Michael Simone, D. Min.
Senior Pastor, Spring Branch Community Church
Interviewer: John Koehler
May 1, 2007
John- You’re talking to people all the time. There’s such a clinical world, such a separation of our physical and spiritual worlds in mental health. How do you bring in the spiritual, the body mind soul connection?
Michael- I feel called to be a pastor in a psychiatric hospital. I feel a deep calling to it, and I don’t know where it came from. It was there the first time I went to a seminar in a psychiatric hospital and something clicked, and they asked me if I wanted to do clinical education, and I said, “What’s that?”
And then when I was in the middle of it, I just knew that, “I am in the right place, for the right reasons.” On the units, talking to the patients I have had so many amazing experiences. There’s just something so very, very special about bringing the God piece, though that’s not a good term for it, the presence of God’s love and grace into a setting where there’s brokenness. It never ceases to amaze me, to bring me to wonderment.
For instance today I saw a young woman in her twenties. She had marks on her wrists that showed she had tried to take her life. And above them was a Chinese character, and I said, “What’s the Chinese symbol on your arm?”
And she said, “it means to aspire, but I don’t really do that.” Now that’s the beginning of a conversation. You know the marks of suicide on your wrist, and there’s a symbol which says, “to aspire.” It’s as if she knows that she’s supposed to aspire to something, to become something, but she doesn’t know what that means, and she’d rather get out of…
John - It’s like she’s aspiring to aspire to something. That’s wild.
Michael - I find that people who want to take their lives feel very empty, lonely, disconnected, they basically don’t feel any worth, they don’t feel like they have anything to give. They don’t want to struggle anymore. It’s as if somebody put a zero with the circle rubbed out. It’s like there’s nothing there.
But, I always tell them that if they can find out why it is that they WANT to take their life, they can begin to answer the right questions. And when they answer the right questions, they’re not gonna want to take their life anymore.
It doesn’t mean life won’t be hard. It doesn’t mean that life difficult, that it won’t make you sad. I was telling a person this morning that if you start to follow Christ there will be times when you want to laugh and there will be times when you want to cry. There will be times when things are going downhill fast, and you don’t know if you’re going to make it to the next day.
I prayed with two people this morning, one on one, and each person said, “Thanks, I really needed that. I need this spiritual connection. I need this God in my life.”
People will say to me often, “Will God forgive me if I kill myself?” I start out saying, “First of all, God doesn’t WANT you to kill yourself.” Number two, killing yourself doesn’t really solve the problem. Number three, it creates more problems for the people that are left. So, let’s just start there.
And then I tell them – most of the people I talk to are Christian, in some way shape or form, they went to church, they went to catechism, they went to communion and or confirmation, so they have an awareness of Jesus – and I say, “When Jesus died on the cross, ALL of our sins were forgiven. All the way to the past and all the way to the future. When you accept him, then God sees Jesus in you as the payment for your sins, and you are SAVED.
No matter what.
If you could take that away from yourself, you’d be more powerful than God.
John - What do you say to people that say that gives them permission to take their own lives?
Michael - I’d say that God does not want you to take your life. It is not his plan for you to take your life. It won’t solve your problem and it will hurt some people.
So the real issue is to figure out WHY you want to take your life. I don’t think it’s a SIN to want to take your life. I think it’s a sign that something’s desperately wrong. A lot of teenagers have those feelings. A lot of people who go through divorces and or job losses have those feelings.
It’s just a sign of fear, it’s a sign of total alienation from life. It’s a sign that you really need big time help in a big time way. It’s a sign that you need God in a bigger way than you’ve ever needed God before. It’s not a sin, it’s a sign.
So if you go, “OK, I want to kill myself, because nobody cares.” Well then, who is that you WANT to care? And why AREN’T they caring and tell me about that relationship.
Or “I want to kill myself because nothing’s gone right for the past five years.” OK, let’s look at the last five years. What hasn’t gone right? Has anything at all gone right? Let’s look for a real glimmer of something.
And so you start to do a diagnostic approach to this thing to pull it apart.
There are LAYERS upon layers of information in people’s hearts, but it all gets kind of buried by this feeling like, “I want to kill myself, because if I kill myself I won’t have to feel this bad anymore. If I kill myself I won’t have to wake up and deal with the crap anymore.”
Let’s start peeling off those layers. Let’s start finding out what happened. It could all go back to an abusive parent who beat you before you went to bed, so you have no self worth at all, and now you’re twenty-five, and you still don’t have any self worth. And your boyfriend let go of you, and you flunked chemistry, and it seemed like everything, you had to drop out of school.
Let’s look at the issues. Start to find the place where grace can come into your life. Where unconditional love can come into your life. Where a REAL friend can come into your life. Lot’s of people don’t have any friends.
I remember being disconnected from the ministry for a while, when I was at seminary just a couple years. And I thought, “Man, I went to seminary to be a pastor, and I’m a pastor now,” and it just didn’t FEEL good and I didn’t like it.
I was working, really as a PNA, a Psychiatric Nursing Assistant in a Psych hospital with nurses and patients. There were days when I felt like, “Man, give ME a bed and let me lay down for a minute to try and figure out where I am.”
And there was this guy, who was a businessman, and all he did was say, “Michael, come have lunch with me.” And every couple of weeks, “Michael, I want to have lunch with you.” And because he stayed close to me through those lunches – didn’t say anything profound. As a matter of fact I can only remember one thing he said to me that taught me something biblical.
And all he said was, “God is saying, ‘Wait!’” He said four words that I remember. But what I remember is that he was present at the moment of my despair, and he loved me just the way I was.
John - That’s incarnational love.
Michael - Right. Many people just don’t have that kind of a friend. That kind of a friend changes your life. That’s not a therapist, that’s a friend. That’s not a coach, that’s just somebody that shows up and says, “Let’s have lunch, let’s have a sandwich. I’ll be there for you.”
John - Can you describe the process by which somebody’s spirit breaks down to the point that they consider suicide. What is it that causes them to lose hope? Is there a commonality that you see in most folks, or is it different with everybody?
Michael - It’s kind of like somebody once said, “All families are different, but they’re all so much the same.” I think there are unique circumstances for each person, yet if you track it, it all pretty much follows the same track.
I think people are always looking for somebody to help them take the next step. You see this with children. With kids you gotta make the eye contact, you gotta make the meaningful touch happen. You have to be there and present for them. And that gives them the confidence to get up and take a step and to smile and move down the road of life.
So we’re always trusting that somebody will be there for the next step. I trust that in my own professional growth even at 57, I’m looking for somebody to help me take the next step, so I can grow as a pastor, so I can grow as a person who is teaching God’s word. Because we’re never done!
But when you keep bumping up against people who rip you off, who abuse you, who use you, who don’t respect you, who because of their of their own personal dysfunctional manipulate you and then throw you by the side of the road. And every person you meet is like that, you end of getting to a place where you don’t even want to try anymore.
That’s one way that people will get there.
