A Crazy Guy Like Me

A Crazy Guy Like Me

By Dave A.

How I Found Stability With Meds and the 12-Steps

I was born in a shack my father built in Northern California in 1976. My father was violent, mentally abusive, a heavy drinker and, as is now apparently a schizophrenic. I dreamt of fighting him off when I was young. I had resentment toward him yet a natural admiration that looked for the good in him. My mother is bi-polar and began drinking after my parents’ divorce. She did, however, quit drinking and introduced me to 12-step help when I was a teen for my heavy drinking and drug abuse.

My schizophrenia started aggravating my psyche when I was about 15, most likely triggered from heavy drug abuse. Along the way, I started dating a sweet girl. We fell in love, yet she left and I was devastated. I began isolating and was tormented by horrible visions. Scenes of violence would flash through my mind. When I returned to counseling, my therapist suggested medication, which I did not feel was a good natural remedy. In fact, I looked down upon medication as if it were a street drug.

Not too long after, I was institutionalized upon my family’s insistence and my concurrence. Obsessed with my previous girlfriend, I continued to grieve over her. Whenever I seemed to stop thinking of her, someone would mention or ask about her, which I interpreted as God indicating her eventual return to me. After several trials and disruptions in medications, the majority of my psychosis involved my imagining this former girlfriend was with me. I knew she was not, however, I felt happier thinking she was somehow with me in spirit. My writing and the music I listen to is much inspired by this woman.

I have not drunk or used illegal drugs since I was 21. I am 38 now and feel I have made a strong effort to do well in this life of illusion. I met Dan Frey (editor of NYC Voices) when I was about 23, and whom I consider a good friend, although we have not been in close contact for years. His efforts to support my musical shows are still appreciated.

Since I was 21, I have done my best work with psychiatric practitioners, having been in hospital psych wards once a year until about eight years ago. The threat of psychosis has alleviated over time and I value my freedom with the assistance of outpatient care. I would, however, do inpatient again if needed, and have considered it on occasions when I struggled the most.

I have schizoaffective type 2, which means I have struggled with depression throughout my life. I continue to enjoy good times as well. The twelve-step program has taught me to find esteem in service, in hopefulness and faith in healing for the sake of others, as well as myself.

I can no longer drink or ingest the sickening amounts of sugar designed by junk food companies. Due to my borderline sugar levels, I cut soda and other sugary drinks out of my diet. I still acquiesce sometimes with chocolate, but not like I used to. I don’t know for certain if I have fallen prey to Zyprexa's tendency to create sugar reactions, or to the junk food industry. Either way, I now regulate my diet more consciously.

I bring a 12-step meeting into the psych ward down in the valley once a month. If I get the apartment I’ve been eyeing, I’ll be just a block away from the psych unit and my plan is to begin weekly meetings. I have a sense of accomplishment having done the same with the hospital back east years ago.

Currently, I live in the mountains of Northern California and have an application pending for a low-income apartment down in the city’s valley. I’m making an effort to enjoy my current life while looking forward to having a mental health clubhouse about a half block away, as well as other fun activities, when I get down there. Maybe I'll meet a crazy lady who would understand a crazy guy like me.

Saved By a Cat by Shannon

Saved By a Cat

By Shannon

How My Pet Kept Me From Committing Suicide

In 1982, I was diagnosed as having a “problem.” I was twelve. At that time there were no real medications, or much therapy, for juveniles. I suffered with periodic depression until I reached college and was able to get some therapy at the campus’s mental health center. Right after college, I chose to get married—instead of attending Graduate School for a master’s degree in counseling—for the mere reason that someone asked me to. I had such low self esteem that I figured I might not get another chance. BIG mistake. Though the man was patient with my issues, he never fully understood and simply flew quietly under the radar when I was at my worst.

In my thirties I began to experience extreme mood swings. I would go from frustration to full outrage in twenty seconds. I would throw things, scream, and once I tried to stab my husband in the throat with a screwdriver during the process of hanging a ceiling fan.

When I visited a psychiatrist and described the instances, I was prescribed my first mood stabilizer. Later came an anti-depressant before an anti-anxiety drug was added to the cocktail. I began intensive therapy but was getting nowhere with my bouts of depression. I began to take the anger and sadness out on myself.

I would have irrational thoughts, such that if I cut myself I could bleed out the pain, as if I were accidentally injured. Though for most of my life I was unaware of the name for this illness, I had been suffering from Dermatillomania, a disorder where someone can't stop picking at their skin. I had always been a “picker,” as it was a self-soothing mechanism I had developed early in life. I hated the results, but was comfortable enough to do so. With all of these things combined, I was finally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, which put everything else under that umbrella into perspective, and subsequently changed both my medication and therapy protocol.

When I next became ill I was prescribed high doses of Prednisone. BIG MISTAKE. It resulted in an obsession with death and eventually a suicide plan. I was miserable in my marriage, at work, and had recently lost a very special pet. I was simply in more pain than I could ever imagine. More than anything, I wanted to end the pain and kill the painful parts of my being. I had no clarity that efforts to cease that would end all my future. I just did not see that they were all intertwined. I had a complete nervous breakdown, went on a manic spree, and then planned my suicide.

