You know, I don't know why I ever took Xanax or any other benzo. I mean, right here I have an anxiolytic just itching to be taken out for a ride. Of course, here in Washington, I have to be willing to ride in the rain and deal with lunatic drivers but hey, that's what takes your mind off you troubles right?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Welcome to my Nightmare
This is a repost of something originally posted 25 April 2009 on Facebook. I include it here for background material. The images didn't transfer over correctly and I didn't want to go through the hassle of fixing it. Sorry.
With a nod to Alice Cooper for my title, I write tonight to fill you in on my absence from Facebook, from....anywhere really.
I was a patient in Madigan Army Community Hospital where I resided in room 589 in what most refer to as "5 North". That's the psych ward. Achille's had his heel and Jack has many more chinks in his armor.
I rewind a bit, if you remember it was only a few weeks back I had "self-medicated" myself into the ER. There, the staff took good care of me and sent me upstairs to be observed. Accidental overdose of prescribed meds was the general consensus. I felt that way too. I mean, why would I take so much on purpose? And if you are reading this then you probably already read about the last trip to the ER.
I will tell you why. It's in my DNA, or if you prefer, it was a learned coping mechanism. You see, self-medicating is an attempt to anesthetize something for which no analgesic has been found by science. It's that pain that comes from many sources but there is one thing in common; the patient feels that talking about it would be too embarassing. I mean, look at all I've done! I'm a rock. I never falter. I never fail. I never cry.
Yeah right! The truth is, I'm a scared kid in a 40 year old body. I am terrified that I will fail. I will fail as a husband. I will fail as a father. I will fail as a leader. I will fail as a Soldier. And above all, I will fail as a servant of a loving Heavenly Father.
You see, I grew up failing. Not always. Sometimes I quit before I failed. But, I always had that stigma that no matter what I did, I would fail or not complete. I feared seeing things through to the end.
Oh, I've seen endings. That's what scared me. The endings I saw were not pleasant. No script writers in life. We make it up as we go. And so my brash facade and steady confidence, cock-surety, was to hide the fact that I was not up to the task before me. I am not up to the task before me now but I can hide digitally and not witness your reaction to my admission. Who knows? Maybe you too feel never quite up to the task before you.
I had things going fairly well...tap dancing is a term we use in the military. Keep tap dancing and no one will notice that you're really not delivering. The shrewd will see through it, but the masses are fooled by smoke and mirrors. If a mirror breaks though, the whole facade will fall. If the smoke clears the illusion is exposed.
To cope for this, I learned to do what my family has always done, drink. My father was an alcoholic as am I. At a very early age I learned that alcohol was a part of daily life. Happy, sad, good times or bad. Festive occasions or a true Irish wake. Alcohol goes with everything. Red, white, bourbon, scotch, pilsner, ale, stout, or malt, without a drink, it wasn't a function.
We got to the point that it seemed to me that we had difficulty communicating without a little 'ice-breaker'. And emotions were never really shown unless you had a little something to loosen up. These are my perceptions as an adult looking back at my childhood. I am responsible for my choices, don't get me wrong, but I definitely studied the art of intoxication.
I was drinking quite early and by the time my friends started, I was an accomplished binge drinker. From there I started smoking pot and down the rabbit hole I went. You see happiness isn't inside of us, it's in a pill, a bottle, a substance, or so I believed until this last week. I said I knew, and I did truly know that happiness couldn't be found in substances, but I had nothing to replace it with so I kept on self-medicating using the P for plenty dosing regimen. Friends who go back far enough were there with me and probably have some memories of me intoxicated. For some, they may be the only memories they have of me.
The first trip to the ER was 1 April. This last one was the 19th. This time I washed some benzodiazepines down with a little merlot. I don't really remember much because by the time I got thirsty I have no idea how many pills I had taken. When my daughter walked in she asked if I had taken too much medicine (or something to that effect). I asked her to count them for me and she said there weren't any. My response? "Uh-oh". My newly married in the Temple daughter with her new husband come home from church to find me like this. I too have memories of my father that are similar and I am ashamed and horrified that she has this to hold in her memory only 8 days after her wedding. I called 911 but before long I handed the phone off to Courtney because I was losing consciousness.
Next thing I know, EMS is there slapping me in the face and asking me questions. I'm sure they had better plans for a beautiful Sunday afternoon. So did I to be quite honest. I just got caught up in feeling sorry for myself.
