The Conundrum of My Mind
The Struggle From Within and Without
My mood lately has been up and down. Right now I have been feeling rather depressed over my life. One of the catalysts that sent me spiraling into a bummed out mood was an interview I had this week. The interview went great and is with the same company I already work for. It would actually be a promotion for me, and I have only been with the company for 9 months. I was interviewing for a more technical position and was really hoping to get it. The only word I heard from my supervisor who suggested me for the position was that they are still reviewing candidates. In other words, I can be pretty sure that I didn't get it. I just don't know what they didn't like aobut me. I thought the interview went fantastic. I told them in detail all the software I know and all my knowledge and it still got me squat. I just have always had black clouds looming over me since I was born. At least that is how I feel.
My mother has suffered from mental illness since her late 20's. Shortly after I was born in 1969, my father noticed she was acting quite strange. While I grew up I remember alot of her odd behavior, but some of her odd behavior was told to me through the years by my father, who passed away in 2002 from ALS. I miss him. I think of him quite often and wonder if he knows how I am doing. He and I were close but yet not as close as could have been. He was a great man and father. My brother and I always had plenty of toys under the Christmas tree. We never were physically or sexually abused. I did get punished or hit with a belt but only when I misbehaved. My dad and I would often spend time together talking about movies or technology. We enjoyed many of the same things and it made us very close to one another. I think my dad and I were always meant to be close because I remember as a little boy (age 4) when my little legs would get tired I wanted my dad to carry me. He would often joke to my mom that she carried me for 9 months but he carried me for years. I do remember how much I enjoyed being carried by him, especially on our trip to Disney World in 1974. There's a lot of walking to do and my legs just got so tired. We would go on a lot of family trips up and down the Eastern seaboard. There are lots of fond memories I have.
My father worked as an electrical technician and was the smartest man I ever knew. He didn't go to college but went to a technical school. During his lifetime he worked for RCA in the early 1970's and before that he worked at Bell Labs in the 1960's. While working at Bell Labs he created some of the circuit boards that were used onboard the first telecommunications satellite TelStar. There were actually 3 TelStars that were launched. One failed to make orbit, one successfully made orbit and one is on display at AT&T Headquarters in Basking Ridge, NJ or at least was for some time unless they moved it else where. He told me that he wasn't sure which one was the one that he worked on, but I like to think it was the one that made it into orbit. Either way, he made a mark in history. I'm proud to say he was my father. I wish I was more like my father. I would be much more of a success. he was Mr. Fix It around the house. he could fix anything and if there was something he couldn't fix he would read about it and then be able to fix it. I would assist him or watch him work. From plumbing to auto repairs to anything electrical, he could fix it.
Sometimes I get the impression my mom resents my brother and I for not being able to fix things like my dad. I take much more after my dad then my older brother, but I am not even close to his caliber when it comes to being able to fix things. I guess my mom wished we took more after him but it just wasn't our way and I wish she could just accept that. I don't mind her talking about his ability, in fact I too will reminisce with her about his skills. We all knew he was Mr. Fix It. In all honesty, my mother isn't harsh with criticism in any way (at least when she is in her correct state of mind), she just tends to look at the negative side of things more than the positive. Which brings me to my mother. Back in 1969 when my dad noticed my mom acting rather "kookie" (like she was a few beers short of a six pack), he brought her to the local mental hospital Carrier Clinic. Carrier was THE place to go back in the late 60's all the way to the 80's for mental health treatment. Recent cutbacks really caused the place to go down hill. Why my dad brought her there was because she thought the FBI was after her, she kept rearranging the pillows on the couch in the living room, she also wanted to give all their money away to the IRS (which isn't necessarily a sign of mental illness but when you just started a family and have two kids to feed plus a new house to pay off, it could be considered rather foolish).
My mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia which is basically a loss of being in touch with reality (not to be confused with Quadrophenia which is an album by The Who). However back in the 60's and 70's any mental illness doctors didn't understand was labeled "schizophrenia". Later on she would be diagnosed as suffering from schizoaffective disorder. Anyone who thinks mental illness doesn't exist or is the brainchild (no pun intended) of "quacks", has never experienced living with someone who suffers from it. I would have to say, in my honest opinion, that disbelievers of the existence of mental illness are morons. My mom's odd behavior was and still is due to mental illness, not being possessed by the Devil. During the course of my childhood she would go in and out of Carrier. The doctors would discharge her and she would be fine for a while, only to relapse and have to go back again. She even underwent ECT (also known as shock therapy, and believe me, try your best to avoid it). ECT has improved since the early days in the late 40's and 50's but I still think it a bit barbaric and the effectiveness rather questionable. I wonder the reasoning behind it. Maybe a doctor mentioning his new idea to his collegues said, "Hey, let's jump start a patient's brain with a high amount of voltage and see if it makes them happy. What's the worst that could happen?" I guess if it works for some I shouldn't say anything against it, but for my mom it didn't seem to help.
The worst (and I mean THE worst) aspect of my mom's particular disease was when she wasn't just merely delusional but also had a complete reversal of her personality. She would go from a kind motherly figure to hating us with a passion. She wouldn't make dinner for us, she picked arguments, AND to top it off she refused to go to the hospital because she didn't think anything was wrong with her (she felt everyone else, including the doctors, were the ones that had something wrong). During these times when her illness manifested itself this way, it was a living Hell. My father tried his best, I mean he really tried. He would bring her to the hospital and she wouldn't sign herself in voluntarily so a panel of doctors would try to evaluate her condition to see if she needed to be put in the hospital against her will. She would put on a "front" for the doctors to attempt to fake them out so they wouldn't commit her, and they would tell my dad there is nothing they could do. I would wait in anticipation for my dad to come home to see if my mom was with him or not. If he returned and she was with him, I would be so crushed and I would feel anger at the doctors. I would think in my head, "How could they do this to us? Can't they see she is sick? She is treating us so horribly and we can't live like this with her. She is making our lives miserable. Please just lock her up and throw away the key". I realize how horrible this must sound but it is very difficult living with someone who trys to pick fights with you and looks for any reason to criticize you with the intent of hurting your feelings. I am not exaggerating either. To top off that, I also had no escape. Where could I go? That is where I lived. These episodes happened off and I while I was 11 - 15 years old and I had no other relatives in town to live with. I was also picked on at school so I went through misery at school as well. My luck and life have one thing in common, they suck.
Once in a while there would be a doctor there who would see through my mom's masquerade and see that she needs to be in the hospital. When my dad would drive up the driveway and he was alone, I was ecstatic. My dad would tell my brother and I that one of the doctors saw through my mom's little tricks and could see she was ill. The doctor signed her into the hospital. I wanted to hug that doctor! Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my mother but what I hated was what the illness made her become. To me she wasn't the same person anymore while under the influence of the illness. She NEEDED to be out of society, out of harms way and most of all she needed to be in the hospital so she could not cause harm to those around her. She never ever caused physical harm but she caused emotional harm, and that is just as bad. Maybe even worse in some ways.
Under the law, no one can be involuntarily admitted to a mental institution unless they are a danger to themselves or others, but unfortunately the word "danger" does not include emotional torment. of course it should but I guess it would have to be captured on video tape and these days it most definitely could. While my mom's behavior during these times could be described as painful, I think the worst damage to me was my mom's negativity. Instead of looking on the sunny side of things, tt is in her nature to always look on the rainy side. My brother and I happened to inherit this tendency and it is difficult to control at times when things go badly for me, which feels like all the time. It clouds your judgement and how you see yourself in the world. I see constant failure but others might see something else. I wish it was possible to step outside my body to see what others see. Another family trait was actually something my father had a tendency to do. He was the type of man who grew up during the "John Wayne Era" and men didn't talk about their feelings. If you felt miserable or unhappy, you just kept it inside and dealt with yourself. He was depressed too but we never knew for the longest time. I wish he would have shared his feelings more. I loved him and cared about him. I always listened to what he said although I did go through a rebellious period and didn't always do as he said. My brother and I, along with some friends, did some crazy stuff. Stuff that still cracks me up today.
