As a curious person, who likes to read and learn things, even if they're upsetting or disruptive to my current paradigm, maybe especially if so, I have a lot of information swirling about in my head.
I just have a hard time putting it all together at times (wisdom). I'm aware of much of the cognitive biases that drive my and other's thinking, and when analyzing a situation (mostly human interactions, in which I am deficient to a small degree, and which if unpredictable, i.e. didn't go as expected/intended, really set my head spinning trying to determine the true causality, in a "What can I learn from this? What is the takeaway?" kind of attitude.
So here's the story:
I've been single for four years since my divorce, which became official December 24th, 2014.
At the time we had three young children, ages 4, 6, and 9. I was their primary caregiver as a stay at home dad, ever since my first child was born in 2005. I lost my job and vocation in the fall of 1997, while working as an Electrical Engineer, due to a confluence of stressful events which led to me having a mental breakdown at the age of 34. After my "recovery" I began working construction finishing basements with my brother-in-law.
I didn't quite know it at the time, but this was the beginning of a faith crisis, which lasted quite a long time, as I tried to rescue Mormonism, then Jesus, then God. The more I read and explored, the worse the cog-dis became. I was on a fool's errand to try and discover the answers to questions that no one can really know, or to questions that should not be asked if you are trying to maintain your current paradigm.
Long story short, my mental episodes of mania which were predominantly God-Centered and trying to know the mind of God, felt like the holy ghost on steroids. They included visions, revelations, and visitations, heavy scripture study, recall, and association, and much prayer and "seeking". These all eventually terminated with me being admitted to the hospital and put out on heavy drugs to quell the neurotransmitters that were lighting up my brain.
Being manic is like a flow state pushed to the ultimate degree, and it involves a highly associative state of thinking, finding relations, connections, and correspondence between so many things. Your whole brain is lit up and working together. There are many A-ha!, seeming profound moments of realization, discovery coupled with extreme creativity and joy in my endeavors, and an over positive estimation of myself and others. I become trapped in my world of make believe and wishful thinking to such a degree that I can actually manifest things in reality, voices, visions. I'm highly emphatic, almost to the point of mind reading. And typically people are put in my path to help in some physical way. It all becomes very mystical... and I don't always make good decisions toward my self interests or protection. I trust people too much, give them too much credit for being like me - full of integrity and caring (warped theory of mind) - and get taken advantage of by deceitful low-lifes.
So as I said, these episodes were usually terminated with a visit to the psych ward for an extended stay. The drugs usually put me out mentally, feeling very tired, low, and catatonic. They not only bring me down to Earth, they bury me in it. It's such a sudden transition, that the loss of such joy, motivation, and understanding feels like a funeral, where you morn the loss of your higher, better, happier self as simply a delusion. Typically after a hospital visit I am severely depressed, which is only natural after being so high ... the pendulum swings both ways, but in the case of being drugged, it is yanked to the other side. I realize in this down to earth state, that if what I have experienced was crazy, explainable by neuroanatomy, brain chemistry, and cognitive biases (innate thinking errors that we all share, each to some degree), then religious thinking (belief in God or a higher power, agenticity) is simply mental illness at its core, cognitive error gone awry. I become an atheist, which reasoning then tempers to agnosticism.
So after 22 years together, and my continued struggle to try and find purpose and meaning, and to be happy in a world without god, or at least a world with no cognitive closure on the topic, my then wife had experienced enough of my struggles and asked for a divorce on the grounds that I had left our religion, and my diagnosis of Bipolar Illness (and another matter that is hers to discuss). She said, "If I had known you were mentally ill before we were married, there's no way in hell that I would have married you." My mental illness scared the hell out of her, making me in her mind completely unpredictable, and she amplified her fears to "worst case scenarios", without really trying to understand where I was. She didn't think of me as being in any form of control over the illness, no matter how I stayed on my meds and under a doctor's care, and she quit trusting me, talking to me, wanting to be around me, or associate with me or my ideas ... which only made my depression worse. I was basically alone in a loveless marriage. To her credit she hung on a long time, but finally cut the cord, after an episode that occurred while I was on my meds and under a "doctor's" care (APRN).
