Today is one of the days I wished for during more difficult times - nothing special except it's all special. Contentment.
My throat hurts and my left sinus is clogged shut. Details. I love you.
14 December 2009
28 February 2009
Karma Ensues
When a person gets lost in thoughts and worry there's a tendency to take an action that returns them, if even for a moment, to the here and now. The subconscious will compel one to a behavior that might cause great damage, but at the moment the plate is flung the voices go away and the present moment is experienced. Karma ensues. Self-judgment ensues. More thoughts careen around the mind and... another burst from the subconscious, more karma created. It continues until the internal dialogue is stopped.
If the need to return to the present moment is truly the catalyst behind many unconscious acts, then it's possible to slow down the headlong rush to new karma by proactively returning to the here and now. A few deep breaths and our course can be altered.
If the need to return to the present moment is truly the catalyst behind many unconscious acts, then it's possible to slow down the headlong rush to new karma by proactively returning to the here and now. A few deep breaths and our course can be altered.
24 February 2009
Living
My story is simple. I was lost in my head. I gained a little internal stillness by trying to be aware when I was thinking useless, negative thoughts. That stillness led me to see some other types of thoughts that were also useless, and the stillness I gained from noticing those thoughts led me to examine all of the thought loops I tended to spin in. By practicing gratitude for those thoughts, once I’ve noticed them, I’m spending more time alive, and less time in a waking dream.
I used to walk down the street lost in thought. Now I see things I’d never noticed before. The flowers were in the cracks in the sidewalks all along – I was just too “asleep” to see them, along with the people, opportunities and truths I’d walked past unconsciously before beginning this practice.
Whatever it is that makes me bi-polar hasn't gone away. I still have strong emotional responses to the world around me and my head still spins on things good and bad. But the practice shortens the cycle. A six month depression replaced by a bad week, a bad week replaced by a bad day, a bad day eventually becoming a hard moment.
And I like it that way. I want to experience the soaring joy and crashing despair that come with being alive. But after the moment of joy or despair I want to let go and be ready for the next moment. By being grateful to the source of that momentary joy or pain I'm brought into the present, where I can best face whatever comes next.
My life has changed in the years since I began this practice. I remember how helpless I felt against my onrushing depressions, not knowing where they came from or why and when they’d end. It seemed beyond my control. Now I have a tool to use when my mind starts spinning.
It was my pain that led to my joy. The same path is there for all of us.
I used to walk down the street lost in thought. Now I see things I’d never noticed before. The flowers were in the cracks in the sidewalks all along – I was just too “asleep” to see them, along with the people, opportunities and truths I’d walked past unconsciously before beginning this practice.
Whatever it is that makes me bi-polar hasn't gone away. I still have strong emotional responses to the world around me and my head still spins on things good and bad. But the practice shortens the cycle. A six month depression replaced by a bad week, a bad week replaced by a bad day, a bad day eventually becoming a hard moment.
And I like it that way. I want to experience the soaring joy and crashing despair that come with being alive. But after the moment of joy or despair I want to let go and be ready for the next moment. By being grateful to the source of that momentary joy or pain I'm brought into the present, where I can best face whatever comes next.
My life has changed in the years since I began this practice. I remember how helpless I felt against my onrushing depressions, not knowing where they came from or why and when they’d end. It seemed beyond my control. Now I have a tool to use when my mind starts spinning.
It was my pain that led to my joy. The same path is there for all of us.
Gratitude
One day I noticed I was in a thought loop about a very exciting opportunity. It wasn't a full-blown manic episode, but the type of head-spinning that can eventually lead to one. When I noticed the thought loop I had a brief moment of gratitude. "How nice it is that this opportunity is in my life, it's even reminding me to return to the present moment."
I started using the gratitude I felt as a small meditation or prayer. Breath in, "I'm grateful," breath out, "for having this person (or opportunity)," breath in, "in my life," breath out, "to remind me to return," breath in, "to the present moment." Breath out.
Feeling gratitude to those things that excited me or made me feel better about myself was always nice. But I soon realized I could feel the same gratitude toward the people or subjects that created negative thoughts. I was grateful whenever there was a thought loop that I could identify and try to notice, and every time this happened I was returned to the present moment, if only for a second.
