"Have you ever found yourself wondering if you are a high functioning idiot, or a low functioning genius?"
This was a question from one of the readers of my blog. This person understands. It comes from a similar experience to my own. It gets at the core of one of the most difficult issues for me. Identity.
At issue is two very distinct experiences of life. At one end of the spectrum, during times of depression, the simplest of tasks seem insurmountable. Clarity of thought is illusive. In my woodworking shop I find myself barely capable of completing one step, and then all momentum is lost, and I have to dig deep to reorganize my thoughts, and trudge onward. And yet there is this memory of times that were very high functioning. An idiot who has moments of greatness.
And then at other times I'm "in the zone". My ability to analyze, conceptualize, and visualize possibilities is impressive. Tasks are accomplished in a seamless flow. Everything seems possible. Give me a few acres of land, and a $5,000 grant, and I can turn it into a 15 million dollar senior housing facility. Energy abounds. Get out of my way. I've got this. Until I don't. Its like a rocket being propelled into orbit with almost enough fuel, running out just before enough momentum is achieved, and then falling back to earth. A genius that can't quite make it and continually crashes.
Somewhere in the middle there is the place of balance, if you can call it that. That seems to be what the goal of treatment is. Eliminate the highs and the lows and stabilize in the middle. Sometimes I yearn to find that place of balance and stay there. At other times I fear losing part of who I am.
When I look at the totality of my experience I find myself wondering what part of that represents my true self. If there was a time in my life that I'd like to relive continually, it would be that period when I was doing the development work on the senior housing. I felt so "alive". At other times it is the melancholy, pensive, reflective Scandinavian self that seems like the real me. At one end of the spectrum a developer doing great things. At the other end, a preacher probing the depths of the human experience.
The highs and the lows have so defined my existence that it is difficult to wrap myself around and identity carved out of the middle. It seems so painfully average, nondescript. Perhaps this is why so many people decide after stabilizing on medications to cease taking them. There is a desire to experience the fullness of their selves, both the height and depth of the human experience. But the disparity between the highs and lows is so profound that the extremes can seem demonic. Or if you prefer, psychotic. So extreme as to loose touch with reality.
Sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever. These words speak of our Christian identity. They come to me now. And I hear them in a bipolar manner. Soaring like a dove, nailed to the cross. The height and depth. I wonder if Christ yearned for that place in the middle?
Friday, October 30, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
"My name is Legion, for we are many."
Sometimes what one needs is a herd of pigs into which the demons can be cast.
For many years I dismissed the scriptural stories of demon possession as relics of an age past with little relevance to a more scientific world view. Today my sense is more that the Bible's reference to demonic possession may be more helpful than I thought, especially as it relates to mental health. Whether its the despair that has no legitimate basis, or a grandiosity that would not think twice about throwing one's self off of the pinnacle of the temple in anticipation of an angelic rescue, there is a profound sense at times that something foreign to my true self is at play here.
"Cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us." (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 58-59) Actually, alcohol is nothing more than a liquid. It has no capacity whatsoever to be "cunning, baffling, or powerful". Yet the experience of the alcoholic is that of facing an incredible, seemingly insurmountable foe requiring divine intervention to overcome it. What is your name?
Twisted logic is as the root of this foes "power". It controls. We drink a depressant because we are depressed. Insanity. We come to a point that our lives have been wrecked by alcohol, and yet we want nothing more than to turn to alcohol to relieve the pain. "You will not die, you will be like God." We are seduced by the very thing that is killing us. What is your name.
As God, a manic phase knows no limits. I could be president, and given the chance to rule, even the nations of the world would invite me to reign over them as well. Grandiosity. A vision for ministry and the Church that renders Christ's own perspective as short sighted, too limited in scope and ineffective. Where do these thoughts come from? What is your name?
And then the night falls. There are people out there. And yet loneliness and despair cloak the darkness. What once was a life without limits, feels now like an impotent life waiting anxiously for sleep, or death. A shower is a major accomplishment. It is as if a thief has seized everything that is of value and meaning, and slipped off into the night. What is your name?
