Properly diagnosed, in a stable, positive routine, & with a good, working knowledge of my illness & its symptoms, the last frontier of my journey with bipolar disorder is dealing with my episodes. As it is, I’m handling the day-to-day symptoms well, avoiding the scary ones thanks to being off the Prozac & on the right anti-psychotics, & balancing the destabilizing ones through practicing mindfulness alongside my mood stabilizers. But there’s still the issue of my bipolar episodes, long mood cycles that uncover those dangerous symptoms & pushes me off my stable track.
About every three months a new experience or transition comes up, & exhausted from keeping it together on a daily basis, I collapse under the weight of the new stress, falling into one of these cycles. Most recently, I tried to get back into the classroom, feeling ready to teach, but like has happened every time over the past three years trying to start a new job, I was overwhelmed by negative voices in my head, triggered by something (often minor) in my environment, & sent into this week-to-two-weeks-long spin of manic outbursts, depressive collapses, & hopeless feelings of grasping for safety.
Inevitably, my support system says a similar thing: “I’d love to help, but I just don’t know what to do.” In the episodes, I don’t have the energy to communicate what I need or have the insight on how to ask for help. At my mother’s request, I decided to create this “user manual” for my loved ones in helping me during these spells. While I’m stable & coherent, I want to give you the tools to be your best self in relation to me when I’m unstable & incoherent. I figured it’d be helpful to: 1) describe as accurately as I can what I’m going through 2) give tips on what you can & shouldn’t do 3) provide access for more empathy.
When I was misdiagnosed & improperly medicated, my spells were seemingly “random,” able to be triggered by the delusions & paranoia floating around in my head. Luckily, now that I’m properly treated, we have a better idea of what triggers them, usually a major transition—starting or ending a job or relationship of some sort, most notably. For many years, I’ve struggled with appropriately responding to embarrassment or abandonment, & we think this is related to my mood cycles. When I’m already feeling vulnerable & imbalanced, as we all do from time to time, something that feels threatening to my stability will set me off, a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.
This is what happened with the teaching situation. After a successful teacher work day, I was feeling a little manic in responding to the natural nerves of starting a new job, especially after being out of the classroom for so long. After a night of dark dreams & restless sleep, I woke on the day off before school started feeling very uneasy. I called my mother for some reassurance; unfortunately, my call woke her & she responded inappropriately with an “uh-oh” to my stressed voice on the other end (not blaming her, just stating what happened). This sent me into a rage-induced black-out, the beginning to what would be a week-and-half-long bipolar episode.
See, the beginning is subtle, & thankfully, these days I can usually feel it coming on—out-of-character anxiety, intrusive thoughts, & tingling in my hands, feet, & eyes. The problem comes when I am triggered into a highly manic mode before I can resolve those early feelings. Mania is where the moods are elevated, both in positive & negative feelings, with an increase in energy & reactiveness. For me, this early manic stage is volatile, marked by extreme irritability & usually rage-filled, physical responses, which is where the black-outs come in. Reduced to my lizard brain, I am completely irrational & obsessive. During the “uh-oh" situation, I apparently screamed “uh-oh” over & over while writing the phrase in sharpie & spray paint on the walls & garage door.
This type of manic outburst usually gives way to a few days of rapid cycling, the true ups & downs of manic depression (the old name for bipolar disorder). This is the roller coaster often depicted in media. Unpredictable & irrational, these days are a blur for me, alternating between the previous day’s outbursts, positive elevated highs, & big depressive crashes, over & over again. It is just a wave I have to ride, if I’m not able to catch it & shut it down. Because of this unpredictability, it is best for me to be at home & alone.
As much as you might want to intervene, there is really nothing you can do & though it might not seem like it at times, I’m safe if I’m home & alone. Just let me go through it. I might say crazy, hurtful, or confusing things; please do not ask for apologies or explanations then. I am not in a rational mind, so it is important to not feed into any embarrassment or abandonment fears, by avoiding judgmental or catastrophic language of any sort. In this state, I can twist just about anything into a personal attack or more fuel for the fire. If need be, cut off communication by being direct & kind; others have had success with something like, “I can tell you are having a hard time (gives me the sense of feeling seen). I’m going to let you focus on that (non-combative goodbye). I will check in tomorrow (anti-abandonment).”
