Helping a Fallen Friend Get Up

When I created today's 'Daily Good Dog Feeding,' I thought of a friend of mine that has been kind of down. I wrote her a note and thought it expressed a lot of how I believe so ... here it is in my blog (name changed). I've included the entire email message (including the daily good dog message, as I think it all ties together).

Dear Jane,

This Good Dog's for you. I've written a few things to you after the messages.
Be kind to Jane today. There are a lot of us who love her.
Louie

Waking Up!
Is It Time to Make Some Changes?
Part Four of Five

It is your turn now,
you waited, you were patient.

The time has come,
for us to polish you.

We will transform your inner pearl
into a house of fire.

You're a gold mine.

Did you know that,
hidden in the dirt of the earth?

It is your turn now,
to be placed in fire.

Let us cremate your impurities.

Rumi

“What would it be like if you lived each day, each breath, as a work of art in
progress? Imagine that you are a Masterpiece unfolding, every second of every
day, a work of art taking form with every breath.”
Thomas Crum

“What we are here to do is to meet and become the person we
are.“
Andrew Harvey from Dialogues With a Modern Mystic

“And let me remind you, it is a pure journey.
Life is a pilgrimage to
nowhere -- from nowhere to nowhere.
And between these two nowheres
is
the now-here.
Nowhere consists of two words: now, here.
Between these
two nowheres is the now-here.”
Osho

Dear Jane,

I could so relate to what you shared with me yesterday. I have spent my whole lifetime feeling hopeless and terminally unique with little to no self esteem, tormented with insecurities and self medicating with anything that would help me to forget, me. I don't feel that way these days. This didn't happen overnight, but knowing what I now know, I could have, saving me decades of suffering. Good Dog is a powerful example of what I am talking about.

All the tools, prayer, meditation, fellowship, books, etc., couldn't help put poor broken humpty dumpty back together again. I believe prayer opened the door for a miracle, but I would learn it is up to me to make the changes I wanted so desperately. I wanted, and needed change yet felt hopeless and was too afraid of the process. I would justify my inaction with inner thoughts like, "I'm not worth the effort,' "I'm useless, worth-less." and "Why bother trying? Nothing ever really changes and life is just pure shit." This was my world, for most of my life. I am only now discovering some answers thru the process of writing my book "A Long Walk Home" about the cross country walk (actually it is about lifelong depression, specifically manic depression).

I believe we can all change into whatever it is that we want to change into. That said, I also believe that we are perfect, and I mean perfect, RIGHT NOW. Everything that we could possible ever desire in life, is right here, right now. Look around you. Take a good hard look. No wonder we all search frantically, our whole lives, yet can't find happiness - it's hiding right in front of us, all around us. Eckhart Tolle helped lay the foundation of my new belief system (The Power of Now), teaching me that bliss is here and now, in this present moment (notice the last Good Dog message). This became a way of life, showing me the real serenity and peace of mind that exists for all of us, right here and now.

It is all about acceptance of the present moment, without expectation. Life is good, calm, peaceful right here and now, pain-free, even for you, right here, right now. What is so painful, this very second, as you read my letter to you? Nothing! You, if you choose to be present, can feel the love and compassion of one person for another, and there are so many more 'invisible' people that surround us every moment of every day. What's painful about that? Nothing. I used the word 'invisible' as your friends and loved ones, and future friends and loved ones, might as well be invisible as we walk around stuck in our pain and suffering, totally oblivious to all that is good and wonderful, focused intently and exclusively on our problems and petty plans for altering our present situation into something that will make us happy - which of course, can never happen.

The minute you think of your perception of your life situation, it is easy to immediately plummet back into the depth of emotional hell, either regretting the past or being forever stuck visualizing a better future, a better now in the future, a plan for self salvation somewhere ahead of us - a fantasy.

The only time and place we can be happy, is right here, right now. So, I can say to you, my friend, be happy, feel some peace of mind, if only for the 3 minutes it takes you to read this letter of loving support. Then, if you choose, take this Good Dog approach out into the world with you, become "AWAKE" (notice the headline to this series of Dogs) and avail yourself to the present moment which is overflowing with beauty, just for you. You can change you life situation, but the only way you can is in the present moment. Accept. Then make your grand plans BUT please don't fprget to enjoy the ride. It's the only one you get and it IS rich and beautiful. Take out your gratitude list (WHAT, no updated gratitude list)?

Come alive, in the present. Make plans for change, in the present, if you wish. Make changes, in the present, if you wish. Find peace of mind, love, serenity and the joy of living, in the present, if you wish.

God Bless Us All.

