Shrink Me - the official blog for a new documentary by Chris Jaymes

Cleanliness Feels Significantly More Functional... Shit!?!?

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 19:35:00 +0000

So... as you've noticed the posts for Shrink Me have lightened over the past two weeks. The reason being is this... the idea for the documentary brought in a good amount of interest and budget, which means I had to slow down and get it properly functional since now other people's money is at stake. We now have a staff of doctors from Cedar's Sinai Medical Center who are going to be doing all of the testing, but in order to properly assess everything I first have to get clean. So, it's been almost two weeks off of the pharmaceuticals and now I begin doing a few simple detoxes to properly assess. I'm leaving town for the next week and the following week we begin.

The first few days off of Depakote was pretty awful. I was engulfed in a less-than-subtle heaviness which filled my head with flashes of less-than-warm images, mostly surrounding the idea that my physical body could die at any point and probably sooner than later. Pushing through that was a bit of a challenge, though I did my best to hide the weight of it from those surrounding me and strangely enough, the one person I opened up to explained that they had no idea, as I seemed better than I had been. It's shocking how much what you think you are projecting outwardly doesn't necessarily relate to what you are actually projecting... or more accurately I think, what you project is interpreting from everyone outside you much differently than it actually is.

The most awful and somewhat embarrassing thing that occurred those first three days off the medication was something I hate actually admitting to people. It was something that started happening to me off and on about a year and a half ago that seemed to disappear about eight or nine months ago. I don't even like mentioning it because I feel so bad about it, but here's what it is... At certain points in conversations with people who were very sweet, very gentle and somewhat fragile or frail, I would be in mid-conversation and without any doing of my own, images would pop into the forefront of my mind, just between myself and the person I was interacting with. The images were... well, there's no nice way of saying it... I'd punch their face. And, not gently. I would basically pummel them in a fraction of a second without the 'me' part participating at all. It was awful, and again, always the sweetest nicest people. They'd be speaking and these images would shoot through my brain and completely distract me from the conversation. With all of my most determined, caring energy I would try to eradicate the image of me smashing some sweet little old lady's face, or my doctor, or dentist, and try to shake it out of my head. The worst part was that I was so scared that they might be picking up these feelings and seeing something in me that wanted to punch their faces, and the truth is... I wanted nothing of the sort. I wanted to be as sweet and gentle to them as they were to me.

How are you supposed to read into an action like that? I hate sweetness? Don't feel I deserve it? I'm sure their is some fascinating explanation, but honestly, I could give a shit less as to why, I just want it to stop. So... for the first three days this occurred constantly and then... it was gone.

And since then, I have felt better than I can remember and everyone around me is actually confirming that they've noticed as well. The shit part of it all is this... I still have to go through with the documentary experiment as now there is support for it and a group of people working on it. Now, I have to drug up again and have to risk stirring all of this shit up again or cancel the film and return the money. Can't do that? It's the first film I've made in years and it's kind of an important subject. Not only that, we have our first interview in two days with this famous Sufi healer who is touring the country while people come to meditate around him and he is coming to my house for an interview. We've already got $60k worth of equipment given to us and I have to accept that this is what I'm doing, so that's why there hasn't been a lot of posts this past week. I'll be back in a week and a half and the following week we start shooting and doing all of the investigative reporting and interviewing so it will be fun and interesting, but I am somewhat hesitant about taking these pills at this point, so... that's that. Thoughts anyone??

Get To It Already...

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sat, 24 May 2008 10:22:00 +0000

The past weeks there has been a lull in my reports as I have been intensively preparing for the intensive part of production to begin as we will be beginning the more intensive shooting, traveling and interviewing within the next two weeks. I have held off beginning the part of the process where I begin taking the mixture of medications that have been prescribed to me while assembling the team of doctors that will be monitoring the progression that my body and brain will encounter. The reality of what I am about to embark on has surfaced and brought about a number of fears, insecurities and questions.

What am I doing and why? Do I believe that I am as physiologically impaired as this doctor has suggested? Do I want to expose myself, my brain and body to what in some reports have the capacity to do irreversible damage to my body and brain? In short... I don't honestly know. I know that sustaining a consistency within myself is challenging. I know that I have tried with everything in me for an extremely long time without overwhelming success. I know that I have let myself down in numerous ways over my lifetime and that I have failed certain people in my life, not living up to what I know I could have, and yet... do I really believe that this is the answer? That I will find salvation in a prescription drug. At this point, I don't believe that anything will bring salvation aside from myself however I am willing to try this path. Am I somewhat skeptical and afraid? Absolutely. So why go through with it?

When I initially came up with the idea to make this film, it was inspired by receiving the initial assessment that overwhelmed me... that I was bipolar, ADD, OCD and had a paranoid personality disorder, but even more inspiring was the packets of samples handed over to me and the lack of explanation given to me while I was told how many of each pill to take and sent out the door. I thought to myself... Your average person would walk away and trust what that doctor said without questioning anything further, take their pills and hope for the best. My skepticism didn't allow that and I questioned everything and began open up every door I possibly could to understand what I was getting into which led me to the realization that we are living in a world where more people are medicated than ever before. More people are being prescribed anti-depressants than any other type of drug and yet, the research has not proven overwhelmingly effective, aside from the fact that you are more prone to suicide on an anti-depresants than off of one.

The further I looked the more confusing it became. Overwhelming success stories and overwhelming failures. Why? Maybe because the tests used to assess depression and ADD are so general that both Jesus and Celine Dion would most likely be summarized as a SEVERE-EXTREME candidate for both and if you wind up walking into an office where the doctor doesn't look at you as an individual and read between the lines, you will be stamped and categorized prematurely and before you know it, living a pharmaceutically dependent life.

For some, I believe this may be extremely helpful. For others, detrimental. The film we are making is not about how I feel in every moment of every day and which pill feels like what... that is my own journey and sets me in a solid position to be your guide, but what I am interested in uncovering is why we have become a society so dependent on external assistance to find what we are looking for. To uncover why we are so willing to ingest chemicals with such unpredictable and potentially damaging side effects to carry out a hopeful and somewhat desperate search for happiness. Why do we all seem to feel that it should feel better than it does?

These past weeks of talking to tons and tons of people about what we are doing has filled me with so many questions, as the reactions have ranged from overwhelming support to passionate rage that it shouldn't be done. People encouraging me with their success stories while others implanting the deepest fears into me that the chemicals I am ingesting are a poison that cannot be undone. These are the questions we are faced with and the stigma that surrounds the idea of medication for mental stability. We are being sold that these drugs can 'change our lives' and yet, no one wants to admit that their on it, when more than 1/5 adults in America are all on something. Each person I speak to about it, has a story. People I have known for years have never told me that they have been on medication for years until I brought it up. It's time to bring clarity to what we are dealing with and it's time to alleviate the stigma and learn when is the right time and when they should be avoided. How to properly handle the subject with a healthy caution.

Have I been more stable since being on Depakote? Absolutely. Was that because of taking the drug or was it simply the idea of taking the drug? Was it because my life has recently changed and my load has become excessively lighter than it was this previous year? Is it because I am working on this project and recording and playing music for the first time in years? There is no way of knowing without isolating each event, but that is not possible in our average day so all you can do is feel it out and make your best guess.

In all honesty, my moods shift all over the place, my focus is still challenged in every direction, I experience emotional pain and anger and stress and self worth issues constantly, so it's not that so much has changed, but there is something that allows me to move through things just a slight bit easier. That said, I'm also staying at a dosage of Depakote that is far below the therapeutical levels required, so at this point everything is premature. However, that will be changing shortly. I will not be upping my dosage until we begin shooting full time, most likely two weeks from today, at which point... it should be a good ride.

Stick around... we will be posting video blogs, pod casts as well as, a live internet radio show that will be scheduled for a few days a week with a variety of amazing guests and it should be a good time. In the meantime, thanks for the overwhelming support that you have all been giving and for all of the ideas you've been sending in. There will be some significant changes over the next month as the blog shifts to a fully functional media driven site.

Enough for now and again... we're moments away!! Talk soon.

A Shit Moment...

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Wed, 21 May 2008 02:59:00 +0000

Moments... we seem to live our entire existence based on moments. Moments that standout for one reason or another... moments that stand as highlights that we use to summarize a previous year, a previous relationship or career and we discredit all of the surrounding moments that are seemingly less poignant. If you took a vacation to Mexico five years ago and the entire trip was pleasant until day five when you chose to grab a quick chimichanga from a street vendor and spent the rest of the night on a toilet and the following day quietly attempting to remove the disgruntled look from your face while cautiously taking your seat at the table, there is a solid chance you will forever summarize Mexico with those moments. The more extreme the moments the stronger the association, be it good or bad.