Of course another way is people can be surrounded by love and grace and a great community, but they’re so clinically depressed, the pain of that, that’s an organic, that’s a clinically induced depression, and they can not escape it, because it’s inside their own head, and the only way to way they get out of that, they think, is to take their own life.
That needs a lot of psychopharmacology, a lot of therapy, needs a lot of possibly hospitalization, that can be treated through the system, through the therapeutic system that is offered.
The other flies kind of underneath the radar, and the person is hoping that finally they’ll meet someone that will love them, and they get married, and they think the person is finally gonna save them, and that person winds up beating them, and abusing them verbally, mentally and physically.
So there just comes a point where they say, “Aspire,” on their arm, but “I’m out of here!” Those are the types of issues that the church can help with. I don’t think the church can really help so much on the clinically depressed side of things, because you really need medication, and you really need people that are well trained to deal with that kind of stuff.
There’s not enough in the church to deal with that kind of stuff. But if you’re just dealing with basic alienation issues…. I had a woman come up to me in Denmark last week, and she said, “I have a problem.” And I said OK, and she laid it all out there for me, and I said, “You really have this choice or this choice.”
But she couldn’t see that. She felt overwhelmed by other people, and it just seemed like she let waves of other people’s behavior control her. She was at a point of feeling like just giving up, maybe not suicide, but just giving up.
And I said no, this is where you and you have these choices. Those are the kind of things that churches can do, that Christians can do. We can be with each other in the dilemmas of life that make is feel bad, that even make us depressed. Make us not want to get out of bed. And we can support each other and help each other walk through, slog through, until we get to a place where we finally see God’s grace and God’s life again.
I’ve been there in those times. Those are really hard times. The church can help there. Christians can help there. But when you get to that point where it’s chemical imbalance, where medication is needed, the church has to be really careful, that they don’t try to pray away something that needs a specific psychopharmacological solution.
John - I agree. But let’s give a for instance, because that’s kind of where I would come in. OK, so somebody’s got a biological depression, the brain’s gotten a little screwy. In my case, I had bipolar syndrome. Went to the docs, did the meds, did the therapy to help with the cognitive distortions, yaddy, yaddy yaddy, and did everything else.
But my SOUL as a result of going through that process – and this is what I think happens with a lot of people – it gets damaged in the process. It gets hurt. Just as people that are dealing with situational depression and folks that aren’t physiological in nature.
Same issue though. Their spirit gets down. I mean you’re right, the church can’t come in and say, “Hey, just do away with your meds,” but I think the church and all Christians (all people) should say, “Hey, you’re going to your doctor, right? Great, do this, do that, lean on your family and friends. And, we can help you with the God thing. We can help you with the spiritual world. We can lift you up and pray for you and pray over you.
Michael - Well, I would agree. I would say that to remain in a Christian context for growth, for worship, for the word of God to be available to your life. I think that can help anybody, in any situation.
That’s why I go to the hospital, to be a chaplain. I go to bring encouragement, to bring God’s word, to tell a story, remind them about Job, remind them about the Apostle Paul and his struggle. And so I totally believe in that idea of soul care.
John - I mean, it’s neat because in a sense, if their hope is declining, then you’re giving them a chance to build it back up again. You’re GIVING them hope. It’s an interesting thing.
Let me give you a leading comment and question.
I believe that the medical side of mental health is, for lack of better words, screwed up. In terms of the way that they have dealt with patients, basically creating a spiritual separation if you will, and only dealing with the physical side of the situation, and leaving out the spiritual side.
My feeling and my research leads me to believe that the therapeutic side tends to get it more, they deal with the “complete person.”
So here’s my question:
If you were at a convention and talking to a bunch of new students, aspiring psychiatrists, what would you tell them?
Michael - What you are referring to I think was more the case twenty years ago, is less the case today. The other day I prayed with a couple of nurses at the nurses station. Lots of the doctors will refer patients to me. They might want to deal with that issue themselves but they realize that the spiritual is important piece, so they’ll say, “I’ll have the chaplain come talk to you.”
And there are lots of doctors that I know who are very faith based people, whether it’s through Christianity, whether it’s through Judaism, whether it’s through another expression of faith, they feel very grounded in terms of being a caregiver from a psychiatric point of view, but with a basis that is basically faith and spiritual, because their own lives are faith and spiritual.
Because they have their own life grounded.
It used to be, the divide was very wide twenty years ago, and it’s very much narrowed to where there’s a lot more talk about spirituality. Especially since the AA motto and 12-step program. So you got AA, you got NA, they’re aware of the spiritual piece, the component.
I talk to NA and AA people all the time, trying to help them understand this higher power thing that’s hard to get a grip on. But as you talk more about it you find that people are very open to that, and the psychiatric staff is very open to it.
John - But do you think the medical community is open to and accepting… Here’s an example: acupuncture. Twenty years ago, the AMA pretty much said it’s crap, it’s eastern crap. And now they’ve accepted it. So, have they accepted the whole idea of caring for the spirit of the person in a psychiatric situation, just as importantly as with the physical side, the pharmacological, the pathological and going on down, the therapeutic, and so forth…
Michael - Yeah, I do. It’s mandated by the Joint Commission of Hospital Accreditation that you have spiritual services for patients and that they have access to faith services. So that’s why a chaplain has to be there. That’s why I got a call yesterday that said there’s two patients on the chemical dependency unit that wanted to see me today, so yeah.
They don’t see it so much as the be all, the end all that ties everything together, which is how I see it as a pastor. But they see it as important component to these other important components that have to somehow come together and integrate.
John - I would suggest that what you just described thought puts the spiritual thing as more of a passive and benign thing that they want patients to know about but it’s NOT at the same level as pharmacology, it’s not at the same level as the physical issues and the ailments and the therapy and the psychology, etc, and you then drop down and go, “…. And oh, by the way, we do have a pastor that you could talk to IF you want to.”
Michael - You have to be careful not to read your own issues into them, because for some doctors it will be that way, for others they’ll be thrilled and happy if all their patients were in a bible study. So it really depends on each individual physician.
John - My point is it would be like if they had a choice or gave a choice to the patients whether they should consider medication, and whether or not they should consider therapy. In other words, those are things that are ingrained and accepted as being absolutely a part of brain trauma or mental illness and the relief of it.
But that the whole spirit thing – I’m not talking about going to church – I’m talking about the therapeutic aspect of dealing with the spirit of the person that’s connected to the physical body, because if it gets sick enough, you’ve lost them. They’re DEAD. They’re terminally ill at that point and they’re hopeless.
Somebody called me about going to talk to a woman. They said she was also bipolar and would I come and talk to her. Well I said, “I don’t really know this woman,” and I’ve been inundated by this sort of thing since I wrote the book, and I’d have to say no.
Three weeks later she committed suicide. She killed herself. I KNEW it wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t accept any guilt. But I felt BAD. I knew that basically she was terminally ill. That all I could have done – and I wish I had – was to comfort her.
