the workload on Saturday (the stress that I created for myself) led to the mood shift Sunday.

I have noticed, for some time now, that I habitually overload my days with things to do. There are many days that I might start with a reasonable “to do” list, but as the day goes along and I accomplish things, I recognize other things that need to be done. Instead of putting them on the list for another day, I think “Well, I’m here now and if I don’t do this now, I might forget to do it later.” Or, “This has to be done too or finishing this other project will really have no meaning.” Its always this “all or nothing”, “black or white” either I get it all done, the list I started with plus whatever I have added during the course, or the part I do get done is meaningless.

So, now that I recognize this “problem”, I have to find a way to change what is basically part of my life-long nature. I know that it’s a habit that has to change in order to safeguard my mental wellness. The question is “How do I change it?” The plan, for now, is to be more careful in creating my “to do” list for the day. I have to be more realistic when deciding what “needs” to get done today, and what I “want” to get done today. The “need” items have to get done first, and the “want” items are optional. I also have to set a “quitting time”, at which I stop, even if I’m not done (get to a reasonable stopping point, and quit.) Its still going to be hard, maybe not possible, for me to call it quits early and lay on the couch and watch a baseball game, but I have to find a way to allow myself to work at a more reasonable pace, expect a more reasonable amount of work product, and remember that its ok to “knock-off” earlier, or even “early” by other people’s standards, and save some work for tomorrow.

I am open to suggestions on how to achieve the necessary character shift. I know what my work habits look like now, and I know what they need to look like. I just don’t know if I know how to get from here to there.

The good news, however, is that for the first time in a LONG time, I’m well enough to recognize the problem (or “a” problem) and have a reasonable shot at fixing it. It seems that I needed to get better in order to allow myself to make changes to get better? Ooooh, that’s too deep for now. I’ll have to give that some thought.

On the lighter side, my racquetball game is making a strong comeback. I think I mentioned earlier that, until about 5 or 6 years ago, there was a period in which I played 3-4 times a week (tournaments, leagues, pick-ups, whatever I could find.) I think I quit racquetball (it got more frustrating than it was fun…maybe I was expecting too much out of myself, not playing up to the level I expected of myself) about the time I began to quit “life”, and well before I recognized that my mind was going in a dangerous direction. At age 39, the “game” comes back slowly, and I’m too competitive to accept playing poorly (by my definition.) But its coming. At present, my backhand is smokin’ (I would rather hit backhand than forehand) and the serve is coming back. The bastards increased the official racquet length since I last played, by an inch. Longer racquet, more power. I don’t need more power. As I mentioned, I’m a big guy and I break strings and balls as it was. The power increase just closes the gap between my power and the “other guys”. And, I’ve started running again. Its been several years since I’ve run much, and I want to do a marathon in this, my 40th year.

Until later, my friends, remember to keep it between the lines

Rebound Day

2006-04-03T20:06:00.000-07:00

Ok, after responding to "Grandma's" comment to yesterday's entry (and if I seemed to be lashing out at you, Grandma, I'm sorry and nothing personal, I was lashing out at our society), I had to go play a few minutes of Playstation and shoot some bad guys. But I'm back now. If you don't know what I'm talking about, there was a comment to yesterday's post related to lawyers being prohibited from practice because of mental illness. The better I get, the more outspoken I become (and intend to become) about the stigma surrounding mental illness. See yesterday's post.

Anyway...Really good day today. Had sort of a slump in the middle of the day, but otherwise it was a very strong day. Got some things done, set up a job interview for a position in the State government (I don't know if I would take the job if offered, but interview practice is always good.) Did some work on my baseboard project. I have about 80% of the ground floor replaced now, 100% of the pieces cut, and about 50% caulked and painted. Much bigger job than I expected!

I have a treatment scheduled for Friday, but if things continue to go well this week, I may push that out to Monday. I'm a bit uneasy about risking another bad Sunday, but I'll play it by ear.

Tomorrow is a new day!

The Sunday Slump??

2006-04-02T21:04:00.000-07:00

Ok, where did all of my readers go? I haven't heard from anyone in several days. Don't leave me now, just because things are getting better (mostly) and slowing down!

There must be something about Sundays. After last Sunday's mayhem, last week got progressively better. Friday, I reported feeling good, having good days, being motivated and staying positive and busy. Saturday was ok, but not super. I played some racquetball in the morning. racquetball, for those that don't know me well, is an old friend. I used to play 3 or 4 days a week, played in leagues and tournaments. I was about a high "B" level player (scale runs from "novice" to D, C, B, A, and "Open" in some tournaments.) About the time, I think, that my illness began was about the time I quit playing. It became more frustrating than fun about 5 years ago. Anyway, after about an hour and a half of ball, I noticed, suddenly, that my concentration just left me. That's not something I remember from before, and I think it might be ECT related. So, I bagged it and went home. Got home and worked all day, hard, on the baseboards. I was BEAT by the end of the day. My family reports me being "grumpy" and "irritable". I noticed my focus being a little off while cutting baseboards. Made some mistakes that were not normal. But I hadn't noticed being grumpy (other than with my son, who was "helping" me, but right under my feet and in the way all day.) My wife had a terrible day with my son (the one that is mentally ill) and had admitted to being in a really bad mood. I just sort of the reports of me being irritable were related to her mood.

And then there was today.

Started ok. Woke up. This time change thing isn't my favorite, but at least I don't lose an hour of sleep before going to work! I went out for breakfast (becoming a Sunday ritual) and then to read at Starbucks (old habit.) I noticed that my focus was not good at all. Couldn't concentrate even enough to read my book. To many people, too much commotion, too many things in my head that I needed to do at home. I just felt unhappy, in general. This, despite getting notice today (came yesterday, actually) that I was being interviewed for 2 different State of Colorado job positions. Should have been good news.

Got home and did some yard work. Cut up a big downed limb, picked up the back yard, and then worked on caulking the master shower. It had leaked from under one end of the door, so I had fixed that a couple weeks ago. Now it leaked on the other end. Anyone ever worked with silicone caulk? I HATE that stuff. First, I can't stand the smell. And then, it sticks to everything except what you want it to stick to. Got the leak fixed after messing with that caulk and cussing like a banshee for an hour. Turned out to not even be a caulk problem. Just needed to adjust the door!

And then I sat on my patio, head in my hands, and was miserable. Not in hell, like last Sunday, just questions of why I keep doing this. Questions of why I even bother to continue to walk the earth, living this miserable life. Thoughts, passive, of suicide. After about 15 minutes, I decided that I could sit and feel sorry for myself, or get to work and stay busy. After about an hour, my wife brought me a Xanax and reminded me that I had asked her to make me take one if and when I was having this type of day. I don't know why its so hard for me to give in and just medicate a shitty day, but it certainly helps. The rest of the day was ok (not great, but bearable.) I ran some errands with the whole family, and then took my son to the park to fly a kite. Can't remember the last time I flew a kite. Also can't remember the last time I had a freakin rope burn this bad on my hand!

My wife and I had a really good laugh tonight over my memory issues. She was reminding me of some memory problems I had had back in December and January, when treatments were hot and heavy. I don't remember any of this, and she swears she isn't exaggerating. She says that, daily after Christmas break was over, I would wake up and ask [Q]"Where is Maggie?" [A]"She's at school." [Q]"When does she get home?" [A] "About 3:50". [Q]"Why so late?" [A]"Her school starts late." [Q]"Where is Mic?"...same series. And then [Q]"Why are they at school if I'm not at work?" [A]"you don't go to work right now because of your treatment." She said we would play this same script 2 or 3 times a day for 3 weeks, until I got it.

I would also wake up, every day, and ask [Q]"What am I doing today?" [A]"What do you want to do?" [Q]"Well, what is my job?" [A]"You don't work right now because of your treatment."

Every night, after dinner, I would ask [Q]"Have we eaten dinner?" [A]"Yes, honey. We all ate together." [Q] "Was I there?" [A]"Yes, we were all there." [Q]"What did we have?"]. Most days, I would ask the same questions about dinner the night before, or if I had eaten lunch already.

I did the same thing with Matt Lauer's (Today Show) wrist injury. He fell off a horse or something in January and wore a brace or cast for a couple of weeks. Every morning, I would sit up in bed, alarmed, and ask [Q]"What happened to Matt's wrist?!?" Every morning, she would tell me. And I must say, Melissa was better at being patient and not getting annoyed than I would have been had the tables been turned. We laughed hard about all of these things for about 30 minutes tonight. She's working on coming up with the other similar things. I don't recall any of this. I also don't remember, I noticed tonight, this "Mine Accident" from which there was one survivor. I sort of remember hearing something about it, but just barely.

There was another guy, whom we met through ECT treatments at the hospital, who didn't recognize any of his own clothes. He would ask his spouse every day if she was sure if they were his. He would call her at work and ask "Do I have any sweaters? I want to wear a sweater today." When she told him to look in the closet at his clothes, he would say that all he could find were these clothes that didn't belong to him. One night, they were at a friends' house for dinner. Karen found Bill looking through the friends' kitchen cabinets. "Bill. What are you looking for?" "I'm trying to find my deodorant! I can't remember where I put it!"

