Manic Depressive Illness- A Possible Intro to my Memoir

It has been a really weird morning. The sun has refused to come up, Domino is going crazy and I have this lingering feeling that someone is watching me. The paranoia is a result of my Seasonal Affective Disorder; it happens every time the sky turns dark, or rain falls to the earth. So in my crazed and paranoid state, I decided to rip apart my apartment. In doing so, I stumbled upon an old thumb drive, which had a basic outline of my memoir. I spent the next hour tweaking and expanding the intro. I present to you, a possible beginning to my memoir on my experience with Manic Depressive Illness:

It was just another average day in May 2009.I was standing in the bathroom of a US Congressman’s district office, looking curiously into the vanity mirror. I was holding a pocket knife in my right hand and in my left, a paper towel containing finely crushed Oxycodone. Gently placing the towel onto the granite countertop, I wiped off the pocket knife on my pants and stored it in one of my pockets. I contemplated how I was going to ingest the white/blue powder before me. Snorting it would mean an instant high, one that would over take my body in crushing ecstasy. But if I ingested it, my mind and body would be enveloped in warmth, security and happiness for most of the morning and early afternoon.

Mind made up, I ripped off a small piece of the paper towel and carefully poured the white/blue powder onto it. Licking the residual powder, I tossed away the useless towel and turned my attention back to the mound in front of me. Carefully pulling up all of the corners, I encapsulated the fine powder in my makeshift parachute and swallowed it before I could question my actions. Now complete, I washed my hands and face, turned off the light and exited the bathroom. As I passed his office, I greeted Congressman X, who was lounging in a cavernous office. A smile crept  across my face as my fingers began to tingle and mind cloud. I continued walking down the corridor and eventually took my place at the front desk, answering phone calls and inputting data as my mind slowly descended into euphoric bliss.

~

                  “How could a nice Jewish boy have gotten himself mixed up into drugs?” My friend asked me as we munched on breakfast at a local Long Beach café. Surrounding by a growing collection of drunken patrons, who were stumbling into the Shoreline Café after a long night of drinking, I tried to think about how to answer.

“It is not that easy to explain,” I responded.

“Well you could try. I told you about my marital problems and struggles with suicide. The least you could do is talk to me,” Janet stared directly into my eyes with an intensity that unnerved me.

“All right, all right. Just stop looking at me like that.”

A smile crept along her face. Knowing that she had won, she picked up a half eaten fried zucchini and began twirling it in her fingers before placing it in her mouth.

“Well the story about the US Congressman was real. I actually did take Oxy in his bathroom. It was when I was an intern for his district office and involved with Republican politics.”

“That’s right you had mentioned you worked with the Republicans.” Janet contemplated my former line of work.

“I did and for most of that period I was high on some sort of opiate. Standing outside of markets I would be talking to people about voter registration and how it was important to take an interest in the political process and they would not even realize I was high on soma and vicodin.” Janet shook her head, not responding just looking at me.

“But to understand how I ended up addicted to pills and working for the Republican Party, I need to give you some back story, this might take awhile. Do you still want hear this?”

“Well im still here aren’t I?” Janet responded almost immediately “I’ve got all night. You know I usually don’t go to bed until 5am.”

A glass shattered to the floor somewhere behind us. Turning towards the back I saw a drunken woman trying to climb desperately up the wall.

“This is the perfect setting. Well here goes nothing. My parents had just moved…[end text]

So there you have it a possible intro to my memoir. My goal is to continue expanding the text and while posting various chunks of it onto my blog.

I hope everyone is enjoying there Sunday…..Domino and I would love to wish mothers everywhere -Happy Mother’s Day

Dave.

Ps. If you have twitter (or are interested in twitter) you can follow me at @david_a_stein or friend me on facebook: http://www.facebook.com/thedavidastein

Manic Depressive Illness- A Life Long Struggle with Mental Illness

A couple of months ago my mom made a comment that stuck with me- she said that I had won the “mental illness lottery.” I tried to understand what she had meant, but at the time I was pretty clueless: Was my mom trying to be funny, or was this an accurate depiction of my life? It wasn’t until I feel into deep depression, destroying the little bit of progress I had made, that I began to comprehend my mom’s comment. I started to examine my family background and what I found blew me away.