How does her soul get to that point? How does spirit get to that point where she can NOT pull out of it. And forget about pharmacology, these people had money. Forget about the physical things that they did, and everything up to shock therapy, and what was it like as a child, and yaddy, yaddy yaddy.
Her soul was sick, and she wasn’t saved, and 30,000 people a year in the US are killing themselves and we’re not doing a whole lot about it. 15,000 people are committing homicide, and we’re building palaces for the murderers.
But for the 30,000 murderers that take their own lives, we don’t do a whole lot. I think that it’s got a lot to do with this spirit thing. And you’re right, I don’t want to read my own thing into this...
Michael - I don’t know, John. I think… or course I know this person, so her illness took her. It just took her. It would be the same as if cancer took somebody.
John - I agree!
Michael - As far as the hospital situation, it’s the same in a jail hospital as it is in a psychiatric hospital. We’ve pretty much adopted a model that says, “First of all, we’ll give you an aspirin, and maybe later the chaplain will come by and he’ll pray for you.”
We’ve adopted a model, you know, where we’ll stick the tubes in and then we’ll worry about calling the church people later. So we have a very physical medical technology application to what we do, and it’s just part of our whole culture. It’s part of the way Americans have learned to be.
But in the middle of all that, there are lots of people making lots of choices that are deeply spiritual. I bring bibles to the hospital, and the box is always empty. I bring Daily Bread, a hundred a month get used up. Every Sunday with all the units with all the patients and even teenagers and people come and we talk, and so there is a deep connection of spirituality and I think to say that somebody’s soul is starved, or whatever….. it’s hard for me to separate – I’m a pastor – it’s hard for me to separate my soul and my mind and my body, and somehow they’re all connected.
There’s an old saying in the ministry that says, “I’m not going to do anything today, because I’m waiting for my soul to catch up to my body.” I know it’s not here right now, cause the soul kind of goes along at a certain speed. It refuses to go beyond a certain speed and when you speed up it just stays at that speed and refuses to speed up.
So even though we’re all bound up together, mind soul body spirit, and its’ all in this one package. Yeah, you know, there are places where your spirit is being nurtured, but that’s just like when I go to a great dinner and my body is being touched and when I hear a great message I know my soul is being touched. But it’s hard to piece that all out. I don’t know how to do that.
In any system that I know, that deals with human beings, there’s a flaw. Whether it’s our government, or the New York Yankees, there’s a flaw. And its impossible for us to ferret out all the flaws, because as soon as we get them all out, we’ve created three more, because of our own human foibles.
So I try to constantly remind myself that if I show up, if I care, if I’m attentive to what’s really going on, and I allow God’s presence to be in that moment, then maybe something’s going to happen that is good, that’s about grace, and hope and love. And at the same time, I can be doing that, and I have done that, and I’ve been cursed out.
I can’t let circumstances define who I am. I have to be who I am and move into life whether that’s life here in the church, life in the psychiatric hospital, life when I’m on a mission trip in Denmark. I just have to move in and say, “God, however you want to use me, just use me.”
John - You said that twenty years ago it was a lot different, and that things have gotten a lot better in the medical world and the therapeutic world accepting the fact that the body mind spirit connection is real and the trend is good. But you also said that it hasn’t gone as far as you would like to take it. But you’re a pastor, so of course you’d like to see it.
How do you think they should conduct the medical business of mental health in terms of bringing the spiritual component more into it?
Michael - Let’s imagine for a second that I’m a psychiatrist. I do think that even with respecting the boundaries of, “I’m your doctor, you’re my patient,” which you need, but I do think there’s a place to go – not every day, not every appointment – “how are you doing on your meds, how are things going with your husband, I’ll see you again next week but before you go, I want to pray for you.”
I think there’s a place for meaningful prayer, meaningful touch on a hand, on a shoulder, and I would want to encourage doctors and psychiatrist to be open to those opportunities, to look for God showing up in the patient doctor relationship. Not to totally exclude God because it’s a doctor patient relationship, but to realize that at some point God might really want to enter that. He might want to enter it through your heart and your mind. That’s what I would probably share as a whole new tack on things.
Now there’ve been some doctors that have done that. There’s a guy, he’s a very famous African American surgeon. I wish I could think of him now, but his first name is Ben. He’s tried to bring his faith into his practice of medicine. He’s written about the transforming effect that’s had on people, so I think there’s a real place for that.
But within psychiatry, this is where psychiatry has to be careful, and it doesn’t use it’s own environment not to do what is right. So much of what they call religious ideation is a part of psychiatry.
John - Can you define religious ideation?
Michael - “I’m Jesus, and I’m gonna burn you up tonight, because I don’t like the way you look.” Or, “God told me that something really bad’s gonna happen today.” So religious ideation is when you become Jesus, or Paul or Mary and you start acting that way. And because that’s very prevalent, they kind of go to the opposite ends of the field and say, “OK, we’re not gonna be religious at all.”
That’s like saying, “I don’t like goat cheese, so I’m not going to any restaurants.” No, I’ll go to a restaurant, I just won’t have the goat cheese. There are ways to deal with religious ideation that is dysfunctional and pathologic, and there are ways to be congruent in faith and theology and that’s OK.
But you have to have people to bring that together, and that’s what part of my role. They say, “Let’s make a spiritual person, call him the chaplain, so that we don’t have to worry about how that comes together, he has to deal with it.” So they create this special person and I get to be that special person, because they’re uncomfortable.
But what I’ve tried to do is to help bring both sides together in the humble way that I can. Sometimes I think I do that, and sometimes I think I miss it. Sometimes I think I hit the nail right on the head. I can just sometimes feel, in a room full of psychiatric patients, a sense of spiritual uplifting come into it.
And then there are other times when I go, “Why did I come?”
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Who Got Soul?
Soul
1. the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body; the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part.
2. the spiritual part of humans regarded in its moral aspect, or as believed to survive death and be subject to happiness or misery in a life to come: arguing the immortality of the soul.
Regardless of religious affiliation or faith belief system, the vast majority of human beings believe in some form of an inner soul. It is a uniquely distinct part of our lives, separate from the body, and yet connected to the very core of who we are, what we do, how we act and whether we feel love, joy, hope, or despair.
This is true whether we are an Ethiopian farmer, a Japanese factory worker, a Peruvian fisherman, or an American bricklayer. Regardless of our political, religious or national beliefs, we simply can’t get away from the simple fact that we have a metaphysical entity that is, in essence, a spirit within us.
We mustn’t confuse spirit with spiritual. Just because we all share an internal disembodied spirit we call the soul, doesn’t automatically make the person spiritual in the sense of believing in anything at all. The purpose of this book is NOT to take a stand in terms of the spiritual affiliation of mentally ill people (or any people), but to urge them to protect the spirit within them, the thing we call the Soul, as part of a unified effort to heal our selves from our illness.
Some people will say, “Pah,” and reject this as just another attempt to inject spirituality or religion into a place where only medical things apply. I would really love to agree, but the fact is that I can’t, for the simple reason that our soul lives in our bodies, and when our bodies get sick, the soul does too.