There is a constant pressure placed on how I am feeling at the moment... there is a constant observation of the moment to moment shifts that naturally occur... almost an unfair pressure for some sort of motion, either feeling better and more stable, or worse, numb and disconnected. Watching my thoughts and feeling my feelings from a position perched just up and behind myself, a question comes to mind...

"What is it that I'm wanting to feel?"

Generally, the response to these kind of questions are extremely general.

"I want to feel good... I want to feel happy... I want to feel loved... and successful... and that I like myself... and confident... and healthy."

But any one of those adjectives are really just a reference point reaching towards something from before... a feeling that has been felt in a given moment in a given circumstance that you are now hoping to recreate or re-experience. A state of being you want to live within instead of occasionally visit.

So, basically if I'm hearing myself correctly, you're telling me that I am unfairly judging the whole of my life by an occasional feeling I've felt in certain moments and placing those feelings as markers that I now use to gauge my current state of happiness, or lack thereof?

Yes... that's what I'm telling you.

Well, doesn't that seem a bit like I'm setting myself up for an extensive amount of self-judgment based on ideals that can't be sustained.

I'm not saying they can't be sustained.

Then what are you saying?

I'm saying that your only looking at the peak of the feeling within the given moment. You're not accounting for the whole of the situation.

How do I do that?

By remembering all of the moments and feelings inbetween, since...

Um... since... those moments are much more telling and cover much more time then the peaks?

Sort of...

Hey... I thought you were bipolar and ADD, not schizophrenic.

Don't forget OCD and paranoid.

Right. But not schizophrenic.

Not that I'm aware of, but I wouldn't rule it out. I have to bring it up to the psychiatrist before we can rule it out.

Wouldn't the psychiatrist have brought it up to you?

Not necessarily.

But... if you were...

Let's not get off track. The point is... moments are just moments. Just because you shit your pants all day in Mexico, doesn't mean that Mexico is a shitty place where everyone who goes there shits their pants. And because you didn't necessarily feel all that perky for those moments, doesn't mean you didn't feel good the whole time.

I don't get it.

What?

I never shit my pants in Mexico.

It's a bad example, alright... I'm just saying... We base so much on how we're feeling at that one specific moment and then use it to base our standards, but we forget about all of the real time, the life time inbetween, but the inbetween is really all that matters, as the majority of our lives seem to be spent in the inbetween. I can't help to base my good feeling times on those highlights in my life... I can't help but to judge a relationship by the highlights... good and bad... but would you ever say watching the highlights on the news compares in any manner to actually witnessing the entire... real thing.

So, you want me to pay attention to how I feel when I'm feeling normal and try to base things off of being normal? Why would I want to be normal?

No, that's not what I'm saying.

So, what are you saying? What are you saying?

Nothing. Forget it.

Do you not feel good now?

I feel fine.

Day 24 - Mis-Construed Reality

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Wed, 07 May 2008 03:09:00 +0000

It has been the first time I have treated a weekend as a weekend since I can recall and I am obviously not capable of doing so. It's now Tuesday and I'm barely getting started with the productivity I ended the week with and have spiraled down into a place that now I have to beat myself out of to re-momentum-ize. The pills are not necessarily making it easier... or maybe they are? That's the challenging thing to decipher. What the hell are they doing? That depends who you ask. I have one friend that helped my confidence plummet as he explosively confirmed...

"Oh my God, they're working. Such a difference. Last time we met, you left the meeting and we all looked at each other wondering if you were on amphetamines. You were all sweaty and wouldn't stop talking and yeah... they're working."

"Right... thanks."

And for the next three days, that statement lived in my head. Recurring thoughts ruminating over how insane I've appeared without having any awareness of my previous appearance for how long in my life? How many people have been perceiving me in such a manner? And what the hell are they seeing me as? An imbecelic and somewhat deranged water hog crossbred with an aneroxic, amphetamine-driven wild boar with the mouth of Ritalin-induced goose? Okay cool. I guess maybe I should stay on these things then, huh?

And that drives my curiosity further... I begin questioning the people that I feel safe enough to expose my narcissistic speculation and it all points at the same thing. Over the past year, I seemed like a fucking lunatic. Why? Lost my grasp. Why? Relationship demands beyond my capacity... beyond my ground... beyond my logic, my fear, my confidence, my everything, but driven from a desire to make it work, similar to a diabetes patient's desire for glucose or a bipolar person's desire for lithium... it was massive, but beyond my scope. So, I started to collapse and here we are. That's what love will do. If you look at the distraught moments of your life, how many of them are caused by a relationship? Hard to talk about antidepressants without bringing love and relationships into it... we'll get into it, but for now...

Do I notice a difference? When I have a good day, I think it's helping. When I have a bad day, I think it's not. Hard to say this early on... but I think I'm not scaring people away as intensely as I was a few months back, but that's something people don't tell you until much later.

Day 23 - The Hand-feet of a Hamster

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sat, 03 May 2008 20:24:00 +0000

Day 23 - Hamster Hands or Feet?

Talked to a friend today who was having a tough time with a cyclical issue that consistantly returns surrounding her career. A huge amount of work spent with overwhelm accomplishment that she succeeds to pull off while those surrounding her tend to get the credit and the reward. When something is so cyclical and recurring there is no denying that you are creating it, that you in some way have decided that this is how it will be and until you understand the crappy agreement you have allowed yourself to settle for, the contract you have made with yourself to say... 'Yes, this is how it'll be for me... I'll take it.' You will continue to succeed at fulfilling this unconsciously accepted goal. You may not want it or like it in any manner and wish so desperately for it to be different, but that is irrelevant as you have scarred yourself with this subconscious tattoo that will continue to live on inside of you.

The conversation started with that customary greeting of 'how's it going' and was responded to with that response that we tend to hear so often.

"Same shit."

A few reaffirming sentences validate the commraderie of living in that state.

"Same shit, just a different pile" as another friend said to me the previous day. Somehow that quickly stimulated something along the lines of... "Like a hamster on a treadmill." And then it hit me.

The feet of a hamster seem more like hands, don't they? Kind of? The hamsters I remember holding years ago seemed to have long, lanky toes that were more like stiff little fingers. I started imaging those little hand-feet (we'll call them) having to grab onto whatever it was that they were walking on, with every step. Then I began to realize that those spinning wheels that they run on are not your average treadmill, as they are generally constructed with lots of cross bars instead of a flat surface. A human running on a treadmill just clomps along, thoughtlessly pounding upon the spinning surface, but for a hamster it's not so simple. They don't have big flat soles pushing the bars of their treadmill, but instead their little hand-feet have to grab onto each passing bar with meticuluous precision again and again and again without allowing their legs to fall between the cracks. And it's not like those bars are moving slowly, usually you can feel the winds a few feet from the cage. Not only that, but the bars are passing within an inch of their eyes, distorting and blurring anything in front of them. It's an extremely demanding task on the hamster's entire being... imagine it... It's like if you were forced to cross a mile long river hanging from monkey bars that were actually train tracks and the train was just behind you forcing you to travel at the speed of an amphetamine.

Grab... grab... grab... grab, grab, grab, grabgrabgrabGRABGRABGRABGRABGRABGRABGRABGRABGRAB... and you can't see shit, but you don't feel safe closing your eyes. Focus, focus, focus... the world is spinning in front of you, precision grabs, don't slip, don't let up or you're fucked... and... whew... nice one. Let's go stick our nose on this metal ball over here so some water can spill on my face and I'll try to swallow a bit of it before it gets dried up by the chemically-manufactured bits of crap they've covered my floor with making it so I can't see where to avoid walking on all the shit I've made over the past four days since they last cleaned my cage.

I think these hamsters may not be getting the credit they really deserve. Honestly, at the end of the day, how often do you hear people commending hamsters for what they go through? But then again, at the end of the day... they are just hamsters.

Day 22 - Key Avoidance

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sat, 03 May 2008 19:26:00 +0000

Knowing that I had been given free reign to some degree to guide myself through the two weeks between the appointments with my psychiatrist, I did everything possible to avoid taking the next step. Truth be told, I am waiting on some camera equipment to arrive so we can be shooting what happens with the proper format, instead of winding up with a bunch of various video to forcibly mush together at the end. I guess the best way to put it is... the measuring is momentarily getting in the way of the measurement. But only for a minute. In the meantime, I will continue to avoid Lithium while cutting my dosage on the Depakote. Something I am taking liberty on for the sole purpose of prolonging the shooting that will happen. After that, I promise that I will not inhibit the momentum and I will not be taking liberty of any kind to alter the results and will stick to the absolute, unbending recommendations of the psychiatrist, or at least, stick to what I believe an average person would do. An average person. Such an insignificant statement that seems to be used far too much. What the hell is an average person? I can only postulate, however I find it hard to believe that a single person reading this thinks they fall into that category, yet all studies are based on that equivocal 'they' or 'them'.