It was a case of bad doctoring. After getting a serious rash all over my body while being on Lamictal, The APRN took me off the drug cold turkey and told me to get to emergency care, where they treated me with prednisone, which is known to trigger manic episodes. That, drugs and doctors, and me staying on them, was her last bastion of hope, and when it crumbled is when she made up her mind to go ahead and divorce me.
She visited me at the hospital on the day I was to be discharged, with my sister, and told me she was divorcing me and that I was going to live with my sister Jenny. I had just awoken from sleep and being drugged, and was barely normal again. So I shrugged and said okay.
I was given a bed in a corner of an unfinished basement, and boxes to keep my personal items. Eventually Jenny moved me in with my mother due to my presence causing problems in her relationship. Her husband didn't want me there, due to my mental illness and their kids, and too, just the bother of having another person living there and taking up space in their fridge, driveway, etc.
After my mother died I had a job and was able to buy Julie out of my home (I bought it before I met her), which in hindsight was a mistake, based on nostalgia and an inability to move on, maybe even hoping that someday Julie would come back and we could repair all the damage and be happy together again ... talk about delusions and wishful thinking!
So I've been living alone for the past two years, in the home where I raised my kids and loved my wife. I see the kids on the weekends. But I am mostly alone, most of the time. I work as a technical writer for a good company, so I can pay the lights and mortgage and child support.
I've tried to date, and have even tried to be happy with the likely reality that no one would knowingly get involved with someone with a mental illness, as my ex was kind enough to tell me. I can't expect anyone to choose me knowing about my disorder, even when it is well managed, as it is now. Living alone actually taught me a lot about self reliance and self care, self love.
In my dating, informing someone of my diagnosis has been the beginning of the end. As my ex said, I don't think any woman in their right mind would knowingly get involved with someone who is bipolar. Life is hard enough already, why add to the drama? So after a few painful rejections upon being honest in the relationship at what I felt was the right time to disclose, I resolved myself that I was destined to be alone, and that I needed to make my peace with that.
I discovered marijuana at the age of 53, and used it in my solitude, in moments of both hope (joy) and sadness (despair), and it really helped me evaluate things from a dissociative, unattached, somewhat unemotional standpoint, where my judgement was honest, but kind, and I was able to evaluate my thoughts, and view the negative things in a light that they were useful and informative.
Now, I am mostly happy, and positive. I have abandoned the drive to know god and have made my peace with the high probability that there is none, and that I will cease to be when I die. It has caused me to cherish life. I blossomed when I left my faith, both intellectually and emotionally, and with the freedom to read and explore anything, I truly discovered who and what I am, and feel the freedom to explore any topic. I enjoy my alone time. I enjoy my autonomy to be and do, and think as I see fit without having to surrender to external judgement, guilt, shame ... all the tactics used by religion (and people) to "keep you in line" while they pillage your pockets, or otherwise USE you.
But, I know as an ape, I have a fundamental need for relationships, and a primary need for romantic love and companionship. I need oxytocin! I want someone to share my life with. This drive has caused me to start dating again, and after a recent date, I think I have discovered my error, and it has to do with discretion, and telling people things before they're ready to judge them fairly. It basically boils down to show, don't tell.
I am mentally stable. I have survived my long drawn out faith crisis, and I am "right" with god, no matter if he turns out to be real in any way. I survived my divorce, the death of my parents, the "loss" of my career (I'm working as a technical writer for an Engineering company). I am a motivated, kind, loving, passionate, trustworthy, truthful, hard working, resourceful, creative, intelligent, and happy person. My goal is to always be highly functional and engaged with my life, with my kids, with my job, and with my friends and family. I am okay now, and I owe a lot of it to the assistance of marijuana.
So bottom line, don't tell them about your condition, or about the drug you choose to treat it that is so disparaged. Ever! This is my personal cross to bear. As long as it does not affect them, and I am happy and functional within the normal bounds of human experience, what the hell should they care? They will only use it as a label to judge me. And my experience has shown that most human judgement is lacking and in error.
That's what I learned from my last first and last date. Discretion, and how you speak about and label yourself to others. Actions speak louder than words, and words before actions are often misjudged. Give them a chance to take a test drive, kick the tires, and experience you in life before you tell them about your mistakes, hardships, and challenges. I move way too fast, and disclose far too much for people to handle... especially when talking about my episodes.