Shaking. An EEG reveals "mild epileptic activity" that apparently is the cause of the shaking. "Mild epileptic activity" reminds me of the definition of "minor surgery" as being "any surgery performed on someone else". A physical manifestation of an unseen power within. "This kind can come out only through prayer." What is your name?
"My name is Legion, for we are many."
Within the scriptural stories of demon possession there is hope. Frightening as being possessed by a foreign being can be, the thought that this being could be cast out, exorcised, is comforting. This is not who I am. It can be different.
Perhaps finally, the countless hours of therapy with psychologists and psychiatrists, and all the medical intervention are about this one thing. "I command you to come out of him." And perhaps all that is lacking is a herd of pigs.
For many years I dismissed the scriptural stories of demon possession as relics of an age past with little relevance to a more scientific world view. Today my sense is more that the Bible's reference to demonic possession may be more helpful than I thought, especially as it relates to mental health. Whether its the despair that has no legitimate basis, or a grandiosity that would not think twice about throwing one's self off of the pinnacle of the temple in anticipation of an angelic rescue, there is a profound sense at times that something foreign to my true self is at play here.
"Cunning, baffling, powerful! Without help it is too much for us." (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 58-59) Actually, alcohol is nothing more than a liquid. It has no capacity whatsoever to be "cunning, baffling, or powerful". Yet the experience of the alcoholic is that of facing an incredible, seemingly insurmountable foe requiring divine intervention to overcome it. What is your name?
Twisted logic is as the root of this foes "power". It controls. We drink a depressant because we are depressed. Insanity. We come to a point that our lives have been wrecked by alcohol, and yet we want nothing more than to turn to alcohol to relieve the pain. "You will not die, you will be like God." We are seduced by the very thing that is killing us. What is your name.
As God, a manic phase knows no limits. I could be president, and given the chance to rule, even the nations of the world would invite me to reign over them as well. Grandiosity. A vision for ministry and the Church that renders Christ's own perspective as short sighted, too limited in scope and ineffective. Where do these thoughts come from? What is your name?
And then the night falls. There are people out there. And yet loneliness and despair cloak the darkness. What once was a life without limits, feels now like an impotent life waiting anxiously for sleep, or death. A shower is a major accomplishment. It is as if a thief has seized everything that is of value and meaning, and slipped off into the night. What is your name?
Shaking. An EEG reveals "mild epileptic activity" that apparently is the cause of the shaking. "Mild epileptic activity" reminds me of the definition of "minor surgery" as being "any surgery performed on someone else". A physical manifestation of an unseen power within. "This kind can come out only through prayer." What is your name?
"My name is Legion, for we are many."
Within the scriptural stories of demon possession there is hope. Frightening as being possessed by a foreign being can be, the thought that this being could be cast out, exorcised, is comforting. This is not who I am. It can be different.
Perhaps finally, the countless hours of therapy with psychologists and psychiatrists, and all the medical intervention are about this one thing. "I command you to come out of him." And perhaps all that is lacking is a herd of pigs.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Into the abyss. . .
Entering the subways in St Petersburg, Russia can be frightening. The escalators are some of the longest in the world as they descend down, down, and even farther down. One passes through the turnstiles and steps onto the escalator before you can actually see how far down the down escalator goes. And then as the steps go over the edge you finally get a glimpse of the depths to which you are descending and the only choice you have is to ride it to the end.
Imagine, riding a ski lift down the mountain, in the dark, with no idea how far down it is, but only the sensation of the descent into the darkness.
There is a spiral stairway, of which you cannot see the ending. If you dare look over the edge, you see nothing but stairs, one after another, each one a little lower. Desperately, you'd like to turn around but it is as if there is an unseen force pulling you down the staircase, and all the energy you can muster does nothing more than slow the descent.
Its as if one is chasing the sun, hoping to stay ahead of the darkness that is coming, and yet, try as you might, you cannot run fast enough, and the darkness always descends, and one has no choice but to wait out the night.