These are the things that ECT does to your memory. Is it better than pre-ECT or suicide? Absolutely, even if it turns out to be permanent.

Tonight, we were watching a show on TV and I made a (pretty uncharacteristic) chauvinistic remark about some girl's "nice rack." My wife corrected me, calling my use of terminology out-dated, letting me know that the current terminology is "nice set of twins" or "the girls." I'll try to keep up on the times a little better.

Back on track

2006-03-31T16:32:00.000-08:00

Got up early today to work out. My near-daily 30 minute treadmill walk has become a run, followed by a quick weight workout. That is except for Thursday, which is racquetball, Sunday which is my day off, and treatment days.

I felt really good this morning. Read at Starbucks for about an hour, went to Home Depot to get more stuff for the baseboard project. An old colleague and friend of mine’s name and number are on a billboard for a retail development near my house. I haven’t talked to him in probably 4 years. I got his number. I find myself reaching out to more people I have lost touch with. I have to think that’s a good sign.

Spent all day working on baseboards in the family room. Lots of furniture, TV, stereo, and other stuff to work around. Wanted to get it moved, get the baseboards in and caulked and finished so I could move everything back before tonight. That need for order and organization just never goes away. Broke for lunch and took the kids out to eat. Melissa had dental surgery yesterday (tooth pulled, ick), and is pretty much laid-up. I’m trying to keep the kids out of her hair and let her rest. No question that she’s done more than her share of the same for me over the last 4 months.

Last couple of days have been good, not great. I played racquetball with only one of my usual two Thursday guys yesterday. We talked, between games, about putting together a small investment group and flipping some fixer-upper homes in our neighborhood. Housing market is on fire and there are several that would be easy to buy, put a few thousand dollars into and sell for a nice profit, all within 3-4 weeks. I think the fact that I’m looking at the future is another good sign. I wouldn’t have even entertained an idea like this 6 months ago. I don’t know where I would get the money to do anything right now, but at least I’m thinking about it.

Thursday was a little bit of an irritable day. Not major, just not great. I had planned to take Mic snowboarding today, and take Maggie along for a lesson (she’s never been on a board and Mic had lessons while in residential treatment last year.) Maggie didn’t want to do the lesson thing, and a whole day with just Mic right now, with each of us in our respective states, just didn’t seem like a good idea. I get more and more convinced that he is having some psychosis problems as time goes by. He is scared all the time, and absolutely will NOT be by himself.

Tuesday, I was glad to see the family when they got home. And honestly, I can’t remember what I did Wednesday.

Let this be a lesson...

2006-03-29T12:00:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Watch out for those potholes!

The lesson for the week is that every day won’t smell like roses. While I might be on a new road, it still has peaks and valleys.

As high as my mood was last week, as “great” as a few of those days felt, I have to keep myself in check. I have a mood disorder. Even after ECT treatments, I still have a mood disorder. As a wise man told me today “You didn’t get a vaccination against depression. Its just unreasonable to think that you are going to elevate to a higher mood and just remain there forever.” Fact: Everyone has days that are better than others. It may just be, even after aggressively treating my depression, that the difference between my good day and my bad days is greater than for most other people.

Maybe (duh!) I should heed the warning of my ECT Doc, my wife, my shrink, and at least one other friend: “Slow down. Don’t go so fast. Take your time getting better. Treat this like a closed head injury, and heal at a reasonable speed.” I have, and have always had, the problem of being in a hurry, needing to get as much accomplished in a given time period as possible, being as efficient as possible. Maybe Sunday, that total melt-down, was my mind’s way of reinforcing the very sound advice I have been given.

I realize today that I have a choice that I get to make. Its an important choice, and one that I made poorly in the last few days. I can either (a) compare the way things are now to the way things were 6 or 7 years ago (the “good ol’ days) before depression, or (b) compare the way things are now to the way things were a year ago (in one of the worst parts of my depression.) While it might be true that I would give anything to have again some of the circumstances that I had 6 or 7 years ago, I have to remember that I was very discontent even then, and that regardless of what comes in the future, those days are gone. I had the world at my feet, making more money than even I thought I was worth, working a prestigious job, but I wasn’t happy. There’s a lesson, and one that everyone learns at one time or another I think: Money does not equal Happy. There is actually very little correlation between net worth and happiness.

If I choose to compare today to a year ago, however, I “have” much less (considering financial situation, employment, etc.), but I really “have” much more in another sense: My mental health is really a hell of a lot stronger. The only intelligent approach is to look at what I have today, and make the most of it today. What’s lost is lost forever, and is of no value going forward. What I have today has whatever value I afford it, but it can just as easily become valueless is unappreciated.

I struggle often with the question of what life is really about. What is all of this for? Why does that guy driving the FedEx truck, for example, get out of bed every day and crawl into that truck and deliver boxes? Is it for the fun of driving the truck? The joy of dropping off boxes? Is it so that he can lay on the couch and watch football on the weekends? In the long run, where does it lead? What difference does it all make? To a logical mind, doesn’t it necessarily have to lead to a logical destination?

One little piece of that answer, I think, is that everything, absolutely everything, is a learning experience. Education happens every waking minute. Everything action or inaction one experiences has consequences, realized or unrealized. If you aren’t learning from every minute of life, then your life can never have much meaning.

The bigger answer to the “What’s life all about?” question, I’ve decided, comes from so many different sources or angles which I think get condensed into the term “values.” Life is about what is important to “you”, which is an answer that can and does shift as we experience life and learn and grow. One lesson I’ve learned is that hard work, determination, work ethic and strong values only have meaning if you enjoy the fruit from those efforts. I’ve made this little promise to myself. When I get back on top of things, back to practicing the profession (law) for which I was educated and back to earning a good living (and notice I didn’t say “if”, I said “when”), I’m going to make a point of enjoying the rewards of my efforts. I am fortunate to have a second chance at life. I’m going to ENJOY what I have, what I make, and make the most of it on a day-to-day basis because, now I realize, that it could all easily be gone tomorrow.

I saw a t-shirt yesterday, and its message caught my attention. It read “Losers quit when they get tired. Winners quit when they’ve won.” I’ve never been a “loser.” Six years (maybe more) of depression tried hard to make me a loser, a quitter, but it failed. It just made it a bit harder to win.

Another day, recovering from yesterday...

2006-03-27T16:04:00.000-08:00

I might have doubted it yesterday, given the way things went, but the sun DID come up today. It was another day. I had planned to go snowboarding today, while the family was away. I made myself go, despite the fact that after yesterday, I really didn't want to. But I knew that a day at home would be about the worst thing I could give myself.

I actually had a great day, although my mood, my head, weren't all that great. Its hard to not have a pretty good day standing on my snowboard with 4 or 5 inches of new snow on a sunny, warm day and at a ski area which was pretty close to empty. The longest lift line I stood in today was one person long, and that was only once or twice. I rode from 9:45 to 2:15, skipped lunch, and then called it quits. That was about 2 runs too many. I got in a lot of runs, and the last two were just down-right dangerous.

I did my best to keep my mind off of yesterday and the grand melt-down. It was a pretty successful attempt, overall. Strange, but I have found lately that I notice things in my environment that I think I would have missed before, and which have some weird connection to my current "condition" (whatever that may be at the time.) Today, one such thing was a license plate on a car that passed me. It read "NVR2L8." I hope that's true.

A very rude awakening

2006-03-26T19:10:00.000-08:00

Sunday, March 26

Wow. Today was one to forget. Maybe one of the worst. I think it all started a couple of days ago. As I have mentioned, my family is out of town visiting family. I knew this might be a hard time for me, being home alone. I’ve been telling myself for weeks, preparing myself, that it was going to be fine, and I would get through it with no interruption in the progress I have made.

A couple of days ago, and at the time I thought nothing of it, I think was the genesis of today's disaster. A couple of days ago, I was thinking, generally, about suicide. I wasn't "suicidal", or thinking of killing myself, or planning or anything like that. I hadn't thought about suicide in any capacity for some time. It just hasn't been part of my being "better." But I was thinking about the fact that suicide is always an option available to me, but that I no longer “wanted” to die. For some sick reason, there is comfort in the idea that suicide is always an option. I think it’s a control thing. I think I like the idea that I am in control of how long I fight this fight. So, I was thinking that, despite feeling much better (remember, last week I reported some "great" days), the most likely cause of my death, whenever that may come, will probably be something in my control.

That was a couple of days ago. Friday, I think, the question of "purpose", which I wrote about yesterday, entered my head. It hasn't left my head since that time. Its presence has become more and more controlling, and the more the question resonates without an answer, the more controlling it becomes. What IS my purpose. I used to know that answer. I was the "bread-winner", the career person, the one bringing home the income that provided my family with the lifestyle to which they became accustomed. Then, I stopped playing that role. I became less and less of the bread-winner, working myself further and further from the prestigious career positions I have held and into less and less important roles in the mortgage business (and earning less and less money.) This continued, it seems, until I became just a guy hanging around, being a drag against what little income I was generating. My purpose, as I used to see it, is gone.

