Yes, Mark Twain: We're All Mad.

I am having a sad night. I am feeling lonely, a little angry, and a little crazy. Only feeling a little crazy because the tape that is playing in my head sounds a lot like the old me, and it’s the tape that always made me feel crazy.

What do I mean, the tape playing? I mean the thoughts, the voice in my head, what my brain is telling me, the things which, despite the capability of sound reason and logic, can seriously threaten to undermine any good work I’ve done in myself, any progress made, any light at the end of the tunnel. This is the kind of stuff I feared greatly in the beginning of the Journey of Joy, but the fear has waned more and more as the time passes and these kinds of nights happen with less and less and less frequency. In fact, I’m not sure when the last was, but I know it has been at least a couple of months since, if not more. Given that this was a nightly thing for me for many years, I’d say that’s not too damn bad.

Processing why I’m here hasn’t been too hard. I reason that I am feeling what I am feeling because A) I’ve had a lot of emotional highs this weekend, including a big spiritual experience, which generally lends to some lows for a balancing out process (we can’t live on the mountain top); B) I just watched Silver Linings Playbook¹, having not quite yet learned my lesson about watching movies by myself, if at all (it’s coming...slowly); and C) There is something for me to learn from this.

The sadness came upon me last night, triggered by a conversation with a friend and something that has been nagging at me for a little while. Due to my vulnerable mental and emotional state post-'spiritual experience and freaking amazing day full of wonderful things,' the trigger hit me harder than expected. I was so upset by the time I got home and so angry. I paced as I made my justifications, arguments and explanations in my head, some out loud, and let myself feel what I was feeling for a little bit before I unpacked it.

***

Where I went to treatment we each were assigned a therapist. One week my therapist was on vacation, so I saw Gloria. I loved Gloria, and would’ve rather had her as my therapist full time there, but it all happened as it should. Anyway, this one session with Gloria left me with a tool which I not only have learned to use with precision on myself, but I’ve been able to use it to assist others as well. At the time, however, it frustrated the heck out of me because I couldn’t do it.

Explaining to Gloria an incident which upset me that week, she asked me to go deeper. It was like inception – she kept asking me to go deeper.

“Okay, but you need to go deeper,” she said.

“I can’t, it stops there. That’s why I’m upset.”

“I understand you think that, but I want you to try to go deeper.”

Realizing I was stuck, she told me to think about it and write about it over the next week and let her know how it went.

I now somewhat obsessively “go deeper” when I find myself in a great state of turmoil. Even a little state of it. Why did that upset me? What’s happening inside? What’s going on? What is this touching?

I don’t remember who used the term, “unpack,” when talking about getting to the root of their feelings, but I rather like it. I like the analogy a lot because of the mental image that comes along with it:

Here is all my baggage. It is full of stuff. I am frustrated by the stuff, cluttered by the stuff, overwhelmed by the stuff. I can let it sit there and be angry about all the stuff, or I can unzip the first bag and start unpacking it. Once I reach the last article in the bag, pull it out, wash it, put it away or whatever, the bag is empty. Cool, huh?

I like emptying my bags these days. It’s easier to move around without lugging all that crap behind me.

***

So after I let myself have my angry moments², I started to unpack. After all, it was late, I was crazy tired, and I wanted to go to bed.

I started with the immediate incident, peeling off feelings of insecurity, old wounds, childhood experiences, trust issues and the like. I also recognized my susceptibility to the trigger due to having such an awesome day which included a powerful spiritual experience from which I came home to a peaceful apartment which was shortly thereafter no longer peaceful as a loud argument erupted in the apartment below me. It also does not help that this was my first week attempting a new diet and exercise program in an effort to get myself healthier, which means I am sore, over-tired, and freaking hungry as well as a bit peeved at myself for the times I “cheated” with food just in this first week.

It was around this level of depth that I realized the fight below me actually was my first trigger and already had spawned some emotional discord within me that went mostly unacknowledged. I mean, I felt it, I was aware of it, but I didn’t give it much attention because I had an AA meeting to get to. The AA meeting followed up on this with another (and related!) trigger that I realize I attempted to ignore by just lumping it in with the previous. Yet I knew enough to know I couldn’t go straight home; I needed some fellowship. Then, right before leaving my friends to come home, I had the brief conversation which held the last trigger of the day.