I took this on as a practice. I didn't try to stop or judge my thoughts, but to simply be aware of the subjects I thought about the most, and when I noticed it I did a short gratitude meditation. I didn't set out on a path to "find the present moment". My only goals were to stop feeling like I was a bad person and be able to function like a normal person. The "present moment" had no real meaning to me because I'd had so little experience with it in my head-spinning past. But when I found the present moment, as a side-effect of trying to function, I found more than the ability to function.
Today, I'm grateful for being bi-polar, because it forced me to find the present moment. Otherwise I might have spent my entire life lost in the errands on my lists, never quite here and now. Today I experience many moments of gratitude. Today is all I have.
I started using the gratitude I felt as a small meditation or prayer. Breath in, "I'm grateful," breath out, "for having this person (or opportunity)," breath in, "in my life," breath out, "to remind me to return," breath in, "to the present moment." Breath out.
Feeling gratitude to those things that excited me or made me feel better about myself was always nice. But I soon realized I could feel the same gratitude toward the people or subjects that created negative thoughts. I was grateful whenever there was a thought loop that I could identify and try to notice, and every time this happened I was returned to the present moment, if only for a second.
I took this on as a practice. I didn't try to stop or judge my thoughts, but to simply be aware of the subjects I thought about the most, and when I noticed it I did a short gratitude meditation. I didn't set out on a path to "find the present moment". My only goals were to stop feeling like I was a bad person and be able to function like a normal person. The "present moment" had no real meaning to me because I'd had so little experience with it in my head-spinning past. But when I found the present moment, as a side-effect of trying to function, I found more than the ability to function.
Today, I'm grateful for being bi-polar, because it forced me to find the present moment. Otherwise I might have spent my entire life lost in the errands on my lists, never quite here and now. Today I experience many moments of gratitude. Today is all I have.
23 February 2009
Watching
The depression came, as it always did. I could feel myself slipping into it in a haze of self-created expectations unfulfilled, and when it settled on me I spent a few weeks lost in head-spinning self-judgment. Eventually I remembered what I'd learned about those kinds of thoughts and started trying to be aware when I was having them.
While I was trying to notice the judgmental thoughts I became aware of other streams of thought I was having, the ones that seemed to come up the most often. Replaying past actions, planning future recourse, nothing that was of any benefit to me. I began trying to notice when I was lost in thought about certain subjects, just like I was doing with the judgments. It was hard to do. I'd often spin on a subject for an entire day before I'd catch myself. But I'd always eventually notice, and after I noticed I took a few deep breaths.
Maybe once today.
Three or four times tomorrow.
A dozen times the next day.
Thirty or 40 the following day.
The depression vanished.
The manic period started.
As I slid into the next depression I noticed that I'd been in thought loops, continuous internal dialogues, that had been pleasurable, or at least positive, and that as soon as there was a problem or negative aspect I transferred the same chaotic thought stream from the positive to the negative. One day I was lost in fantasy, and almost the next day I was lost in judgment. I saw for the first time that the manic episode was the same as the depressive episode, a condition where my mind was lost in thoughts that didn't serve me.
Using what I'd previously learned I was able to escape the next depression, and afterward I started trying to be aware of whenever I was lost in thoughts about particular subjects. I can't tell myself not to think about something compelling, the thoughts seem to come up on their own. But if I ask myself to be aware of when I'm thinking about these things I can be brought into the present moment, and out of my head, by the realization I was lost in the thought in question. It feels good to think about exciting opportunities and new love, but I'd seen how my thoughts could build conditions and paradigms that didn't serve me. I started trying to be aware of spinning on any subject, whether it was apparently positive or not.
In the book "The Art of Dreaming" Carlos Castaneda tries to explain how to achieve a lucid dream state and he says the first step is becoming aware, within the dream, that you're dreaming. The method he says he was taught was to try to remember seeing his hands in a dream. By programming himself to remember he was dreaming when he see saw his hands it was possible to take control of the dream state.
It's much the same with thoughts. Trying to realize when my head was spun out was difficult because... my head was spun out. It was in the illusion state, the waking dream state. I could teach myself to recognize the illusion for what it is by looking for elements of the illusion in my thoughts. Each of us can easily name the two or three things we think about most in the course of a day. By noting these subjects we will eventually (sooner than one might expect) start popping out of the illusion with the realization we're thinking about that "thing" again.
