Stop me before I communicate again

I was a communication wiz at work today and I have Coach Phil Jackson to thank for my success. I remember Phil from when he was a forward with the New York Knicks who were coached by Red Holzman. For one glorious season, the Knicks were the NBA champs. Holzman’s secret: see the ball, hit the open man. They had a lineup filled with team players like Walt Frazier, Dave Debusschere, Willis Reed, Bill Bradley and of course Jackson.

Jackson developed his knowledge of strategy and tactics and went on to become the greatest NBA coach of all time. He wrote a book “Eleven Rings”  about his success. One of the greatest stories was about the year in which the Chicago Bulls, who Jackson was coaching, were going for their third straight championship and they were locked in a tight game with the Phoenix Suns. In the final possession the Bulls passed the ball all across the court, including players like Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan. With one final pass the ball went to John Paxson, and he got nothing but net.

Hearing that story put me in the mindset to say, I don’t care if I just say hello it’s about the team effort for the consumer. And so as we passed the ball at the office we had solid teamwork. So forgive me if I am communicating too much.

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Security

Becoming secure as a worker involves many  different aspects of our lives like learning to play well with others. You really do need to get along with others and be part of a team. There are teams wherever you work, no matter where you go. Even the blogger has readers. I have a few hundred, counting all the various sites people use to read me. I read other blogs and make comments on them. I notice that my following is increasing every week. If no one was reading I would just as soon go to an old notebook and write two hundred words in a journal.

My view of security is now sitting down and signing up for the Simple IRA offered by our agency.  I was looking into the process and found that I could easily live with the contribution limit. There is even a catch up amount of $2000 or so that I could contribute to make up for the years I was too poor to save money.

I was sitting down with my supervisor and thinking about how much I could afford to set aside each pay period. I want to be aggressive in directing the investments for my IRA while also following my values. I need to be able to afford retirement and feel good about my life. That is the next phase of my life: security. Happy landing.

Obviously this is not what I thought about when I started my work life. I thought about adventure, my ideals and the need to change the world. But having ideals doesn’t mean you have to live out your final years in nursing home cared for by minimum wage workers.

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Is it love or mania

I just saw an article in BP Magazine asking the question at the title of this blog. At the same time I found an envelope from an old girl friend. She was the one I had I went into the vets program. And looking back it was definitely mania. She was attractive, interesting, a Unitarian and a member of a little UU activist group I had set up. At the time, my life was falling apart and I was grasping at straws. So why not find a nice blond-haired woman to hang onto?

She had spent years in relationships with men who had mental illnesses. She appeared out of nowhere via yahoo messenger. I liked the idea of having her picture above my bed but there was no way it could have become anything long-term. She lived in the Boston area which could be brutally cold. She was caring for her elderly mother, who was living with dementia. She had survived far longer than one might have expected, given that her mother had taken some unfortunate pills in the 50s. Something called DES.

And she felt what she wanted to do was eat fat food, drink french wine and smoke french cigarettes. Eventually she hoped to live in Florida where it was warmer. It is hard to resist when mania sweeps you into its arms. There was someone here who actually loved me but I wanted the golden woman. My undiagnosed bipolar disorder presented differently top different people. I was deeply depressed at the state of my finances. My job and career had fallen apart. I was angry and hard to get along with. I was full of lust. And I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

Those of us who live with this disorder called manic depression have these kinds of episodes when we are struggling to cope with our shifting emotions before we are diagnosed and sometimes even after. I truly regret turning away from love but I am glad that I finally learned the reasons behind my behavior. I can truly say that I have been free of mania for many years despite some struggles with controlling my anger.

From my experience, if you can ask yourself the question, whether it is love or mania, it’s probably mania and you need to slow down your romantic and sexual impulses. Stop, the love may be your own.

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Collecting on my inheritance

NAMI claims that mental illnesses are biological brain diseases. Just recently my mother said that my sister had inherited her mental illness from mom. Mom had also passed along lupus to her two daughters. Which leads me to speculate what I inherited and from whom. But there is the statement promulgated by the women’s movement that biology is not destiny.

1. I inherited my dark complexion.

2. I inherited my height.

3. I inherited my drinking although I did not become an alcoholic.

4. I probably inherited some of my intelligence.

5. I inherited my eyesight (all of us wear glasses.)

6. I inherited my looks.

The question is, what did I do with them and how did they become me?

1. I probably inherited my hair from my father.

2. He might have been a drinker, according to mom.

Oops, I slipped back into the inheritance mode.

I believe that the time that I grew up and the things I saw my mother do going out to work often in hospital settings had a profound influence. I was not fated to be hospitalized but to be a helper for others.