Philosophically, I see us all as little jigsaw puzzle pieces which, in some way or another, fit together to form a much larger picture: The World. Some of us have big parts in that big picture. Some are just supporting parts. Some, maybe, are only here to antagonize someone else in such a way that the antagonized takes an action (which he/she might not have otherwise taken) which enables the antagonized to serve his/her ultimate “important” destiny. Sorry, rambling. Anyway, I no longer know my part. I don’t know what piece I am. Maybe I'm just here to help my wife become the super-strong person that she has become (from dealing with my son and myself and our issues.) Maybe I'm just here to guide one or both of my children in some way. I just don't know anymore.

I experienced something today, which I now realize has been coming for some time now, which I imagine might be common to many or most ECT patients (or anyone that finds a way to climb out of that deep, dark, lonely, hopeless hole we call "depression"). I experienced this "awakening" which was stark, and ugly, and very disturbing. I realized, in this grand sense, just how far things have fallen during the time during which I have been ill. The order, the organization, the clean, well maintained beautiful home...all have fallen into this ragged state of disorder, disarray, disorganization, clutter, dirty mismanagement. My wife, back in those “good old days”, kept an immaculate house. Everything was well organized, our garage was used to keep “stuff”, but it was orderly. Same applies to the basement. There wasn’t a speck of dust on anything. All of the walls and doors and floors were well kept (painted and clean.) As I was searching for something in the garage today (which I never found), I realized just how much crap we have, and how cluttered and completely disorganized everything is. I found the same thing in the basement (didn’t find that missing item down there either.) And as I began to see these things, it began to dawn on me how beat up the walls and doors and floors are, how much most of the house is in need of paint and how much dust and grime there is everywhere. We had, many years ago, a beautiful yard which I mowed and kept in great shape. Now, it looks like hell. Melissa has done the mowing for the last 3, maybe 4, years. She had never mowed a yard before in her life until then. The dog has destroyed the back yard.

Where am I going with all of this babble? Its like I’ve been gone, and now I return and everything has gone to shit. But I wasn’t gone. I WAS RIGHT HERE, LETTING IT HAPPEN! “Guilt” has never been part of my depression. Self-loathing, unhappy, suicidal, isolation, obsession…those were my “depression features.” Guilt is only something I’ve heard other depressed people talk about. And now, now that I’m “Better”, and now that I see what I stood around and allowed to happen to the beautiful home that we worked so hard to afford and create, NOW I FEEL NOTHING BUT GUILTY!.

So, today was a day of realizing all of these things, and feeling guilty about what I have allowed to happen. Don’t get me wrong…I don’t blame anyone, certainly not my wife, for allowing this transformation to happen. Its MY fault, and mine alone. So, the generic self-loathing, self-isolating, unhappy depression has been well treated and has been put under some control is gone and I felt “better”, but now this NEW depression has arrived. While the “me” that I like has been away, that other “me” has been busy passively destroying everything I worked so hard for. And now that the “me” that I like has made a reappearance, he is having a hell of a hard time dealing with the circumstances that the other “me” left behind. Feeling better has allowed me to realize all of these things that just make me feel worse. And, I found in a hurry, that the guilt and the depression feed one another. As soon as one got started and began to feed the other (who knows which one started this cycle?), they quickly, very quickly, spiraled into this mental implosion which left me sitting in my house in an emotional disaster, asking a God I don’t believe in to just let me die, and wondering how in the hell I could have gone from the “great” days I had last week to where I found myself today. How? And if my well-being is this fragile, if the fight from sick to better is this tough, but the fall from better to this new hell is this easy, what’s the use? Why put everybody through this?

And if the guilt wasn’t bad enough already, it wasn’t until Melissa called me from out of town that the emotion that had been building overwhelmed me. And then I just totally fell apart on the phone. So, now, on top of everything else I had found to blame myself for, I could add stealing the “vacation” from my wife, and making her worry about me while she was supposed to be getting away from all of that. Oh, and exhibiting for her that the hours and hours that she’s spent at the hospital with me during treatments was just so I could be back “here” again. And, being the amazing person that she is, she stood her ground, talked me through things, and reminded me of the great progress that “we” have made, that some days were going to be better than others, and that it would just take time to get everything back on track and back to the way things used to be. I don’t know where she gets her strength, but everyone could use some of it. She’s more than I deserve, and she is certainly the reason I’m still here, and still fighting this fight. Tomorrow is another day, and I will find a way to make it better than this one.

Purpose

2006-03-25T19:01:00.000-08:00

With my family gone, I have been very intent on keeping myself busy, working on projects around the house, running around town doing things, and getting together with friends for dinner and similar things. My mood, for the most part, has been very good and very stable. I've noticed no slippage or volatility, other than some frustration resulting from the shitty shitty racquetball I played this morning (I don't have a problem with losing...oh, wait, yes I do. I hate to lose. But I REALLY hate to lose to people that have no business beating me even on my bad days.)

All of this "staying busy" has brought back this nagging question. One that I have kicked around with both a stable mind, and when things weren't so stable (or down-right unstable.) Why am I here? What is my purpose? Am I surviving today just for the sake of being here tomorrow? I can't help thinking, after all that I've been through with this whole depression thing that there has to be a reason for my existence. There has to be a specific reason for which I am here in this life. And the conclusion that I come to is that either (1) I am here to influence the life (or lives) of someone else, or several others, or (2) I am here to leave some legacy or to have some greater effect on the world that I leave behind than that of which I am currently aware. Maybe my role is simply to mold or help mold the lives of my kids. Maybe my role is to help shape the path on which treatment for depression or ECT travels. Maybe its something much simpler and indirect, like I interfere inadvertently with a day in the life of someone who, because of the slight changes which my interference create, go on to do something great or meaningful or life altering for many others. Who knows? Do other people think about these things? If so, what conclusions do they come to? Am I the only one that is convinced that there must be some specific reason that I'm here? "Live for today" just doesn't seem to do it for me. Living for today just puts me into tomorrow, which is likely to be just like today, unless I do something to make it different.

End of ramble. I'll let you know if I come to any brilliant conclusions. Please don't hold your breath in anticipation.

Alone: So far so good

2006-03-25T07:37:00.000-08:00

I was pretty worried about how I might fair, being alone for several days while my family was out of town. I don't know why the idea of being home alone seemed so troublesome, but it did. Maybe its related to memory and issues with that. Maybe its just the quiet. Anyway, they've been gone for a day, and things are going fine. My mood is actually better now, and I feel more like last week. Maybe it was just a longer recovery from that last treatment. I have also traded e-mails with someone important to me with whom I had lost touch. I'm sure that has had some positive effect.

Today, I have some racquetball lined up for this morning, then some work on the baseboard replacement project. Having dinner with a friend tonight, which will be good.

All-in-all, things are back to "good". Let's hope they stay there.

Not such great days.

2006-03-22T15:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday and today have been less good (not horrible, but not great either) than most of the days last week. Tuesday, I thought it was probably just from the treatment Monday. Today, however, it feels a little more like depression than I would like to be experiencing. Nothing serious, and I don't intend to let it get to me, but something to keep my eye on.

Melissa and the kids are going on a "Spring Break" trip to see family, leaving Friday. They will be gone until Tuesday. I think that being alone probably has something to do with the mood difference. I'm not looking forward to them being gone. I have plenty to do to keep me busy, but the house is too quiet at night with no one here.

So, I've been saving all of the "things to do" that I have for this weekend. I'[m in the middle of a "replacing the baseboards" project that could occupy all of the time in question. I also plan to go snowboarding on Monday, which will kill a day, and make me too tired Monday night to be too aware of the house being empty.

Neither rain, nor wind, nor snow, nor hail...

2006-03-21T11:23:00.000-08:00

Wait, that's the US Post Office's credo. We were scheduled to get this huge snowstorm Sunday into Monday. I was worried that it would interfere with my treatment Monday morning. As usual, when the weather-people make a huge deal of a snow storm, it misses us or turns into nothing. This one, which was supposed to drop 12-14 inches on Denver dropped 1 inch, and blasted the eastern plains.

Nonetheless, my pdoc was the only one that made it in to the hospital Monday. I guess the other 2 live east of town. The OR was short on people. Usually, there are about 6 staff, counting the doc and the ADoc (sandman). Today, there were 3. All the same, when I woke up it was all over and I didn't realize I was in Recovery. I rarely do. Then I have a "Oh, is my treatment over?" moment.

I was at the hospital for a LONG time today. Much longer than usual. We got there at 9:00 and didn't leave until 1:15. My poor wife. I must have been asleep for a long time, because it didn't seem like any longer than usual.

I mentioned last treatment's wicked headache to my Pdoc and the Adoc too. I didn't wake up with any more headache than is typical (and which can be fixed with a little Fentenyl), but about 5:00, WOW did the Headache Man make an entrance. A few Percocet got it almost under control, but it was nasty.

Today, Tuesday, my memory is lousy. It seems worse than usual. I'm just sort of in a fog. My seizure wasn't all that long, 40 seconds. My Beck score yesterday was an all time low - 3!!! I'm surprised I hadn't gained weight. I seem to be hungry all the time. I think its simply that food taste better without the depression governing everything. Because I was still doing well, we decided to schedule the next treatment for 2.5 weeks, planning to go to 3 weeks for the one following if things are still on track.