While I was trying to notice the judgmental thoughts I became aware of other streams of thought I was having, the ones that seemed to come up the most often. Replaying past actions, planning future recourse, nothing that was of any benefit to me. I began trying to notice when I was lost in thought about certain subjects, just like I was doing with the judgments. It was hard to do. I'd often spin on a subject for an entire day before I'd catch myself. But I'd always eventually notice, and after I noticed I took a few deep breaths.
Maybe once today.
Three or four times tomorrow.
A dozen times the next day.
Thirty or 40 the following day.
The depression vanished.
The manic period started.
As I slid into the next depression I noticed that I'd been in thought loops, continuous internal dialogues, that had been pleasurable, or at least positive, and that as soon as there was a problem or negative aspect I transferred the same chaotic thought stream from the positive to the negative. One day I was lost in fantasy, and almost the next day I was lost in judgment. I saw for the first time that the manic episode was the same as the depressive episode, a condition where my mind was lost in thoughts that didn't serve me.
Using what I'd previously learned I was able to escape the next depression, and afterward I started trying to be aware of whenever I was lost in thoughts about particular subjects. I can't tell myself not to think about something compelling, the thoughts seem to come up on their own. But if I ask myself to be aware of when I'm thinking about these things I can be brought into the present moment, and out of my head, by the realization I was lost in the thought in question. It feels good to think about exciting opportunities and new love, but I'd seen how my thoughts could build conditions and paradigms that didn't serve me. I started trying to be aware of spinning on any subject, whether it was apparently positive or not.
In the book "The Art of Dreaming" Carlos Castaneda tries to explain how to achieve a lucid dream state and he says the first step is becoming aware, within the dream, that you're dreaming. The method he says he was taught was to try to remember seeing his hands in a dream. By programming himself to remember he was dreaming when he see saw his hands it was possible to take control of the dream state.
It's much the same with thoughts. Trying to realize when my head was spun out was difficult because... my head was spun out. It was in the illusion state, the waking dream state. I could teach myself to recognize the illusion for what it is by looking for elements of the illusion in my thoughts. Each of us can easily name the two or three things we think about most in the course of a day. By noting these subjects we will eventually (sooner than one might expect) start popping out of the illusion with the realization we're thinking about that "thing" again.
20 February 2009
Treatment
I had a friend who was diagnosed as bi-polar. He'd had a bad breakup and couldn't seem to shake the depression that followed, and when he sought help they put him on lithium. I watched him gain weight and dull down until he finally decided he wasn't bi-polar anymore and stopped taking the medication. Fair or not, the lesson I learned from my friend's experience was "don't take lithium".
So... as I realized I was trapped in a cycle of short-lived highs and crashing lows, I thought back to my friend's experience. I read a few books. It wasn't hard to suspect I might be bi-polar. Trapped, as I was at the time, in a soul-crushing depression, I attached myself to the idea of a pharmacological solution. So I went to the doctor and lied.
I described the depression. Yes, I sleep all day. No, I won't go out and see anyone. But I knew which questions to lie to. Ever have trouble sleeping? Uh, no. Fantastical thinking and unwise, spontaneous actions? Not me. I wanted the mood elevator, not the drug that had such a bad effect on my friend. It was easy to fool the doctor.
I took an SSRI for a couple of months. I didn't like the way it made me feel. At the same time I started taking it I started trying to watch for when I was thinking the types of thoughts, the negative judgments, that I'd learned didn't serve me. Even if I was a bad person I could see that the thoughts about being bad were making it harder for me to function, and they didn't make me a better person in the bargain. When I started trying to be aware of these types of thoughts a funny thing happened - they went away.
Not immediately, of course. But surprisingly quickly. Within a matter of days the crash I was experiencing seemed to melt away. I thought I'd found the key to "curing" my illness, that it was as simple as being aware that my self-judgmental thoughts didn't serve me and could be stopped by watching for them as they came up. I was wrong, of course.
So... as I realized I was trapped in a cycle of short-lived highs and crashing lows, I thought back to my friend's experience. I read a few books. It wasn't hard to suspect I might be bi-polar. Trapped, as I was at the time, in a soul-crushing depression, I attached myself to the idea of a pharmacological solution. So I went to the doctor and lied.
I described the depression. Yes, I sleep all day. No, I won't go out and see anyone. But I knew which questions to lie to. Ever have trouble sleeping? Uh, no. Fantastical thinking and unwise, spontaneous actions? Not me. I wanted the mood elevator, not the drug that had such a bad effect on my friend. It was easy to fool the doctor.