This will take us into our next phase, which is depression, partly fueled by the exhaustion of rapid cycling & partly caused by the embarrassment & confusion as things start to settle down a bit. This is the “it gets worse before it gets better” part, a sort of hangover after the high. Though often ugly, it is where I begin to recharge, lasting as long as a week. I’m fine if allowed to chill, watching a lot of television, eating one big meal a day, & generally just trying to keep my energy low so I don’t start the rapid cycling again. This is where suicidal problems come in, when manic energy gets reintroduced & drives depression thoughts. Thus, it is important not to re-escalate, as I can easily slip back into mania.
This is where reminders can be useful—that I’m loved, that you’re there for me, that you’ll be here when I’m ready. Remind me to take my meds. Encourage me to go on a walk. Offer to join me for a walk or a sit. Tell me I’m doing what I need to do. In the depressive phase, those abandonment / embarrassment fears are the strongest. Please don’t mention abandonment or embarrassment though, as it could be an “uh-oh”-like trigger, but instead do things that remind me, while I’m home & alone, that there are people out there on my side. Above all else, just try to be proactive & on my side.
Once I’ve worked through some sorrow, I start to “try to be a regular person again,” going to the store or meeting with a trusted person. Usually, at first, I can only last an hour before its back to the couch, but each day, I try to extend that stamina. I’m able to know my limits here pretty well. It is also in this phase where I’m ready & craving human connection, though I often don’t have the confidence or energy to express that. This would be a good time to invite me over, give me a phone call, or feed me a meal. Think of this as a “testing the waters” phase.
After that, the worst is over. It takes another week or two to be fully stable, but I’m at least able to communicate effectively about where I’m at & what I need. Even in mood episodes, I’m decent at telling others what’s going on, though not great at saying needs or behaving appropriately. So, if you’re not sure what stage I’m at, just ask. Yes, I might be pissy, dismissive, or odd. Please remember that this isn’t personal or about you. This is me working through a serious chemical swell. I appreciate you wanting to know how to help & hopefully this will give you some confidence in being proactive about helping. Stable, sane Tyler sure does appreciate you.
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.
I think I share this same photo every year for Father's Day because it captures the essence of my male / Gobble lineage so well--the body shape, the particular style, the smile & its corresponding vibe, the camaraderie, the white square that plagues our faces. My dad is in the dark brown jacket; my Uncle Cooter is the other feller. Has my dad been a perfect father? Of course not, no one is (& we must stop expecting people to be perfect!), but the most important lesson he taught me was learning from one's father's mistakes & continuing to grow as a human being no matter what. He saw the mistakes of his father--alcoholism, poor financial choices, & a lack of community--& went the opposite; he barely drank when I was growing up, emphasized buying things that provided positive activities, & he modeled having hobbies & a good circle of friends. As he got older, he made great strides in understanding & sympathizing with folks who were different from him, myself included, his mentally ill, weirdo poet son.
I, in turn, am working to not fall into the cultural & societal traps that were some of his shortcomings--fear-based decision-making, quick judgement, & an over-emphasis on job-related work. Thankful for all my father has taught me, gifted me, been beside me for. He is retired & living in North Carolina these days, for the first time in 35 years, just a golf cart ride away from his last surviving brother. I couldn't be happier for this chapter of his life. As for me, I got a redneck dad who was playful, kind, & not a Trump supporter. Lucky me!
On holidays like this, I think it is always important to acknowledge & send good vibes to those on the other side of celebrating, the ones with hot wires under the surface in regards to this particular F-word, "father." This is an important step in my journey to rewire my default setting, the one that insists I am the center of the universe, that my experience is the primary experience. On Father's Day, let us not forget the folks without fathers, the folks who can't be fathers, the folks who have been hurt by their fathers, the fathers who've lost a kiddo, the folks separated from their fathers.
I see the difficulty in moments like this, when the world is locked into a lane that one can't access, & I'm sorry that has happened to you. This year, I was sending good vibes to those folks, & I always hope they have the support needed & plenty of other things to celebrate, this & everyday. I say to them, "May you be happy, may you be comforted." In upcoming holidays & celebrations, I hope to be more proactive in reaching out to those othered by moments like this.