I am really lucky to have such a great care-giver. My wife brought me home, put me to bed, and then went to Taco Bell for a half-dozen tacos. Starving and sleepy were the best descriptions for the afternoon (until "headache" joined the fun.)

Today, Tuesday, I had a meeting with a guy about a lawyer job. That went well. Good chance that I will be joining a little firm with my former General Counsel when I am ready to get back to work. Still working on some details.

Seizure #26, comin' up!

2006-03-19T18:25:00.000-08:00

Its been two weeks since my last hospital visit. Two GOOD weeks. I'm glad I'm going in tomorrow. I would rather keep things on the "good" side than wait until they digress and then try to get back on track.

The weather people have been promising us a "winter storm" for two days now. 12-16 inches of spring snow is the forecast. It was supposed to blow into town about 3pm today. The ground is wet, and its 7:30pm. They are still saying its coming, but usually when they make this big a deal out of a storm, it turns out to be nothing. Its the ones they don't warn us about that turn out to be killers.

I wonder how much of a winter storm we would have to have in order for my treatment to be cancelled. I mean, its not unusual for the power to flicker on and off, or just go out altogether in the bigger storms. I sure as hell don't want the electricity to go off in the middle of my "electroconvulsive therapy"! Bad enough if it went off while we were in the OR before they put me to sleep. It would be pitch dark in there!

Last treatment, I had the worst headache of my life afterward. I don't know what was different, but I have to remember to tell my doc not to do it again. Otherwise, I don't really have any worries about this treatment. Been there, done that. I get e-mail from people who tell me that the first 12 or 24 can go just fine, and then all of a sudden, you get a "bad one" and the side effects are tremendous or you lose significantly more memory or something on that order. You know, I could worry about that. But the truth of the matter is, had I not started ECT when I did, it would have been a mere couple of days until I ended my own life. The plans were lain, and my only task remaining was to resolve my inner conflict "How do I end my life without leaving me kids thinking that daddy didn't love them enough to struggle through his depression?" So, worst case, my treatment goes terribly astray and my memory is forever mangled or some other such thing happens. Yes, that would be terrible, to have something bad happen and ruin the wonderful progress I have made with ECT. There is a long way I could fall from where I am now. I am worlds above where I started, and I owe all of that to ECT and the support from my friends and family. But worst case, I can't be any worse than the "dead" that I had planned for myself had I not began ECT. That's the way I see it.

Wish me a good one.

Epiphany

2006-03-15T15:56:00.000-08:00

For all of those loyal readers, those who have been following this blog since its start and commenting and stuff, I apologize, sincerely, for my lack of posts over the last week or two. All I can say is that things have been good, which means that things have been busy.

Today, I went snowboarding. This is the first day, all year, that I have been on my board. I got one day last year, and that was it. The year before that, 2 days. Disgraceful. There was a time, when I was in law school, when 30 days in a year was a minimum. One year (I think it was my 2nd year of law school), I logged 53 days! Anyway, I digress. I was driving the 80 minutes to the ski area, alone, listening to music and thinking. I realized, for the first time, how different things are now as compared to before ECT began. I got to this point in a strange line of thought, but I was thinking about when my car tags expire: June. I was thinking about when I bought my Jeep, June, and where things stood then. Its strange how, when things change gradually and slowly, you can miss the change altogether. Its like as you age, you don't notice the changes in your face or hair or body, until you look at a picture from 20 years earlier. Suddenly, you realize how much things have evolved.

I'm going to make a statement, despite some of the comments this blog has received recently. Its a bold comment. Its a comment that, today, is true. And its been true, for the most part, generally over the last couple of weeks, with some minor exceptions. I can only hope that I can continue to live up to this statement in the days to come, and that I am not premature or misguided. Here goes: I AM BACK! I don't mean that I'm just like I was way back long ago before my illness began. I will never be that person again. If for no other reason, I can never go there again simply because I have aged, matured, experienced life and grown. What I mean is that, there used to be a guy that inhabited this body, a guy that enjoyed living, that liked himself (for the most part), and that was fun to be around at least some of the time. That guy has been gone for 5 or 6 years, minimum. Another guy has been living here. He hated life, was pretending that life was going like it should be, he hated himself and almost everyone and everything around him, and would have been perfectly content not living another day. That guy's GONE.

I realized, today, just how far things have come. I had an absolute BALL today, from the time I left until I got home. I had FUN today and enjoyed living (and realized it) for the first time in as long as I can remember (granted, that my memory is a shambles at present.) Now, I was by myself, it was colder than Hades, snowing HARD, and the wind was blowing 15-25 MPH all day. I couldn't tell the ground from the sky most of the day. I'm out of snowboard shape, and generally out of practice in a big way. It could have been a really BAD day. But nothing, I mean nothing, was bad about today. My face will be sore tomorrow from smiling so much (actually, there won't be much of me that won't be sore tomorrow.)

The last couple of weeks have been filled with looking at employment opportunity. I practiced law for 9 years, then opened and ran my own coffee business for 2 years, then worked in the mortgage business for 4 years. It was somewhere at the end of being a lawyer and running my business when I first noticed the depression. From then through November '05, I have been in a depression tailspin. I haven't even been able to consider returning to practicing law for the last 5 years. I have slowly worked my way from the upper echelon of the mortgage business (making pretty good money) to the lowest level of the business, making less and less money and being less and less happy. It is from this lowest level of mortgage that I am currently on medical leave. It is this lowest level of mortgage that I absolutely will NOT be returning to when I return to work. I am certain, in my present condition, that the possibility of returning to a law practice is a reality. If not now, then in the near future. I may not operate at my previous capacity or with the same mental tools that I once had, but (excuse me for saying so), at a fraction of my previous capacity, I'm as good as most lawyers out there.

Are things perfect? No. Will they ever be? No. Am I as good as I once was, mentally, physically, or in any other respect? I don't know, and it doesn't really matter. I am what I am, and I'm damned happy with where I am. Every one of us gets out of bed every day and does the best we can with what we have. I can expect nothing more from myself than that. That's what I was doing while I was sick. Its simply that, now, when I get out of bed and do the best that I can, I have more to work with than I did a few months ago. What I had 5 or 6 years ago is nothing more than a memory. I can let it be an anchor. I can let it be painful if I dwell on now versus then. But the fact is that to get the most out of life, from here forward, all I can really do is maximize what I have, who I am, and what I can contribute NOW. I can only reasonably look at the past as part of what makes me who I am now. Tomorrow is another day. I hope its as good as today was.

Rollercoaster Day

2006-03-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

Played racquetball this morning with the usual Thursday morning guys. One thing I notice, for sure, is that my hand-eye coordination was off. I usually hit some shots that are better or worse than others, but I never just miss the ball. I have to relate the change to the treatment on Monday.

Basically, today was an ok day. I got the kids bathroom taped and painted. Have I mentioned that I hate to paint? And I got a few other things around the house done, including some job search things. Melissa keeps reminding me that my pdoc has told me that she hasn’t released me to return to work, that I have to treat all of this like a “brain injury”, and that it could take up to a year, once I’m solidly in remission, before I’m back to full speed. In the meantime, I have a family to feed, my long-term disability insurance (The Hartford) is giving me shit about there being a “pre-existing condition”, and SSI is sure to deny me the first time around. So, I’m looking for work.

This afternoon late, I don’t know where it came from, but I really got down on myself. Just a general self-loathing, “you are just a loser” kind of mentality. Not that we are anywhere near this stage, but I decided that under no circumstances would I move my family out of our home because I could support the cost of living there anymore. AKA, I will support my family in our home, or die trying. Now, I know that might sound like suicidal ideation creeping back into the picture, but I’m looking at it more of a way to stop worrying about money and work and making ends meet. “A place to live” seems to be the pinnacle of the worries that plague my head. If I can remove that worry, it seems that things will seem a little less troubling. The rationale of a twisted mind…

Did anyone get the license number of that bus...?

2006-03-08T17:22:00.000-08:00

Today was a really bad “day after”, worse than most. I don’t know if I’m just becoming not used to the treatments now, or if this was just a rough one, but it was a tough one on the day of treatment (headache, nausea), and the day after sucked too. My jaw was still sore, and my neck hurt like I had whiplash. Then, all day, I was just sort of half-conscious. Not really bad “mood”, but just whipped out physically.

Treatment #25

2006-03-07T11:25:00.000-08:00

Today was treatment #25. Yes, 25! And I have to say that it was the most miserable of them all. The seizure was 100 seconds. I woke in Recovery without a clue where I was, or that my treatment was done. Oh, and with the absolute worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. 4mg of Fentanyl later, I was little better. In Recovery II, I got an ice bag for each side of my head. That helped some. I spent the rest of the day at home in bed, popping Percocet and with ice bags tied onto my head. I must have gone at this one hard with my jaw, because it hurt to open my mouth or rest my teeth together. If they had all been like this, I might not have made it this far.

My Beck score today was 7, which is great. My blood pressure ranged from 132/72 to 120/74, both of which is good, for me. Next treatment scheduled for 2 weeks (March 20). I can hardly wait.