I took an SSRI for a couple of months. I didn't like the way it made me feel. At the same time I started taking it I started trying to watch for when I was thinking the types of thoughts, the negative judgments, that I'd learned didn't serve me. Even if I was a bad person I could see that the thoughts about being bad were making it harder for me to function, and they didn't make me a better person in the bargain. When I started trying to be aware of these types of thoughts a funny thing happened - they went away.
Not immediately, of course. But surprisingly quickly. Within a matter of days the crash I was experiencing seemed to melt away. I thought I'd found the key to "curing" my illness, that it was as simple as being aware that my self-judgmental thoughts didn't serve me and could be stopped by watching for them as they came up. I was wrong, of course.
Discovery
I can't remember exactly when and where I first realized there was a problem in my head, but I remember the thought that led to the realization: "What's wrong with me?"
I had that thought a lot during later crashes, and it eventually changed from "what's wrong with me?" to "there's something wrong with me that keeps me from functioning" to "I'm not a good person". There has been no greater suffering than being paralyzed by a head spinning on the idea that I'm a bad person because of all the pain I'd created for myself and others.
The suffering was made worse by the certainty in my heart that I'm not a bad person.
During a crash I once had a realization about the judgments I was making against myself. I realized I was suffering the consequences of my words and actions, and those consequences are payment enough. Judging myself for yesterday's actions doesn't do anything to prevent future consequences, but accepting responsibility and internalizing the result will help me make better choices in the future.
Sometimes I brought so much pain into my life and lives of others that it was hard to convince myself I didn't need to "double pay", to suffer both the consequences and feel badly toward myself. Losing the love of a cherished person or missing out on a great opportunity wasn't enough, it felt right to wallow in self-loathing.
But not quite right. There was always a feeling, a sense that this was just indulgence. I started looking back at the actions for which I had the greatest judgments against myself. It wasn't very comfortable. But I learned something about why I'd done or said those things. I learned that if I went back to the exact moment when I'd made the choices that led to the regrets, I was always making the choice that at that time would give me the best chance of having the feeling of love or peace or presence. My subconscious was compelling me to do something that would let me, if even for a moment, cut through the blaring noise in my head and be aware in the moment. Unfortunately, my subconscious didn't care about the consequences of the actions, and those consequences usually led to me thinking I was a bad person.
The idea that being lost in my thoughts caused the stupid things I was doing might seem pretty obvious. What's less obvious is that being trapped in internal dialogue causes the things I do that help create more internal dialogue, and because of this the problem isn't that I'm doing stupid hurtful things - those words and actions are just the symptoms.
That's when I knew there was a problem, and that the problem was between my ears.
I had that thought a lot during later crashes, and it eventually changed from "what's wrong with me?" to "there's something wrong with me that keeps me from functioning" to "I'm not a good person". There has been no greater suffering than being paralyzed by a head spinning on the idea that I'm a bad person because of all the pain I'd created for myself and others.
The suffering was made worse by the certainty in my heart that I'm not a bad person.
During a crash I once had a realization about the judgments I was making against myself. I realized I was suffering the consequences of my words and actions, and those consequences are payment enough. Judging myself for yesterday's actions doesn't do anything to prevent future consequences, but accepting responsibility and internalizing the result will help me make better choices in the future.
Sometimes I brought so much pain into my life and lives of others that it was hard to convince myself I didn't need to "double pay", to suffer both the consequences and feel badly toward myself. Losing the love of a cherished person or missing out on a great opportunity wasn't enough, it felt right to wallow in self-loathing.
But not quite right. There was always a feeling, a sense that this was just indulgence. I started looking back at the actions for which I had the greatest judgments against myself. It wasn't very comfortable. But I learned something about why I'd done or said those things. I learned that if I went back to the exact moment when I'd made the choices that led to the regrets, I was always making the choice that at that time would give me the best chance of having the feeling of love or peace or presence. My subconscious was compelling me to do something that would let me, if even for a moment, cut through the blaring noise in my head and be aware in the moment. Unfortunately, my subconscious didn't care about the consequences of the actions, and those consequences usually led to me thinking I was a bad person.
The idea that being lost in my thoughts caused the stupid things I was doing might seem pretty obvious. What's less obvious is that being trapped in internal dialogue causes the things I do that help create more internal dialogue, and because of this the problem isn't that I'm doing stupid hurtful things - those words and actions are just the symptoms.