As for the fathers in my life, I did my best to reach out to all the good good ones out there, to give props to all y'all keeping it real. From my time as an educator & my outsider perspective, not just on this day, but every day, I hope to offer what I can in encouragement & inspiration. To keep playing with your kids. To keep improving yourself. To keep communicating your feelings & growing your passions. To keep modeling your values for the little ones.
When I was married, I'd often get asked why we didn't have kids or plans to pop some out. I usually mentioned the issue of overpopulation or the ethics of bringing someone into such a cruel world or our lack of a stable lifestyle, blah blah. I'd also throw in "not wanting to pass this along to a poor kiddo," making a crazy hand gesture encircling my head. Sure, I could talk my way outta those first reasons, but that latter answer had to be honored, unflinchingly.
Truth is, for the last decade-plus, even through true madness, misdiagnosis, & improper treatment, I knew enough to know that something was dangerously abnormal in my mind, causing me to have severe mood swings, impulse control issues, & even violent outbursts. I knew it was immoral to subject a kid to that, no matter how awesome I might be as a parent (& you best believe I'd be fun as hell & a grand supporter of curiosity & hands on learning). Yes, I'd love to have a little buddy to teach disc golf & read poems to at bedtime & have dance parties in the truck. But up till now & for the foreseeable future, I'm gonna have to put that energy into being a rad Uncle T-GOB.
As for the guys in my life thinking about becoming a father or already in that role, I always urge them to not forget to take care of themselves, holistically. I know many people, myself included, who were unnecessarily negatively affected or even traumatized by their father's simple lack of awareness about their psychology & how their behavior affects their children. Male mental health matters, for the father, for their partner, & especially for their kiddos.
As men, we are taught to hide our feelings, suppress natural urges to discuss what's going on, & put our energy into more "productive" or "masculine" activities. I say the exact opposite is true, especially in regards to giving our children a better life than we had, a goal I hope all fathers share. If one is modeling self-awareness, self-improvement, & self-care, the kiddos will see that & likely grow with that in their value system, thus hopefully leading more expansive & dynamic lives. What I'm saying is let's normalize men taking care of their mental health, okay.
Pete Holmes introduced me to a more mystical, humanist perspective on Heaven & Hell, one that I'm sure has a richer & deeper tradition than I am just preparing to explore. Instead of this silly & stody idea that Heaven & Hell are actual, physical places based on an opaque reward/punishment system, this other perspective suggests that they are more metaphorical, humanity-based concepts. Simply, if you've left a good legacy of people remembering you fondly, kindly, & often, then you're in Heaven after death. Oppositely, if you're remembered negatively, then you're in Hell. Of course, this isn't a literal understanding of how it works; taken literally, it'd be just as short-sighted & flawed as fundamentalism. However, it is very appealing as a story-focused mind frame, an opportunity to ground ethics in human-centered, practical modes.
I'm lucky to have a good-sized property for Ginny Bug (my six-year-old pitbull) to wander around on & even luckier to have a dog who will stay in the yard & who listens well. But I have been trying, a couple times a week, to take Ginny in town or to a park disc golf course for leashed walks. I think it reminds us both of our connection, our collaboration, our compromise.
I want to flirt with the world!
What's that they say about the difference between hearing & listening? It's a below-the-surface-level thing, how much processing & engaging are had & how that manifests a continued response. My new therapist, in our first session, threw me off because unlike recent professionals who listened & nodded, she was asking bold questions & making big connections. Even when off-base, it felt invigorating to be heard like that, met in the middle of a depth that's rare around here these days.
During therapy today (5/19), we pin-pointed the physiological underpinnings of my disorders (bipolar I & intermittent explosive disorder). It seems clear that these are both related to the unresolved trauma of my Uncle Ricky's death & my Grandma Tyner's death (age 8, both of which I had premonitions about), as well as the separation from my half-brother TG when I was 4. As both my therapist & Peter A. Levine in Waking The Tiger have pointed out, the aggressive outbursts, the on-the-edge feelings, & the depressive pitfalls are the leftover energy from that early trauma. It never got explored or resolved, so my whole brain has rewired to anticipate such calamity & maintain that intense on-guard reaction to my ongoing life.