This in effect suggests, rightfully so, that the soul must be considered part of the medical condition of any illness, and especially in any illness that effects the mentality of a person. The difficulty of course is that doctors are not trained to deal with treating our souls. They are trained to treat our bodies, and are urged to maintain a wide clinical separation between any personal aspects of their patient’s lives, much less their spirit, souls or “hearts.”
How can we possibly expect doctors and the medical profession and community to suddenly start looking out for the souls of their patients? It would be a catastrophe of good intentions gone bad, right? Maybe not. How could good clinical medicine be practiced if doctors start caring about the inner person? Won’t that just complicate good medicine?
If the medicine was so good, and the medical profession doing such a great job taking care of our people, then why are 30,000 Americans ending their lives every year? If all 30,000 people had received medical care that included care for their soul, would they have survived?
Do we really want doctors caring for our souls?
I am a Christian man, but that does not make me unique in terms of my soul. A Buddhist, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Witch, Atheist, Agnostic, Catholic, Protestant, or any other of the many religious groups in the world, any individual human being, all share the same human experience of having a body that is nearly identical, and a soul that is the same.
Generally speaking, our soulful, heartfelt experiences and emotions are the same around the world. The huge range of human passions that we feel are consistent in every language, in every land, and in every people. We all know what it means to feel happy, to feel rage, terror, horror, pain, ecstasy, love, hate, and so forth.
Our souls speak a universal language, but each of us has our own wonderful dialect that is our own. This is what makes us individual, and uniquely ourselves. This is the fantastic internal fuel that our souls are filled with, and the right stuff that can go wrong during a mental illness.
What we fill our souls with is absolutely unique, but the simple fact that we have one, is not. One of the purposes of this book will be to show the connection between the body and the soul, and therefore the reason why caring for the soul is just as important in mental health as medication, therapy, medical care and a supportive group of family and friends.
1. the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body; the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part.
2. the spiritual part of humans regarded in its moral aspect, or as believed to survive death and be subject to happiness or misery in a life to come: arguing the immortality of the soul.
Regardless of religious affiliation or faith belief system, the vast majority of human beings believe in some form of an inner soul. It is a uniquely distinct part of our lives, separate from the body, and yet connected to the very core of who we are, what we do, how we act and whether we feel love, joy, hope, or despair.
This is true whether we are an Ethiopian farmer, a Japanese factory worker, a Peruvian fisherman, or an American bricklayer. Regardless of our political, religious or national beliefs, we simply can’t get away from the simple fact that we have a metaphysical entity that is, in essence, a spirit within us.
We mustn’t confuse spirit with spiritual. Just because we all share an internal disembodied spirit we call the soul, doesn’t automatically make the person spiritual in the sense of believing in anything at all. The purpose of this book is NOT to take a stand in terms of the spiritual affiliation of mentally ill people (or any people), but to urge them to protect the spirit within them, the thing we call the Soul, as part of a unified effort to heal our selves from our illness.
Some people will say, “Pah,” and reject this as just another attempt to inject spirituality or religion into a place where only medical things apply. I would really love to agree, but the fact is that I can’t, for the simple reason that our soul lives in our bodies, and when our bodies get sick, the soul does too.
This in effect suggests, rightfully so, that the soul must be considered part of the medical condition of any illness, and especially in any illness that effects the mentality of a person. The difficulty of course is that doctors are not trained to deal with treating our souls. They are trained to treat our bodies, and are urged to maintain a wide clinical separation between any personal aspects of their patient’s lives, much less their spirit, souls or “hearts.”
How can we possibly expect doctors and the medical profession and community to suddenly start looking out for the souls of their patients? It would be a catastrophe of good intentions gone bad, right? Maybe not. How could good clinical medicine be practiced if doctors start caring about the inner person? Won’t that just complicate good medicine?
If the medicine was so good, and the medical profession doing such a great job taking care of our people, then why are 30,000 Americans ending their lives every year? If all 30,000 people had received medical care that included care for their soul, would they have survived?
Do we really want doctors caring for our souls?
I am a Christian man, but that does not make me unique in terms of my soul. A Buddhist, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Witch, Atheist, Agnostic, Catholic, Protestant, or any other of the many religious groups in the world, any individual human being, all share the same human experience of having a body that is nearly identical, and a soul that is the same.
Generally speaking, our soulful, heartfelt experiences and emotions are the same around the world. The huge range of human passions that we feel are consistent in every language, in every land, and in every people. We all know what it means to feel happy, to feel rage, terror, horror, pain, ecstasy, love, hate, and so forth.
Our souls speak a universal language, but each of us has our own wonderful dialect that is our own. This is what makes us individual, and uniquely ourselves. This is the fantastic internal fuel that our souls are filled with, and the right stuff that can go wrong during a mental illness.
What we fill our souls with is absolutely unique, but the simple fact that we have one, is not. One of the purposes of this book will be to show the connection between the body and the soul, and therefore the reason why caring for the soul is just as important in mental health as medication, therapy, medical care and a supportive group of family and friends.
The Situation
In 2005, the United States of America lost over 15,000 people to death by homicide. This horrible epidemic has been talked about, written about and railed about by Americans and our government for years, and for good reason. Our people are dying at the hands of individuals that should be stopped from their desperate acts. We have spent huge amounts of money on police forces, prisons, neighborhood protection and countless other programs to help prevent the loss of life from homicide.
In 2005, the U.S. lost over 30,000 people to death by suicide, over twice the number of homicides. It could be argued that suicide is just another form of homicide, since the suicidal person is in many cases a vastly different person than when they first became sick. Once again, our people are dying at the hands of individuals that should be stopped from their desperate acts.
There is no doubt that the numbers are staggering. Yet tragically, very little is being done about it, certainly not on a national level, as with homicide. People are not standing up and demanding action, there is little coverage in the press, and institutions are not being built for the people responsible for inflicting this horrific toll upon our country.
After all, why would you build institutions for dead people?
By the time people commit suicide, it is too late for institutions or people to help in any way; way too late. The question is not just why we’re not talking about suicide, but what we’re doing to prevent it. Perhaps the biggest question is whether we’re openly talking about the things that cause suicide the most: mental illness and brain disorders.
The simple answer is no, we are not.
The simple truth is that for most folks, talking about mental illness and brain disorders is uncomfortable and strange. Many feel like they have no business dealing with the personal life of the afflicted, and besides, mental illness is very private and respect must be paid to anyone who is dealing with it.Now why do you suppose that is?
After all, isn’t mental illness just like any other illness? Shouldn’t we be able to talk about it the same as someone suffering from cancer or diabetes? Aren’t mental illnesses and brain disorders really just another type of medical malady that affects our bodies?
The answer to all three questions should be yes. But the fact is, that in this society, in spite of the many gains we’ve made in understanding and processing and treating mental illness, the answer is still a resounding, “no.”