That's when I knew there was a problem, and that the problem was between my ears.
19 February 2009
Suffering
Around the age of 13, after a sixth school change in five years, I had my first depressive episode. I have no idea if there was a mania that preceded it - this was before I knew to look for the mania to warn of the depression that follows.
It's easy to use words like mania and depression now but at the time and for many years later I didn't have any labels for what I was experiencing. What surprises me most, in retrospect, is how unaware I was that there might be a problem. Each soaring high was taken as my birthright and each inevitable crash filled my head with its own circumstances. I didn't see the pattern until I was over 30, despite spending months at a time hiding from the world.
I couldn't see the problem because my mind was too full of thoughts, but it might seem odd that none of my friends and family noticed. Well, that's not entirely true... they noticed I'd stop returning their calls for months at a time, they noticed I'd be in love one day and on to the ugly break-up the next, they noticed that I went from "fair-haired-boy" to "persona-non-grata" at job after job. Drama after drama. But they didn't notice I was sick. They didn't notice because when they were around I hid it by paying attention to them... it's funny the way people think those who pay them attention are the sanest people in the room.
And they loved it. Until, that is, I'd be so spun out, so lost in the depressed result of an earlier manic episode, that I didn't have the capacity to hide in plain sight by focusing on them. So I'd hide under the covers and unplug the phone, and let them think I'm lame because I didn't have a better explanation to give them.
It's easy to use words like mania and depression now but at the time and for many years later I didn't have any labels for what I was experiencing. What surprises me most, in retrospect, is how unaware I was that there might be a problem. Each soaring high was taken as my birthright and each inevitable crash filled my head with its own circumstances. I didn't see the pattern until I was over 30, despite spending months at a time hiding from the world.
I couldn't see the problem because my mind was too full of thoughts, but it might seem odd that none of my friends and family noticed. Well, that's not entirely true... they noticed I'd stop returning their calls for months at a time, they noticed I'd be in love one day and on to the ugly break-up the next, they noticed that I went from "fair-haired-boy" to "persona-non-grata" at job after job. Drama after drama. But they didn't notice I was sick. They didn't notice because when they were around I hid it by paying attention to them... it's funny the way people think those who pay them attention are the sanest people in the room.
And they loved it. Until, that is, I'd be so spun out, so lost in the depressed result of an earlier manic episode, that I didn't have the capacity to hide in plain sight by focusing on them. So I'd hide under the covers and unplug the phone, and let them think I'm lame because I didn't have a better explanation to give them.
Loving
Compelling person rivets my attention. It is transcendent.
Later, when no longer with that person, thoughts of them appear. Illusion and indulgence.
Deep breath in: "I am grateful for this person," deep breath out, "so compelling that they serve," deep breath in, "as a reminder to return," deep breath out "to the present moment". Indulgence over. Relationship kept in the present moment, not in my head, no paradigms constructed.
No hiding from thoughts - instead identifying the thoughts and being grateful for the chance to return, if even for a moment, to the here and now. With this key all despair leads to nirvana. We don't have to stop our minds spinning, we simply learn to notice the spinning, and the subject of the spinning... and give thanks while we breathe. Self-judgment removed from the process.
Once today.
Maybe 3 times tomorrow.
A dozen the next day.
Too many to count the following day.
At the end of a week...
Life changed. Slowly slowly we start noticing the flowers growing in the cracks in the sidewalks.
Anyone can find out the truth of these words by doing the practice. No points for "belief". The infinite will reveal itself in a way that transcends "belief" as a result of doing the practice.
Later, when no longer with that person, thoughts of them appear. Illusion and indulgence.
Deep breath in: "I am grateful for this person," deep breath out, "so compelling that they serve," deep breath in, "as a reminder to return," deep breath out "to the present moment". Indulgence over. Relationship kept in the present moment, not in my head, no paradigms constructed.
No hiding from thoughts - instead identifying the thoughts and being grateful for the chance to return, if even for a moment, to the here and now. With this key all despair leads to nirvana. We don't have to stop our minds spinning, we simply learn to notice the spinning, and the subject of the spinning... and give thanks while we breathe. Self-judgment removed from the process.
Once today.
Maybe 3 times tomorrow.
A dozen the next day.