I was about 8 years old when I was first taken to see a psychiatrist. Diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, the psychiatrist recommended that I see a cognitive behavioral therapist as well as take ADD medication. At the time ritalin was the most prominent drug. But I refused to take it and my parents agreed. So the only option available to me was intense psychological therapy. For the first year I would see my therapist three times a week. It was not an easy time for me as most of my classmates would be spending their afternoons playing video games or sports. I would be stuck in therapy working on issues that I thought were pointless. I hated going to therapy. I hated being singled out. And I hated the fact that my teachers thought I was lying about my mental illness (my kindergarten teacher tried her hardest to fail me. She would put me down in class, talk about me behind my back and ignore my raised hand when I had a question. This was my first taste of the bias/ignorance that surrounds mental illness. I was only a child and yet she thought it necessary to treat me like shit). My childhood did not get any easier. In fact most of my childhood is a blur; I don’t remember much prior to my 13th birthday, only fragments of my childhood remain in my memory (I will come back to this topic in a later post. For now, just understand that I was in therapy until I was 18).

When I turned 18 I decided I no longer wanted to see my therapist. My life was stable. I had just been accepted into Whittier College, my grades were strong and I had a large group of friends. What I did not realize was that my mind was changing. I was becoming very manic and although that allowed me to accomplish a lot, I was destined to crash (I just did not realize it at the time. During this manic period I graduated from Whittier in three years with two majors and a minor (Political Science, Religious Studies and History) I worked for the football team, I was a PR agent for the President of the School, I played video games, I drank daily and I was constantly writing. Upon graduation I began working for a labor union as well as a hotel. However, my life began to crack. It would seem that every three months I would fall into a deep depression, isolate myself and anger those around me. I didn’t know what was going on. Unfortunately, I did not seek help as I was still able to perform at both of my jobs.

About two years after I graduate from college, I quit my job at the Union and started working as a telemarketer. It was during this time that my pain killer addiction was at an all time high (I would buy hundreds of pills every two weeks) as well as my weed smoking. I had my first major breakdown and in doing so I destroyed most of my friendships. Still I refused to seek help. Quitting my telemarketing job, I began working with the Orange County Republican Party. I had an internship with a prominent US representative as well as a high ranking position within the OCGOP. I also became addicted to Oxycodone. It was at this point in my life that I experienced a horrible mental breakdown. I had to quit all of my jobs as I could no longer function and I finally told my parents about my drug problem. My dad, who originally was skeptical about my ADD, helped me to overcome my addiction as well as push me towards seeing a therapist. My mom was extremely supportive and suggested that it might be time to try medication. So at the beginning of 2010 I was diagnosed as being Bipolar, with rapid cycling and mixed episodes and was put on a cocktail of drugs.

Sorry for going off on a tangent, but I thought having a bit of my background would help in understanding the original comment: me winning the “mental illness lottery.” As I stated above, I recently became interested in my family history. There is a lot of mental illness on both my dad and mom’s side. My mom’s sister committed suicide last year after a life long battle with depression. My great aunt on my dad’s side, spent most of her early adult life in a mental institute. My great grandmother on my dad’s side died in a mental institute, as well as my great grandmother on my mom’s side. My 1st cousin on my mom’s side was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and my 1st Cousin on my dad’s side spent much of his childhood in special education classes (he was never diagnosed, as his parents thought mental illness was a curse on the family. Instead of helping him,  they demanded that his elementary school FIX their son or they would sue. Unfortunately, he has yet to see a therapist). This list does not include the numerous drug and alcohol abuses that exists within my extended family (my paternal grandfather’s brother died in drink-driving accident, and a second cousin of mine died after shooting up pure cocaine).

As can be seen my mom’s comment was right, I had in fact won the “mental illness lottery.” In my immediate family (parents and sister) I am the only one who is “mentally ill.” All of the psychological problems that exist within my family passed over my parents and sister and landed in my head.

Well that is all for today, my head and hands hurt. I hope everyone has a wonderful Tuesday,

Dave.