It is an all too familiar path. Perhaps, if one is lucky, there are landings along the way that provide a place to rest awhile. It might be a distraction such as a recreational activity, a good conversation, or a good meal. But it is short lived. As with an escalator, one can turn around and try to walk up the down escalator for awhile. If you are capable of walking up faster than the steps are carrying you down, you can reverse the descent. But only for awhile, a moment, for the relentless downward momentum of the escalator is more powerful than the ability to climb the stairs.
Sensory perceptions dim. The world goes black and white, and shades of grey. (I realize this dates me, as there are many today who have never seen a black and white TV screen.) It becomes hard to hear. Sound becomes jumbled. People seem to drift away, out of one's reach, isolation becomes overwhelming. And then, as though cruelly planned, the force of gravity increases and your body becomes heavy, incredibly heavy, making it difficult to walk, impossible to move freely, and even while resting, it is though one is pulled forcefully into the bed.
Lying alone in the darkness, one waits for the dawn. No effort on your part can hasten the rising of the sun. One voice in your head screams out in despair that the sun is gone forever, another calming voice speaks of faith, and that the light will return in the morning, once again, after the night has run its course. But first the night must run its course.
Imagine, riding a ski lift down the mountain, in the dark, with no idea how far down it is, but only the sensation of the descent into the darkness.
There is a spiral stairway, of which you cannot see the ending. If you dare look over the edge, you see nothing but stairs, one after another, each one a little lower. Desperately, you'd like to turn around but it is as if there is an unseen force pulling you down the staircase, and all the energy you can muster does nothing more than slow the descent.
Its as if one is chasing the sun, hoping to stay ahead of the darkness that is coming, and yet, try as you might, you cannot run fast enough, and the darkness always descends, and one has no choice but to wait out the night.
It is an all too familiar path. Perhaps, if one is lucky, there are landings along the way that provide a place to rest awhile. It might be a distraction such as a recreational activity, a good conversation, or a good meal. But it is short lived. As with an escalator, one can turn around and try to walk up the down escalator for awhile. If you are capable of walking up faster than the steps are carrying you down, you can reverse the descent. But only for awhile, a moment, for the relentless downward momentum of the escalator is more powerful than the ability to climb the stairs.
Sensory perceptions dim. The world goes black and white, and shades of grey. (I realize this dates me, as there are many today who have never seen a black and white TV screen.) It becomes hard to hear. Sound becomes jumbled. People seem to drift away, out of one's reach, isolation becomes overwhelming. And then, as though cruelly planned, the force of gravity increases and your body becomes heavy, incredibly heavy, making it difficult to walk, impossible to move freely, and even while resting, it is though one is pulled forcefully into the bed.
Lying alone in the darkness, one waits for the dawn. No effort on your part can hasten the rising of the sun. One voice in your head screams out in despair that the sun is gone forever, another calming voice speaks of faith, and that the light will return in the morning, once again, after the night has run its course. But first the night must run its course.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Diagnosis, an Art not a Science. . .
Sometimes it would be nice to know for sure what's wrong with me. I'd love to have the full list of diagnoses that have been on my charts from time to time. When I was initially diagnosed it was "dysthymia with major depressive episodes". In laymen's terms, an ongoing mild depression that periodically intensifies into a major depression. Ok. I have also been labeled as having "major depressive disorder: non-responsive", as in he's depressed, but anti-depressants do not work.
But then my last two psychiatrists have thought differently. Apparently, it is common to misdiagnose someone as being depressed when they are in fact bipolar. The reason why the depression does not respond to anti-depressants, and continues to return, is that the person is cycling from a manic or hypo-manic state to a depressed state, and back again. Bipolar depression is less likely to respond to anti-depressants, though anti-depressants may be part of the treatment. Bipolar depression responds to mood stabilizers such as lithium or Lamictal.
I am convinced that I am bipolar because I have responded better to Lamictal than any of the anti-depressants that I have been put on, and I have been put on most of the common anti-depressants, and a few not so common ones. There is a reverse diagnosis going on here that I understand is common. There is no test to definitively diagnose bipolar. But if you respond to mood stabilizers, and not so much to anti-depressants, then you are likely bipolar.