Whereas my brother tended to retreat to his own room and keep to himself most of the time, I tended to enjoy watching tv with my dad and mom when my mom wasn't ill. When she was ill I would retreat to my room because she would act too bizarre to enjoy anything. Since my dad kept his feelings to himself he was one to have words of encouragement for my brother or I. He loved us, cared about us, and wanted the very best for us but he as well as my mom, never encouraged us through the years. How is a child expected to feel confident in themselves and their abilities if no one lets them know that they can do anything they set out to do? I had no idea what I wanted to be or if I could even do anything. I still suffer from this difficulty.
I do not want it to sound that I am blaming my parents for the way I am. It wasn't my parents fault because they didn't do anything on purpose. Most of it was out of their control. It is the combination of all of the above elements that caused my brother and I to be the way we are. We had no confidence building, depression and severe mental illness in our mother, her negative personality and traits, not to mention my mother tends to be the nervous "antsy" type. Everything has to be solved right now. In other words, my brother and I inherited some of our disorders and we "learned" some of our disorders. The question is, can we unlearn our disorders? I think had my dad met some other woman who did not have the disorders my mother had, perhaps my brother and I would have turned out differently. It's all conjecture at this point. I guess it is something my brother and I just need to try to overcome. My mom can't help her behavior or thinking patterns anymore than my brother and I can't help ours but what is important is to try. To put up some kind of fight. I know I can't cure myself and need help to get many things done but I try and a lot of times I do fail. I do get scared to try but eventually I do try again. I hope to get back up on stage again and try some new stand up comedy material I created.
Comedy is one thing I really enjoy and I thank my dad for that. My dad and I did talk to each other and enjoyed talking about many things at length (although he wasn't comfortable talking about feelings or sensitive things which I do not hold against him) and we also enjoyed joking around. He had a great sense of humor and he appreciated mine whereas my mom was so serious (most of the time) when she wasn't ill. I'm glad I inherited my dad's great sense of humor and silliness.
I suppose it's what keeps me sane.
Click here to read the rest of the post!
My mother has suffered from mental illness since her late 20's. Shortly after I was born in 1969, my father noticed she was acting quite strange. While I grew up I remember alot of her odd behavior, but some of her odd behavior was told to me through the years by my father, who passed away in 2002 from ALS. I miss him. I think of him quite often and wonder if he knows how I am doing. He and I were close but yet not as close as could have been. He was a great man and father. My brother and I always had plenty of toys under the Christmas tree. We never were physically or sexually abused. I did get punished or hit with a belt but only when I misbehaved. My dad and I would often spend time together talking about movies or technology. We enjoyed many of the same things and it made us very close to one another. I think my dad and I were always meant to be close because I remember as a little boy (age 4) when my little legs would get tired I wanted my dad to carry me. He would often joke to my mom that she carried me for 9 months but he carried me for years. I do remember how much I enjoyed being carried by him, especially on our trip to Disney World in 1974. There's a lot of walking to do and my legs just got so tired. We would go on a lot of family trips up and down the Eastern seaboard. There are lots of fond memories I have.
My father worked as an electrical technician and was the smartest man I ever knew. He didn't go to college but went to a technical school. During his lifetime he worked for RCA in the early 1970's and before that he worked at Bell Labs in the 1960's. While working at Bell Labs he created some of the circuit boards that were used onboard the first telecommunications satellite TelStar. There were actually 3 TelStars that were launched. One failed to make orbit, one successfully made orbit and one is on display at AT&T Headquarters in Basking Ridge, NJ or at least was for some time unless they moved it else where. He told me that he wasn't sure which one was the one that he worked on, but I like to think it was the one that made it into orbit. Either way, he made a mark in history. I'm proud to say he was my father. I wish I was more like my father. I would be much more of a success. he was Mr. Fix It around the house. he could fix anything and if there was something he couldn't fix he would read about it and then be able to fix it. I would assist him or watch him work. From plumbing to auto repairs to anything electrical, he could fix it.
