Self Care

For a few months now, I've been meaning to write a "Monday Moment" post on this topic. One of the many things I realized after my gig as a homeless guy and my move to Portland is that a mini "spa day" does wonders for the mind (and body).

In many (many) ways, much of what I have been doing recently can be placed under the "Self-care" column. I mean, that's about all I've been focused on these past few weeks - myself. No job. No roommate. No cleaning (obviously). No pets (well, J.B. is here with me and getting very, um, "Rubenesque" - I think he's gonna be the size of a catfish soon). But I have been working through this psychosis, taking my meds, finding safe places to heal. But I haven't been caring for my "self" - for the vessel in which my spirit resides.

Whoa... that sounds too New Agey for me.

But it's true. That word "holistic" means "Mind. Body. Spirit." And maybe that's one of the few New Agey things I can relate to.

And although much of what I've been doing falls in that self-care category, my mind is still broken, my spirit is down and my body - well, I haven't been taking much care of it at all (other than detoxing from the drugs & alcohol).

So today, I revisited that lesson on self-care that I learned not too long ago. It was far from a mini-spa day. No mani-pedi's or soaks in a hot tub. Definitely no massages. But I took a long, long shower. Trimmed and shaped my beard. And conditioned it. I gave myself a haircut. Plucked & tweezed (darn random middle-age hairs in hard-to-reach places!). Clipped my nails. Did laundry and wore something I liked...and which liked me, heh! I put new sheets on the bed and I napped. I watched a couple episodes of Grace & Frankie (I've finished the season...looking forward to the next!). I cooked three meals for myself. Pancakes, sausage & eggs for breakfast. Reheated homemade soup for lunch. And pasta with pesto for dinner. Oh, and I baked bread.

I still took my meds. Went to a meeting. Called a friend. But it was those other things - the true self-care - that made the difference in my day. And, in the end, whether it was true to the outside world or not, I looked and felt good... mind, body & spirit. The last of which I did nothing - and everything - for.

Be well, my friends.

I feel I'm getting there.

-j

One Small Step...

Today I took my next steps toward healing and health. And those steps required stepping...out into the world. Something I haven't done much of (if at all) since the break last month.

While discussing my psychosis with the psychiatrist, he stated the following:

Diagnosis: Inconclusive
Prognosis: Good

The diagnosis is understandable, especially in a mental health context. Although the evaluation was more than two hours long, it far from communicated all symptoms and experiences over these past two years and we barely touched on the lifetime of potential causations and actions that may hold relevance. However, more than inconclusive, he stated the following:

A) a late-life psychotic break such as mine is rarely attributed to recent manifestation of bipolar or schizophrenic disorders, both of which generally become apparent prior to ones' thirties.

B) based on my dive (swim? immersion? embrace?) into drugs - especially methamphetamine - last year, the auditory & visual hallucinations may be a lingering effect from using. An effect that can take up to three friggin' years!  to resolve.

Three years?!?! What the what?

Anyway, that's where the Abilify (my anti-psychotic) came into play. Doc gave the option of staying unmedicated or taking a small dose of one of the less powerful AP meds for a few months to act as a bridge while my mind re-wires itself and returns to normal...or a "new normal" (which means I may never re-wire perfectly... quite possible and very likely).

Hence the "Good" prognosis.

And the meds seem to be working...a bit. Especially since we upped the dose - and I ended my brief little attempt at numbing with drugs. As I said, they don't make the crazy go away...but make it much more bearable & acceptable in my head.

So, what does a guy with all of the above do? He takes baby steps.

All three were about support. The first, support of my peers. Other tweakers. Not twerkers (never could twerk...don't wanna learn...tweaking was plenty embarrassing for me, heh!). Crystal Meth Anonymous (CMA) is a 12-step program specifically for recovering meth heads. Like me. And for one hour today, I listened to my tribe talk about their experiences in a way that mirrored my life.

They talked about being robbed for their electronics. Or their drugs. About hanging out with people they didn't like just so they'd have someone to do drugs with. Or get drugs from. There was talk of the "tweak" - the diligent, focused attention on a project or thing or idea that comes during meth use. Someone shared a story about waking up in the doorway of a business after a four day binge he doesn't remember. Oh, and that waking up happened yesterday. Another guy's story was about when he wanted to jump (from 17 floors up). And they shared the one thing that kept them from hitting a literal rock bottom...and, trust me, it's only ever one thing at that point. The point of wanting to jump. And thank you universe for always allowing me to realize that one thing before I even got close to thinking about jumping.

I never jumped because my one thing was you. Or, more specifically, your love. A guy like me - who has more love in his life than any one man deserves - can, with a little luck, find that one thing by looking in almost any direction other than down.

CMA will be a thing for me now. And I'll start working the steps. And I'll stay true to the program. And you'll always find me in the rooms. 'Cuz it works if you work it.