Louie

ABOUT 'Daily Good Dog Feedings'

A friend shared a story with me about a meeting he once had with a Native American elder. This story had a great impact on me. The elder told my friend that his people believe that we all have, within us, a 'Good Dog' and a 'Bad Dog,' that are always fighting to be in control. My friend asked, "Which One Wins?"
The elder simply replied, "The One That You Feed."
_______________________

I started researching and sending out a daily inspirational message to my son as well as to reinforce the 'Good Dog' in me. Thinking my friends might find it of value, I added some people. Soon, it took on a life of it's own. This simple story, from my friend, has grown into something that has greatly improved the quality of my life and from what I hear, from people from all over the planet. What a blessing.
Want to be added to the list? Email me ...

uswalker3@hotmail.com

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Louie Links . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
ART WORKS in Progress: http://picasaweb.google.com/uswalker/EarthMANTheSculpture
(revised) BIO and WEB Site: http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php
PICTURES: http://picasaweb.google.com/uswalker
(revised) BLOG: http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com/

How Do You Help Those With Depression?

I received an email from a man, living somewhere in Europe, that had picked up my name in one of the sites that I post on for mental illness (there are four I routinely visit and post for my own sanity and support as well as to spread hope and inspiration to others). Thought I'd share some of this letter and my response. I get so many letters/emails from frustrated loving caring people that are desperate to find help for their loved ones with undiagnosed (or diagnosed, untreated) mental illness. I hope this provides some helpful suggestions. It's hard NOT to take it personally but you must take care of yourself first (addressed further on).

Dear Louie,

Thank you so much for your insights on your coping with bp2. (BiPolar II). The letter that you posted on a message board and your blog have been the most touching information I have ever found from a man having bipolar disorder. I will print it out and keep it with me so that it will remind me everytime I feel low in thinking about my friend who has bp.

I hope you are well despite the ups and downs but you seem to have an amazing positive attitude and a gift of touching many hearts with bringing your inner awareness.


Louie, may I ask you some advice?
I am struggling with my female friend who is 52 years old. We had an amazing time and liked each other so much. Then I noticed she went manic (bp2 hypomania) and after that crashed into depression. She cut me off completely and wrote to me that she wanted to stop and went into hiding, she confessed to me. I did mail her occasionaly with comforting words. And for her birthday I left her a present on her doorstep. Her reaction was furious with anger and told me to STOP contacting her. Her words were even threatening. She was probably in her worst state but I do know she goes to work everyday and has some anger problems there as well from what i heard.


...Is there anything you may suggest me doing like sending another email or perhaps letter? Should I bring the matter up? You write in your messages to not give up but I do not know what to do or if it it wise to contact cause he said no contact. As a bp what would you have liked from your friend to do or should I do nothing? I care for her and do not like it to be over although I am willing to let her go forever if that would be best. I find it hard not to take it personally.


Thank you Louie for your time reading this and I wish you peace and happiness.


Warm regards,


Mr. Anonymous

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Hello ________,

Lots of BIG issues here, and uncertainty. Where do we start? First of all, the obvious ... I am not a professional counselor. I AM however, a very experienced survivor of manic depression (BiPolar disorder, II). I'll give your concerns a shot ....

1. Is your friend self medicating? Alcohol or drugs?

2. I am very outspoken and transparent about my lifetime path of mental illness. I write extensively about it in my Blogs, BIO and postings on 4 mental illness sites. This helps my recovery and apparently helps others to find some relief and recovery from their disease as well. Please feel free to read some of the links below (BIO, then some BLOGS, if you'd like).

BIO: http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

BLOGS: http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com/

Some people have sent my BIO to their friends/family and it has resulted in them (the person suffering from the yet undiagnosed disease) to relate with my story. Sometimes this gives them self-permission to explore it more honestly for themselves, without the usual guilt and shame we feel about being 'defective, broken, dirty.'

I NOW know, of course, that we are not defective, lacking in moral or spiritual character, and that we have a disease, a treatable disease. I would suggest that this one aspect of mental illness, the stigma, holds more people back from getting help than anything else, maybe even guessing that it results in most suicides. I've so been there before, a number of times. I can't speak for others, but I can sure tell you that I felt ashamed and embarassed, not to mention feeling all of the symptoms of the disease itself - overwhelmed, dramatic up and down mood swings and horrendous depression. I had such tunnel vision, I felt like the only thing I could see in my world was what was directly in front of me, distorted through a long dark grey tunnel.