Sometimes I get the impression my mom resents my brother and I for not being able to fix things like my dad. I take much more after my dad then my older brother, but I am not even close to his caliber when it comes to being able to fix things. I guess my mom wished we took more after him but it just wasn't our way and I wish she could just accept that. I don't mind her talking about his ability, in fact I too will reminisce with her about his skills. We all knew he was Mr. Fix It. In all honesty, my mother isn't harsh with criticism in any way (at least when she is in her correct state of mind), she just tends to look at the negative side of things more than the positive. Which brings me to my mother. Back in 1969 when my dad noticed my mom acting rather "kookie" (like she was a few beers short of a six pack), he brought her to the local mental hospital Carrier Clinic. Carrier was THE place to go back in the late 60's all the way to the 80's for mental health treatment. Recent cutbacks really caused the place to go down hill. Why my dad brought her there was because she thought the FBI was after her, she kept rearranging the pillows on the couch in the living room, she also wanted to give all their money away to the IRS (which isn't necessarily a sign of mental illness but when you just started a family and have two kids to feed plus a new house to pay off, it could be considered rather foolish).
My mom was diagnosed with schizophrenia which is basically a loss of being in touch with reality (not to be confused with Quadrophenia which is an album by The Who). However back in the 60's and 70's any mental illness doctors didn't understand was labeled "schizophrenia". Later on she would be diagnosed as suffering from schizoaffective disorder. Anyone who thinks mental illness doesn't exist or is the brainchild (no pun intended) of "quacks", has never experienced living with someone who suffers from it. I would have to say, in my honest opinion, that disbelievers of the existence of mental illness are morons. My mom's odd behavior was and still is due to mental illness, not being possessed by the Devil. During the course of my childhood she would go in and out of Carrier. The doctors would discharge her and she would be fine for a while, only to relapse and have to go back again. She even underwent ECT (also known as shock therapy, and believe me, try your best to avoid it). ECT has improved since the early days in the late 40's and 50's but I still think it a bit barbaric and the effectiveness rather questionable. I wonder the reasoning behind it. Maybe a doctor mentioning his new idea to his collegues said, "Hey, let's jump start a patient's brain with a high amount of voltage and see if it makes them happy. What's the worst that could happen?" I guess if it works for some I shouldn't say anything against it, but for my mom it didn't seem to help.
The worst (and I mean THE worst) aspect of my mom's particular disease was when she wasn't just merely delusional but also had a complete reversal of her personality. She would go from a kind motherly figure to hating us with a passion. She wouldn't make dinner for us, she picked arguments, AND to top it off she refused to go to the hospital because she didn't think anything was wrong with her (she felt everyone else, including the doctors, were the ones that had something wrong). During these times when her illness manifested itself this way, it was a living Hell. My father tried his best, I mean he really tried. He would bring her to the hospital and she wouldn't sign herself in voluntarily so a panel of doctors would try to evaluate her condition to see if she needed to be put in the hospital against her will. She would put on a "front" for the doctors to attempt to fake them out so they wouldn't commit her, and they would tell my dad there is nothing they could do. I would wait in anticipation for my dad to come home to see if my mom was with him or not. If he returned and she was with him, I would be so crushed and I would feel anger at the doctors. I would think in my head, "How could they do this to us? Can't they see she is sick? She is treating us so horribly and we can't live like this with her. She is making our lives miserable. Please just lock her up and throw away the key". I realize how horrible this must sound but it is very difficult living with someone who trys to pick fights with you and looks for any reason to criticize you with the intent of hurting your feelings. I am not exaggerating either. To top off that, I also had no escape. Where could I go? That is where I lived. These episodes happened off and I while I was 11 - 15 years old and I had no other relatives in town to live with. I was also picked on at school so I went through misery at school as well. My luck and life have one thing in common, they suck.