Understood. Average is a basis of meshing a number of variables together to find the middle point and that the only way to deal with research aside from on an individual basis, however if your average is being taken from a pilgrimage of cerebral palsy engulfed pygmies how applicable is it to me and even if that same study was done on people just like me, how can you be assure that I don't view them as cerebral palsy engulfed pygmies and demand not to be associated with such an entourage of equivocal 'theys'.

This is an important piece of perspective that we forget on a moment-to-moment basis. We (a generalization based on my idea of the average 'we') seem to take for granted that information coming from external sources, be it the Internet, the television, the Gossip magazine or your friend's mouth, is immediately factual. The idea that the majority of information 'we' receive (in my generalized perspective) comes from an elongated line of interpretation doused with biased and impulsive opinion prior to arrival and yet, we thoughtlessly accept it as truth.

If it's in writing, and especially if that writing is written by someone we don't know... it must be true. If someone on television speaks, then it's unquestionable fact, even if it is reiterated as dialogue in a fictional movie, we believe... without looking further that it is relevant. We have been trained not to ask questions, not to look further, not to remember that very little of what is being presented is being done prematurely or with an agenda for marketing something that in some way will be serving some other party. And my point... Avoidance.

I don't really want to talk about feelings or emotions or what I've been going through, or look deeper into the alterations of energy or numbness that has been imposed upon me by the recent medication I've been ingesting... instead, I am harping on the idea that we will spend days and weeks researching our new computers, our iPods, our iPhones, customizing MySpace pages and circling the things we see in magazines... We will spend hours in the mirror making sure our packaging is proper and days obsessing about how it's not, but when it comes to putting pills into our body, we just shut the fuck up and swallow.

Everyone knows that there is a side effect to everything and everyone understands that someone is profiting off of our selective ignorance, but we quickly turn the cheek and head onward with the hopeful determination to find an out that may actually work.... an out that will lighten the load of responsibility that we have been granted without ever requesting... the responsibility to be a functional and happy and productive individual and somehow believe without question that we... on our own... as individuals... are enough.

I am enough. Do I believe that?

It's far too ambiguous for my acute thought process to comprehend. It opens eternal hallways with doors that lead to eternal hallways, each with another image of what that means. Of what I am and am not, of what I was or will be. And within seconds, the spinning spirals and the halls become stairwells with bubbling-mirrored walls reflecting distorted images of yourself and your projected uncertainty, much like the mirrors in the Carnival Fun House that contort and twist while you stand on a metal circle that spins slowly with an occasional jerking twist.

When I get myself lost within this labyrinth of noisy, yet innocent deception I tend to be left with only a single option. Avoidance. The alternatives are stay lost within yourself and suffer... find the strength to pull out... or avoid it. No one wants to continue to suffer and if we had the strength to pull out, we probably wouldn't have got lost in the noise to begin with. So there we are, inside ourselves and in that moment, and on comes a commercial for a medication that makes a case claiming that somehow it might actually give me some assistance in lightening my load and somehow it might even make things better. And all I have to do is swallow it? What moron would say no? Because how do I know it can't be better? How do I know it won't work? How do I know what you're feeling doesn't feel better than what I'm feeling? There are a lot of moments where it sure seems like it could feel better. Is it supposed to be this way? Is it me? What's wrong with me? Maybe something is wrong. And so on...

Anyway, I'm avoiding the lithium and sticking to the Depakote until the new cameras arrive and that's just the way it has to be for a moment.

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The Life of Lithium

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sat, 03 May 2008 08:43:00 +0000

Okay, so... since Lithium is pretty much the oldest drug used as a mood stabilizer I guess we should give it the respect it deserves and get to know it just a touch before ingesting it, right? Now, I should make clear that these history lessons should be thought of more as lesions than lessons, as I don't have a research team working with me at the moment and I only have so much patience cross checking information... but here we go...

At the end of the 1700s, the miners and the scientists came out of the ground with a mineral called petalite which contained Litium, however it wasn't isolated to stand independently on it's own until the early 1800s when electrolysis was imposed upon what is now known as lithium oxide. And just to clarify, these Swedish scientists were not attempting to remove the hair from these minerals as these fall into the category of non-hair-growing minerals, and this form of electrolysis is when you stimulate decomposition by introducing the liquid or solid to an electric current. Hello electricity... Hello what is now called Lithium Oxide, since we have not yet isolated Lithium... Let's meet up and make Lithium cause maybe it'll help people with their manic moods... and so here we are.

Before we get too far with this, I feel like I should mention that there is also a company called Lithia Springs Mineral Water who claim that in the mid-1800s the spring that they pull water from was used by a few doctors because of it's high lithium content to treat alcoholism, opium addiction and other key issues that I'm hoping to face at some point in the near future, so I suppose I should hurry and get my order in when they start accepting them this summer.

Now, the real clincher of exciting knowledge... Lithium comes from the Greek word 'lithos' which means 'stone' seeing as it was the only element in Group 1 of the periodic table that was from a mineral, where the other two common elements, sodium and potassium were discovered from plant sources. The only thing more exciting than that is that Lithos is also a typeface made to resemble the geometric letterforms of Ancient Greek engravings and an article I found written in that typesetting went on to discuss the views that Ancients Greeks (or at least some of them) had towards mental illness, and a good majority of them viewed it as possession from evil spirits and used exorcism, which in some instances used physical beatings in attempts to drive the spirits away. That said... would it be safe to say that one way to view Lithium nowadays might be that your psychiatrist has tossed you a stone to throw at your demons?

So then, from what I gather... our scientists got to work and throughout the late 1800s used lithium to treat a number of issues because they found it was effective at breaking down uric acid. The most common disease being doused with miniscule bits of lithium at the time was gout, a disease where your body cannot properly metabolize uric acid, causing arthritis in the smaller bones in your feet (but not limited to those bones). Uric acid was the Serotonin of it's day in a way (popularity, I mean) and was blamed for many disorders, one of those being manic depression. Apparently, a few doctors began using lithium to treat 'mania' throughout the 1870s, (mania being the manic state of bipolar disorder) as it seemed to sedate the patient from experiencing these hyper-enthusiastic states of sweaty-forehead coated euphoria. So, on the one hand, lithium was being used to treat arthritis in the body and on the other, trying to induce arthritis in the mind. Seeing that the pharmaceutical industry couldn't patent that gentle little silvery-white metal known as atomic element #3, a significant budget was never spent on research and lithium began suffering from abandonment issues of it's own until the mid 1900s.

In 1949, John Cade so couragously began using extracts from pee that he took from schizophrenic patients and injecting it into rodents hoping to isolate the culprit agent that was causing that socially unacceptable behavior. In experiments such as these, do you think that in order to see if one specific rodent seems to detach from reality to embrace a delusional, fantasy driven world, do you first need to spend time getting to know the rodent in order to properly observe the transformation? If not, how do you truly gauge the schizophrenia they are acquiring from the pee injections? And if they do seem upset, could it be justified that most anyone might get upset if someone was peeing IN them. Unfortunately, Cade didn't succeed at transforming the rodents' ideological perception of themselves, but he did confirm that an isolated lithium ion tranquilized the rodents, and that was that. He began treating hospitalized patients and published the first paper to be written on the use of lithium in the treatment of acute mania. In 1970, the use of lithium was actually approved by the Food and Drug Administration, regardless of the fact that no one really knew why it worked. That didn't come until 1998.

Researchers based out of the University of Wisconsin came to the conclusion that lithium promoted glutamate stabilization. What is glutamate? A key molecule in cellular metabolism. Without getting too far gone with tons and tons of information, for now just think of it as this... glutamate needs to travel through the brain from neuron to receptor to keep things functioning nicely. Too much glutamate between neurons gives you mania, too little gives you depression. Lithium helps regulate and stabilize this, like a car wash for the roadways, only the suds seem to bind the car to the middle lane. Or at least, that's what everything seems to say. Personally, I can't confirm any of this as I haven't started taking it yet, but it's coming and the more I learn about it, the more my nerves seem to sputter and splinker and splunket. Lots of unfeigned sp-ing. Sort of like that nervousness you feel when the hooker jumps off from her straddle and rips the condom off of you, screaming out with earnest passion... 'I just want to feel you'. There's an underlying fear-engulfed excitement, but the ambiguity of what's to come slightly inhibits the enjoyment of your otherwise harmonious union. Or at least, something close to that.