Isolating and self medicating were my solutions. I hung on to my dirty little secret for decades, using alcohol, food, drugs, cigarettes, workaholism, and the list goes on and on. It took a long time, a life time, before I could/would reach out for help. I had to 'reach bottom,' before I would have the strength to be direct enough and take the risks necessary for me to get help. I hit rock bottom, a number of times; hell, I used to bounce all over the bottom. Eventually, as you will read in my BIO, I found help, but even that road to recovery was filled with potholes and self constructed barriers. It takes what it takes, I guess.

All we can do is move forward from where we are right now. I am always willing to talk with someone that wants help. But it's important that whoever it is that wants help, comes to me. I don't ever want to violate a persons trust or space. I know, all to well, how critically important that space can be, for their perceived survival.

To self educate yourself, another site I would highly recommend, which is very good, is ...

http://www.psycheducation.org/depression/quick%20summary.htm ...

Check it out. The doctor that mantains this site is an expert in BiPolar

disorders and doesn't talk down to you ... very informative.

Also, I write a daily inspirational emailing entitled "Daily Good Dog Feeding," and would be happy to add you to that daily mailing, if you'd like. Often, forwarding them to people like your friend is a friendly way of introducing me (my candid intimate story of mental illness) to them, without getting right into their face. Let me know, if you'd like me to add you to the list?

Email me directly and ask to be added to "Daily Good Dog Feedings."

uswalker3@hotmail.com

One more thing ... I'd challenge you to look at YOUR intentions in all this. You had mentioned that it's hard NOT to take this personally. I think it's very important that you take care of yourself. I KNOW, for a fact, that it seemed like the people that were attracted to me, where the co-dependent type. I loved them. I needed them. They made it OK for me to be sick and stay sick ... and they would always be there for me, I thought. Wrong!

Eventually my subconscious mind, my mental illness disease would have to win out and end the relationship, push the other person out of my life for one of two reasons .... 1) because I had enough decency to end it because I cared about whoever it was and knew I would take them down and/or 2) I would lose respect for them; the old WC Fields quote, "I would never belong to a club that would have me as a member,' mentality.

I'd highly recommend 'Alanon' for YOU, to get the support you will need. It's a great program and is in everry country in the world. It helped me a great deal to help my own son with his alcohol addiction and depression. It helps you to detach with love and be stronger for them and yourself.

What else can you do? Pray. Ask the God of your understanding, for help. He will be there for you and your friend.

God Bless Us All.

Louie R (uswalker)

Daily GOOD DOG Feedings - The Story

It is one of those stories that can change your life, forever, igniting a spark of hope and offering up a powerfully effective yet simple technique. The story of the Good Dog has changed my life forever and as you will see, the lives of many others around the world.

The Story of how 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' Started.

Often, when I'm suffering from my mental illness, (Bi-Polar II), mania and depression, when hope fades into desperation, I pray, No, I plead with God to listen to hear me, to help relieve me of my suffering ... yet, I hear nothing but that maddeing silence.

This story is about how God answered my pleading prayer, not only giving me hope and strength but also giving me the idea of lighting a single candle that has already lit thousands of other's candles all over this planet, providing a little daily flicker of hope that others can light their own candles and find their way out of the dark.

Ok, back to the story ... sorry, I do get a bit manic when I write ...

About a year ago, I was undergoing a particularly bad bout of debilitating depression, hiding it from those around me, as usual, while dying inside. I was at an alcohol support meeting when someone shared a simple story. My life has never been the same since then.

Funny how there are times, when you hear something that sticks, that becomes a permanent foundation on which you can rebuild your entire life. Perhaps I was at a place in my life that I was worn out and ready to listen. That day, God answered my pleading prayer, through one guy, that I had not seen before or since that meeting, one of my angels - there have been many!

Finally ... The Story that Changed My Life, Forever ...


ABOUT 'Daily Good Dog Feedings'

A Native American Elder told a story about his people believe that we all have, within us, a 'Good Dog' and a 'Bad Dog,' that are always fighting to be in control.

My friend asked him, "Which One Wins?"

The elder simply replied, "The One That You Feed."

My anonymous angel shared that story with me in January of 2007. At the time of hearing it, I thought, "Cool story, after 20 years around this place, it's amazing to hear something I've never heard before." That was it, just a simple story that I thought was pretty cool. I filed it into my brain with all the other clutter accumulated from 54 years of mostly useless thinking and went about trying to survive another day of my life.

That very next morning (mornings are the hardest time for my depression) I seemed to be especially aware of my thoughts. I watched as my mind instantly went towards fear, dread and self hate; it's as if I was watching myself watching myself and condemning myself.

