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Day 3 of 28.

So I finish treatment on July 13, according to my advisor/therapist here. I’m already counting the days. Not that it’s a horrible place, but damn. My schedule is not in line with the schedule they have me following here.

See, I’m a guy who goes to bed at 1 or 2 in the morning, sleeps till 9 or so, has several cups of coffee before even thinking about food. That shit doesn’t wash here.

Our first gettogether – the "community meeting" – is at 8am. Breakfast is served from 6:30-7:45 in the morning. Lunch from 11-12. Dinner from 5-6. You don’t eat when they’re serving, you’re fucked. (Some would say that even if you do get to eat, you’re fucked. The food reminds me of chow hall days in the military.) This resulted in me awaking this morning at 5:45. OK, that’s not entirely accurate. I GOT UP at 5:45. My roommate (oh, yes, there’s a roommate) got up at 3:00 (in the MORNING) and was packing his stuff up since he leaves tomorrow.

He’s a nice guy, my roomie, but I’d much prefer a private room. They do have a few of them, but I didn’t get the luck of the draw on that one.

The day is pretty well packed with classes and groups. Aside from meals, the biggest break of the day is from 8:30-9:00 AM. After that, you’re fortunate to get 5 minutes between each session. It’s all individualized…I have a schedule that’s highlighted with the sessions I’m supposed to attend each day. Naps? Well, those have been severely curbed. I’m dragging a bit, but surviving.

As for logistics, I had no idea what to expect coming in. As it turns out, we’re allowed to keep all our meds in our room (under lock and key in our personal locker), unless you’re taking a controlled substance (which I’m not). I even have my insulin and syringes in my room. Wasn’t expecting that. Yes, we can have shoelaces and belts. Someone asked me about that beforehand and I didn’t have the answer till I got here Tuesday morning.

There’s a rec room with ping-pong table, pool tables, foosball, games, etc. There are 4 different TVs spread throughout our wing, each with DVD players. Just finished watching "Regarding Henry" this evening. Tuesday night was "Avatar," which I hadn’t seen but really enjoyed.

We can have visitors on Saturday afternoons, though I don’t really expect anyone, except maybe my Mom.

They’ve changed up my meds a bit. That’s one of the better things about the experience thus far, since I wanted them to do something different for me. (As if being in a residential program wasn’t enough of a change-up.)

The guys here are (for the most part) really cool. We have youngins who served in Iraq, all the way up through old-timers who served in Vietnam. Then there’s me, who served during the first Gulf War. Full spectrum. As much as the social aspect of this place scared the fuck out of me ahead of time, it really has turned out to be okay. Not surprising, it’s just that I tend to blow the hell out of everything in anticipation.

There’s one washer and dryer to serve about 100 or so people. And it’s not an industrial washer/dryer, either. You sign up for 2-hour blocks of time on a sheet, and the washer has the temperment of Sybil. Not Sybil Law…Sybil, as in you don’t know which personality you’re gonna get at any given moment. Sometimes it works fine, other times it just keeps starting and restarting its cycle over and over again. I look forward to Saturday, when I’m signed up to do my laundry.

The mops they supply for us (yeah, we clean our own rooms and bathrooms) are primitive at best. There are room inspections daily (feel like I’m back in the Air Force already, except for the part where I don’t have to shave and I can wear cargo shorts). We have bed checks, of course…which really isn’t a big deal. It’s not like I have anywhere to go after hours.

And there ARE computers with Internet, which I wasn’t expecting. Thank God. Course, I don’t have much time to sit in front of them. Most of my day I’m relegated to my iPhone, which only gets a signal outside (as I mentioned in my last post).

There are several wings here, ranging from people with mental health probs to PTSD to substance abuse. For the most part, everyone gets along fine, though there are occasional "disagreements." Rumors abound and word has it that someone is getting kicked out for starting a fight today. I don’t get it, you’d think people just just calm the fuck down and treat each other with some respect. But I admit there are a couple of guys I wouldn’t mind getting punched. Not by me, of course. I’m a pacifist. Mostly.

This is rambling and long-winded and all over the board, I know. Guess I just wanted to check in and say I’m ok. I’ll be better come July 13.