The day before, I got into a fight with Cari and defiantly held my ground, defending my position. I was given a choice and I foolishly chose to load my suitcase in the van and head out that front door. In a long history of foolish mistakes, this is in the upper echelon of spectacular blunders I have made. This is why you will find Kenny Chesney's "The Good Stuff" posted on my wall as well as my current status. Francis men are prone to this behavior so I am bound by my DNA and cannot escape...or can I?
I aim to change that. I plan to be the weak link in a deadly chain of destruction and wreckage. In this case though, the weak link, the one that breaks, is what needs to happen. I am sure that I am not up to this task so I have pulled in all the big guns. I will be going through counseling for substance abuse, marital counseling to repair the damage I have done there, individual conseling to address my wounded psyche, and a whole lot of time on my knees praying for strength.
As a matter of fact, I joked before here that all my woes were because I prayed for strength. You can't get strong without a good workout so God has me on a program of woe and misery it would seem. But I thank him for it every day and every night and ask that he make me stronger because I am still so weak.
I believe that I have made some significant progress in that I actually spoke up and asked for help. The trip to the psych ward was a strongly encouraged self referral. Anyone in the military knows how that goes but going isn't enough. Opening up and actually seeking assistance is what decides whether you will actually make any progress. At least I was strong enough to ask for help. Without all these weeks, months of being broken down by so many trials I don't think I would have been willing to truly open up. I would have spouted out what they wanted to hear and been released. Just as sick as when I went in and ticking just waiting to go off.
I have not been feeling truly suicidal, just reckless I suppose. Like the kid on the crotch-rocket going 140. Eventually he will hit something or lose control. It's inevitable. And so it was with me. Fortunately, I survived and I have many people willing to intervene. Some because they have to, but most because they sincerely want to. I have no excuse when it comes to the question of whether or not I have someone to call when I feel overwhelmed. I have no excuse when it comes to people or resources to reach out to. I am MOST defininately not alone and now it's all out there so there is no reason to conceal my struggles.
How many more are there out there like me? What about the thousands of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines coming home? Are we ready to be there for them too? Many will come home and go out to the civilian life. Will they have friends around who can help them readjust? To see someone when they find they are haunted by the things they saw and did? The military is doing a good job of providing resources but we as Soldiers have this fear that it will ruin our career (I speak in generalities and am sticking my neck out there speaking for others; but I know too many others who feel this way to not know that it's out there). I've got news for those who may read this. Death or disability doesn't do much for career progression either.
I cannot express the remorse I feel to those who I have hurt or frightened by my actions. It is another chunk of fat on that 800lb gorilla on my back (Stress) but fortunately, now I have learned to cope in different ways. I have far to go and will never truly be free of his grasp, but at least I know I have a lot of battle buddies to help me carry the load.
To me, they are my heroes
Don't follow my lead. Learn from my stupidity. There are too many of us going through the same things that you can't reach out to someone. And if someone does reach out to you, don't let go of them until they get the help they need and others know they are in a desperate situation.
Actual photo of a Jack-ass in the hospital
Salt Lake City Temple
Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
A nocturnal vacation
Unnecessary sedation
You want to feel at home 'cause you belong
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
I hope I didn't scare you
That's just the way we are when we come down
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my breakdown
Whoa
You're welcome to my nightmare
Yeah
Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
We sweat laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
Yeah
With a nod to Alice Cooper for my title, I write tonight to fill you in on my absence from Facebook, from....anywhere really.
I was a patient in Madigan Army Community Hospital where I resided in room 589 in what most refer to as "5 North". That's the psych ward. Achille's had his heel and Jack has many more chinks in his armor.
I rewind a bit, if you remember it was only a few weeks back I had "self-medicated" myself into the ER. There, the staff took good care of me and sent me upstairs to be observed. Accidental overdose of prescribed meds was the general consensus. I felt that way too. I mean, why would I take so much on purpose? And if you are reading this then you probably already read about the last trip to the ER.
I will tell you why. It's in my DNA, or if you prefer, it was a learned coping mechanism. You see, self-medicating is an attempt to anesthetize something for which no analgesic has been found by science. It's that pain that comes from many sources but there is one thing in common; the patient feels that talking about it would be too embarassing. I mean, look at all I've done! I'm a rock. I never falter. I never fail. I never cry.
Yeah right! The truth is, I'm a scared kid in a 40 year old body. I am terrified that I will fail. I will fail as a husband. I will fail as a father. I will fail as a leader. I will fail as a Soldier. And above all, I will fail as a servant of a loving Heavenly Father.