Bipolar I is easier to diagnose because both the manic state and depressed state are extreme even to the point of being psychotic. Bipolar II is more difficult because there is not a "manic" state, but rather a hypomanic state, which is not as severe and may present itself as just a very high level of goal oriented, creative and productive, driven functioning. It is pleasurable. And then there is another category, mixed states. One can also experience both manic or hypomanic symptoms concurrently with depressed symptoms. It all muddies the waters.
My psychiatrist is using the diagnosis of Bipolar for me. My psychologist is not so sure. I find myself wondering if doctors are prejudiced in their diagnosis based on their specialization. Psychiatrists prescribe meds, and Bipolar responds to meds, so are they more inclined to diagnose someone as bipolar? Psychologists do therapy, and psychological disorders respond to things such as cognitive/behavioral therapy, hence are they more likely to diagnose accordingly. I don't know.
What I know is that I have continually cycled through highs and lows over the course of my life, and that they have progressed. The highs get higher, the lows get lower. Sometimes the shift between the two is gradual over time. Sometimes it is as violent as falling off a cliff. And sometimes, I experience a cluster of thoughts and behaviors that are concurrently depressed and hypo-manic.
If I am truly bipolar, as I believe I am, then if I go off my medication there is a good chance that a full blown manic state could be triggered. But the mood stabilizers seem to have me locked into a mildly depressed state, and quite frankly, when your best day is still depressed it is not fun.
I wish mental health issues were as clear as heart problems. When my mitral valve failed, they could hear the murmur. They could take pictures of the prolapse. They could go in and repair it. With a mental health problem, neither the diagnosis nor the cure is straight forward. There is a wide range of disagreement within the medical community. One doctor may be convinced that you clearly are bipolar and the next doctor convinced that you are not. And as a patient, I am left wondering. Is this the right diagnosis, and the correct treatment? Or are we all off track?
But then my last two psychiatrists have thought differently. Apparently, it is common to misdiagnose someone as being depressed when they are in fact bipolar. The reason why the depression does not respond to anti-depressants, and continues to return, is that the person is cycling from a manic or hypo-manic state to a depressed state, and back again. Bipolar depression is less likely to respond to anti-depressants, though anti-depressants may be part of the treatment. Bipolar depression responds to mood stabilizers such as lithium or Lamictal.
I am convinced that I am bipolar because I have responded better to Lamictal than any of the anti-depressants that I have been put on, and I have been put on most of the common anti-depressants, and a few not so common ones. There is a reverse diagnosis going on here that I understand is common. There is no test to definitively diagnose bipolar. But if you respond to mood stabilizers, and not so much to anti-depressants, then you are likely bipolar.
Bipolar I is easier to diagnose because both the manic state and depressed state are extreme even to the point of being psychotic. Bipolar II is more difficult because there is not a "manic" state, but rather a hypomanic state, which is not as severe and may present itself as just a very high level of goal oriented, creative and productive, driven functioning. It is pleasurable. And then there is another category, mixed states. One can also experience both manic or hypomanic symptoms concurrently with depressed symptoms. It all muddies the waters.
My psychiatrist is using the diagnosis of Bipolar for me. My psychologist is not so sure. I find myself wondering if doctors are prejudiced in their diagnosis based on their specialization. Psychiatrists prescribe meds, and Bipolar responds to meds, so are they more inclined to diagnose someone as bipolar? Psychologists do therapy, and psychological disorders respond to things such as cognitive/behavioral therapy, hence are they more likely to diagnose accordingly. I don't know.
What I know is that I have continually cycled through highs and lows over the course of my life, and that they have progressed. The highs get higher, the lows get lower. Sometimes the shift between the two is gradual over time. Sometimes it is as violent as falling off a cliff. And sometimes, I experience a cluster of thoughts and behaviors that are concurrently depressed and hypo-manic.