This is a huge problem that is both no one’s fault and everyone’s fault. If we as a society respond with such fervor and passion about the homicides we suffer every year, then we must also respond with at least as much passion and fervor over the 30,000 souls that leave us every year due to suicide.
Why would they leave?
We certainly have a nice country. Hey, it’s a great country. Good standard of living. Excellent health care and education, plenty of jobs, beautiful people, awesome movies, fantastic food. Who would want to leave all that? Certainly no one in their right minds! And if they do decide to check out, it must have been from some internal weakness or personality disorder. I mean, I feel bad for them, but what could I do?
I mean, hey, somebody with a screwy mind? That’s none of my business, right? I don’t go sniffing around in their business for nothing. Why should I? Look, if they had cancer or something, that’s different. My mother, God rest her soul, she died of the cancer. I understand all that, at least most of it. But anything that is inside the head, I don’t go there. Scary stuff. Loony bin stuff. I got no time for that. Look, I feel bad about those people, but it ain’t my business, and it ain’t my fault.
And that would be precisely the point of this book. Because in fact it IS our business to look out for each other’s health, no matter if it affects our pancreas, heart or brain. Otherwise we’ll just continue to sit back and do nothing about illnesses that make us feel uncomfortable.
Time to get out of our comfort zones, people! People we love are dying and we need to do something about it.
In 2005, the U.S. lost over 30,000 people to death by suicide, over twice the number of homicides. It could be argued that suicide is just another form of homicide, since the suicidal person is in many cases a vastly different person than when they first became sick. Once again, our people are dying at the hands of individuals that should be stopped from their desperate acts.
There is no doubt that the numbers are staggering. Yet tragically, very little is being done about it, certainly not on a national level, as with homicide. People are not standing up and demanding action, there is little coverage in the press, and institutions are not being built for the people responsible for inflicting this horrific toll upon our country.
After all, why would you build institutions for dead people?
By the time people commit suicide, it is too late for institutions or people to help in any way; way too late. The question is not just why we’re not talking about suicide, but what we’re doing to prevent it. Perhaps the biggest question is whether we’re openly talking about the things that cause suicide the most: mental illness and brain disorders.
The simple answer is no, we are not.
The simple truth is that for most folks, talking about mental illness and brain disorders is uncomfortable and strange. Many feel like they have no business dealing with the personal life of the afflicted, and besides, mental illness is very private and respect must be paid to anyone who is dealing with it.Now why do you suppose that is?
After all, isn’t mental illness just like any other illness? Shouldn’t we be able to talk about it the same as someone suffering from cancer or diabetes? Aren’t mental illnesses and brain disorders really just another type of medical malady that affects our bodies?
The answer to all three questions should be yes. But the fact is, that in this society, in spite of the many gains we’ve made in understanding and processing and treating mental illness, the answer is still a resounding, “no.”
This is a huge problem that is both no one’s fault and everyone’s fault. If we as a society respond with such fervor and passion about the homicides we suffer every year, then we must also respond with at least as much passion and fervor over the 30,000 souls that leave us every year due to suicide.
Why would they leave?
We certainly have a nice country. Hey, it’s a great country. Good standard of living. Excellent health care and education, plenty of jobs, beautiful people, awesome movies, fantastic food. Who would want to leave all that? Certainly no one in their right minds! And if they do decide to check out, it must have been from some internal weakness or personality disorder. I mean, I feel bad for them, but what could I do?
I mean, hey, somebody with a screwy mind? That’s none of my business, right? I don’t go sniffing around in their business for nothing. Why should I? Look, if they had cancer or something, that’s different. My mother, God rest her soul, she died of the cancer. I understand all that, at least most of it. But anything that is inside the head, I don’t go there. Scary stuff. Loony bin stuff. I got no time for that. Look, I feel bad about those people, but it ain’t my business, and it ain’t my fault.
And that would be precisely the point of this book. Because in fact it IS our business to look out for each other’s health, no matter if it affects our pancreas, heart or brain. Otherwise we’ll just continue to sit back and do nothing about illnesses that make us feel uncomfortable.
Time to get out of our comfort zones, people! People we love are dying and we need to do something about it.
My Name is Suicide
My name is Suicide.
It was the name given to me by everyone I left behind. Seriously, that’s all they talked about. They didn’t talk about what a great guy I was, or the touchdown I scored in my Junior year, or when I scored with Melody Hanfield. Or all the times I made the Honor Roll and Principal’s List.
There were so many great things in my life and now the only thing they talk about is one thing, the one big mistake in my life.
Suicide.
It’s also the name that I know in this place. They say they have to love me extra right now, to help my soul heal. But I feel fine, really. Much better than I did back there, at least at the end. I don’t want to go back there, and for the most part, I’m happy to be here. Really.
First off, please tell my Mom and Dad that I’m OK. I feel pretty much better than I ever did when I was alive on earth. Part of me still feels bad about what I did, and that makes me sad. Sad up here is way different.
I’m learning how to make rain up here! Kind of like rain. It comes out of me when I think about down there, in rivers and droplets of brown and black. They tell me it will be a long time before my rain turns to color. But hey, I’ve got an eternity, right!
I want to make rain down there, maybe a nice little shower with a rainbow, so my parents will know it’s from me. But they say I’m not ready. They say that only happens in movies and for souls that have moved on to the full light. What the crap does that mean? Full light! I’ve got plenty of light now. It may not be full yet, but it’s strong!
I dream in black colors that shoot out of my soul; I can paint with them. I want to go back and paint a picture across the sky for my Mom and Dad, but they won’t let me, yet. They say maybe one day, when I’ve earned my colors, when I’m healed and alive again.
But I am alive!
I mean, my body’s dead, but I’m still alive and aware of myself. Accept for my name. So please call me Suicide. I’m sorry if you’re really grossed out by my name, and by my story. They said I had to tell you, so that others wouldn’t do what I did. There are so many like me up here, in the Inbetween. Millions of souls waiting to heal and move on to the full light. None of us have any colors, other than black and maybe a little brown if we’re lucky.
But we SEE all the colors up there, beyond us. So beautiful and varied. Each soul has their own rainbow of colors that are unique and beyond any earthly rainbow. I see them, and hear them, smell them and feel them. I can tell everything about the person by their colors. Everything. Amazing. God is so cool…
They say that my colors are black because my soul is damaged. I guess my soul’s kind of in the shop, getting repaired, like my car was the week I checked out. I thought it would just all be over, but now I can see that it was just the beginning. I wasn’t supposed to be here yet. My time hadn’t come. My colors hadn’t ripened. Whatever.
I don’t really mind the name Suicide. After all, I did choose it as my final act on earth. OK, the truth is, I wish that they would have remembered me in other ways besides Suicide. I wish I could remember my REAL name, but I can’t. Maybe this is part of the healing. I don’t know. I hope my name comes back when my colors do. That would be cool.
Tell my Mom and Dad I’m OK. And no matter what I ever told them down there, I really do love them, and miss them so much up here. I miss my Mom. It hurts so bad. How can my soul heal when it hurts so bad?