You see, I grew up failing. Not always. Sometimes I quit before I failed. But, I always had that stigma that no matter what I did, I would fail or not complete. I feared seeing things through to the end.
Oh, I've seen endings. That's what scared me. The endings I saw were not pleasant. No script writers in life. We make it up as we go. And so my brash facade and steady confidence, cock-surety, was to hide the fact that I was not up to the task before me. I am not up to the task before me now but I can hide digitally and not witness your reaction to my admission. Who knows? Maybe you too feel never quite up to the task before you.
I had things going fairly well...tap dancing is a term we use in the military. Keep tap dancing and no one will notice that you're really not delivering. The shrewd will see through it, but the masses are fooled by smoke and mirrors. If a mirror breaks though, the whole facade will fall. If the smoke clears the illusion is exposed.
To cope for this, I learned to do what my family has always done, drink. My father was an alcoholic as am I. At a very early age I learned that alcohol was a part of daily life. Happy, sad, good times or bad. Festive occasions or a true Irish wake. Alcohol goes with everything. Red, white, bourbon, scotch, pilsner, ale, stout, or malt, without a drink, it wasn't a function.
We got to the point that it seemed to me that we had difficulty communicating without a little 'ice-breaker'. And emotions were never really shown unless you had a little something to loosen up. These are my perceptions as an adult looking back at my childhood. I am responsible for my choices, don't get me wrong, but I definitely studied the art of intoxication.
I was drinking quite early and by the time my friends started, I was an accomplished binge drinker. From there I started smoking pot and down the rabbit hole I went. You see happiness isn't inside of us, it's in a pill, a bottle, a substance, or so I believed until this last week. I said I knew, and I did truly know that happiness couldn't be found in substances, but I had nothing to replace it with so I kept on self-medicating using the P for plenty dosing regimen. Friends who go back far enough were there with me and probably have some memories of me intoxicated. For some, they may be the only memories they have of me.
The first trip to the ER was 1 April. This last one was the 19th. This time I washed some benzodiazepines down with a little merlot. I don't really remember much because by the time I got thirsty I have no idea how many pills I had taken. When my daughter walked in she asked if I had taken too much medicine (or something to that effect). I asked her to count them for me and she said there weren't any. My response? "Uh-oh". My newly married in the Temple daughter with her new husband come home from church to find me like this. I too have memories of my father that are similar and I am ashamed and horrified that she has this to hold in her memory only 8 days after her wedding. I called 911 but before long I handed the phone off to Courtney because I was losing consciousness.
Next thing I know, EMS is there slapping me in the face and asking me questions. I'm sure they had better plans for a beautiful Sunday afternoon. So did I to be quite honest. I just got caught up in feeling sorry for myself.
The day before, I got into a fight with Cari and defiantly held my ground, defending my position. I was given a choice and I foolishly chose to load my suitcase in the van and head out that front door. In a long history of foolish mistakes, this is in the upper echelon of spectacular blunders I have made. This is why you will find Kenny Chesney's "The Good Stuff" posted on my wall as well as my current status. Francis men are prone to this behavior so I am bound by my DNA and cannot escape...or can I?
I aim to change that. I plan to be the weak link in a deadly chain of destruction and wreckage. In this case though, the weak link, the one that breaks, is what needs to happen. I am sure that I am not up to this task so I have pulled in all the big guns. I will be going through counseling for substance abuse, marital counseling to repair the damage I have done there, individual conseling to address my wounded psyche, and a whole lot of time on my knees praying for strength.
As a matter of fact, I joked before here that all my woes were because I prayed for strength. You can't get strong without a good workout so God has me on a program of woe and misery it would seem. But I thank him for it every day and every night and ask that he make me stronger because I am still so weak.
I believe that I have made some significant progress in that I actually spoke up and asked for help. The trip to the psych ward was a strongly encouraged self referral. Anyone in the military knows how that goes but going isn't enough. Opening up and actually seeking assistance is what decides whether you will actually make any progress. At least I was strong enough to ask for help. Without all these weeks, months of being broken down by so many trials I don't think I would have been willing to truly open up. I would have spouted out what they wanted to hear and been released. Just as sick as when I went in and ticking just waiting to go off.