If I am truly bipolar, as I believe I am, then if I go off my medication there is a good chance that a full blown manic state could be triggered. But the mood stabilizers seem to have me locked into a mildly depressed state, and quite frankly, when your best day is still depressed it is not fun.
I wish mental health issues were as clear as heart problems. When my mitral valve failed, they could hear the murmur. They could take pictures of the prolapse. They could go in and repair it. With a mental health problem, neither the diagnosis nor the cure is straight forward. There is a wide range of disagreement within the medical community. One doctor may be convinced that you clearly are bipolar and the next doctor convinced that you are not. And as a patient, I am left wondering. Is this the right diagnosis, and the correct treatment? Or are we all off track?
Saturday, October 10, 2015
The Image of God or Demons,
Who am I? And where have I gone? Or maybe I've been here all along.
I struggle with these questions. Self doubt takes on a whole new meaning when one is diagnosed with a mental illness. Is the me I've seen in the mirror the real me? Or am I looking at the product of a disease? An aberration? Is the image I see the child of God I was created to be? Or a demon?
I don't know the answer to this. I waiver back and forth. One way of looking at living Bipolar is to see it as the product of bad brain chemistry. Something is clearly wrong. Everyone experiences a natural ebb and flow of moods, but for one who is Bipolar both the highs and lows are extreme to the extent that one cannot function normally at either end of the spectrum. It can feel like a demonic possession. One's behavior is compulsively driven by mood, as if a foreign being is in charge, that the true self is captive and imprisoned within. Questions of accountability and responsibility come to mind. Is someone who is in a manic state capable of being responsible for their actions? Or are the behaviors symptomatic of the disease and beyond the control of the person? The devil made me do it.
But perhaps it isn't like that at all. Perhaps being Bipolar is actually just a way of describing someone with unique capacities that extend well beyond the norm. For example, were my decisions the pursue the development of Luther Park at Sandpoint, the senior housing facility we developed while I was at First Lutheran in Sandpoint, or my decision to invest heavily in a CNC Router for my woodworking business examples of symptoms of my disease that should have been moderated by "normal people" watching over me, or, examples of how the unique giftedness associated with being Bipolar allows for major accomplishments? One of the defined symptoms of Bipolar manic episodes is "reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions).
The judgement that we make is often based on the success of the endeavor. Luther Park is very successful. And so it feels as though it is the product of the unique giftedness that I brought to that challenge. My business has yet to become profitable, and so it feels as though spending over $50,000 on a CNC Router may have been a "lavish spending spree" or "ill-advised business decision". On the other hand, look at the furniture I've created.
Does the proper treatment of Bipolar disorder enable one to eliminate the "unnatural' highs and lows, cast out the demons, and get back in touch with one's true self? Or is part of one's true self, the capacity to experience extreme highs and lows, the heightened energy and creativity and all that goes with that, lost with treatment? What is called for, an exorcism or a channeling of gifts? And in the midst of it, who am I?
I struggle with these questions. Self doubt takes on a whole new meaning when one is diagnosed with a mental illness. Is the me I've seen in the mirror the real me? Or am I looking at the product of a disease? An aberration? Is the image I see the child of God I was created to be? Or a demon?
I don't know the answer to this. I waiver back and forth. One way of looking at living Bipolar is to see it as the product of bad brain chemistry. Something is clearly wrong. Everyone experiences a natural ebb and flow of moods, but for one who is Bipolar both the highs and lows are extreme to the extent that one cannot function normally at either end of the spectrum. It can feel like a demonic possession. One's behavior is compulsively driven by mood, as if a foreign being is in charge, that the true self is captive and imprisoned within. Questions of accountability and responsibility come to mind. Is someone who is in a manic state capable of being responsible for their actions? Or are the behaviors symptomatic of the disease and beyond the control of the person? The devil made me do it.