A day in the sun

2006-03-05T17:20:00.000-08:00

Today started on the short side of "good". I woke up and just didn't have the "sparkle" that has been there most days lately. Maybe I'm getting spoiled, but I'm sort of getting used to that sparkle. Luckily, it arrived soon after the day started.

I had a busy day. I went for a cup of coffee and to read for about an hour. Its how I start most Sunday mornings. Then, with my list in hand, I went to Home Depot. I had a gate to rebuild/fix, landscape lights to make work, and a whole house baseboard replacement to get geared up for. The gate project alone, in the past, would have been hell on earth. I've worked on that damned gate at least 5 times in the last 3 years, all under the spell of a nasty depression or a wild mania, and all with nearly no success. It still was falling apart, it wouldn't patch, the wind would blow it open and let the dogs out, etc.

If you've ever tried to transport five 12 foot pieces of baseboard in a Jeep Wrangler, you've had the fun I had today. I had baseboard sticking out both ends of the soft top, with red flags on each end. It was awesome. But I got home without incident.

I spent 5 hours working on the gate. Much longer than I expected, but it was more work than I expected. I wound up having to rebuild part of the gate and the adjacent fence so that I could make the latch work, and the gate and fence are pretty old and weathered, so the wood is a bit tricky to work with. I might have been suspicious of my mood today. I might have been convinced that I was riding a mania. But I worked all day with my son, who is mentally ill as well and for whom I generally have little tolerance (and when I'm not well, either depressed or manic, I simply can't tolerate him.) He was with me for the whole five hours, helping, getting in the way, learning how to use tools, asking questions. There is no way that that would have worked if I wasn't having a good mental day. And the day went by without incident. The fence got fixed beautifully, no swearing or throwing things took place. It was all cool.

The baseboard job scares me. Its will be a new experience for me. Cutting mitered angles and detailed wood work will be a good test. My first surprise came today when I learned that the 12 foot baseboard strips that I thought were $.72 each were really $.72/foot! Ouch!

I decided today that the Xanax XR that my ECT doc has prescribed isn't doing the job. I take it in the evening, and it just doesn't slow me down enough. I used to use another drug, one that was not prescribed by a medical doctor and which will remain unnamed, every night to unwind so that I could face another day tomorrow. I stopped that quite a while ago in favor of alprazolam and Lunesta, which did the trick. The switch to XR form of Xanax just isn't cutting it, even with the advantages and benefits of ECT. It took me too long to recognize this, but I finally tuned in to the fact that on nights when I have this crushing headache from ECT (about one out of every three nights) and I take my prescribed Percocet, I relax and have a good evening and go to sleep like a normal person and sleep all night (thanks to Lunesta.) And on nights without the headache and without the Percocet, I don't relax and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I tell my doc that I need to do something different. A Percocet addiction just isn't in my best interest, and I'm too smart (and getting too well) to let that happen.

I'll end with a terrific quote I picked up today. Its a Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Whilst sitting on the cushions of advantages he goes to sleep, when he is pushed, tormented, and defeated, he has a chance to learn something." I ought to be pretty damned educated by this point.

Perspective

2006-03-04T16:50:00.000-08:00

Been a few days since I’ve written, sorry. I’ve been busy applying for government jobs. What a pain in the ass! Lots of paper. For those who comment to this blog and ask questions/would like a response, remember to give me an e-mail address, or just write to ectjourney@yahoo.com instead.

I had a great experience the other evening. A friend of mine, a friend who has been there for me several times over the depression days when I really needed someone to be physically with me to keep me “safe”, called me the other evening. He has been having his own problems with depression, and needed to talk. He was pretty down, and feeling like he might do something reckless. We talked for quite a while. He said he was feeling “like a failure”, and thinking that “he could fix everything and stop feeling like this by just checking out”, ending his life in favor of the $1 million insurance policy he has. His wife and son would be set, and he would be out of pain. Wow, was he ringing a familiar bell. Those are the things that haunt me as depression sets in for me, too. I think those are the hallmark ghosts of the disorder for most people.

We talked about those things for a while, and I let him know, unequivocally, “the only thing you’ve failed at is getting a handle on this mood problem. Otherwise, you need to take another look at all the accomplishments you have, and all that you have in your life.” But while we were having this discussion, I realized, for the first time, that those ghosts, those things that have haunted my mind for as long as I can remember, that I’m a failure and that everyone would be better off if I was just gone, they are all gone. I haven’t thought those things in weeks, and they just sort of disappeared without saying “goodbye.” For the first time in years, I’m NOT miserable and trying to find a way to avoid my life.

Now, that said, I DO have these feelings, that come and go, of being lost, of not knowing how or where to begin this “new life” that I’ve started. How do I start this new career? What if I can’t provide for my family? I know all of these things are just self-doubt, and all of them will work themselves out with just a little diligence on my part (and diligently is the only way I know how to proceed with anything.)

I’ve also noticed that there are certain places and activities which are bad for me. They, in and of themselves, bring back these really dark feelings. In example, I have volunteered for a short while at an animal shelter. When I was really ill, it was the highlight of my week. I only work on Saturday afternoons, but I would look forward to it all week. The time with the homeless dogs, just doing “something” worthwhile, was so fulfilling. After my “last” treatment (before my “relapse” and restart of treatment), I went for an afternoon at the shelter. It was there that I had the relapse. That day, before I went, I noticed that I wasn’t feeling good. I could feel this darkness creeping up on me. While I was at the shelter, I completely came apart. I really didn’t make the connection for a while. I restarted treatment and started feeling better again. Then, last weekend, I was going to go back, and Saturday morning, I noticed that I was feeling really down again. I struggled with it all morning. About noon, I decided that I wasn’t going to the shelter and, as soon as I made that decision, I started feeling better. And those dark feelings haven’t been back. But if I think of going to the shelter, I can feel it. The same thing happens if I think about going back to work in the mortgage business. I can think about going to work, just not at my “current” job (which I haven’t been to since November) or working with mortgages.

So, I find that I’m spending time about every day just keeping my mood in perspective. Its easy to get used to feeling better and forgetting how it felt to be really depressed and critically ill. Its easy to bury those old feelings and forget because its was so forgettable, so much something I just don’t want to remember. But I have to make myself remember how it felt, just for perspective or something to compare with how I feel now. I think that the comparison and keeping the mood difference in mind is imperative to continuing to feel better.

A day of revelation.

2006-03-01T15:38:00.000-08:00

Got up early today to get my quick workout (30 minute treadmill walk and bicep weight workout) in before my therapist appointment. I went intending to talk to Mark about something specific, but we wound up talking about something entirely different. We talked, really, about starting to think about beginning my “new” career, and about “getting out of the box” and employing some creativity as I start thinking about returning to work. About being creative in employing my education and skill set, instead of just jumping back into the same muddy water I crawled out of.

5 years ago, I was Assistant General Counsel for a publicly held corporation. It was a big job which required the qualifications and education that I had/have. I worked hard to get to where I was, and I worked hard at my job, developing a great set of skills along the way. Since then, and since depression became part of my life, I have slowly abandoned that skill set and allowed my professional role, the prestige, compensation, and importance, to erode. Looking back, after the failure of my coffee business (2002), I have worked in the mortgage business in less and less lucrative and powerful roles. My last job, which I am still expected to return to once I am “better and able” could be done by anyone. It was a meaningless job with meaningless pay and meaningless security. Needless to say, I am not returning to that job under any circumstances. But the “what are you going to do when you grow up?” question has had several answers over the last several months. Answers that have varied based on where in my treatment I was at that time, what I thought I “wanted” to do, and what I thought I would be able to deal with psychologically.

Most recently, I have considered doing something with little or no stress, because I thought I needed that. I have considered, at least for the short term, working as a waiter in a high end restaurant or working in a grocery store (mostly for the union security.) Those job ideas were mostly just hold-overs until I decided what I really want to do, and what works for me psychologically.

My conversation with Mark today took a different path. Mark mentioned that he has a couple of other clients that are lawyers and that were, at one time, miserable in their jobs. All 3 of them used to work in private practice in both small and large firms. Places where the prestige, compensation, and ego factor are way up there. Also places where the pressure is high, the whip is cracking on a constant basis, demanding more production, and with a work environment typically thought of when one mentions “practicing law.” But all three now work for some faction of the government, and all three love their work. One works prosecuting corporations that harm the environment, one works helping the poor find housing, and the other works for the Attorney General. All of them feel that they are contributing something meaningful, they like the work environment, they have great benefits and security, the pay is modest but sufficient, and the hours and work expectations are well defined. In addition, I have a very close friend who used to practice trial law in Dallas. Due to medical issues, it became difficult for him to continue that practice and he now is a worker’s comp judge. He, also, (I think…) enjoys his work and is secure in his job.

These aren’t the “LA Law” kinds of jobs (if you’re too young to remember LA Law, good for you.) They aren’t glitzy. None of these people are going to get rich in these jobs, and they know that to be true going in. They also know that the demand for these positions, as compared to those glamour lawyer jobs, is minimal. 10 years ago, if you mentioned to me working in the government as a lawyer, I would have laughed at you, pointed out that you can’t make any money in that role, and not thought anything more about it. But today, I’m looking at things through different lenses. Making lots of money is great, and I’ve been there and done that. I recognize the benefits more money brings. I also see where my previous path has gotten me. But adding certainty to my life, defining what my future and retirement look like (to any degree), defining my work day, job expectations, hours, pay, and benefits all have significant value that I wouldn’t have recognized earlier in my life because those things are all contradictory (to some degree) to higher income.