It’s going to rain black again. My rainbows are gone.
____________
They let me rain for real yesterday. But it was hard, and I didn’t get anywhere close to Virginia Beach, where my parents live. I was part of a rainstorm that blew across the Amazon delta. Wow! I was in ten million drops of water as they fell down to earth. I felt each drop hit the ground.
I fell into the open mouth of an Indian boy that was playing with his friends. I could feel his heart beat. My rain is still black; no colors yet. All things come to those that wait, right? That’s not what I used to believe.
If I had waited, I would have accomplished many things on earth. They say they’re going to show me those things, and the people I would have met and helped, the wife and children I would have had. Whatever.
I killed myself when I was 17 years old.
_________
I know that you probably think that anyone that commits suicide is really creepy and stupid and bizarre, but I have to tell you that in so many ways, I felt like a pretty normal dude. And before you say, “Blowing your brains out is so NOT normal,” I’m not talking about the act, or even the lead up to it.
I’m talking about my life.
I was just a guy going to high school, a senior with my whole life ahead of me. So when exactly did I take the stupid pill? Well, that comes at the END of the story. Let me tell you the way it started and what happened, so you don’t have to take a stupid pill like I did, and have your parents find you dead in your room, with your brains splattered all over your wall.
Do you know what my last thought was?
My Mom is going to be SOOOO pissed off when she sees this……
Before I tell you more about my life down there, I want to tell you one thing I’ve learned up here. There is God. Down there I would have said there is a God, without being really sure. But up here he just is, and I know him because I’ve seen him. He is everything. He is everywhere. He is me and them and earth and sky and you and he is.
Down there I went to church a little, but up here I am church. I know that sounds creepy and weird, but if everyone down there could see what I’m seeing, there would be no more suicides. There would be no more war. No more fighting. No murders. No more suicide.
And I’m not even seeing it all. I’m cut off from the full light, but I can see it a little and feel it a lot. Even at this entry spot where I’m at, along with the others like me, the love and beauty is so much more than anything back on earth.
They didn’t want me to tell you that, because they’re afraid it will make suicide sound even better. But I have to tell the truth, and you need to know that even if you eat a big hairy stupid pill like I did, you will be loved in a way that is wonderful. But they don’t tell you your name, and you’re cut off from the full light of heaven. I don’t know for how long.
So now I’m in between the place I wish I’d never left and the place I’d like to get to. It rains a lot here.
Look, I never was religious, really. But this isn’t about religion. It’s about letting your soul fly in a way that it was intended to fly. I remember as a little boy that I always wanted to fly. My Dad was in the Air Force, and we had tons of jet photos around the house. He even put me in his plane once, and that was pretty cool. His jets were fast, and could fly at the speed of sound.
Up here you can fly at the speed of light. Well, except for people like me. We have to wait a while. They never tell us what a while means, but in the meantime, we’re in the “in between.” We can watch some things that happen down there, and some things that happen up in the full light, where the colors are.
I wish I could fly back home to see my parents again. Just one more time. But I really want to rain in colors too. I miss my Dad. But I want to see my Dad up there too.
I wish I could go back.I’m sad and the rain is black.
__________
Oh man….. I don’t really want to talk right now. Everything is black right now. They just showed me the woman I would have married. I don’t know her, but she’s a total babe! I could feel her and the love she had for me, and I had for her. I’ve never felt anything like that before, except for up here. And maybe from my Mom.
Oh man…. I’m really bummed out. I think I made a big mistake. I feel so bad and no one’s here with me now. This isn’t fair! Where is everyone? Where’s my Mom and Dad? I don’t want to be here right now.
Oh nooooo! There’re my parents at the wedding. There I am! I look happy. No, please! Please God, don’t show me anymore! We’re kissing. No, not our honeymoon. Please, God, please don’t show me anymore. I beg of you.
I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for messing up your plans, God. Forgive me, please forgive me, father. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.
Oh man, no wonder my rain is black. I lost the colors of my life.
It was the name given to me by everyone I left behind. Seriously, that’s all they talked about. They didn’t talk about what a great guy I was, or the touchdown I scored in my Junior year, or when I scored with Melody Hanfield. Or all the times I made the Honor Roll and Principal’s List.
There were so many great things in my life and now the only thing they talk about is one thing, the one big mistake in my life.
Suicide.
It’s also the name that I know in this place. They say they have to love me extra right now, to help my soul heal. But I feel fine, really. Much better than I did back there, at least at the end. I don’t want to go back there, and for the most part, I’m happy to be here. Really.
First off, please tell my Mom and Dad that I’m OK. I feel pretty much better than I ever did when I was alive on earth. Part of me still feels bad about what I did, and that makes me sad. Sad up here is way different.
I’m learning how to make rain up here! Kind of like rain. It comes out of me when I think about down there, in rivers and droplets of brown and black. They tell me it will be a long time before my rain turns to color. But hey, I’ve got an eternity, right!
I want to make rain down there, maybe a nice little shower with a rainbow, so my parents will know it’s from me. But they say I’m not ready. They say that only happens in movies and for souls that have moved on to the full light. What the crap does that mean? Full light! I’ve got plenty of light now. It may not be full yet, but it’s strong!
I dream in black colors that shoot out of my soul; I can paint with them. I want to go back and paint a picture across the sky for my Mom and Dad, but they won’t let me, yet. They say maybe one day, when I’ve earned my colors, when I’m healed and alive again.
But I am alive!
I mean, my body’s dead, but I’m still alive and aware of myself. Accept for my name. So please call me Suicide. I’m sorry if you’re really grossed out by my name, and by my story. They said I had to tell you, so that others wouldn’t do what I did. There are so many like me up here, in the Inbetween. Millions of souls waiting to heal and move on to the full light. None of us have any colors, other than black and maybe a little brown if we’re lucky.
But we SEE all the colors up there, beyond us. So beautiful and varied. Each soul has their own rainbow of colors that are unique and beyond any earthly rainbow. I see them, and hear them, smell them and feel them. I can tell everything about the person by their colors. Everything. Amazing. God is so cool…
They say that my colors are black because my soul is damaged. I guess my soul’s kind of in the shop, getting repaired, like my car was the week I checked out. I thought it would just all be over, but now I can see that it was just the beginning. I wasn’t supposed to be here yet. My time hadn’t come. My colors hadn’t ripened. Whatever.
I don’t really mind the name Suicide. After all, I did choose it as my final act on earth. OK, the truth is, I wish that they would have remembered me in other ways besides Suicide. I wish I could remember my REAL name, but I can’t. Maybe this is part of the healing. I don’t know. I hope my name comes back when my colors do. That would be cool.
Tell my Mom and Dad I’m OK. And no matter what I ever told them down there, I really do love them, and miss them so much up here. I miss my Mom. It hurts so bad. How can my soul heal when it hurts so bad?
It’s going to rain black again. My rainbows are gone.
