I had no clue / I'd be the boy who / your momma warned you about - Turnpike Troubadours
People in my life these days forget sometimes how volatile my psychology was for a good stretch of time. People in my life back in those days went many different ways in their response--ghosting me, learning about my challenges & illness, giving me a pass. The most dramatic response was when I was "cancelled," after it was publicly revealed, a couple years after the fact via a now-unpublished online essay, that I physically & emotionally assaulted my girlfriend during a psychotic episode. I was publicly shamed by & shunned from the poetry community that I loved dearly. I lost teaching opportunities & loved ones & book deals & whatever semblance of stability I was clinging to. And you know what? Maybe I deserved it, maybe I was a danger, maybe my actions made me unfit for those roles & relationships.
Recently someone I met on a dating app cancelled our planned date due to hearing from a "mutual friend" what happened with that ex-girlfriend back then. At this point, if someone wants to make final judgements on me based on something that happened 7 years ago during a psychotic break, I can accept that, as it probably says more about their values & journey than it does about where I am at. The thing those continued detractors don't understand though is that my story didn't stop 7 years ago; it is mid-telling today as I continue to learn to manage my disorder, seek forgiveness for the harm I've caused, & use this very ongoing story as a learning opportunity for how we view & treat mental illness.
Through the last year or so, I've been trying each month to tweak my mindset, routine, & lifestyle to better support the management of my illness & to ultimately extend my capabilities as a rational, caring human being. Early on, it was developing a mindfulness practice & recommitting to the local disc golf community. Lately, it has been developing a better relationship to what I put in my body, namely quitting drinking alcohol & practicing an every-three-hours small meal "diet." I'm also currently in the process of getting back into the classroom as an educator.
As someone who craves collaboration & connection, I think the next step that I am ready for is exploring possible romantic relationships. I stumbled in late 2020 / early 2021 trying to date, for two major reasons. Mostly, I hadn't adequately processed losing my ex-wife--how & why she left, the lack of closure her disappearance caused, the nagging feeling I likely won't find anyone more compatible & enchanting. Also, I wasn't quite yet confident in sharing my shaky past & the reality of my illness with new folks.
Through therapy & through this blog, I've sifted through both of those necessary hurdles, & I feel like I'm ready to share my full self with someone else again. As the earlier example shows though, my past will inevitably be a stumbling block for some folks. In practicing telling my story, honestly & vulnerably, I hope to find people who are open-minded to the nuance of mental illness & judge for themselves through actually current experience with me, not passed-along stories or others' previous perspectives. I promise to be forthright, probably within the first couple dates, about my illness, its possible problems, & my historical episodes. I also hope to be confident in my current iteration of self, one neck-deep in self-care & illness management.
For me, I grew because of graceful accountability, knowledgeable guidance, & added presence from loved ones; I got better because I was provided opportunities for meaningful work & safe collaboration. I didn't get better because I was shamed, threatened, or shunned; in fact, those measures, in many ways, pulled me from resources & motivations, even slowing & derailing progress at times. I worry that our dualistic, simplistic thinking on these very complex situations robs us of beautiful stories of redemption & healing, as well as keeps us away from much true progress, both in ourselves & others. In dating again, I hope to invite others into this wider perspective & understanding, knowing that the good / right ones will be willing & able to stare into that particular flame.
That has been a struggle my entire life, balancing boundaries & this frantic urge to love & support others who are struggling. When I was a kid, my mom would always laugh because of the kids I asked to invite over--the fourth grader already in alternative school, the kid from the family of criminals, the friend who had been caught stealing more than once. I think I always knew something was off with me, that I was one of these difficult friends, but luckily, I had also been born with a combo of good, supportive parents & (during balanced time) a good head on my shoulders, as my dad would say. I felt like I owed it to them, to share my privilege with them, to see through their struggle to the solid core I knew was there.
In April of 2020, when I was hospitalized for an extended period of time at a psych facility, I did the same thing again, this time as an adult, trying to bring home two of the guys I met in there who needed homes. Luckily, my mother convinced me that I needed to focus on my own recovery & that two ex-cons with drug addictions were not reliable support in that journey. Instead, I gave them some money for a couple nights in a hotel & my phone number in case they ever needed to talk. Sometimes, I realized, my mania blasts through expectations & common sense, singularly focused on camaraderie & ultimately, not being alone.
Lately, I've been having to remind myself of a lesson I've had to stress with a few friends, that we can't take too personally & seriously the rude / odd / difficult things people do & say around us, even to us, because it is out of our control & usually has very little or nothing to do with us, a dead end of frustration & hurt. Among my many acceptances in this bipolar journey has been accepting that, while I love everyone, I don't like a lot of people's negative & coarse vibes. With my tendencies towards paranoia, delusion, & psychosis in stressful situations, I can no longer be close with or frequently around people who project pessimism or disconnection.
I must better surround myself with people who lead with a wider perspective, people who understand the difference (& importance) between facts & experiential reality, people who are reciprocal with sharing our full selves, people who lean on positive communication, thoughtful action, & expanded consciousness. This, ultimately, is the kind of person I am, hoping to enact it a little more each day.
This revelation led me to some tough chats with a couple family members this past week, addressing some behavioral problems that were negatively affecting the family, obviously stemming from unresolved trauma. I had to be upfront, confessing that I can't be around them, can't have the close relationship I would like, if they aren't working on themselves. I am trying to project positivity, awareness, & collaboration, so folks, even family members, not up to reciprocating that task do not fit in my current iteration of self. This conversation should've happened years ago, but better late than never, as I've seen all involved grow more aware in their actions as a result.
For me, I spent much of my Insane Decade (as I'm calling it), either being written off as a bad person for my mood swings & explosive outbursts or given a free pass out of sympathy for my mental illness. Neither of those approaches actually addressed the root cause & created any substantial change to better myself & to prevent future problems, what I hope is the goal for all. I floundered for years because of a lack of directness & nuanced thinking, in both myself & those folks who took up the task of caring for me. It wasn't until my mother took it upon herself to make some professional calls, learn about my illness, & lead with her backbone that I truly felt supported & empowered to get better.
On the other side of that particular muck, I'm determined to be that active witness for the great loves in my life--to reflect back what I see, to be proactive in my support, & to zoom out to the larger picture of what's happening. Sick people of any sort can't get better alone; they need thoughtful, assertive people to do more than send prayers & well wishes--to have real conversations, to assist with troublesome tasks, to provide accountability & contextualization in everyday life.
When I was very mentally ill, I heard the phrase "hurt people hurt people" a lot, an important step in acknowledging the cyclical nature of trauma & necessary wider approach to dealing with the ill, the difficult, the outsiders, the folks causing harm in our society. Still, it rang incomplete for me, missing the hope of more, better living. Today, I stumbled upon the idea that only transformed people can help transform people, thanks to Richard Rohr, to the extent that they themselves are changed. For me, this means right now I can support folks in finding the courage & resources to get help, witness others' choices, reasoning, & symptoms, & be present in their times of need.
In order to do the support work I want to do fully--providing professional guidance to rural & small town men--I have great strides still to make. I must continue to grow in my practice of mindfulness & nonduality. I must further commit to a nonviolent approach to conflict. I must manage my disorder to properly engage with more education. I must gain a better understanding of & resolution to my collected traumas. I must sustain a routine rooted in holistic health, personal growth, & collaborative living. I can't believe I'm this well, & I'm stoked to see how much more I can recover in order to benefit both myself & others.