22 nd June.

Friday, 22 June 2007
Woke up at 10, waited an hour and went for baccy.
Smoked last of gear last night before retiring and was rewarded with good sleep but back is still semi-rigid.
Weather is pleasant but clouds are definitely carrying rain, think all will change this afternoon.

Was going to do shopping etc. but think will postpone till Monday, or if shop open on Sundays will give it a try, it should be quiet.

Sky has greyed over and looks heavy with the potential of rain.
Have just had a look at site stats and seems I have a couple of American and French readers.
Hi and Bonjour.

Yesterday’s posting was a little different.
An experiment in which I simply followed a thread, gathering information whilst trying to provide insight into the problems of the writer.

It has taken a long time but I have finally dismissed all thoughts of my sectioning to have been a mistake.
I displayed all the symptoms and therefore was sucked into the authority’s care program.

Am I therefore right or wise to reject the course of medication?

As with many aspects of life, I am given a choice.
I may have a relapse; I may not.
I definitely feel more in control of my life,
Without the meds.
I cannot live with taking any tablets which can cause such large weight gain.

I believe that lifestyle factors are the most important triggers and therefore should be looked at in more detail when assessing a patient’s needs.
If a person successfully makes dramatic changes to their life then perhaps success in removing possible and probable triggers then medication will have no further effect.

Looking back I did what a lot of 50-year-old males would love to do.
I threw away 95% of my possessions.
Split with partner of over 20 years.
Got rid of accommodation which was heavily laden with responsibilities.
Broke away from accepted circle of associates.
Began a new life; almost.
Actively searched out a quiet, secure area to “live.”
Took time out to learn new things and contemplate future options.
Took the time to realise the effects of what was a traumatic episode in my life.
Realised that the episode, was merely a chapter, and as such would eventually be finished as another chapter began.

I read that if a patient is to have another episode it will usually manifest itself during the 12 to 18 months following release if a course of medication is not followed.
Hence the idea of starting a diary.
If such an episode was to come about, I would have some reference, hopefully to what triggered the episode.

I know for a fact that my life changes have been the biggest influence upon my present well being.
My mind is nowhere as confused, busy, or full of information and thought as when was when I was committed.
I have put the same amount of effort into understanding my problem as I used to, trying to learn any of the computer based topics I tried to learn when disturbed.
As a result I have acquired a form of in built regulatory system which monitors my moods, activities, and thoughts.
Looking for signs, of my grip slipping.

I have definitely learnt that the brain is not as capable of self repair as I first assumed.
We can all damage our brain and throw it off course, as easily as we can colour our disposition by our thoughts.

As stated earlier, my diagnosis was correct; the Authorities acted correctly in sectioning me, I now accept that.
With this simple act of acceptance I am able to release the initial feelings of anger which I held when I first considered my lifestyle to have been ruined by the interaction with the health services.
Anger, frustration, and desire to change were extremely prominent feelings when I was disturbed.
I have now had sufficient time to adjust and in doing so, and realising the actual advantages I have gained from the experience, I am able to function better.
I have a clearer mind; have hope for the future and experience gleaned from the episode, sufficient to allow me not to fear any possible re-occurrence.

Hell, after all the brain is just another part of our bodies and sometimes has to receive treatment, much like any other organ does.

An imbalance of chemicals in the brain.
In its simplest terms.
We cause imbalances in our systems almost daily.

I nearly burnt myself out, I accept that, but in doing so I gained knowledge of my personal limits.
Now realise what damage can be done by taking aspects of one’s life to the max.
Excess, in anything, can be harmful.

I know not how long I have taken to reach where I am today,
But I feel as if I am near to drawing a line under yet another section of my life.

For some, the diagnosis of the problem is followed by the threat of a lifetime reliant on a drug regime which does need a lot more research work.
Some become totally obsessed by their circumstances and live their lives around the condition.
I suffered a massive heart attack and consequently I have to take tablets which serve to alleviate the burden on the damaged heart, I understand what the medication does and therefore accept it.
I damaged my brain, confused and overworked it, allowed unnatural connections in the circuitry to be established, became fearful of the irrational paranoia which ensued.
My body and life was dictated by the damaged thought processes.
I received attention and have managed to return the activity to “normal.”
I therefore deem myself to be equipped with the knowledge which may or may not prevent a similar episode occurring.