Once in a while there would be a doctor there who would see through my mom's masquerade and see that she needs to be in the hospital. When my dad would drive up the driveway and he was alone, I was ecstatic. My dad would tell my brother and I that one of the doctors saw through my mom's little tricks and could see she was ill. The doctor signed her into the hospital. I wanted to hug that doctor! Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my mother but what I hated was what the illness made her become. To me she wasn't the same person anymore while under the influence of the illness. She NEEDED to be out of society, out of harms way and most of all she needed to be in the hospital so she could not cause harm to those around her. She never ever caused physical harm but she caused emotional harm, and that is just as bad. Maybe even worse in some ways.
Under the law, no one can be involuntarily admitted to a mental institution unless they are a danger to themselves or others, but unfortunately the word "danger" does not include emotional torment. of course it should but I guess it would have to be captured on video tape and these days it most definitely could. While my mom's behavior during these times could be described as painful, I think the worst damage to me was my mom's negativity. Instead of looking on the sunny side of things, tt is in her nature to always look on the rainy side. My brother and I happened to inherit this tendency and it is difficult to control at times when things go badly for me, which feels like all the time. It clouds your judgement and how you see yourself in the world. I see constant failure but others might see something else. I wish it was possible to step outside my body to see what others see. Another family trait was actually something my father had a tendency to do. He was the type of man who grew up during the "John Wayne Era" and men didn't talk about their feelings. If you felt miserable or unhappy, you just kept it inside and dealt with yourself. He was depressed too but we never knew for the longest time. I wish he would have shared his feelings more. I loved him and cared about him. I always listened to what he said although I did go through a rebellious period and didn't always do as he said. My brother and I, along with some friends, did some crazy stuff. Stuff that still cracks me up today.
Whereas my brother tended to retreat to his own room and keep to himself most of the time, I tended to enjoy watching tv with my dad and mom when my mom wasn't ill. When she was ill I would retreat to my room because she would act too bizarre to enjoy anything. Since my dad kept his feelings to himself he was one to have words of encouragement for my brother or I. He loved us, cared about us, and wanted the very best for us but he as well as my mom, never encouraged us through the years. How is a child expected to feel confident in themselves and their abilities if no one lets them know that they can do anything they set out to do? I had no idea what I wanted to be or if I could even do anything. I still suffer from this difficulty.
I do not want it to sound that I am blaming my parents for the way I am. It wasn't my parents fault because they didn't do anything on purpose. Most of it was out of their control. It is the combination of all of the above elements that caused my brother and I to be the way we are. We had no confidence building, depression and severe mental illness in our mother, her negative personality and traits, not to mention my mother tends to be the nervous "antsy" type. Everything has to be solved right now. In other words, my brother and I inherited some of our disorders and we "learned" some of our disorders. The question is, can we unlearn our disorders? I think had my dad met some other woman who did not have the disorders my mother had, perhaps my brother and I would have turned out differently. It's all conjecture at this point. I guess it is something my brother and I just need to try to overcome. My mom can't help her behavior or thinking patterns anymore than my brother and I can't help ours but what is important is to try. To put up some kind of fight. I know I can't cure myself and need help to get many things done but I try and a lot of times I do fail. I do get scared to try but eventually I do try again. I hope to get back up on stage again and try some new stand up comedy material I created.
Comedy is one thing I really enjoy and I thank my dad for that. My dad and I did talk to each other and enjoyed talking about many things at length (although he wasn't comfortable talking about feelings or sensitive things which I do not hold against him) and we also enjoyed joking around. He had a great sense of humor and he appreciated mine whereas my mom was so serious (most of the time) when she wasn't ill. I'm glad I inherited my dad's great sense of humor and silliness.
I suppose it's what keeps me sane.
Click here to read the rest of the post!
posted by Conundrum of My Mind at 3/03/2006 10:39:00 AM
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