My depression, especially when mixed with extreme mania at the same time, can cause me to feel disconnected, totally fragmented from my-self (whatever self is) and the rest of the world. That morning was especially harsh, feeling as I was hovering over myself, watching this pathetic human parasite in that dirty bathrobe smoking a cigarette and filled with hate and disgust and anguish of feeling so alone. I was angry at God for feeling like such a victim for having to endure this kind of pain. You get the picture ... it was a pretty typical morning for me.

Normally, it would take a full pot of coffee and a 1/2 pack of smokes before I could start making a meager plan for coping through the day. This was my life, trying to figure out how I could hide from everyone around me, for an entire day, pretending like I was normal, until I could close the door to my room, alone, put on my dirty bathrobe and finally, feel a sense of relief in closing off the world, until morning. And it would start over again.

Every single morning, day after painful day, it would start over again like a perverted mentally ill version of 'Groundhogs Day.' This was, my life. But this morning was a morning unlike any other morning I had ever experienced. This morning something would change my life forever ... back to the story ...

That January morning, slumped in a chair, sucking coffee and cigs in my dirty bathrobe, suddenly a thought, a clear thought (that's a novelty in and of itelf) came to mind. The story of the 'Good Dog vs. Bad Dog' popped into my foggy little mind as well as the words of Eckhart Tolle.

Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now, which I had studied for years trying desperately to find relief, asserts that ... Emotions are Caused by Our Thoughts and Our Thoughts come from What We Think and What We Think is Determined by What We CHOOSE to Think!

That's what God was telling me through my angel and his story of the Dog, and through my memories of the words of Tolle ... that I have the power of choice of how I feel. "Oh Sure I do," I thought, "Right!."

"OK," I thought, "I'll give this a try. Like what do I have to lose?" At first, trying to think of something positive when I had grown morbidly accustomed to the gloom and doom of endless years of depression, seemed impossible. Yet the concept of the Dog made so much sense to me. I had to reach for some hope. I was watching myself die.

I forced myself to make a mental 'Gratitude List,' something I had done over the years with success, when I remembered to do it. It was like trying to turn around the Titanic, after it had sunk, but I tried, God knows I tried to think of things that I was grateful for, yet I was filled with such self hate, fear, rage, and fragmented thinking, gratitudes just wouldn't come. After a few minutes of pointing my head in one direction with one pointed intention, I did manage to scribble down a few things I was grateful for. I was really surprised at how difficult it was. 'Normies' may not understand just what a dark tunnel vision you have when trying to be invisible and survive. It takes all of your concentration, a rare commodity in the first place.

Within minutes, I noticed that my depression was 'different' ... not as overwhelming, still there and very powerful, but not taking me over completely. I had managed to alter my mood, slightly, not nevertheless, changed for the better. My fellow BP's; please don't think I am minimizing this disease, that all we need do it 'think happy thoughts.' If it were that simple, there would be no mental illness. We would all be walking around, holding hands, singing, "La, La, La, La, La, oh what a beautiful day." I am saying, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this technique, this forceful choice of mine, helped, a lot!

As the weeks went on, forcing myself to listen to the Good Dog and forcing myself to stay firmly planted in the present moment, as best I could, I was noticing a change, a BIG CHANGE in depression, on a more permanent basis. I was still getting help, medically, but I believe that this mental trick, this forcing my head to focus on something positive, worked and worked better and better each day.

Running out of positive thoughts and things to be grateful for, I started reading and researching to find life affirming quotes, poems and short stories, creating a large collection of quote books, poems, chronicling some of the greatest of thinkers in the history of mankind. Why reinvent what has already been figured out, through the ages. Why not learn something from those that have trudged before us, trying to figure out this thing, called life.

I started writing them down as I searched for positive 'Good Dog' reinforcement. Then I started emailing them to my son, who said he was having some depression. I would research and put together a daily email with a combination of quotes, short stories or poems and send them out with the title ... 'Daily Good Dog Feedings.'

Before long, word spread like wildfires, as people forwarded these 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' to their friends and family. As I am writing this to you today, there are thousands of people from all over the world that are receiving the Dog, which I affectionately call it today.

I am in contact with dozens of people, every day. I am making friends with people I have never met, yet feel a bond as strong as those of close friends, why ... because we understand each other. We are survivors and we are all in the same lifeboat together. We need to help each other, not to merely survive, but to get stronger and live, to recover from a disease that can be managed, if we choose to recover.

Anyway, I'm rambling cause I'm pretty manic today but hey, rather ramble on about something positive than hide in bed, beating myself up.

I have spent my entire life in this painfully lonely dark place; the insanity of mental illness. I'm done suffering! If I suffer now, it's my choice because today I have tools and I use them. I have my Good Dog choice, my doctor and medications as well as many other tools I can use if I CHOOSE to heal.