I have not been feeling truly suicidal, just reckless I suppose. Like the kid on the crotch-rocket going 140. Eventually he will hit something or lose control. It's inevitable. And so it was with me. Fortunately, I survived and I have many people willing to intervene. Some because they have to, but most because they sincerely want to. I have no excuse when it comes to the question of whether or not I have someone to call when I feel overwhelmed. I have no excuse when it comes to people or resources to reach out to. I am MOST defininately not alone and now it's all out there so there is no reason to conceal my struggles.
How many more are there out there like me? What about the thousands of Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines coming home? Are we ready to be there for them too? Many will come home and go out to the civilian life. Will they have friends around who can help them readjust? To see someone when they find they are haunted by the things they saw and did? The military is doing a good job of providing resources but we as Soldiers have this fear that it will ruin our career (I speak in generalities and am sticking my neck out there speaking for others; but I know too many others who feel this way to not know that it's out there). I've got news for those who may read this. Death or disability doesn't do much for career progression either.
I cannot express the remorse I feel to those who I have hurt or frightened by my actions. It is another chunk of fat on that 800lb gorilla on my back (Stress) but fortunately, now I have learned to cope in different ways. I have far to go and will never truly be free of his grasp, but at least I know I have a lot of battle buddies to help me carry the load.
To me, they are my heroes
Don't follow my lead. Learn from my stupidity. There are too many of us going through the same things that you can't reach out to someone. And if someone does reach out to you, don't let go of them until they get the help they need and others know they are in a desperate situation.
Actual photo of a Jack-ass in the hospital
Salt Lake City Temple
Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
A nocturnal vacation
Unnecessary sedation
You want to feel at home 'cause you belong
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
I hope I didn't scare you
That's just the way we are when we come down
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my breakdown
Whoa
You're welcome to my nightmare
Yeah
Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel... you belong
We sweat laugh and scream here
'cuz life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home here
Welcome to my nightmare
Welcome to my breakdown
Yeah
Comfortably Numb
Haven't we all been here? This is how I felt on all those meds the docs had me on. Now I feel like Pink when he peeled all that goo off...ok, not like a Nazi but like I'm out of the goo/fog.
Just say no to drugs. Even if the pusher has an M.D. behind the name!
Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd
Hello,
Is there anybody in there
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again
Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts
There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb
O.K.
Just a little pin prick
There'll be no more aaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
And I have become
Comfortably numb
Just say no to drugs. Even if the pusher has an M.D. behind the name!
Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd
Hello,
Is there anybody in there
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again
Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts
There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb
O.K.
Just a little pin prick
There'll be no more aaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
And I have become
Comfortably numb
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The first step is always the hardest
Sometimes foolish mistakes lead to great things. Sometimes it isn't until we see the infection that we seek a doctors attention.
After two 'accidental' overdoses I have more help and resources than I ever knew existed. I have psychiatry appointments, psychology appointments, Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP) and marital counseling as well as individual counseling being offered to all my family members. If they take it, that's the question. All this because I was way over my head and decided that one more (and one more and one more....) benzodiazepine would fix what ailed me.
I was attempting to anesthetize a pain that modern pharmacopoeia has yet to make a pill for. It's that feeling you get when you see something wrong and feel powerless to stop it. It's that stress you feel as a dad when there is something wrong with your child and you are unable to fix it. It's the guilt you feel when one child takes so much of your time that your others don't get that 'daddy' time (Mine probably appreciate that!). It's the pain of a million little things that life throws at all of us that bring us to seek escape.
Escape comes in many forms, unfortunately all mine were self-destructive or self-defeating at best. I'm a glutton for punishment or so it would seem. I write to vent but also to share my struggles. If you have your own dragons to slay (don't we all?) I would hope that maybe you see all that I am going through and seek help. We all have issues and sometimes they grow larger than we can handle. We all have friends (believe me 'cuz I always joke I don't and you would not believe the people pouring out of the woodwork expressing a desire to be there for me) around us to help 'kill the beast' but as my title suggests, the first step is the hardest.
You know why? Because it involves a combination of things. Admitting that you have a problem/issue. Admitting that the problem is bigger than you are. Now the most critical and most difficult step; opening your mouth and asking for help.
From a friend, a health care provider, a religious leader, your boss, SOMEONE!
I guess this is on my mind because I just got home from an ASAP appointment today and a marital counseling appointment last night. I am painfully aware of my shortcomings so I am going to try and focus on what a wise leader told me.
I have so much going right in my life. FOCUS ON THAT! I have been married for 19 years in a time when 1 out of 2 marriages fail. I have five children that are AWESOME. Caitlin was never supposed to live long enough to leave the hospital but when she did they said she wouldn't live to see two. SHE IS THIRTEEN!!! He pointed out what a blessing that was in and of itself. Six times the time what we were told we would have with her. All these things are just a small part of what I have to be grateful for.