____________
They let me rain for real yesterday. But it was hard, and I didn’t get anywhere close to Virginia Beach, where my parents live. I was part of a rainstorm that blew across the Amazon delta. Wow! I was in ten million drops of water as they fell down to earth. I felt each drop hit the ground.
I fell into the open mouth of an Indian boy that was playing with his friends. I could feel his heart beat. My rain is still black; no colors yet. All things come to those that wait, right? That’s not what I used to believe.
If I had waited, I would have accomplished many things on earth. They say they’re going to show me those things, and the people I would have met and helped, the wife and children I would have had. Whatever.
I killed myself when I was 17 years old.
_________
I know that you probably think that anyone that commits suicide is really creepy and stupid and bizarre, but I have to tell you that in so many ways, I felt like a pretty normal dude. And before you say, “Blowing your brains out is so NOT normal,” I’m not talking about the act, or even the lead up to it.
I’m talking about my life.
I was just a guy going to high school, a senior with my whole life ahead of me. So when exactly did I take the stupid pill? Well, that comes at the END of the story. Let me tell you the way it started and what happened, so you don’t have to take a stupid pill like I did, and have your parents find you dead in your room, with your brains splattered all over your wall.
Do you know what my last thought was?
My Mom is going to be SOOOO pissed off when she sees this……
Before I tell you more about my life down there, I want to tell you one thing I’ve learned up here. There is God. Down there I would have said there is a God, without being really sure. But up here he just is, and I know him because I’ve seen him. He is everything. He is everywhere. He is me and them and earth and sky and you and he is.
Down there I went to church a little, but up here I am church. I know that sounds creepy and weird, but if everyone down there could see what I’m seeing, there would be no more suicides. There would be no more war. No more fighting. No murders. No more suicide.
And I’m not even seeing it all. I’m cut off from the full light, but I can see it a little and feel it a lot. Even at this entry spot where I’m at, along with the others like me, the love and beauty is so much more than anything back on earth.
They didn’t want me to tell you that, because they’re afraid it will make suicide sound even better. But I have to tell the truth, and you need to know that even if you eat a big hairy stupid pill like I did, you will be loved in a way that is wonderful. But they don’t tell you your name, and you’re cut off from the full light of heaven. I don’t know for how long.
So now I’m in between the place I wish I’d never left and the place I’d like to get to. It rains a lot here.
Look, I never was religious, really. But this isn’t about religion. It’s about letting your soul fly in a way that it was intended to fly. I remember as a little boy that I always wanted to fly. My Dad was in the Air Force, and we had tons of jet photos around the house. He even put me in his plane once, and that was pretty cool. His jets were fast, and could fly at the speed of sound.
Up here you can fly at the speed of light. Well, except for people like me. We have to wait a while. They never tell us what a while means, but in the meantime, we’re in the “in between.” We can watch some things that happen down there, and some things that happen up in the full light, where the colors are.
I wish I could fly back home to see my parents again. Just one more time. But I really want to rain in colors too. I miss my Dad. But I want to see my Dad up there too.
I wish I could go back.I’m sad and the rain is black.
__________
Oh man….. I don’t really want to talk right now. Everything is black right now. They just showed me the woman I would have married. I don’t know her, but she’s a total babe! I could feel her and the love she had for me, and I had for her. I’ve never felt anything like that before, except for up here. And maybe from my Mom.
Oh man…. I’m really bummed out. I think I made a big mistake. I feel so bad and no one’s here with me now. This isn’t fair! Where is everyone? Where’s my Mom and Dad? I don’t want to be here right now.
Oh nooooo! There’re my parents at the wedding. There I am! I look happy. No, please! Please God, don’t show me anymore! We’re kissing. No, not our honeymoon. Please, God, please don’t show me anymore. I beg of you.
I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for messing up your plans, God. Forgive me, please forgive me, father. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me.
Oh man, no wonder my rain is black. I lost the colors of my life.
A Suicidal Moment
Note: to all my mental health colleagues and professionals, my friends and family, all those that love me. Please don't read the below and then come to me because I had a momentary suicidal thought. I have these kinds of thought nearly every day, as do millions who have gone through a traumatic biological depression.
Just something we have to live with and fight off like black moths attracted to our light.
I can't fill you in and clue you to how easy it is to float on down towards oblivion if I don't tell you the truth. The truth is scary and horrible and terrible to comprehend. But if we want to help those that are floating down, then we need to understand so that we can grab them and pull them back up into the light.
Put your hard hats on!
April 10, 2007
A few days ago, in another brilliant moment of blatant stupidity, I decided to go off my anti-depressant. I had added Lamictal last Fall, as an anti-depressant in combination with my trusty Lithium. The Lithium works for me for much of the year, but not so well when the Winter Blues I had suffered for several years move in like an unwanted relative.
After several of my mental health colleagues and friends told me I didn’t have to suffer that way every year, I relented and found an excellent therapist/med doc team at Tidewater Psychotherapy and had promptly gone on Lamictal.
The effect was profound, and within a week I could feel my mood improve. But our hope was that I would only need Lamictal during the Winter and since April was officially in the house, I decided the time had come to terminate it.
I had already spoken to my med doctor, Ann Marie, about this very thing. She had said, “You have to be careful with this particular med and reverse the way you started taking it.”
In other words, I had to gradually wean myself from the med to give my body a chance to get used to the change. Otherwise I might suffer serious side effects such as sleep disorder, anxiety, mania, depression and of course, stupidity. Can’t leave that side effect out. When our brain gets sick and our thinking gets out of whack, stupidity usually shows up and moves in, like a uncle you can never get rid of.
But instead of following the excellent advice of my doctor, and since I really didn’t feel like cutting my pills up to go backwards, I just stopped taking the meds all together. Basically I took a stupid pill and stopped taking the smart pills. Ha, said I, I’ll show them. I’ll take control of my own body, my own meds, my own health, my own life. I’ll take over and show those pesky doctors who’s the boss.
I thumbed my noses at my meds and said, “Who’s your Daddy?!”
Well, you can guess where this is going. Ann Marie, may her prescriptions never fail, was absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong. When I stopped taking the Lamictal cold turkey, my body smacked me upside the head and said, “I don’t think so, SUCKER!”
Of course the smack down was in slow motion and occurred over three days, during which time I feel into a mild depression, sleep fled and generally I became an emotional time bomb. Is there really anything so wrong with that?
Well, yeah!
I was so weakened that by the end of three days I was lying on my bed wondering why I was even here. I had just had an argument with my wife and for some reason (it’s called a mental illness, stupid) I just couldn’t process what was going on, and so there I lay, contemplating my end.
I imagined myself backing out of the garage after conveniently forgetting to raise the garage door. What drama! Then I imagined myself driving into Fort Story (because it was close and quick) and driving myself at high speed into a large metal object, like a tank.
Yeah, that would probably do it, unless I whimped out at the last minute and hit the brakes. Thank you Lord for our whimpy moments that save us from ourselves.