There was this kid Jack (name obviously changed) at the park the other day when I took my little cousin. I knew Jack from when I worked at the school. He is probably eight now, but he's big & his parents already let him roam town. Every generation in Elwood has a couple of these kids--oversized, undersupervised, no emotional / social skills, very physical. He just terrorized the other kids--slapping them hard on the back for no reason, scaring them at the bottom of the curly slide, randomly yelling. It's easy to think "little shit," abut the real work comes in sympathizing with him for all the physiological, environmental, & genetic factors stacked against him.
I think I'm gonna quit drinking. It just feels like the right time. One part financial decision, one part physical lifestyle change, one part psychological necessity.
I had the pleasure of spending the Memorial Day weekend with a bunch of new-ish buds camping down in Red River Gorge. It was full of the usual joy--campfire jokes, time among the trees, dogs trying to navigate the unfamiliar. But what added to the wow of this weekend was the fact that I had zero behavioral incidents & the most minuscule of bipolar symptoms. If you've known me awhile, you know that trips & excursions are both my favorite thing & a load of dread for me. Let's just say I don't have the best track record as an adult when removed from my comfort zone & routine.
I grew up camping with my parents, first in tents as a toddler & then in campers through my late teens, but when my symptoms started to set in in my early twenties, primitive camping became often problematic. Right after graduating from college, I organized a camping trip for a group of buds, & it quickly came to an end, when a friend's drunken mouth met one of my psychotic rage attacks. I had a couple successful camping trips in Texas, but those usually only worked when I was alone. Most recently, I tried a solo trip last summer after my wife left, but ended up shoving the tent & all my belongings in the van at 3 a.m. as hallucinations overwhelmed me. As much as I love the outdoors & adventure, something about tent camping knocks me off my psychological balance.
Knowing the possibility for trouble, I communicated with the group my concerns about the trip, but after their understanding responses & noting my recent successes in managing my illness, I decided to join, making the three-&-a-half hour trek down to Kentucky. I knew being removed from routine & comfort can cause me to become moody & unstable. I knew poor sleeping & eating habits could affect my ability to be aware of my symptoms & make the proper adjustments. I knew, in the past, responsibility, such as planning a trip or being in charge of the camp, added more stress than I could handle while trying to manage my moods. Ultimately, I had to watch out for falling into the unregistered, unaware trap of my more animalistic feelings & behavior.
I've been re-reading Waking The Tiger: Healing Trauma by Peter A. Levine (with Ann Frederick) & it's been providing me much insight on that last key to understanding my mood episodes, the big boom we were avoiding. As Levine notes, "Sensations come from symptoms, and symptoms from compressed energy" (76). I've learned it's not just about being aware of the symptoms & sensations, as important as that is, but also about releasing that compressed energy in clear, intentional ways. During the day, I made sure to step away from the campsite, be it for a hike, a walk with the dog, or a solo round of disc golf; on the site, I made sure to take moments to check in with myself, like with a power nap or a session of Dr. Weil's breathing cycle. Any success I had on this trip, compared to others, was all about awareness & intentionality.
As Levine remarks in his book, "The fundamental challenges we face today have come about relatively quickly, but our nervous system, but our nervous systems have been much slower to change
" (43). Partially removed from that modern grind, camping can be a jolt to that nervous system too, half-hung up on the quick-paced stress of modern life & well-exposed in the slowness of a weekend away. Looking back, wondering what was different this go-around, the core answer is simply that I'm taking better care of myself on a regular basis, having established some positive forward momentum--being well-medicated, developing a solid relationship with a new, trusted therapist, & following a daily routine balanced on meaningful work & reflective rest time. For the trip itself, the bookends were first being up front with the group & releasing myself of much responsibility pressure & allowing myself to pack & leave on my own internal schedule.
It is a weird thing to be proud of as a thirty-two-year-old, having a successful holiday weekend camping trip with buddies, but I can't help but smile looking back on all the good moments, knowing my bipolar disorder & I didn't ruin anyone's trip, MINE INCLUDED. I will always feel awful for the torment my rage attacks & mood episodes have caused, the fissure I've created among should-be peaceful time, often for some of my most beloved people. But with each successful trip out of the comfort zone, I have a better understanding of how to concoct such success, & I feel a little more confident in my ability to pull off such a task & prevent calamity in the future.