Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I really need a haircut. It’s grown past my eyes and to my shoulders, almost.

The 20th anniversary of Rob Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects is Monday and is playing in certain theaters as s special screening event. I’m not going to work; I am going to go see it. That movie goes hard and is in line with my mental status.

“I am the devil, and I am here to do the devil’s work.”

A psychologist overseeing my care during my first time at the VA psych ward considered my prognosis to be rather poor. From a young age, I was exposed to dark, macabre things. I watched Child’s Play when I was four. No one tried to stop me. And I loved it…I fell in love with all things sick and twisted.

Maybe it did affect me. Desensitized me. I used to spend a lot of time on tor, looking for the real thing, real gore, real horror. I spent so many years and so much time interacting and searching and collecting. I don’t do that anymore, but I eagerly exposed myself to the worst humanity has to offer. What does that say about me?

The doctor in question considered my brain to be hardwired this way. It translates further to a negative, depressive outlook, pessimism coupled with cynical nihilism. As far as philosophical positions go, nihilism makes the most sense. And therein is my problem.

Sometimes I am a manic, happy nihilist. A hedonist seeking all manner of pleasure and ambition – sex, grad school, sleepless nights reading and writing and pacing, food, excessive work, singing…the list goes on. I feel deeply, and for once it feels good. I feel superior. I don’t want this public health master’s degree because I want to somehow change the world or the dismal state of public health in the US. I just want the masters. I have always wanted my masters. I am meant for it. I am genuinely smarter than most people. More disciplined. But also, more depressed.

I know I need to even this out. I spent so much time in therapy trying to rewire my brain, taking the meds, keep an open mind. Sometimes it all feels in vain. Dr Black taught me a lot about the highs and lows of bipolar and how to keep these waves – high/low – more closely together. I will still swing…just not as wide. Or as deep. At least that is the hope with my current meds. It’s sobering to know a little handful of pills is all that stands between me and unfettered madness.