manic

February 12, 2025

Notes From the “Other Side”

Well… Yesterday was sure “fun!”

I ended up leaving work early for a mental health break. I cloistered myself on my BF’s couch, pillow over my head, and listened to the muffled dialogue of Golden Girls while trying to sleep. As time wore on I started to feel better and was at least able to have a normal conversation that wasn’t laced with conspiracy theory or paranoia. It’s weird being an observer within my own mind. Sometimes the crazy person gets control and I just have to watch as all of this plays out, completely out of my control. (Sound vaguely familiar? Oh, the irony.)

At least I have my self-awareness to keep me humble. That was a gift my husband gave me. He asked me so many questions about my feelings and thoughts that it triggered this process in my brain. The only downside is that I question everything I do. Which is fine… as long as it doesn’t keep me from living life. This level of self-awareness can be crippling.

But… so can mania.

Luckily I have two people in my life that can act like Charlie. The BF even told me he started talking to him yesterday morning asking him what to do. That was really touching. Even if it was regarding my “episode.”

What stood out to me were two things that happened before and after this manic episode.

After I had already gone to the bank to get out money (Y’know… for when banking collapses because the government coup has already happened) I woke up my brother and told him how I thought I was having a psychotic episode. Right then, the Woody doll I have propped up next to my husband’s urn (and is a representation of him) talked of it’s own volition. In my mania I thought it was Charlie agreeing with me but I think it was him saying “calm down, dear.”

Then last night I dreamed of him, which hasn’t happened since he passed away. Tony has had more than a fair share, but his tend to be Charlie without his wheelchair and mine was him in it. So, I wonder if he doesn’t visit me because I put him in it… Anyway! In my dream, he and Tony were returning from a long road trip and I was so excited to see him that I ran to him and covered his face in kisses to annoy him.

It was wonderful… even if some parts of it were also stressful and totally unrelated to Charlie. I enjoyed having him back for a little bit. However brief it was.

Today is 10 months since he left. I thought it was 9 but I did my math wrong… as usual. In both instances, it feels like it was just yesterday and at the same time like it happened ages ago. Regardless my want of him has not diminished. In fact, it has just grown.

February 11, 2025

Ramblings of a Mad Man

Today is one of those days where I really, really, REALLY miss my husband. More than anything. If I could, I would give everything up just to be able to talk to him for one second; to hear his deep voice tell me: “…everything is going to be alright, dear.”

Last night I apparently watched enough TikTok that I went into a downward mental spiral. The thoughts racing through my head were very much “conspiracy theories,” and I was saying all the typical “phrases” one says when having a mental breakdown. “It’s like I’m awake for the first time…” Or “I know this sounds crazy…”

If Charlie was here he would fix me. I know it. He would ask his probing questions until I would work myself away from whatever metaphorical ledge I happened to be standing.

All I want is my husband’s voice telling me I’ll be okay. I crave it in my soul. I am so unbelievably lost without him. He was everything to/for me for, nearly, 21 years of my life. To just “not have him anymore” truly feels alien. He was always there. Always. Whether I wanted him or not.

Grief is such a wild experience. Compound that with self-preservation and a fear of the unknown has brought me to this “psychotic” reality. And I would very much like to leave it. My biggest fear is that something in my brain broke last night, and I can never go back to that “normal.”

May 15, 2020

The Circus Came to Town

Two days ago I had a moment of pure depression cross like thick nimbostratus over my brain. My heart sunk in the shadows and I lost all hope. I was left with next to nothing but these feelings of unsurpassed dread and hopelessness. And in that moment I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about living.

Now, I could never kill myself. (Well… never say never) But in my lowest moments I still have so much ego that I can’t fathom ending my own life. And since I have been through this circus many times before, I understand that this sideshow will eventually pull up stakes and leave town. It is that last piece of knowledge that curbs any thoughts of suicide. Yet, it does remind me that living with depression is literally one thought away from death.

After taking a short reprieve from twitter and the news, I have found myself again. I am not my usual manic happy, but I am better than where I was. I still am having a difficult time seeing the point in life, but that is it’s biggest and unanswerable question.

I have nothing of note to offer you here, unfortunately. All I can do is share my experience and offer a reminder that (if you have depression) you CAN get through it. It just so happens that I am lucky enough to have swings that are usually VERY broad and very fast. (The down swings don’t typically last for very long.) So at least I have that going for me.  Well, that and the quartz belief that “this too shall pass.” Nothing in life is permanent.

May 2, 2016

Definition of Insanity

Let me preface this post by saying that I am crazy. As in a legit form of mentally unbalanced. I sometimes wonder if I am bipolar, however when I was tested for it many years ago I was diagnosed with depression instead. If that diagnosis was correct, that is something I still suffer from to this day. For all I know it could be my mental sorrow that is making me feel this way.

For the past six months I have been working the 12 steps of recovery (currently on 4) and doing some serious inner self-examination. I know what I have done has barely gotten into what really lies beneath my facade and I could definitely be doing more. Regardless of my level of dedication, what I have learned is still just as profound: I am a hurt little boy fearful of rejection and being discarded. 

In my process of breaking down past resentments I found a reoccurring theme of people “betraying” me or “ditching” me. As I wrote them out I honestly could have copied and pasted the same response to each of my mental inventories. 

What I find interesting is that even though I haven’t gotten to the part where I examine my part in all of this yet, already I subconsciously have been putting the pieces together and seeing that I may be the cause of my pain.  

I think I am guilty of playing games with people, friends, acquaintances, to test their loyalty. My tests are cruel and unnecessary, but because I had someone hurt me in the past, I have made a mandatory obstacle course each person in my life must run because I am fearful of being hurt again. So instead of just thinking it was that one person who was untrustworthy and moving on with my life I let myself believe all people are not to be trusted. 

In doing that I have inadvertently (or on purpose) made myself a perpetual victim. 

No one will ever live up to my standard of loyalty. Ever. I expect entirely too much and no one will ever reach the “Josh Standard of Friendship,” and to make matters worse I only hold these trials with those who don’t deserve it and in doing so ignore those who are able and willing to step up to my unnecessary challenges. 

What is even more peculiar is that I walk this strange line of wanting to have a deep connection with someone and wanting to isolate myself from everyone. It makes for chaotic thoughts that drive me insane and act out in damaging ways. 

Right now I want to pull away from all of my “friends.” I want to distance myself from everyone I know and I cannot explain why. That’s a lie… I am hurt because these weird games I play with people to test their “loyalty” fail and because of it I am hurt and want to run away. 

And yet I know these things and I don’t care. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to start all over because nothing and no one will ever live up to this image I have in my head. I have these expectations on companionship that no one will ever fulfill. And try as I may to let them go I cannot. I cling to them like some sort of security blanket. Quite possibly because I want to remain the victim forever. I want people to feel sorry for me. I want someone to reach out to me and care for me because I DO NOT care for myself. I hate myself. And in the end I don’t trust myself… 

The desire to recoil into the shadows of my own misery is very strong but I have to fight them because I know I will expect people to come after me, comfort me, and give me the love I so desperately crave but they WILL NOT. Ultimately no one cares and they will chock up my manic actions to me just being crazy; and they will be right. 

Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results and that is what I am doing. Even though I KNOW I have to let go of these antiquated ideals of friendship I won’t. I downright refuse, thus proving that I am mentally unhinged.