Nonetheless, the job characteristics I mentioned above are the things that would provide a peace of mind that I might have never had, at at a minimum, a serenity that I left behind at my last lawyer job. Those things have such value that, if they require me to give up some income in exchange for that peace of mind and an income merely sufficient for survival, then the question of “what should I do? Becomes an easy one to answer. Stability, predictability, uniformity and a feeling that my work, whatever it is, has meaning are features that I will be seeking as I look for the beginning of my new career. Likewise, I will be looking to return to using my education and my skills, either in the typical sense, or in some other, more creative, sense.

This evening, there was much discourse in my house. My son was not doing well, obsessing over a couple of things, throwing some major fits and getting long with no one. That leads, usually, to my wife defending him, and her and I not getting along. In the past, that strain between my wife and I would have put me into a quick tailspin, my mood would have plummeted, and I would have withdrawn into the basement and spent the rest of the night there alone and away from the rest of my family. Tonight, I didn’t let it bother me. I saw things for what they were, a simple disagreement on how my son’s issues should have been handled, and I went on with my evening. I’m giving ECT credit for that improvement.

Early Spring

2006-02-28T13:02:00.000-08:00

Major backyard clean-up day. Its 70+ degrees in Denver (and its pretty early for that.) Picked up 7 bags of pine needles yesterday. Today, got three bags of sticks. Just sticks that my dog likes to chew on. He has toys and bones, but he likes the chew on wood. My backyard is such a disaster. I’ve neglected it for quite some time, and my lab-mutt dog (he’s about 4) runs the fence perimeter and barks constantly. 75% of the grass is dead, he’s run over sprinklers so often that heads are missing, and the dirt track around the perimeter is just lovely. I have a lot of work to do.

Melissa and I ran some minor errands and had lunch at Fatburger. If you’ve never had a Fatburger burger, you’re missing out. Got my motorcycle started and went for the first ride in about 6 months. It was fun, but it was different. For as long as I can remember, riding the bike was sort of my everyday way of tempting fate. It was rebellious and sort of a “if I get hit and killed, I’ll go out doing what I want to be doing so big deal! Come and get me.” Today, I was much more cautious and timid. I don’t “want” to die now. I’ve worked too hard and come too far.

February 25: The Day After

2006-02-26T14:40:00.000-08:00

Today was a tough day. My son is pretty severely mentally ill. He has lived in a residential treatment center (“RTC”) for most of the last year, and just moved back home about 2 months ago. He is, by any standards, a tough kid to deal with due to his illness. Nothing is ever enough or what he wanted or fair or sufficient. Its just the way things are. When he had bad days, we all have bad days. Today was one of his bad days. I did recognize a difference, however. In the past, when he would be having a bad day, I would just not be around. I couldn’t deal with it in a constructive way, so I chose to not deal with it at all. Its what seemed to work best. Today, I was able to deal constructively with what was going on, and be part of the resolution. The price I paid for that was a mood that felt very much like a slide back into “depression”, but which lifted much more quickly and didn’t have any prolonged negativity. Interesting.

Otherwise, I was still a bit wiped out from the treatment yesterday. My head seems to usually be pretty foggy the day after as a norm. I did some out of the ordinary things, like going to the grocery store with my wife for the weekly shopping.

February 24: Treatment #24

2006-02-26T14:39:00.000-08:00

An even 2 dozen. Today was ECT treatment #24. That’s a lot. Most people, it seems, have 6 to 15. It seems inconceivable that I have been there 24 times, and that I have been doing this now for 3 months (and that its been 3 months since I have been to work.)

My Beck score today was 9, which is outstanding (considering it was once as high as 40.) I’ve lost 4 pounds, down to 236. it seems that many things which I used to crave, sweets in particular, just don’t sound good anymore. Blood pressure was good today, ranging from 135/78 to 117/74. I am extremely sore today. The chest and shoulder weight workouts from this week, in addition to the 2 hours of racquetball yesterday, did a number on me. Its hell getting old.

My seizure was 55 seconds today. The A Doc today did things in a different order than previous docs did. They use 1000mg of caffeine to enhance my seizure, but they usually give that to me after I’m asleep. Today, I got it first. It creates this horrible taste/smell in your mouth, and I’ve been enjoying it all day. Starbucks, it most certainly is not!

I was pretty talkative and social (for me) today. I thanked everyone at the hospital as I was leaving. It wasn’t until the ride home that the nausea hit me. I felt like HELL for the rest of the day. I had a marvelous headache, even with 3 percocet and a handful of ibuprofen in my system. I laid on the couch and watched movies for the entire afternoon. I’m hoping the “feeling good” comes back tomorrow.

This is becoming a habit...

2006-02-23T18:02:00.000-08:00

Another good day! There was actually a time today when I was driving and thought to myself “I don’t just feel good, I feel great!” My energy was good, my concentration was sharp, my outlook on life was good and I was having fun.

I played racquetball with a couple neighborhood guys today. It was the second time we have played recently. I used to play 3 or 4 times a week and had a pretty solid game. I had to quit playing because, as my mood problems developed, I lost the ability to control my temper (with myself). Last time we played, my game sucked. Today, it started to come back. We had a good time and played for a couple hours. I’ll pay for it tomorrow.

Back to The Donut again today for a Gyros for lunch. I’m hooked. Did some work around the house, did some cleaning and some painting. I really am not looking forward to my treatment tomorrow, but I know I need to go.

Another good day!

2006-02-23T10:15:00.000-08:00

Its becoming a routine. Today had some soft spots, but still good by any standard I can apply from the last 5 years. Worked more on Mic’s wall repair, worked on one of Mic’s toys which seems to be out of repair. Didn’t get it to work, but satisfied myself that it is beyond repair. Spent some time measuring walls for replacing baseboards. One of the things I have noticed recently, which I haven’t noticed previously but which has been true for a while, is that the baseboards in most of the house need to be replaced. I will do that gradually while I am home. I had an appointment with my therapist today at 3:00. I had it in my calendar at 3:00. My last appointment, last week, was at 4:00. Somehow, I got it in my head that today was at 4:00, and I missed my appointment. Brilliant.

Had lunch at a place I have meant to try forever. Get this, thee is this donut shop called, appropriately, "The Donut". Its a mom and pop place owned by this Greek couple. Super nice people. I empathize with them because they compete with the big chain donut places like Lamars and Krispy Kreme. Anyway, they have been serving lunch for a couple of years. They advertise Gyros (Greek pita bread, lamb, feta cheese, lettuce, tomato, some sort of unique dressing) in the window. I love Gyros, but most places serve crap. So, I finally gave them a try today. It was so good I'm going back tomorrow.

A day in the sunshine

2006-02-22T10:27:00.000-08:00

Today was a good day. I had been wanting to put a regular workout into my daily schedule. I woke this morning and, as I was watching the “Today” show, I decided today was a good day to start. Did one body part weights, and walked for 30 minutes on the treadmill. Installed a dining room lamp for a neighbor as a favor. Picked the dogs up at the groomer. Read at Starbucks for an hour. Sanded and added a coat of mud to the wall repair I did in Mic’s room, did 2 loads of laundry, and did some general cleaning. Spent the evening with the family watching the Olympics. My mood was solid all day, with no weak spots or areas of concern. Melissa and I both noticed today that I am noticing things around the house that I have been missing for quite some time. Things like the wear and tear my dog is putting on the backyard, that our baseboards need to be replaced, that things need updating, etc. Things that haven’t changed recently (have been as they are now for several years), but I’m just more coherent and aware.

Long President's Day Weekend

2006-02-20T14:10:00.000-08:00

Descent day. Neither great nor poor. Kinda felt like I could feel depression creeping up on me this morning, but it seems to have gone away. I am having a bit of a problem with feeling like I’m not very useful or that I’m not doing my share for the household. This “not working” thing should be great, and I should be enjoying it while Melissa and my P Doc are telling me to take it easy and get well. But my “job” in the household is making the money to pay the bills. That’s what makes me feel useful and whole. And I’m not doing that, other than collecting a little but of disability. Giving much thought to getting part-time job doing something “light duty” like waiting tables at an upscale place or working at a grocery store, etc.

I think I’m going to take a day and go snowboarding. I haven’t been up all year, and I have the time and opportunity to go right now. Maybe later this week.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Pretty foggy day, overall. My head just seemed to be in a bit of a blur from the ECT yesterday. Maggie had a basketball game at 12:30. The morning was good from a mood standpoint. I did my best to stay away from Mic. He’s a little manic and talking WAY too much about nothing. Maggie scored 6 of her teams 13 points in the game. The rest of the day was calm, lots of Olympics, dinner at home. Played a couple hours of PS2. Mic watched for a while.

February 16: Treatment #23

2006-02-20T13:59:00.000-08:00

Treatment #23 today at 2:30. Beck score was 13 today, which is up from its best, but still under control. My PDoc stressed to me today that I need to stop thinking about getting back to work, and focus on getting well. If I don't do things in that order, getting back to work won't last long anyway.