My intelligence seems to be related to problem solving. When I was at my worst I could not sit down and think how I got into a problem and how I would be able to escape. The solutions that developed surprised me. I certainly had no idea about being a peer support specialist. The only mental health workers I knew about were social workers years ago.

My general health probably came from my mother, since I have lived far longer than my father.

But what did I do with those years? I don’t know where my writing originated. As a child, I wrote poetry, using pen and paper. Later I graduated to typewriters. But who would have thought I would be sharing my ideas over something called the Internet?

The scientists are hard at work trying to find the genes linked to various diseases, including mental illness. But I would not want to change even if I found out about the strange factors affecting my personality. I am better talking with people in the community than I was behind a library desk.

I am assured that every day will be different and the people I assist will respond in new ways. My co-workers will display new quirks. I will look at people’s strengths differently.  The next 30 years  and the last many years are all on me. Let’s see how good a poker player I can be. It’s not all in the genes.

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Bp Magazine

Every time I see a copy of  Bp I feel like they are writing about my life but I should be wary. It’s a very handsomely produced magazine with the kind of stories I would like to read. They write about the importance getting rid of clutter, finding your right job and financial stability. All of these are thing I have struggled with. The cover price is $7 . The magazine is a partnership with several mainstream mental health groups including NAMI, DBSA and Bring Change to Mind. I found a very discreet drug company ad at the back of one issue.

So committing to buy an issue or subscribe means that you have faith in the organizations that produce it. You feel that they are credible and the information, while it reflects their bias, will lead you to a positive recovery. I receive a lot of information from these groups and I also check out Mind Freedom, Beyond Meds and I used to listen to Madness Radio. To be honest I am working in the mainstream mental health field and I am a consumer of their services. Although I have a history of skepticism about medications and publish articles about the abuses of the drug companies I have tied my recovery to using their medications.

I think some of these mainstream mental health groups are also behind a magazine about schizophrenia that I picked up at the NAMI Wisconsin conference a few weeks ago. And I am planning to join a professional association for those who are assisting consumers working on employment. Especially since so much of my work is focused on this area.

This sounds like I am listening to a reggae song “Coming in from the Cold” which has a line “it’s you I’m talking to.” And an even more memorable line “Would you let the man take your sister? No, man, no. ” I am coming in from the cold and gradually letting go of my old fears because it’s me the mainstream mental health groups are talking to.

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Oh boy my case manager is here!

Yeah, right. I have been thinking about what a hard to find resistant consumer I was.Years ago when I received services from a veterans center I wanted as little to do with case managers as possible. I wanted to set up my standards for recovery. I found the job that eventually led me to my current position. But at the same time I resisted the duties that were assigned to me and was eventually dismissed from the center. In retrospect it was one of the best things that could have happened.

I think back to Bob Dylan’s religious song, Serve Somebody. There was a line that went “It may be the devil or it may be the lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” I was focusing on a girl friend I had in Boston. But instead I should have focused on trust. I should have told myself, “You’re gonna have to trust somebody.” As my life fell apart I was distrustful and tried to manipulate people.  When I became a peer specialist I saw people who were behaving just the way that I did. They had suspicions about their case managers and tried to hide away and develop their own recovery plans.

If their plans included drinking beer all day, so be it. Who were they serving? Themselves or some inner demons? I think back to a friend who participated in groups like NAMI and developed a warm and trusting relationship with a companion. But ultimately he died in the winter snow Who was he serving?

Ultimately my recovery has been based upon developing layers of trust. With consumers, the case managers and the upper management at our agency. I try to tread lightly when necessary as I intrude upon people’s lives because I realize that not too long ago, I was one of those hard to reach people. I have reached a critical mass of people who are getting positive results. It may be relapse or it may be recovery but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.

Whoa, allergies! and more

Well of course, there’s always more. It’s like the supposedly cute commercial where the children say, we want more, we want more. It leads you buy one of those horrible ATT products. But this time more is not always good.

So let’s start the story. I have been experiencing my annual spring allergies: itchy eyes, nose and having to take some medicine during the day to work. It was not too bad. But then there is the something more. This week a woman that I used to work with has been texting and trying to blow up my phone. I ignore a lot of these messages. Because I’m not ready for more. Less would be better.

More would be a girl friend to come home to. And PDAs: public displays of affection. Buying furniture and food together. Planning retirements. Those would all be nice but this is not the the time for it and she is not the woman.

I will do just fine signing up for my IRA next week. I will get the car tuned up and I will keep getting on with it.

Still it would be nice to have less allergy.

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