There are a lot of warnings and side effects and 'causes of death' (more in the early life of the drug) that have occurred, but there are also a lot of success stories, so who would want to miss out on those odds? You are supposed to have blood tests and thyroid tests and a few other tests before using it, and then again every few months being on it. Did my psychiatrist demand that I do that prior to taking it? Of course not. Did yours? How often do they? Sadly, the inconvenience of taking the blood test would put off most people from taking the drug and is it really worth the risk of losing another taker who will most definitely be successfully sedated from that awful state of mania? I have to stop now, I'm prematurely judging and my banter is just that until I have proven different by putting some time in on the drug. Start soon. Can't Wait?

Day 21 - Insignificantly Functionals Please

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Thu, 01 May 2008 16:34:00 +0000

Day 21

Alright, so another day has passed and behind it all, I have managed to understand the cliche that you always tend to hear... I am not excited about much, I am not depressed about anything, I'm just sort of here and could easily pass through the day with my feet up and a drink in hand. Don't feel much of anything good or bad. In my opinion, that is not a result that anyone should be yearning for unless you are in a state of chronic depression that doesn't allow you to rise from the drool your face is engulfed in. Nominal-to-no joy or enthusiastic drive can't be what we're so desperately yearning for.

Each day that passes with this feeling (probably five so far) leaves me more unsettled as I feel as if life is passing with no given meaning. This feeling could or should lead to depression, not salvation or liberation, or an idea of success within yourself or in your life, however I feel absolutely capable of sitting in this purgatory from one side of my mind while the other side taps gently with a subtle... 'hello... hey over there... what are you doing?'

Doesn't it seem that anti-depressants would mean absolutely that? Anti? Not subpar... or subtly-lighter... or slightly-numbed... but anti!! Anti means opposing, the opposite of, reversing or undoing, acting as a rival... If I think of the opposite of depressed I think uplifted, euphoric, inflated and so far what I find more than anything is somewhere in medical school they skipped over the definition of the prefix anti-, as all of these people that have been successfully aided, don't seem anti-depressed, at best, they seem zombied or flat or insignificantly functional. How about that?

'Hi... I am here to get a prescription for some Insignificantly Functionals, cause my friend says they're really working for him. I don't feel that bad most of the time, but there are definitely days where I'd love something that might help me feel a bit more Insignificantly Functional.'

At least that description might be a bit more honest then ANTI-depressant. It seems the researchers got results far too quickly with early tests of Lithium as a sedatitve and gravitated toward accomodating that side of the bipolar-ness in depressed people, but generally doesn't it seem that the real issue is not so much the up side of the BI- but the down? How many people come into their Shrink or Therapist session complaining...

'Oh fuck... I just... I don't know. I'm just so energetic and motivated and I don't want to sleep because I'm so manic. The inspiration drives me to forget to eat and sleep because I have such a strong desire to get everything done.'

Not so much. The issue is with the down. The side of the BI- that resonates a feeling more resemblant to death. The side that doesn't want to start the day, that feels hopeless, that finds unproductivity to be surpassed by the successful completion of each exhalation, as another inhalation is about to begin and it might be somewhat exhausting. Doesn't it seem like that side should be the side we become determined to drive away? Don't get me wrong... I understand the idea of regulation, and that removing the function or misfunction... or the dysfunction that occurs to create the manic is a proven tactic which can help diminish the degree of the 'down' in those patients that are decrepit-ly down... but, let's be honest... Do you think the 90+% of people ingesting these subtly-researched gems of hope that are not living in that state of decrepit-ly down are looking to be numbed or are we looking to be the opposite of depressed? Possibly, we need to re-evaluate the labeling system that is currently in place and possibly... this rant comes after a few minutes of researching Lithium and knowing that it's success is more as a sedative than something that will be lifting me closer to vibrating joyous euphoria, and... I guess I'm a bit resentful that I'm going through with it, but I have committed to the project so I will have to stop whining and push forward with my own secret euphoria that will live just under the surface of my newfound friend... Lithium. Lithium. When I say that word a number of times in my head it quickly becomes not a word and I begin to wonder if the initial chemist who named Lithium was actually saying Lissium but had the misfortunes of a bad lisp.

I somewhat begrudgingly look at the information and get a subtle anxiety of what I may experience and grow skeptical. Actually, not true. Not completely skeptical. If I'm honest, there is a slight voice that I never want to validate or admit to. This voice is hopeful and in actuality... Every new drug sparks a newfound alluring hope that maybe this next gel cap is the one that holds the mystical key to the life that I've been waiting to begin.

Alright then so... If you read the posts from a few days ago, you would see that my psychiatrist was ready to switch tactics last Friday upon my acceptance, and now I'm ready. Tonight, I will drop down to 750mg of Depakote and then tomorrow I will go down to 500mg while adding 300mg of Lithium. So what the hell is that gonna do? Lithium...

I will do a quick post about the history of Litium later today, as enough is really enough sometimes and it's our job to know when.

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Day 20 - The Myth of Serotonin - The Birth of Prozac

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 23:10:00 +0000

Day 20
Jesus Christ... I can't even remember to take the f***ing pill. Each day it seems to grow further and further away from my memory regardless of the fact that I'm consumed with a project surrounding taking the damn things. It seems that once tasks pass over that initial 'new' phase, they quickly fall into the category of regulatory day-to-day tasks that I have very-little-to-no desire to do. It's not even that I have a simple lack of desire, it's that my awareness blocks it out so intensely that it becomes a non-existent task within my day. Anything regular seems to be disregarded and avoided as I am constantly in search of something new and whatever the new thing seems to be within a given day, is the thing that I am focused and impassioned about. This would work to some degree in a time where my only responsibility was to bring in fish for the family or if I was satiated in an adundance of such wealth that thoughtlessness was supported, but now in this reality. In this reality, it is unacceptable, unattractive, unimpressive, un-, un-, un-...ethical even?

Anyway, I jumped up and threw 1000mg into my mouth for the fourth or fifth time and started the day slowly. Motorcycle ride down to the Coffee Bean. An hour of reading and writing and I came upon some amazing stories about the insignificant research that was done in the 60s which spawned the whole idea that Serotonin was a key component to mood stability or even worse... happiness. Not sure what your take on Serotonin is, but my uneducated idea of it was that it was the chemical the brain secretes that stimulates the feeling of happiness, the thing that Ecstasy stimulates and Prozac regulates.

That's what my take on it was, but without going into heavy detail, the Serotonin theory was placed on the map in the early 60s which came from a book called 'Recognizing the Depressed Person'. The research done was quite minimal, however in the 50s they found that a drug called Marsilid was not only helping the lungs of tuberculosis patients, but also helping their heads. They were apparently dancing in the halls with a euphoric joy and no one understood why. They spent some time trying to understand what the Marsilid was doing and came to the conclusion that it was preventing the brain from secreting the enzyme responsible for breaking down Serotonin. What was Marsilid... a derivitive of hydrozine... What was hydrozine... a volatile alkaline liquid used in WWII to fuel German V-2 rockets, as well as, to make Marsilid for the patients at Sea View Hospital in New York.

This stimulated the drug companies to go after the idea that mental illness of this sort might actually be a chemical imbalance instead of a psychological issue and Merck bought 50,000 copies of the book to distribute throughout the prescribing doctors. In the meantime, they got to work on the Serotonin theory, which a very simplified version could be as follows... Serotonin was thought to act as a connector between the neural transmitters in the brain and the receivers around the brain and body. The potential issue was that, in some people, a part of the brain cell known as the 'reuptake pump' was overactive with it's capacity to clean up the available serotonin, leaving the receptors understimulated, leaving the person... depressed. Possible solution... find a way to leave the serotonin there. How did they go about it? You don't want to know... it's vile and prehistortic and well... basically, they injected rats with potential agents that might inhibit the serotonin absorption. At which point, they would grind up and blenderize the rat's brain hoping to find an agent that caused the left the serotonin alone and they did. What was it? Prozac. And that was that... our nation was well on it's way to becoming a society hopeful for an answer that would relieve them from taking responsibility for themselves. But my God... if you can't even remember to take the pill, is there actually any hope? I guess that's where the ADD comes in? Technically, shouldn't I be taking that pill first so that I can remember to take care of myself in all the other ways?

Alright, I know that was a lot of information and not necessarily fun, so... I'm gonna leave you with just that for today, but on a personal note. Can't say there is any progress over here... I'm still sort of a flatline... there is a bit of blockage on experiencing that bright, glowing drive that I sometimes have for life... everything is sort of acceptable... which in my opinion is unacceptable. The spark in me is something I want and makes me feel alive and I will tough out this experiment, though there is a sensation of guilt in me that feels like I am sort of failing myself in certain ways by spending time inside of these illusory boundaries that I seem to be swimming within.

