There is nothing that I cannot do,
Except that I find everything too difficult
My fierce ambition and driving pride
Are wrecked upon the jagged shoals of despair
Short lengths of flotsam once again connected as a ship
For the hull to be pierced once more on the breakers
Stray thoughts careen drunkenly through
The tangled, unsuitable field of my brain
Leaving a wake of wretched seeds of doubt –
That are destined to flourish
And scaffolding for towering pillars of ambition –
That are doomed to collapse
The common man falls on his face
To wail at his bloodied nose and stand again.
I rise up to the heights as a Phoenix, until my Prometheus wings melt
I hurtle from on high to the uncaring ground, crushed
From the painful depth I gather myself, crumb upon crumb, ash upon ash
Until once again I fly, destined to taste afresh the ashes of oblivion
(Not to worry, I am not in this place so much right now. Just call this a memoir and some-time spectre.)
Friday, November 16, 2007
Flying under the radar one minute, busted the next.
A few days ago I was hanging around with a few new friends watching a reality TV show. The discussion turned to the actions of one of the participants and one of my new friends noted that "he is crazy, he must be manic-depressive!" Everyone laughed, except for me. "He acts really nice one minute then is such a bastard the next. He's crazy!" I just kept my smile fixed. There is no way that anyone there had any idea of my bi-polar disorder. I just smiled and flew under the radar, but the statement shook me. Especially when I see on the news last night where, once again, there is a push to 'share' mental health records with the FBI so that the diagnosed mentally ill can be put on the list preventing them from buying firearms.
I do not care if you never want to buy a pistol and think that firearms are evil incarnate. If you have a mental disorder this sort of talk should have you afraid and outraged by turns. The fundamental proposition is to classify people by status without judge or jury. I could rant on about this, and probably will in the future, but this is as much as I have the stamina for today. :)
As for the busted... Yesterday I had my regularly scheduled appt. with Dr. Feelgood to do the medication thing. One of the things that has been going on is that I have been gaining weight on top of an already, shall we say, well-rounded figure. This has probably been caused by the Depakote, which increases appetite. It is also one of the important mood stablilizers that I am on.
So, the Dr. talks to me about it and says that I need to up my Depakote dosage but is worried because it may induce me to eat even more and gain even more weight -- especially with the holiday season coming on. So, the Dr. gives me the stern talk that they must be required to memorize at medical school about increased risk of diabetes, heart attack, stroke, so on and I make the obligatory promises that I will do my best to eat better and get more exercise. The visit with the Dr. ended at close to 5, and so I decided to go to dinner.
I live in a city near the town where my Dr. has his office. It is in the college town where I lived with my family, but I no longer live there since my separation with my wife. (I keep going there in case my wife and I are reconciled, I'd hate to have to change multiple doctors). In the town there is a fantastic restaurant that sells the best Gyros sandwiches ever known to man. They are friggen incredible. They are also about 3/4 of a pound of meat on a pita bread and topped with yougurt/cucumber sauce. A 'small' serving of fries there is sufficient to feed 3 people. So, since I rarely make it down anymore, I decided to get a gyros before I headed home.
Just as I sat down to my artery-clogging meal who should walk in but... you guessed it, the very doctor to whom I'd made promisess of being a good boy with my eating not fifteen minutes before. It's a small restaurant and I knew that there was zero chance of being avoided, so I just waited until he caught sight of me and smiled.
Thankfully, he was getting a 'to go' meal so he wasn't there too long. Actually, he sat down at my table while he waited and didn't really rail on me about the meal (it turns out that he gets a 'to go' order from there about once a week himself). Nonetheless I must say that I felt well and truly busted.
I do not care if you never want to buy a pistol and think that firearms are evil incarnate. If you have a mental disorder this sort of talk should have you afraid and outraged by turns. The fundamental proposition is to classify people by status without judge or jury. I could rant on about this, and probably will in the future, but this is as much as I have the stamina for today. :)
As for the busted... Yesterday I had my regularly scheduled appt. with Dr. Feelgood to do the medication thing. One of the things that has been going on is that I have been gaining weight on top of an already, shall we say, well-rounded figure. This has probably been caused by the Depakote, which increases appetite. It is also one of the important mood stablilizers that I am on.
So, the Dr. talks to me about it and says that I need to up my Depakote dosage but is worried because it may induce me to eat even more and gain even more weight -- especially with the holiday season coming on. So, the Dr. gives me the stern talk that they must be required to memorize at medical school about increased risk of diabetes, heart attack, stroke, so on and I make the obligatory promises that I will do my best to eat better and get more exercise. The visit with the Dr. ended at close to 5, and so I decided to go to dinner.
I live in a city near the town where my Dr. has his office. It is in the college town where I lived with my family, but I no longer live there since my separation with my wife. (I keep going there in case my wife and I are reconciled, I'd hate to have to change multiple doctors). In the town there is a fantastic restaurant that sells the best Gyros sandwiches ever known to man. They are friggen incredible. They are also about 3/4 of a pound of meat on a pita bread and topped with yougurt/cucumber sauce. A 'small' serving of fries there is sufficient to feed 3 people. So, since I rarely make it down anymore, I decided to get a gyros before I headed home.
Just as I sat down to my artery-clogging meal who should walk in but... you guessed it, the very doctor to whom I'd made promisess of being a good boy with my eating not fifteen minutes before. It's a small restaurant and I knew that there was zero chance of being avoided, so I just waited until he caught sight of me and smiled.
Thankfully, he was getting a 'to go' meal so he wasn't there too long. Actually, he sat down at my table while he waited and didn't really rail on me about the meal (it turns out that he gets a 'to go' order from there about once a week himself). Nonetheless I must say that I felt well and truly busted.
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