I have a condition for which there is no miracle cure.
Snap, that’s what they said about the birth defect of the spine.
I will have to live with both.

There is of course no definition of normal.
So, the patient with a mental problem simply has to aim for,
Being able to function.

I felt I was unable to function while receiving medication which was powerful enough to control my mind, suppressing some functions and heightening others, often resulting in confusion and emotional stress.

Having a mental problem is very much like being classed as disabled but having no outward, easily discernable problem.
People see you as normal until you arrive in a wheelchair or exhibit irrational behaviour.

Why do I hesitate to add any further lines?
My original idea for writing daily posts was to keep track of my life and log any possible signals which would point towards causing a relapse.
To allow me to work on my memory problems.
To allow me time to remember and understand what had just happened to me.
To keep me away from the socially acceptable dependence on afternoon drinking.
To log my use of drugs and alcohol.
To highlight progress and failure.

I feel like I’ve come to the end of the mission.

My apparent enjoyment of writing has taken over from spending time drinking and as such has become a large part of my life involving me in an increase in computer usage.

If, as I fear I’m nearing completion then what has the future in store as far as continuing to use writing as a means of relaxing?
Should I simply stop?

After all, compulsive behaviour such as commitment to daily sessions of writing could be seen as a sign of a mental problem existing.
The abandonment of such a project can also be seen as a trademark of someone with a problem.
As can be over or under sleeping.
Nothing is clear-cut and everyone is so darn different yet connected, as to make the drawing of a benchmark, even a T.B.M. impossible.

(T.B.M? Temporary benchmark, termed used by surveyors and engineers).

I admit to experimenting with the limits of my brainpower.
I purposely overloaded it and tried to tap into resources which I believed at the time were available but knew not how to enter.

Once again,
Hermit bastard- stalked by a mountain lion, has caught my attention on the radio.

Write about something else?
As apposed to what?
I have covered a wide range of subjects and integrated many among the lines of the diary script.
I will never “become” a writer of any note because my life lacks enough stimulation from outside events.
I have nothing which I want to research and write about.
My situation was unique,
I wrote about an episode of my life which has occupied a certain length of time but which has now nearly reached its conclusion and therefore calls for me to move on.

To travel from being someone who believed all was lost.
To become a rational, calm if somewhat introspective person, with some understanding of what has happened and therefore feels able to cope.
Is a long journey.
One which many people fail to complete.

For them I feel pity,
For my own “success,”
I thank God.

I had the faith, remnants of belief in one’s own capabilities.
That faith was spawned early on in life when I first began to rely upon myself to solve as many of life’s problems as possible, on my own, not seeking outside help unless absolutely necessary.

For someone as self reliant as me to admit that I was unable to cope was not easy.
Once I realised that I did indeed need assistance and was unable to even begin to help myself.
Was then I realised how fragile I actually was.
How ill-equipped I actually was to handle the unexpected curve balls that life had decided to aim at me.
I was vulnerable and that fact was taught to me in no uncertain terms.

We are all aware of our own restrictions physically but are seldom aware of our often delicate mental conditions.

The young mum realises the potential danger of listening to her child cry non stop for no apparent reason, she understands the mixed emotions, the dangers of becoming angry.
If the bi-polar person is unaware of the potential triggers which exist in everyday life then yes some will fall ill.

Do I advise anyone else to take any notice of a guy who selectively uses cannabis and Alcohol yet refuses medication?
Of course not.

If the meds work for you and you feel safer for using them,
Then you have your personal solution.

I pour myself JD and lemonade and take time out.
I skin,
I spark a rollie.

I remember my conversation with the hospital’s resident figure of religious authority.
He told me he had written and successfully published a book,
I surmised it would be about his work in the hospital, and added,
You have an abundance of material, must have been easy.
“If you think it is so easy, why don’t you have a go?”
He asked.
Maybe I will, I had thought.
And what a great ending this would make.