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Day 19 - Logic Vs. Emotion pt. 1

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 20:07:00 +0000

Day 19
Alright, so again... here we are, another day passing and I'm still lacking any significantly enjoyable vibrating life essense. I am fine, not lacking any thoughts or feelings, but they all seem to be a bit muted. I get subtle bursts of enthusiasm for the work I'm doing on this project, but the overall feel of the day seems to lack the drive that I tend to feel when things are good.

My biggest question of the day is surrounded by questions of parenting, as my friend came by with her kids, ages four and seven, I think and I watched them switch from excitement to tears to anger to smiling. Each thought, each emotion lasting for no more than it was entertained. If a tear came and it was embraced by the parent, it would sustain. However, if it was not credited it would quickly pass and move onto the next moment. This seems to be very much what we do to ourselves. A feeling arises and if we can't seem to avoid embracing it, if we feed it with an iota of attention, it will sustain and potentially even expand. The more we feed it, the larger it becomes, the longer it sustains. I guess the simple trick is to realize that nothing we feel actually means that much and that we need to not reward our inner kid for having these feelings. Again, it places us back into the position of becoming and increasing our capacity to be more of a logic-based being, functional by knowledgable awareness that can overpower the reactivity that we habitually experience throughout any given day. Seems so simple, but for some reason, our brains generally become the follower to our emotional body. No matter how much our brains kick and scream, we seem to be enchained to that stubborn f-ing brat that lives inside, that has so much to prove. On the other side of the spectrum, we have that other grouping of people that tend to immediately disconnect from their emotional being and seem to have no recognition of it whatsoever. Either extreme seems to be less-than ideal. The first version torments us and the people around us, assuming they are aware of it and the second version torments the surrounding parties, while the disconnected person seems annoyed that they have to deal with any of it in any manner.

Logic vs. Emotion seems to be the largest battle that I face. My awareness always knows when the emotion begins to flail, but unless I am forced to be alone to deal with it, it's gonna come out. And, even then, there are certain things that tend to build inside of me that even upon logically diminishing, tend to go into a storage facility in my brain waiting to be said... and they will be said, and generally and the most inopportune times against my better judgment.

Conversing with a friend of mine who is a month into a new relationship with an actress that is seven years younger than he. Two major flags from the beginning. First, an actress (or actor for that matter) tends to need a bit more validation than your average woman and live in a constant state of need. They are their product and their success is based on the buying and selling of that product. Powerful men (or even not-so-powerful men) hold the key to their success, validation and stability. They are hyper-aware of their aesthetic and their vulnerability level is somewhat accuentated by constantly being in situations where they are being judged moments after sitting in a waiting room with ten other girls that are of equal or similar beauty. After years of being a heterosexual man in this town, you become acutely aware of this demeanor in women and you approach every one of them with a bit more distrust.

His current situation is heightened by the fact that she is experiencing success at her green age of 21 and her experience levels within relationships is next to non-existence. Hours of conversation over these past few weeks has resulted in his successful strategy of going against his skeptical fear-driven thought process about each episode that arises. He slowly proceeds through each reactive moment and then makes the appropriate alterations to not inhibit the progress of the relationship. Acknowledging her inexperience, forces him to overcompensate his maturity levels and communication skills in order not to sabotage what could be a decent relationship... and so far, he is succeeding.

Yesterday, the latest issue was... the friend. She apparently has a male 'best friend' who is 46 years old and is complaining about the lack of time they're spending together since meeting my friend. He is also discrediting and insulting my friend based on stories she's telling him, regardless of never actually meeting him. Her mistake is not only in the action of conveying these conversations to my friend, but by not having the capacity to honestly assess her situation by realizing and honestly accepting that there is no such thing as a male best friend. Generally, that means one of a few things, assuming they don't have a business or children together...

1. The guy is hopefully waiting for his moment
2. He is an ex, and the two people have somehow maintained a friendship, but even in this scenario, there is a solid chance that they will have sex again at some point... again, making it a lie, as a best friend is not a sexual friend in my opinion.
3. The guy has cerebral palsey and you are nursing him, again, a situation where the guy would probably want sex, but be inhibited to actually have it.

To further complicate the situation, her lacking communication skills approached it by saying... "Oh God, it's gonna be so wierd when you guys meet. I'm so nervous about it."

Sorry, but do I need to comment on this? Women... if you think it's going to be awkward then there is a reason that it should be, which means, you are aware that there is something about the situation which is in some way off.

Why am I bantering on about this? Well, because... my friend is now in a situation where he spends a night drinking him self to sleep in order to repress everything that he's feeling and everything he wants to say to her. The next day, we speak for an hour as he walks through the logic of the situation and how the only approach is to remove the fear that is engulfing him and support her relationship. He must be the good guy and drown this fucking 46 year-old man in kindness, so that at the end of the day, there is nothing to say that is not good. Basically, setting up the situation in a manner that allows the friend to self-implode with one utterance of anything less than positive.

Alright, now does that seem honest? The logic is correct. He should approach with kindness. He shouldn't have an issue or an insecure thought, however that is an idealist perspective, not a reality. He either is honest and expresses himself and risks conflict or he strategically counteracts his emotional existence and embraces logic. It should be easier than this and the only way for it to be is if one or both parties are so completely grounded and stable within who they are (highly unlikely) or both parties are aware and can openly communicate and nurture one another with the compassion that we are all somewhat scarred and that the fears have nothing to do with you. Team work is key and generally lacking in relationships, as fear stimulates defenses in the other and the other doesn't ever want to be sited as doing something wrong. Again, a reactive, emotionally driven response that overpowers the honest logic of the situation.

If we could find a pill that enhances logic, we might have a chance. Otherwise, we have to strip ourselves of awareness completely as that middle point is like living with your 'best friend' who is a girl and sleeping in the same bed every night with an erection that will never be nurtured. A fun situation for any man... or at least one that will stimulate absolute self-medication from pharmaceuticals and porn.

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Day 17-18 - FlatFace, FlatBrain, but Here

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 22:48:00 +0000

Day 17-18
Two days pass and as challeging as it is to keep up with the blog, is as challenging as it is for me to remember to take my medication. Both nights, I happily started dozing off before remembering that I hadn't taken it. Getting out of bed is something that I just don't do. It is like coming out of a flatline without a defibulator. My blood pressure has always been extremely low and every nurse always asks if I'm a triathalete or an avid athele of sorts, but for the majority of the past decade the biggest exercise I can consistantly account for is lifting food to my face, cigarettes to my mouth and the occasional stints of elongated sex that have at times given me the momentary illusion of abs.

Last year, I did an experiment with my blood pressure. Standing, sitting and then lying down all within a few minutes and the moment my body went vertical the count abnormally sky-rocketed downward, to the point where another doctor was called in to see the results. No one knew what it meant or what to do, but it seemed like a big deal to them, so I tried to 'wow' a bit with them and walked away with the feeling that I was again, somehow different. Is different just different or is different special? It's such a hypocritcal term based on circumstance. When you're a kid the last thing you want to be is different and parents are forced to tip toe around the issue, and then upon reaching adolescence different becomes a tool for acquiring sex. The more oohs and ahs you can attain from your 'special-ness' the higher up the chain of desirable commodities you become, unless of course your diffence is your capacity to gain weight or stutter or drool, then you fall into the helmet-wearing category of categorically-acceptable or non-acceptable society, based mostly on aesthetic. Always sad for those people, though it doesn't stimulate our human affinity all that significantly, at least not publicly and when it does it's as if we're doing them a favor and should somehow be rewarded for the gift of our compassion and acceptance.

The weekend passed with a slightly disconnected, timelessness. Saturday might have well been three days that I watched on a movie screen I spent five hours riding, two hours watching the Lakers, two hours driving on the freeway, all of which were fine. Kind of a flatline. Nothing too excitable in me, nothing to depressing, just awake. The heat was intense and that seemed to be an excuse for limited productivity. I guess it's time to start bringing things to the next level with the project here. Soon I will assemble my initial state, my issues and isms, my so-called flaws and fallicies so there is a gauge to watch. This week I will set some goals and see if we can concur that I am A.D.D. or just lazy.

Breathing is occurring and the body is moving. It's my excitability that seems to be somewhat absent at the moment, though not in a down way. Depakote? Maybe. We'll see over the next days. At the moment, I'll just look in the mirror blankly and see that I'm nothing more than a flat-face with a flat-brain living in a flat-substance that reflects the image back at me with the illusion that it's less than flat.