Today I choose life and today life is sweet, even though there are painful episodes from time to time. I know they will pass. Today, even the pain feels good as it reminds me that I'm alive. I'm not going back into hell. I've been there and it's not all that it's cracked up to be. Hope you decide to join me. Recovery is not for whimps!

God Bless Us All, We Deserve It.

Louie (uswalker) http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

NOTE: I am happy to share the 'Daily Good Dog Feeding' with anyone that wants it ... just email me at uswalker3@hotmail.com I am doing this for two reasons, first because this daily practice keeps me alive and secondly, because it feels really great to be able to help others. It's an awesome feeling that makes me feel useful, productive and finally finding meaning in life - helping others and getting out of myself.

A Morning Talk with Myself

Every morning, as I write out my To-Do list, I dutifully enter "Work on Book." And every night, when reviewing the progress of my list, without having written a single word, hope fades that I will ever complete this book, "A Long Walk Home."

Sharing with a friend, my frustration, he suggested that I write the reasons why I feel blocked from writing. Here I am, writing.

I have worked very hard over the past few months, to get new medications to stabilize my emotional swings and for the most part, I feel pretty functional these days. I have even had the motivation to get started on two new art works, a definite sign that the symptoms of my manic depression have lifted. Nevertheless, sitting down and even opening the file to my book, seems impossible. I had always thought the reason was associated with my mental illness. I don't believe it is. This is something situational.

There is always a conversation going on in my head, sometimes quiet and subtle and often, relentless screaming. When thinking of working on the book, these inner thoughts are very quiet and so subtle, I hardly can recognize that they are there. They are there!

This morning, quieting my mind and allowing these inner words to flow through my fingers onto the computer, I hear ...

"What the F%+* do you have to say that
anyone could be interested in hearing."

"Who to do you think you are to write a book anyway."

"There are REAL problems and REAL suffering of people going on out there in the world and I am sick and tired of hearing your pathetic endless whining about your depression. Shut the F$*^& up and get a life."

Wow. That felt kind of good, in a sick kind of way. "What are your reasons for writing this book anyway?" just flashed into my mind. Let the thoughts flow ...

"For My SON! This is a record of the most significant effort of my life and I want to share this account with my boy, the most important person and purpose of my life."

"Personal Healing. It's been suggested by quite a few writers that the process of writing in and of itself, provides a healing through insights that may never have surfaced without closer examination."

"It has always felt like the walk is not finished. And I have always been tormented by this, arguing to myself, 'what more could I possibly do than walk through everything I endured staying true to my commitment. I did my job. I've done enough.' But have I done enough? Maybe I stopped short, thinking taking the last few steps of 5000+ miles of walking and a final press conference was the end. Maybe this is just the beginning?"

"What if the real value of the walk is not in the miles walked, the money raised, the millions of people that became more aware of pediatric AIDS but perhaps it is in the writing of a book that has the potential for reaching even more people with this story? Perhaps"

"Bullshit! This walk began as a desperate effort to find yourself - your basic mid life crisis and looking back, this walk was about trying to walk away from your real demons - depression."

"Well, maybe, just maybe that is the reason the walk has never felt completed. You started out looking for answers and you never found them, in fact by the time the walk ended, you were in worse shape that you were in the beginning - more lost and more depressed than ever!"

"But I have worked so damned hard, trying to survive, to live and find some measure of freedom from the demons of my mind, and I still don't feel healed. Without an 'ending' to the story, why write the book?"

"Ahhh, maybe we're getting somewhere ... 'the ending to the story' ... maybe there is no ending, maybe the ending will be a happy ending or not, maybe the ending will be discovered as a RESULT of writing the book. Ya think? Damn!"

"If I can draw on the type of reckless courage and blind determination that I summoned each day out on the road, just to get a few miles in, then MAYBE I can find that courage to sit my sorry ass down at my computer and tell my story."

"And maybe, just maybe, I might help give someone else that is struggling with mental illness, a glimmer of hope and inspiration. If nothing else, someone like myself reading this book might not feel so desperately alone and freakish."

"OK, I will tray again. This is my first try. God help me, if it be Your will for me, empower me to do Your will.

Whew. That was helpful. Thanks Eric for suggesting this exercise. I feel renewed with a fresh energy. I intend to start writing again, soon.