But perhaps it isn't like that at all. Perhaps being Bipolar is actually just a way of describing someone with unique capacities that extend well beyond the norm. For example, were my decisions the pursue the development of Luther Park at Sandpoint, the senior housing facility we developed while I was at First Lutheran in Sandpoint, or my decision to invest heavily in a CNC Router for my woodworking business examples of symptoms of my disease that should have been moderated by "normal people" watching over me, or, examples of how the unique giftedness associated with being Bipolar allows for major accomplishments? One of the defined symptoms of Bipolar manic episodes is "reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions).
The judgement that we make is often based on the success of the endeavor. Luther Park is very successful. And so it feels as though it is the product of the unique giftedness that I brought to that challenge. My business has yet to become profitable, and so it feels as though spending over $50,000 on a CNC Router may have been a "lavish spending spree" or "ill-advised business decision". On the other hand, look at the furniture I've created.
Friday, October 9, 2015
Warring Worlds Within
I wrote in my last blog about the interaction that I had with my insurance carrier that manages my disability claim regarding being suspended, pending the submission of some requested reports from my physician. In the end, the reports were submitted, and for the time being, all is good.
It was an experience. The irony of this ongoing process of evaluation by the insurance company (Liberty Mutual) to determine if I remain eligible for the disability benefits is that the process alone aggravates the disease. Every time the evaluative process comes up I experience a spike in symptoms. I imagine my physician telling the case manager, "He might be able to work, except every time you ask the question, the stress makes it impossible for him to work."
One of the symptoms that I experience is partial complex seizures, epileptic activity, which causes involuntary tremors centered in my right arm. These tremors may last a few minutes, a few hours, or be off and on for a few days. Stress factors apparently cause them to break through, in spite of being on anti-seizure medication. I first experienced them early on as I was concluding my time in the ministry. It was actually the seizure activity that was a major factor in my being hospitalized for a week and placed on disability to begin with. Then, it was being in church that provoked them, that lasted for three months or so. Now, they return when I get highly stressed.
Saturday, following the news that my benefits had been suspended, I experienced slight tremors. On Monday, after I received the news that my doctor had submitted the reports and that my benefits were no longer suspended, the seizure activity intensified and peaked that evening. But that wasn't the most interesting aspect of my experience.
What started to unfold during those days I would describe as a warring madness between the manic thoughts and depressed thoughts. It was like simultaneously both trains of thought were racing wildly, and my stream of consciousness would randomly shift back and forth between the two.
They focused our house, and whether we'd be able to keep this as our home if the disability benefits were terminated.
I could sell my CNC router to a leasing company, lease it back, and in so doing raise enough capital to make the house payment for a few years. No, maybe a home equity loan could sustain us for a while. We could move into a less costly rental, and rent out the house until we retired and have the income to afford the payments. I'll double down my efforts on the business, expand, and raise my income level. If I'm denied disability I'll return to the ministry, regardless of whether that would be a wise decision. I'll buy a lottery ticket. One way or another, my manic brain was scheming to figure out a way to leverage what I have to preserve what I have. (For the record, my rational brain recognizes that as a whole these thoughts do not represent sound and realistic financial decisions.)
And then breaking up this thought pattern was the depressed side of my thought pattern. Bankruptcy is inevitable. Loosing the house and the equity we have in it is just a matter of time. I'm just fooling myself to think anything will work. I lay down in a fetal position and try to go to sleep. And in spite of the exhaustion that all this causes, I cannot sleep -- and then another wave of scheming or despair would set in. "I know, the Bishop will retire in the next few years, I could do that!" (I'm still debating whether that was a depressed thought or a manic thought.)
Eventually, some calm returns. The warring worlds within are silenced, if for no other reason, shear exhaustion. This takes a lot of energy.
It was an experience. The irony of this ongoing process of evaluation by the insurance company (Liberty Mutual) to determine if I remain eligible for the disability benefits is that the process alone aggravates the disease. Every time the evaluative process comes up I experience a spike in symptoms. I imagine my physician telling the case manager, "He might be able to work, except every time you ask the question, the stress makes it impossible for him to work."