Day 16 -Lithium & Risperdal Introduced

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 21:42:00 +0000

Day 16

A little lighter today and I head to meet my psychiatrist. After explaining that I had three days of depression and constant headaches and eye pain, he asks if I've had a pressure test done on my eyes lately and that this medication can accentuate glaucoma if you are prone to it. Oh good, nice. So, a pill that I am taking to 'fix' myself can potentially cause glaucoma... or at least, make it worse if you might get it? Two weeks prior, I had actually had a pressure test on my eyes and it seemed fine the optomitrist said, however he wanted to check again in a few months.

He began writing and writing and then ripped off a piece of paper summarizing plan A, B and C, and then began collecting drugs from all places, acquiring samples for me.

Plan A. Stay on Depakote. If things improved, stick with it.

Plan B. If no improvement, cut down to 500mg and add 300mg of Lithium and eventually wean off Depakote unless everything improves.

Plan C. If no good on Lithium, quit Depakote and Lithium and switch to Risperdal.

He hands me a pile of samples and says, 'See you in two weeks.'

I quickly try to get information about the specifics of how long before switching, weaning off one to another, but I get only tidbits of information before the appointment ends and I'm off.

Wow... okay. Here we go. The doors are opening for a mixture of chemicals that will inevitably become a part of my physical makeup. There is a sensation of an elongated deep breath that moves through me as I question this reality. Am I actually going to go through with this? I've made it this long and what the hell am I doing? What might this do to me? How am I going to feel? What if I can't find the strength to come off the drugs and live a life of dependency? What if it works and I feel great? And so on and so on.

The day passes with very little to report aside from the fact that it's very hard for me to accomplish anything. My focus is intermittant and my drive has been misplaced. My friend pesters me to come over and regardless of the fact that I have to be forty minutes away at 6 a.m. I head over at midnight and irresponsibly stay up until one-thirty playing music. Is there a difference between A.D.D. and taking responsibility? I sure like the idea that medication could make me begin taking responsibility and I love the idea that there is a possible chance that organizing my thoughts could be a treatable ailment. This appeal can universally fuel a marketplace and though I am skeptical, I am growing more and more curious of what kind of affects I will have while taking the A.D.D. medication once we get there. Making choices seems to be a challenge in so many ways. I never have a challenge making choices regarding integrity or loyalty within a relationship, but making responsible choices for my better good and for a more stable and productive tomorrow seems to be a concept as fleeting to me as the concept that a pill can effectively stabilize my energetic torment without losing the feeling of me. Anything is possible, right?

Day 15 -More Narcotics??

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 20:59:00 +0000

Day 15
Open eyes and I have extreme eye sensitivity. It's somewhat different than my usual migraine sensitivity. Could this be from the Depakote? After searching, I find nothing relating to Depakote and eye issues, however I find tons of information about Depakote preventing migraines. Cool. Wonder how long it takes to kick in, huh? I'm sure there's some good reason why it hasn't been affective just yet, but in the end of the day the best answer is probably... Not All Medication Works the Same For Everyone... which is amazing, because when I went to the last Reggae show it sure seemed like Marijuana was working in a somewhat similar way on those people in the parking lot, and the last Grateful Dead show parking lot was filled with people who all seemed to be experiencing similar effects (different show, but similar effects) from the LSD they seemed to be taking, and all those people sucking lolly pops and twirls rainbow light sticks at the Full Moon Party in Thailand sure seemed to be experiencing similar effects from the apparent Ecstasy they seemed to be taking. But when it comes to medication assisting symptoms it has a much larger range of effectivity and I understand that concept and you cannot deny the reality in it, but it does lead to a somewhat hypocritic situation.

If everyone handles different drugs differently and some work for some and others work for others and others work for none, why does that logic seem to absent in regards to vaccinating babies thoughtlessly? Another topic for another day. Thoughtlessly, prescriptions are thrown in every direction and over-the-counter medicine flies in all directions with optimism and hope, but you could imagine if your computer or car was sold to you with a 'maybe it will work, but I can't promise anything' mentality. Don't get me wrong, I am not insulting the medical field. I am grateful that they are constantly working towards bigger and better things and for all of the amazing findings that have come to light, I am commenting on our capacity to blindly accept and move forward with such blind faith. When you buy a new computer or car, do you do it as blindly as you take a pill from your doctor? Do you spend more time researching the attractive new friend that sent you a message on MySpace or researching how a new drug might affect you for the rest of your irreversable life. I know that I have taken it all for granted and for the first time in my life am slowing down to look at it and find a way to bring the information to you and everyone else in a manner that allows you to avoid doing the work, but in order to do that, I guess I have to put myself in the middle of the experiment and find a way to make it funny and entertaining along the way to keep your attention. So, thank you for making me do the work as it is making me feel better, regardless of the fact that the migraine is still lingering and I have to take a motorcycle driving test in a couple of hours.

Interesting timing, as I begin taking medication that has lists and lists of warning I decide to use a motorcycle as my key means of transportation. Possibly not the brightest choice I've made in my life, but at least it will keep me thinking about something aside from how I'm feeling. Jesus.

Hours pass. Before heading out the door, pop a Vicodin. Half hour later, still pain. Half a Norco. Jesus. How can I decipher how the Depakote is doing if I continue needing to take pain killers to get through the day. Usually, I'm not taking it twice in two weeks. I set up an appointment for tomorrow with the Shrink so maybe he will have something to say. In the meantime, I pushed through the test completely detached and disconnected from the room of people I was sharing time with. They would present blurbs of personality which I was happy to punch in for, shoot out a glowing pain-killer bit of witty banter and return inside for the show I was inside of. I can understand why people stay on these things and get addicted to them, because even the worst of thoughts don't come with such a bad feeling. Everything is kind of okay... or at least, a little closer to it. Uh oh.

Day 13 - 14: How Fierce (or Fierth, with a lisp) am I?

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 20:25:00 +0000

Day 13-14
Two days of a think film blocking the part that is me (the personality, the voice, the vibrating and alive being) from getting to the surface, from coming out of my mouth and physical demeanor. So much so that by the end of the day, I found myself engulfed in another cloud of compressed eye strain signifying a migraine was nearing.

Prior to the migraine beginning, I went out for sushi with a friend and thought maybe a drink might help crack the invisible shield that seem to be surrounding my core. In essence, was that shield a protective coating attempting to preserve my 'self' from the scary outside world. If so, what was it so afraid of? Logically, I am aware that no one was attempting to harm me and nothing was attempting to deceive me as far as I could see, and even if someone was, logically I understand that it wouldn't change my world. So, why is this somewhat effable inner coating pushing on me such a fierce presence... and I don't mean fierce in the manner that Madonna's dancers use the word. Though maybe I should be. Maybe this energy is a being from another dimension and it's purpose is to show off how effectively it can paralyze a human and each of us get possessed by these beings while they try to show one another how 'fierce' they actually are. Fierce. Fierce. Say it with a lisp and an eye brow flutter, it's kind of empowering... Fierth. In any case, fierce or fierth, all I was desperately searching for was liberation from this debilitating presence. There was no justifiable cause for it and it was stronger than I... at least for these two days. Any circumstance that might arise during these times where my self worth, my 'goodness', my attractibility came into question sent me further inside to an appalling place of fragility while the shield got thicker and thicker and I... smaller and smaller. And for nothing.

As you can see, this is the first writing where two days have been compressed into one. There is a reason for that. The time where I feel decapitated becomes an elongated series of moments that cannot be gauged or counted because it exists outside of time and feels as though it may never end. My presence is not that of depression or purposeless, but one of insignificance, miniscule by nature and helpless at all costs, at least that's how it feels at the time, however that would change in a moment of need. An emergency, a major disaster, a friend in need has the capacity to disregard what seems to powerful which is the only proof that the weight of importance is an illusion to some degree and it is absolutely possible that this sensation can be an ephemeral one. Regardless, in these days, it was not ephemeral, but needs to be converted... but how?

The drink. Kettle One and Cranberry. The effectiveness. Unattractive banter, vulnerable in nature, but completely disempowered and yearning for solace. The migraine. Lingering, but not attacking.

The day ends and again, pills are ingested.