The morning I was to complete my act, one of my cats intervened. As I began to take the pills I had been stockpiling after doctor hopping for weeks, she literally swatted at my hand. SMART CAT! It shook me into a reality that made me realize how many joys I would be missing. I called my therapist and my husband and was admitted to an acute mental health care facility. I was only released after plans had been made to transfer me to another facility in another state that provided DBT therapy, which was the protocol for BPD (borderline personality disorder) patients.

After four months at the facility, the staff and I felt I was ready to resume life. My husband and I decided to divorce in that time. I had met another wonderful man while in treatment. After several months I moved to the state where we had met and we began a new life together.

I was doing really well for one of the longest periods ever. Meds were right, therapy was fitting, and things were going smoothly. During a five-day vacation period from my job, I somehow developed agoraphobia. I literally feared going outside, avoided sunlight and kept my curtains closed. Thus began another hospitalization, this time for about two weeks. My meds were again readjusted, and I was released. Since then, that boyfriend and I eventually broke up, and I moved back to my hometown.

I’m currently suffering again from deep depression and anxiety. Yet, now I have no health insurance and have to rely on state funded care, which is minimal at best. I am able to hold a part time job and socialize with two of my lifelong friends. I have a new pet that brings a level of peace and responsibility to my life, which helps to keep me together. I only pray that simply surviving will continue.

What I Learned From the Psych Out 2011 Conference

By Melissa Farrell

Seeking a new vision for mental health care, I attended the Psych Out 2011 conference at the City University of New York (CUNY)’s Graduate Center in Manhattan on June 21, 2011. The conference was sponsored by the PhD Program in Environmental Psychology at the Graduate School and University Center of CUNY. The main organizer of the conference was Lauren Tenney, along with Dally Sanchez and Eva Dech, and many others.

Robert Whitaker, a journalist, spoke about his monumental book, Anatomy of an Epidemic. Whitaker was critical of modern medication treatments for mental illnesses. Whether you’re for medication or against it or whether you have found some kind of middle ground, Whitaker presented valid data about the subject. Whitaker’s first book on mental illness was Mad In America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill published in 2001. In it, he presented the history of the mentally ill in this country going back to the nation's beginnings. Whitaker argued that society does not have time for moral treatment. It is much cheaper and more time efficient to use medications even though they are not as effective as we would like to think.

Dr. Philip Sinaikin, through his book, PsychiatryLand provided a raw assessment of the field of psychiatry and recommended that drug therapy be replaced by empathic talk-therapy. He gave us a handout that included the stories of individuals termed “Poor Pete” and “Helpless Bill.” According to Sinaikin, no one tried to get to the root of their problems. Instead they were given medications and sometimes forced to take them against their will. Dr. Sinaikin described PsychiatryLand as a Disney Land, which has been hyped-up as a great place, but in reality is just a hot, overcrowded, noisy and expensive amusement park. Similarly, PsychiatryLand is where millions visit to reap the benefits of a rapidly advancing “brain science” to identify and treat the underlying physical cause of painful emotional conditions. Since we don't know exactly how the brain works, let alone how to fix it, is this not also a case of “image” supplanting “reality?”

I also learned about Soteria House in Alaska, a home-like alternative to hospitalization for people who are newly diagnosed or having their first break. The original Soteria House was created back in the 1970s in California by a psychiatrist named Loren Mosher. He advocated for a home where patients who were suffering from “extreme states” could heal as naturally as possible. The environment was meant to be a safe haven with caring workers who were not trained in the medical model. Research indicated that more patients were able to recover in this model without drugs, though some were not. If a person was not able to recover without drugs, attempts were made to help the person minimize their need for medication. The National Institute for Mental Health (NIMH) eventually withdrew funding for this project possibly because it is cheaper to give someone medication and discharge them then to allow them to heal naturally in this type of setting.

Ann Rider, MSW, CPRP presented and discussed many revolutionary ideas in mental health including the use of “Narrative Therapy.” Narrative Therapy focuses on the stories of people’s lives and is based on the idea that mental health problems arise in social, cultural and political contexts. Each person produces the meaning to their life, so critical for recovery, from the stories that are available in these contexts.

Darby Penney, one of the authors of The Lives They Left Behind: Suitcases From A State Hospital Attic presented a social history of everyday patients in a state hospital and what they went through. It chronicled various individuals’ lives from what their lives were like before and what became of them after being admitted to a state hospital in New York. They were people with careers, ambitions and livelihoods at various points in their lives. These people “fell from grace” as so often happens in the mental health system. I am happy that their stories live on.  

Hopefully, the Psych Out conference will promote the inclusion of alternatives to traditional mental health practice in a realistic and practical way that does more good than harm for patients’ well-being.

Note: Melissa Farrell is an advocate and writer. You can reach her at mfarrell079@aol.com.