A Long Walk Home

"Awakenings"

For six months now, I have been incredibly blessesd, having experienced the precious gift of sanity, a reprieve from a life-long battle with depression and anxiety. I had never known what it fealt like to be able to start a day without suffering from paralyzing fear and the darkness of the soul - depression and mania, a condition finally diagnosed accurately as Bi-Polar II. For me, each day felt like a life and death battle, coping with depression and the opposite pole of mania (extreme anxiety and compulsive never ending thoughts racing through my head). Trapped inside a mind that seemed hell-bent on destroying me, mental illness wore me down ever so slowly, one sick thought at a time, robbing me of hope and eventually the will to live.

As far as I was concerned, this gift of sanity was nothing less than a miracle. I had never, in my life, experienced such freedom. Each morning was a fresh beginning filled with endless possibilities. Hope had returned and I was filled with immense gratitude. Inspiration and even more importantly, desire, returned as my mind was filled with ideas for new art works and books to write, projects upon projects of things I actually wanted to do. I identified with a character in a movie I'd seen, 'Awakenings' - whereas a comotose patient (Robert De Niro) miraculously came alive, after 40 years in a coma, after being given an experimental drug. He was like a kid in a candy factory - so excited about being alive, literally experiencing life for the first time. The patient had been a young boy when he became sick and fell into a coma. I too, was a young boy when I first started suffering from depression.

I got busy creating a new life for myself, all the while stuffing hidden fears that this was too good to be true, and that the darkness would return all to similar to the true story depicted in 'Awakenings' when the patient eventually fell back into a full coma when the new experimental drug stopped working. My greatest fears had been realized. The darkness has returned. There is a kind of madness that overtakes you when you watch yourself falling back into a cold darkness, knowing full well where you are going, yet being unable to stop it. This is where anger and rage boil over, all to no avail.


Evil.

I cannot think of a more all inclusive word to describe depression, specifically Bi-Polar depression. This disease visciously attacks from the inside out, slowly destroying you in all ways; mind, body and spirit.

Depression, in and of itself, is bearable, for me. It can even be somewhat comforting as relief comes from self-imposed isolation, going deep within the darkest recesses of my mind. In the grips of depression, everything in life moves slowly ... thoughts, actions, even breathing. It actually hurts to breathe as if it requires a deliberate forced effort. Each day starts with a dark choking fog of fear, fear of making it through the day, avoiding contact with anyone that could threaten your delicate balance of sanity. By the end of the day, when I can safely hide, alone, I am usually totally exhausted, utterly spent from a day of lying, pretending that all is well to avoid the pain of well meaning prodding and an endless list of suggestions that only help to overwhelm an already overhelmed mind. Depression would be manageable, if it weren't for the mania, and mania is a whole different threat.

Mania, as described in the diagnosis of Bi-Polar II disorder, is completely different than what most people realize. Mania is extreme anxiety, restlessness, irritability, anger, rage, and the constant torment of compuslive obsessive thinking. Your mind, literally, cannot stop thinking, day or night - it just keep rapid firing without a break. With mania comes enough energy to make the depression, dangerous. Depression, in and of itself is somewhat manageable for me in that I can, most times, avoid people, creating a safe place in which to survive. Self-Imposed isolation helps with the illusion of controlling depression as well as reduces any potential guilt from 'polluting' those around me with worry and/or negativity.


"Think Happy Thoughts"

And there is always the shame ... even in this enlightened age, there is still a stigma associated with mental illness; it scares people. Because clinical bio-chemical depression and bi-polar depression is confused with situational depression (a condition most people experience) there is a tendency to judge those suffering as being weak, lacking willpower or being morally or emotionally deficient as if it were a defect of character. "Think Happy Thoughts," is a common suggestion from well meaning friends and family, assuming that if you would only 'buck-up' and work on changing the outside world by working on your 'issues,' then your depression would be all better. In regular depression, this may be true, but in severe bio-chemical depression, it makes little difference what is going on in your life, positive or negative. Traditional psycho therapy has a role in Bi-Polar depression, but it is definetely not the solution. All of life could be marching along right on cue, the sun could be shining and I could be crippled with depression and anxiety. Situations or events have little effect on this disease. They may help trigger an episode of depression or mania, but they are not the root cause.


A Long Walk Home

The title of the book that I intend to complete writing this winter is "A Long Walk Home," which at first glance would hint at a story about a two year, 5,200 mile walk across America that I completed in 1998. For years, many people had suggested that I write a book about this adventure. I simply could not! Why? The reason has only recently become known to me. I could not even consider writing this book because there was no ending to the story. Sure enough, I started the walk in Miami, walked two years and completed the walk in Seattle, as intended, but there was no ending, in my mind and I really didn't understand why.

