My Story

I am told I have a chemical deficiency in my brain that has been lifelong. What chemical is missing and why can't they just give me the chemical in question? Would not that be the better remedy for this malady? Why must I contend with this problem of confusion and concern?

Since my youth I have had the feeling I was bipolar due to rapid mood swings, from tremendous highs to abysmal lows. The highs have always been short lived whereas the lows have been at the bottom of the spectrum and last much longer. My elementary school years were complete with these tendencies. At the beginning of the fourth grade I was creating disturbances in class to the point my mother took me to the Child Guidance Clinic in Dallas every Monday morning. These sessions did not last long due to my father stopping them after one month. I personally think he was embarrassed to have a son with any type of mental problem. The cost of the treatments were probably prohibitive as well. However, after this short time with a therapist, the decision was made that I hated my father and despised my mother. How they came up with this diagnosis in such a brief period of time is beyond my understanding.

From the fourth grade on I was in trouble the majority of the time in school. I would spend approximately three hours a day in the principal's office sitting and doing absolutely nothing. The Principal would walk over to me during the changing of classes and ask me if I would go to class and participate. My answer was normally the same; NO! So I sat and stared at the tiles on the floor.

After the school day ended I would walk home alone. I had to be home when my father got home from work which was around five p.m. each afternoon. Between the hours of the end of school and the time my father arrived home, my mother would allow me to play with a neighbor two houses away. But I had to be in the house by the time my father arrived. My adolescent life was rife with pain; physical and mental. But I thought it was normal to live that way because it was all I had ever known.

In high school I was a hood with a bad reputation. My reputation was so bad I normally could not date the girls in my school. This made it rough on me during this vulnerable time of my youth. But who cared; I didn't at the time. I was too busy being angry at the life I was forced to live. Things did not improve much after graduation from high school as I was into drugs and still running with street gangs. I was married at the beginning of my senior year of high school and that marriage was winding down after a year and a half. We parted under less than amiable conditions.

I met my present wife at a party one evening and was instantly attracted to her for some unknown reason. We dated for approximately a year and were married. I was still convinced that I was going to die at the age of 27 due to a recurring dream I had. Therefore, not much mattered to me at this time. At the age of 20 my son was born. This did not prove to be a turning point from my illicit activities as I continued to use drugs extensively. My wife and I argued quite a lot for several years but never separated.

Then a miracle happened, we found The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We became members of this denomination in February of 1978. This was a turning point for me. I stopped using drugs, smoking, and drinking alcohol all at the same time. This lasted for a short time due to my mood swings. My entire religious life was a roller coaster ride, one minute up, the next down. I would participate fully then go completely inactive. This type of action is still prevalent today.

My working life exhibits the same type of depression. I worked as an electrician mainly in new construction wiring new apartments in the beginning, then progressing finally to mansion style homes. I could run crews of men but they were never sure where they stood with me as I was inconsistent with my moods. Eventually my back became so wracked with constant pain I had to stop working in construction. I went through all the doctors asking about operations on my back with no acceptable answers.

I finally ended up at the Chronic Pain Center in the Dallas Spinal Clinic. I lived at this hospital for a month learning how to move and control the pain in my back by bringing the pain down to a tolerable level without using drugs. During my stay in the clinic I underwent psychological therapy because the clinic was built around a holistic approach to recovery. I spoke to a therapist about the harsh treatment I had received all my life from my father. I began a program of biofeedback and learned how to control the temperature of my body by using my mind only. I also used a tension box which I carried in my shirt pocket with sensors taped to my shoulder muscles. This box would beep any time I was exhibiting stress. It beeped all the time. I did not feel any resolution from these sessions. I did notice that I would become quite radical and speak very fast while talking about my father's treatment of me.

Today I am experiencing new problems. That statement is not quite true. The problems I face today are the same as the ones earlier in life, however, I did not at that time have the knowledge I possess now concerning my situation. Now that I have undergone inpatient care at a mental hospital, out-patient care from the same institution, visit a psychiatrist once a month, and speak with a therapist each week, I better understand the situation in which I find myself. This has yet not yielded answers to make these problems I experience go away. I believe this is one of the items I am to understand, that there is no cure. I must learn to cope with the world as I find it. But what happened to my ability to work math problems, why can't I read with any understanding?

During the summer months I worked very hard reading everything I could get my hands on. This began slowly and progressed to an acceptable level. Abstract material still eluded me however. Now I am experiencing a renewed problem of not being able to read again. My hands shake, my head is beginning to shake, and I generally feel nervous and anxious at all times that I am awake. I do not wish to get out of bed but would rather lie in a ball under the covers. My thoughts, or should I say visions, of suicide have returned. This brings on guilt for feeling that way, plus the fear that I might go ahead with the act because it is so simple. During these periods I do not even consider the effect this will have upon my family. It does not compute, only the action is emblazoned upon my mind. I feel I am slipping back into the condition that originally sent me to the hospital in the first place.

I want to live and continue to be with my family and friends. I do not want to die, but I am afraid. I hope my medications take away this attitude and fear. I want to get on with my life instead of worrying about each step I take, trying to decide what will come next, what malady will I have to endure in the future. If there is no remedy, is there a way to cope that satisfies?

I have dropped my classes in college again for the fourth and final time. I will not return again. However, I have begun teaching a young friend math. He is of the age to be in the eleventh grade but he is taking math from an eighth grade book. I found he still has difficulties on a third grade level. I too have a slight difficulty at this level. My hopes are that he and I will learn together. Maybe in teaching him, I will glean some of the facts I used to possess.

I have taken steps to apply for Social Security Disability benefits. That way I can have some type of income. This will indeed relieve some of the pressure and worry I constantly feel. Maybe with some form of income a small ray of light might enter my tunnel and give me release, even if just a small portion. I must get over the idea of this as a handout and realize this money was collected from my paychecks and set aside for this purpose. This is my money and I have a right to claim it. I was using the fact that I have been diagnosed as Bipolar, however, the lady that talked with me from the SS office said I should also include my problem with my back, that I would stand a better chance of approval including it.

My future plans are now set, I file for SS and fight that uphill battle. Then, if I prevail, I will begin placing this money into an account to build for the down payment for a residence out of this apartment. I intend to continue with therapy as long as my insurance holds out as it generally brings me a feeling of well-being. This feeling is not conveyed each session, but I normally feel better after a session than before one. I think of my father often, but not in the same way as before. I have come to better grips with my situation with him. Not a release, but a better understanding. I hope I can maintain that.

At present my mind is generally a blur, not knowing what I am doing next or for what reason. My reading abilities have digressed and my sleep habits have not improved. I listen to relaxation tapes and classical music to relax, but I do not feel much different. I must continue this activity to receive a result. Sometimes I question myself, whether I want to improve or am I using this problem as an excuse to be lazy. I feel I am ruining my family's future by not working and drawing a salary thereby building a retirement fund. It feels like the proverbial rock and hard place syndrome.