My peripheral seizure today was 35 seconds, but the EEG activity showed 115 seconds (which is a long seizure) with excellent suppression. I woke up completely lost. It was a tough seizure. I had 100mg of Fentanyl and Ibuprofen for pain. Got out of recovery and home pretty quickly today (treatment at 2:30, home before 5:00.) Was pretty nauseous for most of the evening.

I'm not scheduled to go back until next Friday. I'm getting that "don't want to go back anymore" feeling pretty strongly now.

Good solid day.

2006-02-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

I had a great meeting with my therapist last evening. As I mentioned yesterday, I am/was having some significant trouble differentiating between biologically and psychologically driven concerns. I know that some of the trouble I had over the weekend, the suicidal ideation, crying, doubting whether I was ever feeling better, hopelessness, were resulting from tapering my ECT treatments too quickly. Those things improved after treatment on Monday. I also think some of the improvement after Monday was psychological and relative to the increasing pressure I am putting on myself to return to work. Because I was “done” with treatment, the pressure to return to work was growing quickly. After I had a treatment, whether I knew it or not at the time, the pressure was off. I couldn’t go back to work because I was being treated and so I got off of my own back.

My therapist (Mark) focused on one area: Where is the pressure to return to work coming from? Why do I feel this drive to get back to work as soon as possible? Melissa isn’t pushing me. She keeps telling me that we are financially sound until a certain point in the future, and that there is no hurry before that time. I’m still being paid “disability” insurance and, although its completely unimportant, my job is still there waiting for me when I’m ready to return. No one else is driving me. Its just me. I’m talking to people about going back to the practice of law, I’m submitting applications at Home Depot and grocery stores and book stores. Melissa suggested I talk to some upper-end restaurants about waiting tables 2 or 3 lunch shifts a week just to give me a feeling of doing something, but doing something I enjoy and that won’t have a negative effect on my health. Mark made the point that, knowing me as he does, he would expect me to be the last person to “milk” this situation and not return to work when appropriate. And that returning to work too soon, and then realizing that I wasn’t ready, it will be very hard to get back out. Just not going back until I’m ready is much easier to accomplish, and better for my mental health.

We talked about creating some objective criterion for assessing my readiness to return to work, and I agreed that, before making any decisions in that regard, that I will consult Mark, Melissa, or my ECT doc first. In fact, consulting my ECT doc seems to be a good idea anyway. As many patients as she has had, she has to have some good ideas about when its time to get back into normal life.

As of 3:00, there has been no negativity or noticeable mood issues today. I have been to the dentist for a crown replacement, read, done some writing, worked on a couple projects around the house, and been very level all day. I think that taking the pressure off of myself to hurry back to work is helping me stabilize.

Took my son out for dinner, just he and I. Some days, that’s not possible because of the clash between his mental illness and mine. Today, however, went well all day for me. I didn’t eat at all today. I had the dentist this morning, and then I was numb until about 1:00 and then just didn’t feel like eating. That’s not an easy thing for me. I’m too big a person (I’m about 6’2” and 230 lbs) to go all day without food. So Mic and I went to this Chinese buffet (mistake) and now I feel like I’m going to puke.

I made the mistake of reading other peoples’ submissions on the Internet regarding their own ECT experiences. Most seemed to be very negative, and now I’m nervous about my treatment tomorrow. Why reading from other people would make me nervous when I have 22 treatments of my own history, I have no idea, but it does.

Bio or Psycho?

2006-02-15T13:46:00.000-08:00

Today has been a pretty good day. Its hard to have a bad day when your tax guy tells you you are getting a big chunk of cash back. That'll help supplement the disability insurance income!

I made an appointment with my therapist for this evening. I was supposed to see him Monday, but went for ECT instead. I'm having trouble telling what part of my mood shifts are biological (which would be helped by ECT/meds) and what part is psychological. I'm beating myself up quite a bit because I'm not working, and I really don't think I could return to the job I was in before starting ECT. Likewise, as I think about it, I just can't come up with many, if any, jobs that I think I could handle right now. When I was feeling at my best, there were several jobs I applied for that I was pretty sure I could handle. None, however, which pay as much as I am accustomed to making. And I don't want to lose my disability for sake of working a job making less money. Especially if I wind up having a problem with that job when and if my mood crashes again. Not sure if I'm making sense, but I'm trying to provide an example of the loops my mind is going through daily.

I'm not good at sitting at home and being unproductive. I need to feel like I am participating and providing for my family. Even if that participation is working at a grocery store or Home Depot or something equally beneath my past professional level. But I guess I am sort of afraid of a job of that type and what it might do to my self esteem, and mood stability and my income.

These issues are things that I don't really think are resulting from a chemical problem in my brain. I think these issues come from what I do with these thoughts and ideas as I have them. I haven't seen my therapist since before beginning ECT (and it just doesn't seem possible that that was more than 2 months ago!) It will be good to talk with him.

Like magic...

2006-02-14T13:26:00.000-08:00

Been home all day. I promised not to drive (due to treatment yesterday), but I’m sure I could with no issues. I stayed home and cleaned, waited for the carpet steam cleaner guy, picked up dog poop in the backyard, read, etc. Nothing in my mood or my head that seems negative today. I’ve done some job prospecting stuff today, but nothing major. I’m scheduled for treatment again Monday, unless things get bad again sooner, and then I’m supposed to call for an appointment for Friday. Seems like the treatment yesterday has chased the monster away again for now.

I was home all day today. The day went well until about 4:30, and all of a sudden I didn’t want to be around anyone, and I just completely spaced out. I couldn’t think or concentrate and everything just seemed to flat. I wasn’t really “depressed”, but things changed from before 4:30 to after. I decided this evening that I am going to call for a Friday treatment time. Things are better than they were this weekend, but still not right.

Short update...

2006-02-13T13:05:00.000-08:00

Thank you SO MUCH to those of you, and there were several, who took the time to comment and encourage me. I feel like I owe several people an update just to let you know where things stand as of Monday at 2:00. I was able to get in for treatment today. My hospital and team of professionals (and they are certainly professionals) are incredible. They worked me in this morning. I'm home now and can't be up for long, but I'm already feeling a little better after today's treatment. My p-doc said that she is sure that we just tapered too quickly, that that happens sometimes (varies patient to patient), and that we can fix it. My Beck today was back up to a 31 (was a 6 when I quit treatment 10 days ago.) I got a comment from someone that said his/her Beck has never been below a 43. That is a very strong person, and someone who should really give ECT a try. You have everything to gain. Its scary, its not much fun, but it DOES work.

More later, and thanks for everyone's encouragement and letting me know I have readers out there. I'm back on safe ground for now, and scheduled for treatment again next Monday, unless things get bad again before then. Gotta go nurse this headache!

The Rollercoaster

2006-02-13T08:19:00.000-08:00

As they say, “Today is a new day.” I don’t know what yesterday was all about, or where the mood came from, but it seems to be gone today. I woke this morning feeling much better. I was afraid that my mood might decay like it did yesterday as the day went on, but at 2:00, its still good. I went to lunch with my daughter. Spending time with her is always good for my mental health. We played some basketball and I helped her with her lay-ups when we got home.

I have spent a lot of time today thinking about what was on my mind yesterday, and what was driving my mood. I have a fear, which never goes away but gets better and worse, that I am not and will not be able to support my family and that, as a result, we will lose our home and way of life. I also have this feeling of guilt, worthlessness, and hopelessness which comes from my not working, and really not doing a lot around the house. Melissa works part-time, pays the bills and manages the money, and really has been taking care of everything while I have been in treatment and getting well. That’s all fine, as long as I can see that I will be doing my part again after the “getting well” is done. But with total melt-downs like yesterday, I get this notion that I will never be able to manage going to work or managing our finances or doing much of anything else. I certainly would not have been capable of going to work yesterday.

3:00. Mood is sliding a little. I can’t sit in the room with my son and watch the Olympics. He is just not good for my mood when my mood is fragile.

I’ve been thinking more and more about work and working. I can envision going to work in the lawyer role I interviewed for last week. That’s a pretty high level but low stress and low volume position with people I know and have worked with. But anything else, including the job I left when I started ECT (I still “work” there but I’m on disability), I just can’t imagine doing. I wonder if the commitement to going to the Dumb Friends League (animal shelter) to volunteer yesterday was what started my mood decline. It feels like almost any commitment, where I have to be somewhere to do something at a certain time, creates this very strong drag on my mood. I feel like that should make me feel lazy or useless, but it doesn’t. Its not that I want to lay on the couch and do nothing instead of working. I want to do something and be active and engaged. I just can’t think of anything I feel like I could tolerate doing for any period of time. I feel lost.

This mood, where I am now, is difficult to explain. Its flat, or hollow, or empty. I feel hopeless and trapped and like there are so many negative “things” in my head that I need to deal with in order to be happy, but there are so many I can’t even begin to get them organized. And I know that, in reality, not much has changed in my world since just a week ago when I was feeling so good. I can’t help thinking that, maybe, I was never really mentally healthier or better. But rather that the ECT just confused me enough that I could pretend that all of these negative things weren’t there, and that I could pretend to feel better. And that when the ECT stopped and that confusion wore off, the ability to pretend wore off too.