I put my mailing address in the last post if you feel inclined to write. If not, no biggie. I understand that you’re too lazy to write me while I’m in the looney bin. *sniff sniff*

WHAT I *CAN* USE: We sit in the atrium quite a bit, smoking, me and the guys. Lots of jokes get passed around, so if you know any really good ones, I’d appreciate you commenting here with one or two. Laughs most welcome, and the guys who’ve been here for weeks are always expecting the newcomers (that’d be me) to bring new jokes with them. Much appreciated.

I’ll post when I can. Thanks again for all your comments, Tweets, messages, texts, and emails. Again, I wish I could respond to everyone, but it’s just not feasible right now.

Hasta lasagna.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

One of my oldest blogging buds, James, and I have a lot of commonalities, particularly our battle with depression (and bipolar disorder). He wrote a post, listing some of the things he’s grateful for. Think I’ll follow suit because the Depression is rearing its ugly head yet again.

Feel like withdrawing from society, ignoring all social media, etc. etc. You’ve heard it all before. You’ll probably hear it again.

Sometimes you need to take stock of the good shit in your life in order to maintain some semblance of sanity.

• Despite the last week-and-a-half, I’m relatively healthy. I’m normally not hocking up half a lung. It’s a good year for me to quit smoking, since I still have my health. (And yes, that will certainly be one of the Resolutions for YOR.)
• I have good friends. I may not touch base with them nearly as much as I should, but I know that they’re there for me should I need them.
• I have a working computer. It’s ancient, it crawls along, but it works. And that’s saying something for a 4-yr-old laptop. I’m currently in the process of what will likely be a 17-hour defrag. I’m praying this is the year for the replacement to come along. (MacBook Pro, anyone?)
• My brain works. Yes, I fight depression, PTSD, bipolar disorder, ADD, social anxiety, and who knows what else. But compared to many who have it far worse? I’m thankful that my mental faculties are pretty much operating at full capacity. Usually.
• My car works pretty damn good, considering it’s 10 years old. I’m not a person who gets hung up on vehicles, since they’re a utilitarian kind of thing as far as I’m concerned. Get me where I need to go (and back) and I don’t really give a shit that there’s a swamp in the back seat or that rust is perhaps the only type of molecule holding the roof together. Well, that and the bubble gum.
• Rumor has it that Apple is developing an iPhone for Verizon. I hope it’s true. Another rumor holds that the 4th generation iPhone will be announced on June 22nd. My upgrade pricing became available in January, so I *could* get myself a 3GS, but why? When the next iPhone is due to be released in a matter of months, I’m not tying myself to a 2-year deal for LAST year’s model. I’ll be good and patient and wait. I’m praying that Apple announces not just the next AT&T iPhone in June, but the Verizon iPhone, as well. Cuz when they do? Hasta lasagna, AT&T.
• I have a place to live. That’s not to be taken for granted. I’m fortunate.
• Food. I have that, too, even if lately everything tastes like cardboard to me.
• Daughters. Despite the troubles I’ve caused in those relationships, I couldn’t be prouder of my girls. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: they are my crowning achievement.
• Family. Like most people, I have my share of dysfunctionality in my family. Hell, sometimes I feel like I’m the sane one. But I love my family, and I know that I’m lucky to have them.
• Health care. I’d be screwed if not for the V.A. Thank God I have them for my physical AND mental health. Otherwise I’d be broker than I already am.
• SillyBring is only three weeks away and then Shannon arrives!

There are many other items, I’m sure, but these are the things that spring to mind. I have a lot to be grateful for, even if my miserable curmudgeonly self doesn’t mention them as often as I should. Wish I could throw this one in there, though:

• I get laid three times a day.

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I’m slacking. I feel it. Losing my momentum is not a feeling I like. The mania has subsided. My brain is much calmer (and dumber), though that’s relative. It’s still busier than most people’s, I get that. But compared to the manic shit? It’s like my brain finally said no to steroids or something.

Tomorrow I have my first real session with the new shrink, via videoconference. Amazing the V.A. even knows such technology exists, but I’m not bitching. If it weren’t for the video thing, I’d have to drive 90 minutes to meet up with her.

I’m not slamming the V.A. in any way. I’ve heard horror stories, but to be fair, I’ve not experienced many problems with the care I’ve received. And I’m very thankful for that. I don’t have regular health care. The jobs I’ve had of late are contracting positions. No bennies provided. Sure, once upon a time, when I got $43/hour for my time, I could afford it. But not now.