After my date, and the rejection, which really took me for a surprise... I really expected to hit it off ... I called and discussed the aftermath with my friend Tony, and also my Sister in Law (to get a female perspective).
Oh my wise friends, may I learn to follow in their path of discretion, both about your and other's personal matters, in this world flooded with judgement, and most of it poor, or inadequate, to completely uninformed ... like condemning cannabis when you've never tried it. The internet has led us all to believe that we can share ourselves openly, proclaim our truth, be transparent, and we will be accepted, and even loved for being authentic and true to who we are .... That might be true in the setting of a broad audience, BUT, the feedback you are getting is heavily biased. People don't typically share negative things, especially if they are harsh. So the only people who are going to comment on your sharing are the ones who want to display that they are loving and kind to the "underdog exposing his or her belly". Others will see it as weakness, personal failing, and a crucial flaw in your character ... false attribution error. Many people do not understand mental illness, and think its just a matter of bad thinking that is within the person's ability to control. So it's your fault, you suck, you're being a wimp, etc.... but they would never say that on-line.
So it may be "true" online, that you can open up and talk about your issues and challenges, in a self positive vulnerable way. Everyone is posing so hard to present themselves in a way that gets likes and approval, and most people do not approve of negative things, so what you get is a very false picture of other people's lives, issues, and situations. It is incomplete. It is not the whole story. They hold back the bad stuff. They're discrete. This is how the human ape plays the game. Show your best side, always.
In real life, people are individuals, with prejudices and judgement based on their DNA and individual experience within their culture and within their unique upbringing .... sins of the farmers and all that rot. It also depends on their level of education and intelligence, their experiences, and how open they are to new experiences and to change their mind, adopt new ways of thinking, and also how they have interpreted past experiences, which is typically with their selves extracted, in cases of culpability or contribution when things go awry, and over estimating their influence and involvement when there is much winning...i.e confirmation bias and false attribution error, etc. I did it! I was instrumental! Nay, I was fundamental!
So basically what I'm saying is that a filter is needed, and it is best not to tell people things, especially mental illness things, and things that are so easily misconstrued and full of fear. Mental illness is the most pariah-ed category ever - outcast, persona non grata, leper, reject, untouchable, undesirable.
To me, my bipolar illness was a long drawn out faith crisis. It is an episode in my life that is over now. I have learned so much about the things I did not know about myself, my brain, my hsp and LLI, my traumatic infancy where I was lactose intolerant and malnourished and crying for the first 1-2 years of life, and how that makes me a bit neurotic and over analytical, and really upped my survival instinct (which is basically what god and religion boil down to). And I've learned how to quell my mind when it spins too hard. How to meditate, and practice self care, and monitor my thoughts from a loving but honest position. I have learned to deal with my need for cognitive closure, with thought distortions, and with self care and self talk (CBT). I am enough alone, and don't really need anyone to complete me, nor is it my responsibility to make anyone else happy or complete - that's their job. All I can do is do me, to the best of my abilities. I am no longer a pleaser. I am no longer swayed by others to act or behave in ways to "get along", or to meet expectations. I do not seek approval from others who know nothing about me, nor do they need to.
Ultimately, I am alone... and nobody needs to take care of me, or care about what I think, but me. I do not need to inform others, or share my thoughts about things that only serve to upset them. I have faced the cold hard facts, the mean and nasty ones, and have come away okay. I can survive rejection. Not everyone needs to like me, and I don't need to be perfect to be acceptable, both to myself and others. Many people do not want to walk my intellectual path, or read the books I've read that will certainly challenge their paradigms, and I should not put it on them. I was recently told by my wiser self, "Don't impose your self on others.", which I think also translates to, "You have the right to remain silent.
I have the right to privacy.
I have the right to remain silent... as I post this to a public blog. LOL
When I am on a future date I need to remember that I am on trial, and anything I say can be used against me, especially when dating jilted and jaded women who've been through hell in past relationships. I think it's different for women, and it's a miracle any of them are brave enough to even get out there again.
So, for roughly $8, which amounted to a Salad and a Bowl of Tomato Soup, I learned a very valuable lesson. I should not announce that I am an open book, and I should keep my mouth shut about my personal past, and especially about the wringer it put me through.
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