Too many to count the following day.
At the end of a week...
Life changed. Slowly slowly we start noticing the flowers growing in the cracks in the sidewalks.
Anyone can find out the truth of these words by doing the practice. No points for "belief". The infinite will reveal itself in a way that transcends "belief" as a result of doing the practice.
2 February 2009
Limbo
Too awake to be of the world,
Too attached to be a sadhu,
So not committed to either.
Could enjoy proper debauchery,
But not debauched enough.
Could be a Bodhisattva,
But my hand's up Maya's skirt.
Too attached to be a sadhu,
So not committed to either.
Could enjoy proper debauchery,
But not debauched enough.
Could be a Bodhisattva,
But my hand's up Maya's skirt.
31 January 2009
A Bold Diagnosis
I paused on my way into the office. My mind was clear, my thoughts made sense... but something was wrong. Very wrong. The previous few days I'd had some trouble speaking. Well, not with speaking, but with what I was saying.
The psychiatrist's receptionist looked up when I opened the door. She smiled, and I smiled back. This won't be so hard, I thought. I can talk to her, she's adorable! I loved her short, black bangs and professional-yet-maybe-freaky-underneath look.
"May I help you?" she asked.
I took a deep breath. "I'll bet you have a slutty tattoo on the small of your back," I heard myself say.
"Pardon?"
Oh God oh God oh God, this was going badly. "Don't listen to me. I'm an idiot. That's why I'm here," I blurted. Her smile was gone and I couldn't help trying to bring it back. Say something kind, maybe funny, try to lighten the suddenly cool mood, I thought. "Just because you're whorish doesn't mean you don't have lots of great qualities." Oh my.
She looked at me with contempt. I didn't blame her. "Are you here to see Dr. Merde?" she mono-toned in my direction.
"Yes. Parsons. Two o'clock appointment." I couldn't leave it alone. "And there's no shame in having a bad haircut." I winced.
It must have been professionalism that allowed her to take a deep breath and pick up the phone. "Your two o'clock is here." She put down the receiver and spoke without looking at me. "The doctor will see you now."
Not a moment too soon. She motioned me to the door and I kept my eyes on the floor as I entered the inner chamber. There, behind a large oak desk, was the silver-haired Dr. Merde. He came around to greet me, offered me a chair and took a facing seat. "So, Mr. Parsons, what brings you in today?"
Must. Be. Careful. I focused on my hands in my lap and spoke as precisely as I could. "I'm... having... trouble... talking... lately."
The doctor nodded. "Something's causing you to speak abnormally slowly?"
"No... Not trouble talking, really... trouble with what I've been saying."
"Go on."
"A few days ago... I started saying stupid things. Things I don't really mean, and sometimes the exact opposite of how I really feel."
"When did you first notice this?"
"Last week. I was talking to a woman in my building who's son is fighting in Iraq. I told her 'al Queda has some good ideas'. What was that? Some good ideas?"
"Interesting."
"Later on, I told one of my clients that September 11, 2001 was one of the best days of my life. After he told me his cousin died in the attack."
"Hmm."
"The next day I got pulled over by a cop for an illegal turn. When he came to the window I said, 'It's a good thing I got all the drugs out of the car yesterday.' There were never any drugs... September 11 was an awful day... al Queda's got ideas? And I love your receptionist's hair."
"What does my receptionist have to do with anything?"
"Never mind that... can you help me? Why am I blurting stupid, inaccurate tripe all of a sudden?"
Dr. Merde stroked his gray chin hairs and looked off into the distance. "So, before this... you weren't saying stupid things?"
He had me there. "Well... I guess I've always said stupid things, but usually just clumsily insensitive. Lately it's been aggressively stupid, not even bothering to be insensitive, just patently offensive."
"Tell me, Mr. Parsons, what do you do for a living?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Humor me."
I shrugged. "Business. This and that. Whatever I can to get by."
More chin hair stroking. "Don't be offended, but do you tend to be, how to say... half-assed in your business affairs?"
"Half-assed? How do you mean?" I realized my question was a dodge.
"Yes, you know, missing deadlines, making promises you can't keep, staying out late before important morning meetings, that sort of thing."
I wanted to argue, but I had to admit he might be right. "How can anyone as old as you possibly know anything?" I said, which struck me as less than an outright admission.
He wasn't fazed. "Yes. Quite. And your relationships... have you often let people down?"