Earlier this year, after an accurate diagnosis of Bi-Polar II and resulting medications, I experienced a miraculous reprieve from depression, resulting in some clarity of thought. It became clear to me that there could be a reason and purpose to write this book as well as a happy ending. This book, this adventure was not about the walk, it was about my journey through hell - my life's struggle with and eventual recovery from depression. Perhaps, if I write this book, there may be people that can identify with this disease, or any serious untreated yet treatable mental illness, and get some hope and inspiration from my struggles. I was gearing up and ready to sit down this Fall and start writing again, until I found myself face down in a pit of depression once again.

I had learned that treating this disease, like many mental ilnesses, can be a frustrating series of experiments - trying new medications in various doses and combinations. I had gotten lucky. The first drug I tried, worked almost instantanously in relieving depression. Not long afterwards, with depression vanished (for the first time in my life), I got to experience the other part of my condition, 'Mania,' and God did I ever experience it. Without the lull of depression to counter the effects of the mania, it felt as if I was naked and no where to to run, fully exposed and raw to the world. Mania, was much harder to deal with than depression. Who would of guessed? I was finding myself hoping for depression, to relieve the unbearable manic symptoms. Insane? Oh yeah ... Insane!

I crawled back into my doctors office pleading for some help with this mania and once again, was fortunate to start another drug, (Lithium), which soon afterwards, resulted in all symptoms of depression and mania to be eliminated - completely. Too good to be true, yet it was happening, I felt great and for months, I was alive again, or I should say, for the first time in my life.

After a follow up blood test in August of 07', it was decided that I would have to stop taking Lithium as it has increased some level of Creotin, an indicator that potential Liver problems could occur. I was devastated! How could they take away the only drug that had saved my life? This was unnaceptable, yet I had no choice. The next drug, over the next 6 weeks, had no effect and the mania was still a problem. Yesterday, I took my first dose of a new medication to replace the last replacement and I was was stoned out of my mind, that I could barely talk. This latest drug was from a new series of psycho active drugs that basically sedate. This, being an recovering alcoholic, will not accept as it couuld jeopardize my sobriety. I need a new plan.

I was ready to throw out the 200 pages that I had written this past winter as I believed there could be no value to anyone unless I had found the solution. I had managed to stay alove long enough to finally get an accurate diagnosis and proper medication, but it didn't work. I was a failure. Feeling discouraged, pathetic and useless, I was ready to quit, until this morning.

This morning, I realized that it's easy to talk about your story after all the loose ends are wrapped up neatly and there is a successful ending to the tale. Success is not about arriving at a particular destination, it is about having the courage to trudge, crawl if need be, towards a solution in the midst of pain and suffering. Even in the midst of depression and anguish, I can sense a glimmer of hope. I have been relieved of the bondage of depression and mania once, then it is possible again, but not if I quit trying.


The New Deal

Yesterday, it was all I could do to get through the day, feeling drugged and hungover from the first dose of a new medication, that I have since thrown away. Soon, as soon as I can think straight again and be calm enough to settle down, I intend to start researching all of the treatment options and medicines avaialable for Bi-Polar II. I will boil them down to the best 2 or 3 options, run them by my medical doc and then my psych doc and will systematically work through them until I find relief.

I do have hope. God has walked with me through a liftetime of hell and will not desert me now. I must do my part and I will keep crawling along. I didn't have the strength to do this, only a few years ago. I am grateful that I was shown, albeit a short window of opportunity, a glimpse of what life can be like without the chains and shackles of depression tying me down. I want my life back and I am willing to fight for it.

I intend to start writing on the book again, soon, inspite of depression or mania. I will wirte my story and whatever happens from that point, well, it's none of my business.

The Fork

Another long night. Every now and then, conditions are just right, just enough pouring rain hitting the window with just the right rhythm at just the right hours; the quiet small hours when it all stops and it feels safe. Last night was one of those nights - dark, quiet, safe. Precious moments, really, when I savor each second and can breathe, again.

I was reading, somewhere, that it is quite common when entering the envelope of spiritual enlightenment, for all hell to break loose. Why? Because as you experience the Truth, the other side, there is a heightened sensitivity to all thoughts, all emotions and that which used to serve as a calm protected harbor from the relentless storms of my mind, no longer welcome me and provide safe harbor. This, I think, is the fork in the road. Something feels all too familiar about this place. I sense being here before, this fork, this place in time, this choice.

On one fork, it appears, faintly to my senses, to be the safe path, protected and quiet, lulling me towards wrapping myself within it's cloak. No one can hurt me there. No one can see me there. I am invisible. I am safe. Yes, this place seems all too familiar to me. And it should. I know this place, well. I've chosen this path, often. And it also, appears to me, faintly as if a distant memory, that this path leads to no place, to no where, to darkness, to an endless maze that leads only to despair and anguish, a place of endless sighs, to self destruction of all that is good.