One of the symptoms that I experience is partial complex seizures, epileptic activity, which causes involuntary tremors centered in my right arm. These tremors may last a few minutes, a few hours, or be off and on for a few days. Stress factors apparently cause them to break through, in spite of being on anti-seizure medication. I first experienced them early on as I was concluding my time in the ministry. It was actually the seizure activity that was a major factor in my being hospitalized for a week and placed on disability to begin with. Then, it was being in church that provoked them, that lasted for three months or so. Now, they return when I get highly stressed.
Saturday, following the news that my benefits had been suspended, I experienced slight tremors. On Monday, after I received the news that my doctor had submitted the reports and that my benefits were no longer suspended, the seizure activity intensified and peaked that evening. But that wasn't the most interesting aspect of my experience.
What started to unfold during those days I would describe as a warring madness between the manic thoughts and depressed thoughts. It was like simultaneously both trains of thought were racing wildly, and my stream of consciousness would randomly shift back and forth between the two.
They focused our house, and whether we'd be able to keep this as our home if the disability benefits were terminated.
I could sell my CNC router to a leasing company, lease it back, and in so doing raise enough capital to make the house payment for a few years. No, maybe a home equity loan could sustain us for a while. We could move into a less costly rental, and rent out the house until we retired and have the income to afford the payments. I'll double down my efforts on the business, expand, and raise my income level. If I'm denied disability I'll return to the ministry, regardless of whether that would be a wise decision. I'll buy a lottery ticket. One way or another, my manic brain was scheming to figure out a way to leverage what I have to preserve what I have. (For the record, my rational brain recognizes that as a whole these thoughts do not represent sound and realistic financial decisions.)
And then breaking up this thought pattern was the depressed side of my thought pattern. Bankruptcy is inevitable. Loosing the house and the equity we have in it is just a matter of time. I'm just fooling myself to think anything will work. I lay down in a fetal position and try to go to sleep. And in spite of the exhaustion that all this causes, I cannot sleep -- and then another wave of scheming or despair would set in. "I know, the Bishop will retire in the next few years, I could do that!" (I'm still debating whether that was a depressed thought or a manic thought.)
Eventually, some calm returns. The warring worlds within are silenced, if for no other reason, shear exhaustion. This takes a lot of energy.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Mental Illness: Shooters, Care giving, and "The System"
As one with a mental illness, I cringe every time I hear of yet another heinous crime being blamed on somebody being "mentally ill". It adds to the stigma of mental illness. There is a built in prejudice in such a statement, not dissimilar to saying "The murderer was black." The murderer may have been black, but being black does not in anyway predispose one to being a murderer. Or to put it in other words, imagine a news reporter saying, "This is yet another case of a blond person murdering someone."
Having said that there are some basic facts to acknowledge. Anyone -- truly anyone-- who commits murder can be diagnosed with a mental illness. Of course, mentally healthy people simply don't go to school armed to the max and start shooting. Mentally healthy people do not do things like murdering their family and taking their own life. There is a diagnosis in DSM for absolutely everyone that would engage in murderous activity.
Mentally healthy people don't murder other people. But neither do the vast majority of people who struggle with mental illness.
A psychopath is a person with an antisocial personality disorder, manifested in aggressive, perverted, criminal, or amoral behavior without empathy or remorse. I might react more favorably to a reporter saying that the "murderer was a psychopath", than to the more generic "mentally ill".
Having said all of that, I appreciate the sentiment behind calls for better care for the mentally ill in our society that often come up following a shooting. Although, lets be honest. Not a lot of psychopaths are going to seek out the care of a mental health professional. You will never find a "Psychopaths Anonymous" group. For the sake of every one who struggles with mental illness, it would be nice if the general level of knowledge and awareness was increased across our society, and especially within the "system" that is designed to support and care for those with a mental illness.
Case in point. Yesterday I got a call from Liberty Mutual, that manages my disability claim on behalf of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. "I'm calling to inform you that your benefits have been suspended. The reason why we are suspending your benefits is because your doctor has failed to submit the report we requested on time." This came on a Friday afternoon. My doctor doesn't work Fridays. Frantically, I tried to get a message through to her. If I can get her to submit the requested report by Tuesday everything will be alright. If I don't get ahold of her until Monday, she'll have to drop everything to do the report (six months of treatment notes is what's being requested).