This guy was good. My life had been marked to that point by disappointing those who'd believed in me. I wanted to compliment him. "Did they even have medical school back when you were a student?"
"Interesting. Have you ever heard of acute hypermanuria?"
"No."
"It's very similar to types of blood poisoning, when toxins in the body start to excrete through rashes and pus-filled bumps on the skin."
"I haven't had a rash."
"Yes. With acute hypermanuria, the, er, toxin, if you will, comes out in a different way."
I furrowed my brow. "It comes out in my words? What kind of toxin is it?"
"Shit."
"Shit?"
"Yes. I'm afraid you're full of shit."
A bold diagnosis. "Full of shit? That's a medical condition?"
"Over the years your irresponsibility and disappointing actions have accumulated a mental residue, if you will. At first it simply made it harder for you to see the needs and concerns of others, but over time there have been so many of these disappointing episodes that the sheer volume of shit is now escaping from you in random spasms. Shit spasms, you might say."
You might. "Full of shit. I'll be damned. I guess I've always suspected it. I just didn't know it could be so obvious."
The doctor nodded. "That's one of the symptoms. Those with acute hypermanuria are often the last to realize how full of shit they are, but those around you probably noticed it."
"Why didn't they say anything?"
"Many reasons. Many, if not most, people probably like you. Another symptom is eagerness to please. But more likely, people have told you - when you're full of shit it's hard to hear the truth."
I sat for a moment, thinking back to some of the things I'd been told by my friends and family in the past. Slowly it dawned on me... they'd been trying to tell me all along. I shook my head sadly. "Is there anything I can do for this condition? I don't suppose there's a medicine that helps?"
"No medicine, no... but there's hope for you still."
"What can I do?"
"It will be very hard."
"Harder than being a September 11th admirer? Please, tell me what I need to do."
"It's hard to do, but simple to understand. It's just this - do all that you can do in the present, and never make a commitment to the future. If you do this faithfully, eventually you'll no longer be full of shit."
"That's all?" I asked.
"Believe me, that's a very large order. And the easier you think it will be, the more full of shit you are. You'll know you're particularly full of shit whenever one of your stupid statements pops out, and you'll know you're better when you're able to say what you mean, and mean what you say." He sat up with a satisfied look on his face. "I'm afraid our time is up."
I stood and reached across to shake his hand, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks. The doctor's diagnosis made sense and I was certain I was on the road to recovery. Doing all I could in the present moment and making no commitments to the future was going to be a snap now that I knew how important it was. I smiled at the doctor. "I don't know what made me think it might help to see an old coot like you," I said.
He smiled sadly. "It's going to be a long recovery."
The psychiatrist's receptionist looked up when I opened the door. She smiled, and I smiled back. This won't be so hard, I thought. I can talk to her, she's adorable! I loved her short, black bangs and professional-yet-maybe-freaky-underneath look.
"May I help you?" she asked.
I took a deep breath. "I'll bet you have a slutty tattoo on the small of your back," I heard myself say.
"Pardon?"
Oh God oh God oh God, this was going badly. "Don't listen to me. I'm an idiot. That's why I'm here," I blurted. Her smile was gone and I couldn't help trying to bring it back. Say something kind, maybe funny, try to lighten the suddenly cool mood, I thought. "Just because you're whorish doesn't mean you don't have lots of great qualities." Oh my.
She looked at me with contempt. I didn't blame her. "Are you here to see Dr. Merde?" she mono-toned in my direction.
"Yes. Parsons. Two o'clock appointment." I couldn't leave it alone. "And there's no shame in having a bad haircut." I winced.
It must have been professionalism that allowed her to take a deep breath and pick up the phone. "Your two o'clock is here." She put down the receiver and spoke without looking at me. "The doctor will see you now."
Not a moment too soon. She motioned me to the door and I kept my eyes on the floor as I entered the inner chamber. There, behind a large oak desk, was the silver-haired Dr. Merde. He came around to greet me, offered me a chair and took a facing seat. "So, Mr. Parsons, what brings you in today?"
Must. Be. Careful. I focused on my hands in my lap and spoke as precisely as I could. "I'm... having... trouble... talking... lately."
The doctor nodded. "Something's causing you to speak abnormally slowly?"
"No... Not trouble talking, really... trouble with what I've been saying."
"Go on."