I think I was aware going into the conversation that I wasn’t quite on stable footing, but it was too late, I’d already jumped in. And what came out was not as coherent or sane as I desired and left me feeling as though I’d only solidified the fact of something quite other than what I was trying to say. Not that it matters much – the main point of the conversation was taken care of and all the rest of it prior to and following the dialogue all happened on this side of the street.

***

And here’s the so-totally-awesome thing about where I am in life with regards to this situation: In the past, I would’ve cast most or all of this on the other person while also hating myself and created a completely false reality based on my own insecurities, fears and past experience. Last night, I stood fully aware that the other party was not a contributing party, merely an innocent bystander and good friend.

It is amazing to see growth first-hand.

***

Finally, I reached my state of peace for the night after emailing a friend overseas, rambling and  letting her know that I was upset, therefore acknowledging to another party that I was having a not so awesome night. (I also let her know I was unpacking it and the upset was lessening.)

I struggle with allowing other people know when I’m not-so-awesome. I really, really do. That in and of itself is a matching set’s worth of baggage, if not a catalog. The fact that I can say it to this friend in particular is a huge testament to the amount of trust we’ve built over the past nine months of emailing while she’s been on the other side of the world. (Somehow safer that way, I guess?)

I slept well and enjoyed church this morning, although it brought yet more emotions to the party. I got to detach a bit by hanging out with friends at the beach, but couldn’t fully escape it, likely by Divine Design. (When God wants me to learn something, he wants me to learn it. I can’t get away, I can’t ignore. I will struggle as long as I fight it, but once I turn and face it, or “go face down in order to face up³,” I will not only find healing and growth, but I will return to peace.) I asked the friend nearest me in the sand what she was reading and her reply told me it was a book about someone with Borderline Personality Disorder. She said more than that, of course, but the point is that that was a small trigger in that it caused some reflection.⁴

Then I came home and watched a movie about mental illness while simultaneously breaking my ban on certain foods.

So, really, it’s no surprise at all that I’m having a sad night. And to be honest, as I sit here writing this, I’m feeling better. I’m not feeling so sad. Perhaps a little nervous, but yet encouraged by the fact that I can say this, I can put this out there, and maybe there is someone who really needs to see it right now.

***

Ah, but I am not done learning. Despite already overrunning a preconceived idea of how long a blog post should be for the purpose of readers’ attention spans, I’m not done yet. I’m at what is perhaps the most key of all my learning this weekend, and something on which I clearly need to work.

***

When the movie ended, I was really struggling. I watched all the bonus features, googled a couple of the actors and cried a little out of loneliness. The movie got me in my head where the chatter started up and I paced again, trying to decide which course of action to take:

“Do I write about it? I’m too angry to write; I want to punch the walls. I could scrape and/or sand the walls in preparation for painting them, which I swear I’m going to do soon. I’d rather punch the walls. I should go for a drive. Where do I want to go? I could drive to Myrtle Beach and wake up on the beach. I’ve never been to Myrtle Beach. No, I can’t afford the gas and I’m trying to be better about impulsive spending. I want to punch the walls. Maybe I should go for a drive. No, I can’t afford it. Dammit. Dammit! I want to punch the walls. I should call someone. Who am I going to call? I have a lot of people I could call. There’s only one I would call, but she is busy having a fun day. I could call these others, but it’s late. Being sad and needing to talk to someone never happens at a reasonable hour. I could call the hotline, but this isn’t a crisis. Besides, the last time I called the hotline, all I wanted was someone to pray with me and the lady on the other end said she couldn’t do it. ⁵ What if I’d been suicidal and that would’ve saved my life? Whatever. Who am I going to call? No one. I can’t. I’m not ready to lay this on my new group of friends. Aha. Clearly I do not yet trust them enough for the bad days. Although I realize it’s more out of fear associated with the fact that in the past every day was a bad day and that’s why I felt like I drove the friends away, although in reality it’s probably more that I just didn’t trust them enough and ultimately pushed them away and projected my own thoughts about myself onto them. Maybe I should write.”