It was at that time when I had my DUH moment and wondered if this all had to do with going cold turkey on my med. I started taking them that very moment, and have been fine since then. Oh, make no mistake about it, I’m just as big of an asshole from time to time, but at least now I’m not a suicidal asshole.
Hey, I’m a college educated, mildly intelligent well read articulate published mentally ill man, and if I can have such amazing dumbass moments with my own health, then I know there are many of my mental brothers and sisters out there that fall prey to the same problems.
It is for these awesome family members that I write these words. Be smart, be brave, be patient, be loving. Be alive!
Just something we have to live with and fight off like black moths attracted to our light.
I can't fill you in and clue you to how easy it is to float on down towards oblivion if I don't tell you the truth. The truth is scary and horrible and terrible to comprehend. But if we want to help those that are floating down, then we need to understand so that we can grab them and pull them back up into the light.
Put your hard hats on!
April 10, 2007
A few days ago, in another brilliant moment of blatant stupidity, I decided to go off my anti-depressant. I had added Lamictal last Fall, as an anti-depressant in combination with my trusty Lithium. The Lithium works for me for much of the year, but not so well when the Winter Blues I had suffered for several years move in like an unwanted relative.
After several of my mental health colleagues and friends told me I didn’t have to suffer that way every year, I relented and found an excellent therapist/med doc team at Tidewater Psychotherapy and had promptly gone on Lamictal.
The effect was profound, and within a week I could feel my mood improve. But our hope was that I would only need Lamictal during the Winter and since April was officially in the house, I decided the time had come to terminate it.
I had already spoken to my med doctor, Ann Marie, about this very thing. She had said, “You have to be careful with this particular med and reverse the way you started taking it.”
In other words, I had to gradually wean myself from the med to give my body a chance to get used to the change. Otherwise I might suffer serious side effects such as sleep disorder, anxiety, mania, depression and of course, stupidity. Can’t leave that side effect out. When our brain gets sick and our thinking gets out of whack, stupidity usually shows up and moves in, like a uncle you can never get rid of.
But instead of following the excellent advice of my doctor, and since I really didn’t feel like cutting my pills up to go backwards, I just stopped taking the meds all together. Basically I took a stupid pill and stopped taking the smart pills. Ha, said I, I’ll show them. I’ll take control of my own body, my own meds, my own health, my own life. I’ll take over and show those pesky doctors who’s the boss.
I thumbed my noses at my meds and said, “Who’s your Daddy?!”
Well, you can guess where this is going. Ann Marie, may her prescriptions never fail, was absolutely right and I was absolutely wrong. When I stopped taking the Lamictal cold turkey, my body smacked me upside the head and said, “I don’t think so, SUCKER!”
Of course the smack down was in slow motion and occurred over three days, during which time I feel into a mild depression, sleep fled and generally I became an emotional time bomb. Is there really anything so wrong with that?
Well, yeah!
I was so weakened that by the end of three days I was lying on my bed wondering why I was even here. I had just had an argument with my wife and for some reason (it’s called a mental illness, stupid) I just couldn’t process what was going on, and so there I lay, contemplating my end.
I imagined myself backing out of the garage after conveniently forgetting to raise the garage door. What drama! Then I imagined myself driving into Fort Story (because it was close and quick) and driving myself at high speed into a large metal object, like a tank.
Yeah, that would probably do it, unless I whimped out at the last minute and hit the brakes. Thank you Lord for our whimpy moments that save us from ourselves.
It was at that time when I had my DUH moment and wondered if this all had to do with going cold turkey on my med. I started taking them that very moment, and have been fine since then. Oh, make no mistake about it, I’m just as big of an asshole from time to time, but at least now I’m not a suicidal asshole.
Hey, I’m a college educated, mildly intelligent well read articulate published mentally ill man, and if I can have such amazing dumbass moments with my own health, then I know there are many of my mental brothers and sisters out there that fall prey to the same problems.
It is for these awesome family members that I write these words. Be smart, be brave, be patient, be loving. Be alive!
Project Premise
Regardless of who you are, where you live, the color of your skin or whether you believe in God or not, chances are pretty good that you believe in the simple fact that every human being has a soul.
And if this is true, then you probably also believe that the soul is “the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part,” as stated by Webster’s dictionary. Now most folks would say that the soul lives within the chambers of the heart, the place most spoken of as the epicenter of our spirit and soul.
But I propose that the heart is not in fact the organ that houses the soul. That honor must go to the brain, the master organ, the place where all of our thoughts, beliefs, personality, attitude, ego and soulful ideas emanate. The brain is the house of the soul and so, if the brain gets sick, so does the soul.
That is, in effect, the premise of this book.
When a person suffers a mental illness, his brain gets sick, thus weakening or destroying the house of the soul. When this happens, hope can be lost, and if hope is lost, suicide can follow. Thus begets the question: would it not make sense when caring for a person with a mental illness, to also make sure that their soul is cared for?
And if we can prove the connection between the brain and the soul, then shouldn’t we care as much for the soul during mental/brain illness? Can you imagine if doctors of mental health also urged their patients to get help for their souls? What would happen? Is it possible that by doing so fewer souls would be lost, along with the attached human, to the destruction of self murder, a.k.a. suicide?
Are one million annual global suicides worth considering a new way of dealing with mental health? If we could prevent some of the thirty thousand U.S. suicides, should we risk it? Shouldn’t we give our sick friends meds, and therapy, along with physical and clinical help, while also giving them spiritual help to protect their souls?
Why should we include the soul when we deal with mental illness? I can think of a million reasons. Let’s get on with it.
And if this is true, then you probably also believe that the soul is “the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part,” as stated by Webster’s dictionary. Now most folks would say that the soul lives within the chambers of the heart, the place most spoken of as the epicenter of our spirit and soul.
But I propose that the heart is not in fact the organ that houses the soul. That honor must go to the brain, the master organ, the place where all of our thoughts, beliefs, personality, attitude, ego and soulful ideas emanate. The brain is the house of the soul and so, if the brain gets sick, so does the soul.
That is, in effect, the premise of this book.
When a person suffers a mental illness, his brain gets sick, thus weakening or destroying the house of the soul. When this happens, hope can be lost, and if hope is lost, suicide can follow. Thus begets the question: would it not make sense when caring for a person with a mental illness, to also make sure that their soul is cared for?
And if we can prove the connection between the brain and the soul, then shouldn’t we care as much for the soul during mental/brain illness? Can you imagine if doctors of mental health also urged their patients to get help for their souls? What would happen? Is it possible that by doing so fewer souls would be lost, along with the attached human, to the destruction of self murder, a.k.a. suicide?
Are one million annual global suicides worth considering a new way of dealing with mental health? If we could prevent some of the thirty thousand U.S. suicides, should we risk it? Shouldn’t we give our sick friends meds, and therapy, along with physical and clinical help, while also giving them spiritual help to protect their souls?
Why should we include the soul when we deal with mental illness? I can think of a million reasons. Let’s get on with it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