There is something different about this path, this place, this time. I can sense it's deadness, it's void, it’s emptiness, it's lie. And yet, this other path, it's so bright, so incredibly bright _ and loud, untried, un-trodden, so fresh and promising yet so open and unprotected.

I have arrived at this fork in the road once again.
This is where I am.

This is my choice.

I choose to walk towards the light.

This is where I am.

Personal Spiritual Responsibility in the Face of Hopelessness

Mother Theresa, when questioned as to why she refused to support or attend an anti-war rally, replied something to the effect of “I would be happy to attend and support a peace rally.”

It seems only natural, when overwhelmed by an ever increasing list of seemingly hopeless regional and global threats, many of which threaten human mass extinction, to deny the very existence of their reality. These doomsday scenarios are too numerous and awful to contemplate. My common inner dialogue goes something like ...

“If there is nothing I can do about it—why let it occupy my attention, my consciousness?" Or … “If life is going to end, and there is nothing I can do to change the inevitability, then why not just ignore the probabilities and find whatever happiness I can while I still have a life.”

My inner dialogues and resulting choices seem logical. Then, why don’t I feel at peace with my decision to ignore the endless assortment of cataclysmic scenarios (of which I can do nothing about to alter the course of inevitable destiny) and go about my life, carelessly skipping down the road of life? Perhaps, after a little introspection, I discover that my unease may be due to false self conclusions … Is there really nothing I can do?

My entire life has been a spiritual quest. Over many years of painful self discovery, I have formed a set of beliefs. I believe that I do have control over my own destiny and that of the world around me and that control begins with my personal attitude, perspective and expectations of the events surrounding me. I believe that whatever it is that I focus on, with my mind, heart and spirit—will manifest into reality. I believe in the Law of Attraction. I believe that one person can make a difference, that one candle can ignite millions, if the flame contains truth. I believe in the Power of One and the Ripple Effect of Intention. I believe that we are all powerful—that we have simply lost touch with our strengths and abilities to alter the world that we are a part of … feeling overwhelmed and dis-empowered with the complexity and seriousness of the threats. I have personally experienced this effect in my life. I have forgotten what I had learned.

10 years ago, plagued with the very same emotions, suffering from depression and disillusionment birthed from years of self seeking, I felt overwhelmed and apathetic as to my role in this world. I had an attitude of “Why bother, the problems are too numerous and too big to do anything about. I care, but there is nothing I can do.” These feelings of helplessness and hopelessness as well as the crushing emptiness of life’s purpose and meaning led me to some drastic decisions. I had to do something, anything … I needed to try, again.

I chose to embark on a three year sabbatical, a spiritual quest, a walk across America, in hopes of finding meaning and purpose for my life. I needed to prove, to myself, that I, little insignificant me, could still make a difference in my world. So many deserving causes … I chose pediatric Aids. Through a series of events, these children captured my heart.

Over the next three years, I devoted myself to concerns outside of myself, to see, if I could make a difference. I did, in the lives of many. What started with one small flame of intention grew into a bonfire of positive effect for thousands of people. More importantly, I re-discovered my personal, spiritual power. I could not change the world—but I could change myself. I could do what I could do and if others chose to light their wicks from my flame—so be it. If not, I could feel the immense soul satisfaction of feeling a part of my world. This morning, I realized that I had forgotten what I had learned.

What had I learned over three years and 5200 miles of walking across this country? I learned of the Power of One. I had learned of the ripple effect. I had learned of my personal spiritual power … the power of truth. I had forgotten. I am now remembering.

Now, as I look around my world, I have no fear. I have realized, thank God, that I am NOT powerless, that I can effect the world around me. How? I don’t need to walk across the country to prove anything to myself or crusade in the name of countless injustices. I can, however, use what I have, this morning … a laptop computer, a blog and my life’s lessons and share them honestly and openly. This is my flame. I have the power to light my candle. I will do my part as I Am a part of my world, starting with the immense power of my intentions.

I learned of the immense transforming power of one pebble, one pointed intention, if resonating with sincerity, can cause ripples of movement that can literally change the world. I had forgotten. Now, I remember. I remember Gandhi, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King and countless others that acted on the courage of their convictions to follow their hearts and do what they could do. I remember Mother Theresa’s lesson that shows me that I Can focus my personal attention and efforts toward the desired outcome and not focus on the problem. I realize that whatever I resist, persists.

This is my flame, my daily positive affirmations and peaceful meditations which lead to personal decisions, choices and often physical actions, in doing my part. This is my contribution, for today.