So here I am. Out of my head and out of myself now, perhaps a little fearful of laying this out there, but understanding there must be some purpose in it. Also realizing that I need to examine and unpack my trust issues in friendship, since clearly now must be the time, I must be ready, because that’s how God seems to roll in these things. And, honestly, these folks are a great group of people. It took awhile for me to open up to them, and it has been a slowly unfolding process of allowing them to see me for who I am on different levels. The final hurdle – not insurmountable if I’ve learned anything at all – is allowing them to see me where I am when I am in a sad place, when I am in a place where I am feeling kind of crazy, when I am in a place where I’m not the happy, joyous & free individual I am the majority of the time these days.

***

As a Christmas present in the year 2000 (as noted on the back of the frame), my sister gave me a plastic picture frame with two quotes by Mark Twain which she’d typed out for me and put on a yellow background. The second one reads,

“When we remember that we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.” ⁶

While this frame has lived on a shelf or bookcase in my bedroom in every place I’ve lived since receiving it, that quote never held as much truth for me as it has over the past couple of years. Because we are all mad. It’s just that we don’t all have the benefit, as my therapist once said, of being on the other side of the couch where we get to see the proof of this fact on a daily basis.

We all have the thoughts, the insecurities, the tape that plays in our heads. It’s just that for some it is worse than for others. Some face chemical imbalances, some face dealing with rapes and homicides, some face great loss, some face the diseases of alcoholism and addiction. But we’re all in this big boat together, so the closer we get to understanding that Mark Twain is correct, the closer we get to a bit more peaceful world. It’s a process, there are steps in the middle, but trust me on this one.

Perhaps it is precisely for this reason, then, that I’m about to publish this on the interwebs. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve gone completely mad.

Much Peace & Love to you all.

Notes:

¹ If you haven’t seen it, the movie deals with mental illness, highlighting Bi-Polar disorder, which once was a diagnosis I carried and an illness for which I was treated. Kind of hard for me to watch, read, or listen to anything about stuff like that without feeling something in response.

² “Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry – but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t give the devil that kind of foothold in your life.” Ephesians 4:26-27 (MSG)

³ From an August 2012 Living Proof Live conference with Beth Moore. Her words. Love that woman, love her energy. She exhibits a mania mixed with reverent awe and gratitude with which I can identify!

⁴ Borderline Personality Disorder was my diagnosis after eight months of seeing my therapist who initially agreed with the prior Bi-Polar diagnosis until she’d spent several months working with me. After that, she spent a few more months with me before bringing the new diagnosis to my attention. She explained that the two were commonly mis-diagnosed as each other, but after discussion, we both agreed BPD was a more accurate fit. I vaguely remember her trying to tell me this was more hopeful, as there were behavioral therapies in place that could help versus attempting more medications, which have historically only proven to give me bad side-effects and never treat my symptoms beyond the initial placebo effect created by my very desperate desire not to live in a dark, lonely and miserable corner of the dead world. The good news it that God does in fact work miracles and today I carry no diagnoses at all. Instead I walk a Journey of Joy, always growing, living mostly in Peace, and enjoying a Beautiful and very much Alive world.

⁵ In the final weeks before I shipped myself off to treatment, and probably lending to the fear factor that helped get me to that point, I’d started cutting myself again. Desperate isn’t a strong enough word for where I was some nights. Drunk, bleeding, and terrified of myself and all the world around me, all I wanted more than anything else was for someone to pray with me, but it was late at night, as it often was when I reached the point of needing another living soul to talk to, and I never felt there was anyone I really could call anyway. So that night I called the local crisis hotline, basically begging the lady on the other end to pray with me, but in my recollection she basically said all she could do was have the psych on-call call me or send an ambulance to me, and if I wouldn’t do either of those, she strongly recommended I go to the ER. Regardless the exact words, she absolutely would not pray with me. The happy ending to the story is that an internet search for a pastor on-call finally, six phone calls to other “on-call” voicemails in, yielded a result. I reached a Baptist pastor in Virginia who talked with me and prayed with me, helping get me to a place where I could just pass out and cause no further harm to myself that night. He even called me back the next day to check on me.

⁶ The first quote in the frame has always blatantly been true for me:

“I have never let schooling interfere with my education.”

When I look at these quotes now, I can’t help but wonder if my sister just thought they fit me well or if she’s really always known me better than I gave her credit for. By the same token, she probably has no idea the impact she’s had on my life through the years. I love & respect her more than I’ve ever been able to tell her, but as our relationship continues to grow in ways I’d once lost hope it ever would, I look forward to the day we can have these conversations.