I’m already impressed with this new shrink of mine. She called me a few weeks ago, unsolicited, just to check on me and my meds. On a Friday. At 5:15 in the afternoon. That speaks volumes to me.

So we’ll be discussing meds, mostly that the current regime isn’t doing shit. We stepped up the Geodon. I’m now taking twice as much as I was a few weeks ago and…nothing. That’s the bitch with being treatment-resistant. Lots of meds don’t touch me, then there are those that require a much higher dose than what others find effective.

The trial-and-error associated with medication is exhausting and nerve-wracking. I’m far from the most patient man on Earth, and adjusting meds (and trying new ones) pretty much requires patience, and lots of it. That’s how it is, particularly with the meds designed to hit your brain instead of just your body. They take WEEKS to build up efficacy in the body. And if they don’t work, many of them take weeks to get OUT of your body, which is sometimes needed before adding something NEW.

For me, I’ve pretty much always required a Magic Cocktail, a mix of different meds. I wish like hell that there was a pill that did it all, but there’s not. My chemistry is different than yours, which is different than everyone else’s. So, yeah, trial-and-error. With all the technology we have today, that’s still the way it works. I long for the days of Star Trek, when they scan you with a Tricorder and have you fixed up with a simple shot.

I read an interesting article last month about a pretty major discovery regarding Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (and yeah, I’ve got that, too). They’ve found a way to definitively diagnose PTSD using pictures of the brain. Remarkable, since the only way to diagnose before was through a series of questionnaires and a laundry list of symptomology.

Unfortunately, this discovery probably won’t lead to helping ME…not for a long time. Not until they can point to a brain scan and say, “Ah, see that squiggle there in Karl’s hippocampus? We need to give him Miracle Drug Alpha for that.” Until they know how to correspond the brain pics with specific forms of treatment? Not gonna do much for me. But it’s hopeful for future PTSD’ers, and I’ll take that.

I started out talking about me losing momentum, and that’s really what I’m feeling right now. A lot of hopelessness, lack of motivation, simply losing my give-a-shit attitude. Depression. An overwhelming sense of, well, being overwhelmed. Yes, I’m still checking my sugar and taking my meds, but I really don’t care about it.

I knew this was going to come, the return to the old me. Trying to find some shrivel of happiness in this mode is daunting, at the very least. I can’t survive in full-blown mania all the time – I’d die from sheer exhaustion, from insanity. But I wish I had a way to harness the motivation, the good attitude, the Happy.

Think I’m treatment-resistant in the attitude department, too.

For now, I’ll just take what little pieces of enjoyment I can get. I like the winter Olympics (tons more than the summer Olympics), even though I’m not a sports guy. I never watch baseball, or football, or basketball, or hockey. None of it. That shit bores me to tears. But the Olympics has something for everyone. Plus, it’s only two weeks long. I’m in, I’m out, I’m done for another 4 years. My fave events, by the way, are figure skating, snowboarding, and the skiing…none of which I’ve ever tried.

I also found some meditation podcasts, thanks to Angel. A friend has offered to help me with meditation – something I’ve never tried before – and I plan to take her up on that offer. But the podcast I listened to yesterday really helped to calm me down. I like that. I say I’ve never tried meditation, but the truth is I’ve probably achieved that “nothingness” mindset on my own many times. I may be wrong, but all the dissociating I’ve done in my life kind of mirrors that calming void sensation in meditation. I suppose there are positives to being a Survivor, after all.

I’m gearing up for 2HT’s redesign, and I am excited about that. Should be happening within the next month or so. My original launch date was going to be April Fool’s Day (seems appropriate), which also happens to be both my Mom’s AND my twin daughters’ birthdays. But it’s going to be sooner than that. Can’t wait to see it all come together.

I’d really like a dog. I think that’d do wonders for me. Mom hasn’t been so keen on getting a pet, though. Her rationale has always been, “If you can’t keep your room clean, how are you going to take care of a dog or a cat?” My rationale has always been, “Those two things aren’t even closely related.”

And yes, I’m 43 and live with my mother. I’m also depressed, anxious as Monk, and unemployed. Put me on “The Bachelor” now, ladies. I’m available. *cough*

Like my brain, this post is all over the board. I’m tired of that, too.

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