With all this going for me I almost threw it all away. Not intentionally Really, but stupid is as stupid does right? I always tell my kids to apologize when they do something and they will say "I didn't mean to!" My response is always "but you did it anyway and you owe them an apology."
So I need to practice what I preach. I have so much to make up for but that too is part of that 800lb gorilla.
So, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time and so it is for making up all those mistakes I have made. I am reminded of a Love and Rockets song..."we're going to stay awake for as long as it takes to correct all the silly mistakes we have made." Being a former Meth addict I noted that that would only add to the problem. Sleep deprivation would lead to more mistakes. The wisdom of 'Crank'.
As a Christian I am reminded yet again of "the woman taken in scorn" who was told, "Go, and sin no more."
I have only this option before me. Restitution is a principle of repentance and I definitely have some work to do.
After two 'accidental' overdoses I have more help and resources than I ever knew existed. I have psychiatry appointments, psychology appointments, Army Substance Abuse Program (ASAP) and marital counseling as well as individual counseling being offered to all my family members. If they take it, that's the question. All this because I was way over my head and decided that one more (and one more and one more....) benzodiazepine would fix what ailed me.
I was attempting to anesthetize a pain that modern pharmacopoeia has yet to make a pill for. It's that feeling you get when you see something wrong and feel powerless to stop it. It's that stress you feel as a dad when there is something wrong with your child and you are unable to fix it. It's the guilt you feel when one child takes so much of your time that your others don't get that 'daddy' time (Mine probably appreciate that!). It's the pain of a million little things that life throws at all of us that bring us to seek escape.
Escape comes in many forms, unfortunately all mine were self-destructive or self-defeating at best. I'm a glutton for punishment or so it would seem. I write to vent but also to share my struggles. If you have your own dragons to slay (don't we all?) I would hope that maybe you see all that I am going through and seek help. We all have issues and sometimes they grow larger than we can handle. We all have friends (believe me 'cuz I always joke I don't and you would not believe the people pouring out of the woodwork expressing a desire to be there for me) around us to help 'kill the beast' but as my title suggests, the first step is the hardest.
You know why? Because it involves a combination of things. Admitting that you have a problem/issue. Admitting that the problem is bigger than you are. Now the most critical and most difficult step; opening your mouth and asking for help.
From a friend, a health care provider, a religious leader, your boss, SOMEONE!
I guess this is on my mind because I just got home from an ASAP appointment today and a marital counseling appointment last night. I am painfully aware of my shortcomings so I am going to try and focus on what a wise leader told me.
I have so much going right in my life. FOCUS ON THAT! I have been married for 19 years in a time when 1 out of 2 marriages fail. I have five children that are AWESOME. Caitlin was never supposed to live long enough to leave the hospital but when she did they said she wouldn't live to see two. SHE IS THIRTEEN!!! He pointed out what a blessing that was in and of itself. Six times the time what we were told we would have with her. All these things are just a small part of what I have to be grateful for.
With all this going for me I almost threw it all away. Not intentionally Really, but stupid is as stupid does right? I always tell my kids to apologize when they do something and they will say "I didn't mean to!" My response is always "but you did it anyway and you owe them an apology."
So I need to practice what I preach. I have so much to make up for but that too is part of that 800lb gorilla.
So, how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time and so it is for making up all those mistakes I have made. I am reminded of a Love and Rockets song..."we're going to stay awake for as long as it takes to correct all the silly mistakes we have made." Being a former Meth addict I noted that that would only add to the problem. Sleep deprivation would lead to more mistakes. The wisdom of 'Crank'.
As a Christian I am reminded yet again of "the woman taken in scorn" who was told, "Go, and sin no more."
I have only this option before me. Restitution is a principle of repentance and I definitely have some work to do.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Welcome
To all,
After deactivating my Facebook account, I popped over here to post my rambling thoughts. Mental vomit as it were. I would have liked to have imported the notes I had there but alas, I did not think that far ahead.
Anyway, when my mind gets ready to regurgitate, this is where it will land now.
Butch
After deactivating my Facebook account, I popped over here to post my rambling thoughts. Mental vomit as it were. I would have liked to have imported the notes I had there but alas, I did not think that far ahead.
Anyway, when my mind gets ready to regurgitate, this is where it will land now.
Butch
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