The point? One of my diagnoses is an anxiety disorder. The single most difficult thing to cope with during this time, given my diagnosis, has been the disability plan that is supposed to be helping at this time. In the aftermath of the call I began having "partial complex seizures". Great. They're trying to determine whether I should remain on disability, and their methods of determining this are such that they aggravate the disease, and it could land me back in the hospital. Which of course might answer their question.
Its things like this, difficult to cope with, that can cause deep seated anxieties and, yes, a rage.
Second case in point: The message implied in much of the communication from the disablity claims department is 'prove to us you cannot work'. On the other side of the equation, for me to be considered eligible for call, there would be the demand to 'prove to us you can work'. It is at one and the same time in the best interests of the Church to get me off of disability, yet also, to not allow me to re-enter parish ministry. The disability plan feels like a severance package and a disposal system.
Then twinges of rage start stirring deep within.
Then I step back, reflect on it, and wonder if such experiences that are common for a person with a mental health diagnosis, are the breeding ground for the type of rage that can lead to horrific behaviors? For those who are Sesame Street fans, I find myself wondering if there is a monster at the end of this book, and if the monster could be me. . .
Having said that there are some basic facts to acknowledge. Anyone -- truly anyone-- who commits murder can be diagnosed with a mental illness. Of course, mentally healthy people simply don't go to school armed to the max and start shooting. Mentally healthy people do not do things like murdering their family and taking their own life. There is a diagnosis in DSM for absolutely everyone that would engage in murderous activity.
Mentally healthy people don't murder other people. But neither do the vast majority of people who struggle with mental illness.
A psychopath is a person with an antisocial personality disorder, manifested in aggressive, perverted, criminal, or amoral behavior without empathy or remorse. I might react more favorably to a reporter saying that the "murderer was a psychopath", than to the more generic "mentally ill".
Having said all of that, I appreciate the sentiment behind calls for better care for the mentally ill in our society that often come up following a shooting. Although, lets be honest. Not a lot of psychopaths are going to seek out the care of a mental health professional. You will never find a "Psychopaths Anonymous" group. For the sake of every one who struggles with mental illness, it would be nice if the general level of knowledge and awareness was increased across our society, and especially within the "system" that is designed to support and care for those with a mental illness.
Case in point. Yesterday I got a call from Liberty Mutual, that manages my disability claim on behalf of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. "I'm calling to inform you that your benefits have been suspended. The reason why we are suspending your benefits is because your doctor has failed to submit the report we requested on time." This came on a Friday afternoon. My doctor doesn't work Fridays. Frantically, I tried to get a message through to her. If I can get her to submit the requested report by Tuesday everything will be alright. If I don't get ahold of her until Monday, she'll have to drop everything to do the report (six months of treatment notes is what's being requested).
The point? One of my diagnoses is an anxiety disorder. The single most difficult thing to cope with during this time, given my diagnosis, has been the disability plan that is supposed to be helping at this time. In the aftermath of the call I began having "partial complex seizures". Great. They're trying to determine whether I should remain on disability, and their methods of determining this are such that they aggravate the disease, and it could land me back in the hospital. Which of course might answer their question.
Its things like this, difficult to cope with, that can cause deep seated anxieties and, yes, a rage.
Second case in point: The message implied in much of the communication from the disablity claims department is 'prove to us you cannot work'. On the other side of the equation, for me to be considered eligible for call, there would be the demand to 'prove to us you can work'. It is at one and the same time in the best interests of the Church to get me off of disability, yet also, to not allow me to re-enter parish ministry. The disability plan feels like a severance package and a disposal system.
Then twinges of rage start stirring deep within.
Then I step back, reflect on it, and wonder if such experiences that are common for a person with a mental health diagnosis, are the breeding ground for the type of rage that can lead to horrific behaviors? For those who are Sesame Street fans, I find myself wondering if there is a monster at the end of this book, and if the monster could be me. . .
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