After the meeting, I met up with my friend Gay for a belated Christmas lunch. She gave me a loaf of sweet poppyseed bread. I gave her nothing since I'm kinda broke. But we had a wonderful chat. You see, Gay and I have known each other for twenty-four years. We've been through a lot together - which is

Gay, kicking back at my 40th birthday shenanigans

an understatement. And that day six weeks ago, when I saw people in camouflage hiding in the trees spying on me...well, I called Gay. And she showed up almost immediately. About as quickly as the police did (I called them right afterward). Today was the first day she'd seen me since then. She let out a sigh of relief as she talked about how I looked so much better. How scared she was. How it looked like I was returning to...me, I guess. Then we talked about politics. And books. Oh, how we both love books - she's an English teacher. I'm a...writer? Who knows what I am. Except crazy ;)

I came home after lunch. Lounged. Napped. Watched another episode of Grace & Frankie (an awesome show everyone except me has seen - even Gay has seen it and I didn't even know she owned a television!!!). Then I ventured out into the slush for the last of my three small steps today.

My day ended with another 12-step meeting...Alcoholics Anonymous this time. Twelve-stepping started with alcohol. We have these spinoffs now...like CMA, or Narcotics Anonymous, and Overeaters Anonymous. So even when alcohol isn't the drug of choice, AA meetings are still there (and more plentiful) to help with ones recovery. Plus I always liked a drink or twelve. Not as much as meth though.

AA meetings aren't really my thing as I don't connect with the stories or the people as much. But they offer that one thing I needed. Fellowship. That sense of belonging. Of being in the right place. Of listening. Being heard. And, most importantly, of being present. So I was. Present. And I listened. And spoke a little. And, in the end, it was good. Because I came home, wrote this blog, took my pills, watched an episode of Grace & Frankie, then went to sleep. Oh, after eating a slice of sweet poppyseed bread.

And those are all healthy things. With no hallucinations. And no illegal drugs. And as alone as I am in my bed tonight, I don't feel lonely.
 
 

Of course, I never did - because of you, dear reader.
 

And here's today's selfie...with smile, as promised ;)

Maybe tomorrow I'll clean the house. 'Cuz my new normal does not include a sink full of dishes!

Be well, my friends....

j-

A.P. Lessons in Life

The form asked: Reason For Visit

I wrote: Psychotic Break

About halfway through my initial intake, the psychiatriast looked up from his notepad and said, "Yep, that's exactly what a psychotic break is."

Yay for me for getting it right?!?!

That was six weeks ago. Things haven't improved much since then. But today - Christmas Day - I received a small miracle. Unlike most other days lately, I only distrust half of you instead of all of you. That's the miracle... and my A.P. lesson for this semester.

In this context, A.P. could mean "Advanced Placement" for my experience is arguably one of lifes more advanced lessons...for myself & those around me. Today, A.P. stands for anti-psychotic - the class of drugs prescribed in an effort to help me find a "new normal."

Y'know what? I miss my old normal, crazy as it was. (Pun most definitely intended!)

With everything I've been through plus the things I've done to myself added to a genetic predisposition for mental illness, it's a wonder I've made it this long without cracking. Finally did though. And now the question asked by a beautiful soul in my life...

And What's Next?

I don't know. I tried anti-psychotics. When they weren't working I tried numbing it with booze (again). And when that wouldn't quiet the voices (and, yes, there were voices), I escaped in drugs again for a brief moment. That definitely doesn't quiet the voices but it sure does make them more entertaining, heh!

In the end, I have no idea what's next. They've upped the dosage on my meds and that was enough to get me out of the house to buy some groceries. Still wasn't enough to get me up & cleaning the kitchen though. Maybe next week.

But it was enough to allow me to write (and hopefully publish) this blog entry. Writing is a salve for my mind. Sharing is the way I work through resolving my challenges. If I have the strength to write and the courage to share, I can tackle almost anything. Please let this be one of those things.

After that healing begins, it's on to the job & housing front. Both of which are gone. That's what happens when you start seeing things (yes, there were hallucinations too) and call the police who then send you to the psych ward and you miss a shift at work. But, man, those officers were so understanding and compassionate. Portland PD, hats off to you guys.

Geez, I really loved that job.

And my roommate took off in the middle of the night then texted a week later to say I can stay til the end of the lease. She has found other accommodations til then. That's what friends are for, right? And I know it's got to be scary in some ways but I was up-front & non-threatening. I couldn't hurt a fly.

Sigh.

So that's my Christmas gift to you. To let you know I'm alive if not fully well. Just burning through another of many life lessons I'm smart enough - and strong enough - to Ace.

If I write more about this journey, I want to include a selfie in each post to gauge my progress - or lack of. Here's todays...

I'll do my best to smile in the next one.

Be well, my friends...

j-