"A few days ago... I started saying stupid things. Things I don't really mean, and sometimes the exact opposite of how I really feel."
"When did you first notice this?"
"Last week. I was talking to a woman in my building who's son is fighting in Iraq. I told her 'al Queda has some good ideas'. What was that? Some good ideas?"
"Interesting."
"Later on, I told one of my clients that September 11, 2001 was one of the best days of my life. After he told me his cousin died in the attack."
"Hmm."
"The next day I got pulled over by a cop for an illegal turn. When he came to the window I said, 'It's a good thing I got all the drugs out of the car yesterday.' There were never any drugs... September 11 was an awful day... al Queda's got ideas? And I love your receptionist's hair."
"What does my receptionist have to do with anything?"
"Never mind that... can you help me? Why am I blurting stupid, inaccurate tripe all of a sudden?"
Dr. Merde stroked his gray chin hairs and looked off into the distance. "So, before this... you weren't saying stupid things?"
He had me there. "Well... I guess I've always said stupid things, but usually just clumsily insensitive. Lately it's been aggressively stupid, not even bothering to be insensitive, just patently offensive."
"Tell me, Mr. Parsons, what do you do for a living?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Humor me."
I shrugged. "Business. This and that. Whatever I can to get by."
More chin hair stroking. "Don't be offended, but do you tend to be, how to say... half-assed in your business affairs?"
"Half-assed? How do you mean?" I realized my question was a dodge.
"Yes, you know, missing deadlines, making promises you can't keep, staying out late before important morning meetings, that sort of thing."
I wanted to argue, but I had to admit he might be right. "How can anyone as old as you possibly know anything?" I said, which struck me as less than an outright admission.
He wasn't fazed. "Yes. Quite. And your relationships... have you often let people down?"
This guy was good. My life had been marked to that point by disappointing those who'd believed in me. I wanted to compliment him. "Did they even have medical school back when you were a student?"
"Interesting. Have you ever heard of acute hypermanuria?"
"No."
"It's very similar to types of blood poisoning, when toxins in the body start to excrete through rashes and pus-filled bumps on the skin."
"I haven't had a rash."
"Yes. With acute hypermanuria, the, er, toxin, if you will, comes out in a different way."
I furrowed my brow. "It comes out in my words? What kind of toxin is it?"
"Shit."
"Shit?"
"Yes. I'm afraid you're full of shit."
A bold diagnosis. "Full of shit? That's a medical condition?"
"Over the years your irresponsibility and disappointing actions have accumulated a mental residue, if you will. At first it simply made it harder for you to see the needs and concerns of others, but over time there have been so many of these disappointing episodes that the sheer volume of shit is now escaping from you in random spasms. Shit spasms, you might say."
You might. "Full of shit. I'll be damned. I guess I've always suspected it. I just didn't know it could be so obvious."
The doctor nodded. "That's one of the symptoms. Those with acute hypermanuria are often the last to realize how full of shit they are, but those around you probably noticed it."
"Why didn't they say anything?"
"Many reasons. Many, if not most, people probably like you. Another symptom is eagerness to please. But more likely, people have told you - when you're full of shit it's hard to hear the truth."
I sat for a moment, thinking back to some of the things I'd been told by my friends and family in the past. Slowly it dawned on me... they'd been trying to tell me all along. I shook my head sadly. "Is there anything I can do for this condition? I don't suppose there's a medicine that helps?"
"No medicine, no... but there's hope for you still."
"What can I do?"
"It will be very hard."
"Harder than being a September 11th admirer? Please, tell me what I need to do."
"It's hard to do, but simple to understand. It's just this - do all that you can do in the present, and never make a commitment to the future. If you do this faithfully, eventually you'll no longer be full of shit."
"That's all?" I asked.
"Believe me, that's a very large order. And the easier you think it will be, the more full of shit you are. You'll know you're particularly full of shit whenever one of your stupid statements pops out, and you'll know you're better when you're able to say what you mean, and mean what you say." He sat up with a satisfied look on his face. "I'm afraid our time is up."
I stood and reached across to shake his hand, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks. The doctor's diagnosis made sense and I was certain I was on the road to recovery. Doing all I could in the present moment and making no commitments to the future was going to be a snap now that I knew how important it was. I smiled at the doctor. "I don't know what made me think it might help to see an old coot like you," I said.
He smiled sadly. "It's going to be a long recovery."
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