4:15: My mood has continued to slide. Feels something like one part of my consciousness was dragging me down, forcing all of these negative things (i.e. employment, income, my mentally ill son, things around my house that need fixing, etc.) into the front of my mind. And there was another part of my mind that, for a while, fought all of that off, questioned whether I was “really” upset about those things and felt like I was consciously forcing myself to feel bad because I felt like I should feel bad. The negativity won that battle. I began to feel like I would rather not exist at all than to do anything or be anywhere I could think of. It just felt bad. Not as bad as yesterday, but certainly not as good as it has been recently. Just bad.

6:00: I don’t think I felt as overall bad today. I wasn’t as out of control emotionally, but I was at least as depressed. And certainly more unsafe to myself. There was a point today where I realized that I didn’t have the means to end my life today if I wanted to. I didn’t have access to the things I would need to make that happen in the way I would employ if I decided to do that. That, alone, made me feel trapped. No matter how bad things get in my head, I always know that the one bit of control that I have involves ending my life. If felt like my head, or my world, was so out of control that the control over the decision to kill myself would have provided at least that slim bit of solaced. I also spent a fair amount of time today thinking about how tired I am of impacting my family’s life. It is terrible enough that my world feels like this to me. It is unacceptable, to me, that I impose my misery on my family. My wife has spent 21 days in the waiting room at the hospital while my treatments are performed. 21 three to four hour periods waiting. And she hasn’t complained once. I know that I could not have been as strong for her as she has been for me, and I know that no one else would have been as strong for me either. Without her by my side, I would not still be here. I can’t ask any more of her.

Trap Door to Hell

2006-02-11T16:12:00.000-08:00

I had a terrible night’s sleep last night, or terrible for me anyway. I woke up freezing at one point and never got warm or back to sleep really good. I was also really sore from racquetball Thursday, and it hurt every time I moved, which woke me up often. Nonetheless, I woke up in a pretty good mood.

During the night, I had developed a craving for breakfast (eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast). So, When I woke up at 7:30, I decided that I had time to get breakfast at Waffle House before having to leave for Maggie’s basketball game at 9:00. I got up, and went for breakfast. I was in a good mood during all of this time, or at least I didn’t notice being in a bad mood or feeling any of the usual symptoms of my depression.

From the time we left for Maggie’s game forward, my mood worsened. I first noticed it when we got home. I was cleaning out my closet (something I had had on the list of “things to do” for some time. I had a couple hours before needing to leave for my shift at the Dumb Friends League (the “DFL”, the local animal shelter where I volunteer.) I hadn’t been to DFL since before I started ECT, about 2 months. Earlier in the week, I was excited to be going back. Its something I enjoy. Today, I really wasn’t looking forward to going.

I did my shift at DFL, but only because I felt like I had to. Its about 25 minutes drive from home to DFL. Too much time for me to be alone, thinking, when my head is heading in the wrong direction. It became obvious, during the drive, that the feeling good, being happy, looking forward to the future, and those feelings were gone. They weren’t sort of in the background. They were gone, and it felt like they had never been here. It was worse than if they had never been here, however. Now I felt bad, and I knew that I could feel good and I knew how that felt. I had the ability to miss those good feelings.

I fought my feelings for my 2 hours at DFL. It’s a 3 hour shift, but there were 2 of us today and not a whole lot of dogs to tend to, so it went quicker than usual. I was really glad. I just wanted out of there. I realized how miserable I was, and that I didn’t want to be there. I was aware of these things. But I couldn’t, despite trying, think of anywhere I wanted to be or anything I wanted to be doing. I just wanted to “turn off.” I wanted to not exist. I found myself, more than once, composing a revised suicide letter in my head. Apologizing to Melissa for everything I put here through, for nothing. Apologizing to Maggie for the pain I would be causing her for the sake of ending my own pain. I had the headache of my life from fighting back the tears. I so wanted to break down, right there in the yard where I walk dogs, and cry like a baby.

I can’t really figure out what I am so upset and sad about, where these feelings are coming from. It might be fear that I am and will be unable to support my family, that we will lose our home and all that we have because I can’t do what I need to do to keep those things. It might just be that I’m unhappy anywhere I am and doing whatever I’m doing, and I can’t get away from that unhappiness. It is SO confusing having these terrible feelings today, wanting to be dead, after feeling so good for many days prior.

Melissa reminded me that my P-Doc, the ECT doc, told me that if a relapse is going to occur, that its likely to occur in the first 6 weeks, sooner rather than later, and that it just means that we quit too soon. I’m glad that she reminded me of this fact. Its real easy to feel like a failure when all of this hard work and time and energy put into ECT turns to shit in the course of 24 hours.

I will do everything I can to survive until Monday. I have vowed to myself that I will NOT open the Word file that is my suicide letter. I won’t work on it even though I really want to. Because I know that I won’t allow myself to cross that threshold of no return without having said my peace to those in my life who I know I will be hurting when I leave.

You people out there reading the BLOG, please leave comments. Let me know you are out there. I need that right now.

Sorry so slow....

2006-02-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I've gotten, now, 3 e-mails from people I don't know, but who have been reading my blog, and who are less than happy that I have "just quit writing" now that treatments are done. My apologies...I really didn't know anyone, other than a select few, was reading. I'll try to do better in keeping you posted on my "recovery" as things progress.

I am, at present, trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up. As many of you may, or may not, know, I am a lawyer by training and experience. Five years ago, the public company for whom I served as Assistant General Counsel folded. Just prior to that bankruptcy, I decided, somewhat on a whim, that I wanted to open an Internet Coffee House. And, thus, the folly began...

I planned, designed, had built, opened, and managed the coffee shop for 2 years, during which I also practiced law sort of part time with my former General Counsel. It was during the decompression (from practicing law to running a coffee shop...big change) that depression first became part of my life. I suspect, however, that I had been dealing with mania for quite some time. 2 years after the coffee shop opened, due to location, "9/11", location, and who knows what else, it had drained me of every cent I had, and I was forced to close. Some very ugly financial times were to follow.

During these ugly times, just before the business failed, I literally fell into the mortgage business with a retail mortgage group across the street from my shop. After the business closed and while I was battling with my creditors, this was my sole source of income for my family. As things progressed and my creditor troubles continued and the stress mounted, etc, my bi-polar problems (primarily depression) magnified.

For the 3 years that followed, on an increasing basis, I dealt with depression. Returning to the practice of law just didn't seem possible. As the refinance market started to slow, and my income began to fluctuate, I was forced to look for more stable mortgage income. Working for a home builder was the answer I found. During the first year of that period, even while my depression worsened, I made more money than I ever had in my career. About 18 months into that employment, however, the stress, driving the depression, forced me to seek less demanding work. I worked with two other builders in the 12 months that followed, but my mental health continued to worsen. I was, eventually, extremely suicidal and just plain unable to function. My last mortgage position would, at one point in my career, been a total piece of cake. It paid about a third of the compensation from my highest paying position (about half of my last lawyer job). And it was just, at that point, still too much for me. I was running out of places to go to earn enough money to support my family, despite my Bachelors degree, a Law degree and an additional graduate degree.

Now that I am post-ECT, and still technically on "disability" from my current builder mortgage job, I am, again, faced with choosing a career direction. Only this time, the pendulum is swinging the other direction. I'm done with mortgage, I think. I'm not "sure" what I want to do, but today I am having lunch with my former General Counsel and his law partner to talk about joining their law practice. I'm not sure they want me, and I'm not sure that's what I want, but its a start! A start I would never have gotten if not for ECT. Of that I am certain.

Recovering

2006-02-06T15:09:00.000-08:00

Now that #21 has come and gone, and my series of ECT treatments seems to have come to an end, my focus is on recovery and well-being. Saturday, the first day after the last treatment, was terrible. I was wiped out all day, tired, headachey, joints were sore, and I just didn't feel like doing anything. The less often I have treatments, it seems, the worse they make me feel.

Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday!, was better, but still pretty sluggish. I keep comparing to the few days before the last treatment. Those days were REALLY GOOD. I felt good, lots of energy, my world made sense, and I wanted to be part of it. Saturday and Sunday didn't make that grade. Today, Monday, however, is getting back into that league. Today I went to a parent meeting relating to my daughter's swim team, volunteered on an art project at my daughter's school for a couple hours, walked around a "going out of business" mall with my wife for an hour, and have just had an overall high energy, good mood day.

Do I have some memory loss? Yep. No question...there are some holes in my memory, and it seems impossible to me that its been 7 weeks since I was last at work. There is just no way it could have been that long. There's no way there could have been 21 trips to the hospital...21 trips to the operating room...21 awakenings in the Recovery Room. There just isn't enough data in the memory bank to document 21 treatments, or the time period during which those treatments took place.

But I can tell you for certain that prior to ECT, I wasn't having ANY days of the quality of the days I have experienced over the last couple of weeks. Even my bad days now are better than my better days then. And my good times now can't even be compared. For anyone suffering from depression, really suffering, suicidal...you owe it to yourself to at least do the work to find out about ECT, ask the questions, before you throw in the towel.