Day 12 - Happily Crashing

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 10:08:00 +0000

Day 12 -
I guess it's time to expose those things that generally you would prefer to keep to yourself. Up to now, everything I've reported has been somewhat light and externally acceptable, but for this to be of any use I guess it's time to go a bit deeper, a bit more honest and a bit more vulnerable. What yesterday started as a moment of instability for no significantly justifiably cause and no specific stimulating source, the hovering presence of that not-so-self-loving feeling floated through. The best way I can describe it might be as a thick, creeping energy of compressed emptiness flavored with a subtextual anxiety. As it spreads through my insides, it feels as though I'm being washed with a liquid isolation that begins convincing me that I am out-of-place, regardless of who I am with. Happily, I enter the car alone to drive away from my friends who have no concept of what is occurring in me and the feeling floods through the rest of my being as I can no longer repress it. Thousands of thoughts jerk my mind in various directions without explanation. I stand behind them as they dizzy my capacity to focus on the 101 Freeway that is caked in traffic. The thoughts are meaningless and I manage to avoid embracing any of them, but the core feeling is unavoidable as is my fear that I will never overcome this side of my existence. Throughout my life, I have been plagued by this feeling and at times, much like this time, the voice behind it, the voice that I identify as me feels helpless, hopeless and small and it echoes through me without the need for words.

"Why continue if it will always amount to this? Why?"

What was it crying out for?

Ground. Calm. Completeness. Participation. Reassurance. Knowing. Home. A sense of actually existing. A sense of being something more than just this. This defined as... inner flailing, inner tumult, inner insatiability. When this wave of motion spins, I feel as I am a house on stilts made of slinkies and the furniture is crashing back and forth against the walls as the slinkies get pounded by simultaneous tsunamis from both sides.

There is no justifiable thought driving me here. Nothing just happened aside from a moment of insecurity within a moment of an exchange with someone I am absolutely safe with. That was thirty minutes prior and by no means could possibly warrant this. I'm not even thinking about that any more and even when I did it was miniscule, however in search of salvation, I reach to every possible occurrence that stimulated even the most insignificant discomfort.

This feeling lingers through the night as an inner exhaustion numbs my personality and talking becomes a forced presentational action. I can do it and from the outside it probably apears normal, however there is nothing in me that I would ever want to expose to another individual. Tomorrow will be a new day, however in the meantime I will continue chewing on my new friend Depakote with a quiet hopefulness.

These are the things that I never want to express, or validate, or admit to those around me. I have to assume that we all experience similar things and maybe I'm just worse at self-administrating myself through the mystery of this challenge than the people surrounding me. This is something I do not know and have no way of gauging. I feel that I should be capable of not being so affected by what seems to be nothing, and yet... I can't. I can feign a voice on a phone call only so convincingly in these moments and more than anything I want to hide into another. Not just any 'other' it has to be whoever that specific 'other' might be at the time, which tells me that I still retain judgment and ego during these bouts, it's not like I just want love from anyone who might give it to me, much like the homeless person who scoffs when you offer them food. We want what we want much more so than actually needing anything. There is something extremely childish, however the ineffable pain is omnipotent and overpowers any logic that can be mustered. As the night comes to an end, I think myself to sleep as the chemicals that I have ingested slowly merge into my blood stream and tinker with my brain in a manner that I don't fully comprehend, and yet, I do so somewhat blindly.

Day 11 - Significantly, Unjustifiable

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 08:47:00 +0000

Day 11 -
Too late to really go into the details of the day. It is important to go through it properly and articulately, and at the moment I am exhausted. The most memorable thought of the day however was...

'I love hunting animals. I love to hunt... not so much to kill, but to injure.'

This is from the mouth of someone who can barely discipline a dog for more than a moment here and there.

I can say that the increased dosage did not have a positive effect and it didn't have any sort of disconnection-of-brain effect. There was a bit of spinning going on with some thought patterns that were less than hopeful, but more about this tomorrow. Without my support crew, I would be falling asleep with an unjustifiable, yet overwhelming feeling of emptiness, fortunately I am cared about and a few laughs at the end of the night seem to make everything seem palpable. Regardless of the fact that nothing was wrong in the first place. We're gonna get to the bottom of this unacceptable bullshit, and I don't mean just for me, but for all of us... this I promise.

Day 10 - 1000mg

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 06:22:00 +0000

Day 10 - The Dosage Grows

Not so much to report today aside that I've been relatively calm. Not in a bad way, not in a good way, but in a way that is not optimistically driving to a state of enthusiasm towards life. It is a feeling of hidden sullen wind that seemed to have stopped somewhere inside my chest cavity and has dripped down behind my stomach. In attempts to keep it moving I ran on a treadmill this morning at an hour far too early, thinking the movement would create a wind that would stimulate and influence the stilled wind inside me. Shortly thereafter, I realized that on a treadmill there's no wind, just the idea of wind as you jump up and down on a stationary platform that makes obnoxious pounding sounds with a consistent zipping tone. It might of been a smarter option to place myself in front of a fan somewhere for ten or fifteen minutes, but I couldn't find one sizable enough to get things rolling, so instead I hung out the window of a car while the driver was distracted by her cell phone, and yet still I couldn't spark the spark.

There was a sullen quality throughout the day, though I found myself laughing a good amount somehow. Thoughts of my past throbbed through my brain a bit that had no intention of serving me and I distracted myself by talking my friend through her parenting issues in a manner that I was no more useful than a Kobe Bryant bobble head, however if I might have figured out a manner to implement the quality a bobble head has, my advice might have been emphatically more compelling. In the end, a bobble head might have stolen the show, especially if it's bobble was bountiful. Flaring bouts of anger and even rage spewed from ear to ear as my inner voice cursed with an uncouth soliloquy about a shirt that managed to disappear when I moved out of the house my ex's and I shared. Nothing so significant. The thoughts were fleeting as were the emotional sensations, but I noticed throughout the evening they were occurring a bit more frequently. Tonight is the night I'm supposed to up the dosage to 1000mg which sounds somewhat overwhelming. Outside of Vitamin C and Sodium Chloride, that size clump of chemicals has yet to enter my mouth at one time and been swallowed with one swallow. But it will tonight. I find myself questioning...

"Will these thought patterns lighten up with more Depakote? Will they get more significant if I don't take the Depakote, as they were prior to taking it?"

There is a growing awareness of what I need to be doing with my days, regardless of the immense amount of clutter that surrounds and insatiates me. Clarity seems to be rearing it's head slightly in certain ways, however it is a challenge when more and more ideas continue to rise into my field of view. I'm constantly writing down more and more ideas of stories, of movies, of thoughts, of books to write, videos to make and songs to record, along with places to go, things to say, people to heal and animals to hunt and torture. When I say hunt and torture what I really mean by that is to call them sweetly near me and then yell at them when they begin acting like an animal instead of a human... or actually, instead of a human that obeys my every hanging word while never speaking a thought of their own. That's sort of what we really want people to be when we're not getting what we want from them. Something we can hide into, used to fill that void that needs some external being or energy to feel closer to something complete.

Structure. Structure is missing from my existence and though I know it gives me stability, my thoughts about it are absolutely contradictory. Structure means you simulate certain events day after day in a similar or repetitive manner. This creates pattern which gives you the sensation of doing what you're supposed to be doing in a day which in turn, gives you a sense of stability within your world. Repetition in some ways can create mastery or at least, competence. However, it also stimulates thoughtlessness and numbness and in some cases even a complete disconnection from the life around you. So where in the middle can we fall? What we want is anti-structure. Basically, a structure that is always moving forward without our participation, unless of course, we are wanting to give our participation. Obviously, the preferable choice would be to experience the perks of repetitive practice, of mastery, of thoughtful participation, without having to actually practice the discipline. The perks without the power, cause in the end isn't the practice of discipline the closest thing we have to a power within our lives. Why is it that a lot of days pass by where I am absolutely aware that I will die, that I am the only one who actually cares how good my life is and that I am the only who can make it great, and yet... with that knowing, taking a day in my life and allowing it to slip away from me is something that continues to happen again and again, and that is the saddest part of our existence. Something is missing in our heads. A synapse that has been misplaced making us incapable of comprehending that the petty is petty and that time is fleeting and all I have to do at this moment is return my perception to this awareness and begin restructuring my reality. The sense of knowing this concept lives within us, and not being capable to achieve it quickly creates the reactive sense of failure and frustration and then we spiral.

If the spiral could become a smile and we could dumb ourselves into dogs and grope and hump extremities for days without ever getting lost in ego banter and bad TV. Immediate forgetfulness seems to help them through anything and everything. Alright, enough banter. I'm hitting 1k tonight. Here we go again.

Day 9 - Passing Calm

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 08:59:00 +0000

Day 9
One more day of 750mg and it couldn't have been a better day. From opening my eyes in a stranger's lake house, my every breath was calm and filled with an exuberant hope. The drive from Malibu Lake was somewhat surreal as I sat in the passenger seat looked at the Hallmark flavored town just off the 101 freeway. As we hit the Kanan onramp, it was one of those lazy moments where you're brain isn't absolutely sure that what's going on around you is actually connected to you, almost as if you're watching the film on a screen that engulfs your entire head, only when you reach out your hand you can actually play with the props. Well, one of those props happened to be my friend's dog who was sitting in the back seat of the snooty 6-series BMW that was carrying us. The back window was lowered for the simple purpose of trying to allow the stink surrounding the somewhat unkept Cocker Spaniel's snout to head up and out the back window, as it was less than delightful and thick enough within the small cavity of the car that we might as well have been chewing on it (the smell that is). My friend was in the driver seat playing with her phone as we started spiraling down the onramp and in the edge of my peripheral vision I was certain I saw the dog superman itself up and out that little cracked triangle and disappear over the edge of the car door. Of course, there's not way in hell that's what I saw, but it must have been, because that's what I saw. In the millisecond after, my brain crossed the court to argue what just occurred about a dozen times before the sound came out of my mouth. No words. Just sound. It was an 'ohh whoaaa whoaaa whooaa' sort of mule call that was nearly incoherent. She quickly stopped and what'ed me a number of times as I jumped out the door calling out what I saw without looking back. Cars had stopped and one of the strangers had the dog in hand. I quickly retrieved the dog and we continued on as if nothing had happened. A normal beginning to what would go on to be a pretty normal day.

From then on, the day went with a joyous synchronicity, from one meeting to the next, one work session to the next, the Lakers won, the work was done and I felt amazing. As I spoke to people through the day, they continued to comment on how good I was and how I was lifting their energy. With each compliment I replied... 'the universe is really lined up for me at the moment... either that or the Depakote is working.' It was hard to fully accredit that a drug was actually helping me stabilize, to have an optimistic outlook, more than anything just... to feel good and good I felt. At least until about an hour ago when my iChat window opening up and I saw a random name online. I had no idea who it was so I clicked on and asked. It was one of the three people in the world that I would absolutely want to talk to the least. If this person would have jumped out the window on the freeway, of course I would have helped, but probably not as abruptly. My affinity for this person had been crushed on a recurring basis and most likely, she would say the same about me which is somewhat insignificant in the bigger picture of things, but for whatever reason it stimulated all of the heaviness and weight that I had been so happily excreting from my being. Obviously, there are certain excretions that you are aware of and can feel, while others tend to happen without our knowing. Well... this excretion was happening from all sides, all pores and all crevices. If it had an odor even remotely resembling that of my friend's dog, I'd be clearing rooms and locked up for public poisoning and numerous attempts of attempted, yet consciously unintentional manslaughter. This made the moment spiral along, stimulating my hyper-sensitivity and anxiety-thriving-fear-impluses and my eyes welled up. Images shot through my mind's viewer and I felt everyone of them. Moments from the past that were sad and unfortunate. People treating one another with hatred and anger so massive that it could only be spawned by a love-induced frustration. Deep breaths allowed the moment to move onward, but the feeling lingered for quite some time, actually it is still lingering.

Anxiety. Fear. Sadness. Paranoia. Projecting images of what conversations will now be had. How I will be judged and what will be said about me? It sends me back into the moments where I handled a situation in a manner that was less than how I might have liked to. Am I less? Am I disliked? Am I hated? My brain quickly attempted to tear apart all the thoughts that were coming, however the thoughts were real and not going away. Up until now in my life, I would assume that this is normal behavior, that this is expected from any mind that ever cares about someone or something that is now inaccessible and not something that is wrong to experience. The wrong part is when it inhibits you from continuing on, from changing perspective instead of believing that this is it. So... do this need medication? At what point is the internal obsession obsessive compulsive and at what point is it simply the idea of getting solace within your head and your moment. I could stay in this all night and wake up in it tomorrow. The medication seems to have disappeared to allow me to feel this entirely, however it's starting to phase out and as I close my eyes in one more minute, I will sleep with a massive joy and the rest will be gone. Getting it to go away is easier now than it has been in the past.

My head is falling and I continue to make spelling mistakes and skip words, I can't keep going. Wishing you luck and sending you hope, knowing that behind it all, we are good.

Assistance Helpful

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 07:36:00 +0000

Anything good costs money. Our production is under way, but funding is necessary. We need to acquire one final camera, if anyone can help us out, we need an HDV mini-dv camera, a Canon XH-A1, G1, H1 a Panasonic AGVHX200 or one of the Sony's would really make our lives easier. Anything helps, either equipment donations or physical cash via Paypal or any other means would be so amazingly helpful.

Please email us if you're interested in helping out at: shrinkme2008@gmail.com or just click here: Shrink Me Email

Day 8 - Inner Calm

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 02:39:00 +0000

A day after the day after the Norco, back on my 750mg of Depakote, I have an immense inner calm. Not a drive to change the world, but a calm presence. I woke up early and went for a ride on my Triumph through the Malibu hills and could have kept going forever if I hadn't have run out of gas and had to use my reserve tank to sputter back into town. Even in those moments, there was no stress in any manner. The idea of having an adventure, walking through the hills and resolving the issue sounded kind of compelling and alleviated the need to achieve anything else within this day. Fortunately, or not, that didn't occur and I made it to a gas station. The colors of the day were tinted with a grayish blue and being cuddled up to someone in bed watching the NBA Finals sounded appealing, however that was not what this day was about.

As I stopped and glanced out at the lush green hills, my phone rang. It was a friend of mine ranting about the person he/she foolishly had an affair with who is now tormenting him/her to stay within the affair, though he/she has no mention of ending his/her marriage. Then another friend called ranting about his relationship where his other is taking advantage of him for money but won't show up for the relationship. Between the two conversations, I went back and forth for about an hour or so and it all led to the question... what the hell am I doing?

Why do we have such a challenging time giving ourselves the love and respect that we can so easily flaunt to others who don't seem to warrant that blessing? Not that those that we are reaching towards are bad people, or unworthy of love, but they are in life circumstances that leave us in a weakened position as long as we are choosing to participate. Why would we ever want to participate in a situation like this? With people who are unavailable... who are lacking integrity within their own existence... acting dishonestly or without respect for those surrounding them. Why do we struggle to create a world for ourselves that serves both us, and those around us, without an imbalance or suffering for anyone involved or on the periphery? At this point, all I can conclude is that I have a feeling in myself that is incomplete. A void left open for someone or something to fill and I will take what is presented regardless of the larger picture. Selfishly, yet with sincerity, I will find moment to moment validation within each circumstance that is presented. I may do so with a complete sense of knowing everything that is unhealthy within a given circumstance or a given dynamic and yet, take what I need from that moment regardless of tomorrow.

For years, I have avoided sleeping with women that I was unsure of in fear of hurting them tomorrow. The guilt that I feel when I exploit their bodies for a moment of physical validation, knowing with everything in me that what I'm doing is self-serving and that I will uncomfortable interacting with this person afterwards, is something I have become quite good at avoiding. Self control sexually I guess is what that is, but that is a small part of the whole that I am talking about. However, the reason I might choose to relinquish self control for a moment is for the sole purpose of filling that void. That thing inside of me that feels like I am not enough and never will be. This is the universal kernel that I find within each of the conversations I have with those surrounding me, with each moment of infidelity or dishonesty or lack of integrity... it is that we are choosing to put aside what we inherently know is wrong for a moment of validation that only comes from outside of ourselves. We do so foolishly and regardless of what we will have to tolerate and those that we may be quietly, or not so quietly, harming.

I find myself yearning for something outside of myself in moments, to press up against another, to feel the body of someone else pressed against me, that feeling of hiding into someone where in that moment everything is safe. If I allow this feeling to grow, I will get that need filled thoughtlessly, however I am making a choice now not to. But let's be honest, the right moment with the wrong person can be extremely compelling at times. When it presents itself, we take on full well the knowing of the pain that will soon follow. Human evolution must be caught in a moment of insatiable discontent.

Day 7 - Narcotics, The Day After

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 01:54:00 +0000

Day 7 - The Day After

After my report from yesterday, it went on to be one of the worst migraines in history, aside from the one where I went to the hospital. My brain was attempting to split in half while the vein in the back of my left eye was being yanked by the fisherman in my stomach. Keeled over on the couch, wishing desperately I was at a hospital being injected with morphine, the Norco arrived and I quickly swallowed two of them. Moaning in the most unattractive nature, I pleaded with the pain until my phone rang and I saw it was a business call that I had been waiting for. I grabbed the phone and turned on the most composed voice I could possibly muster. Fortunately, my friend was struggling with his relationship and did most of the talk which distracted me from the pain long enough for the Norco to kick in, at which point, I was overtaken with giddiness and joined in with the relationship battering, convincing him that he was far better than his current situation.

At the end of the night, I couldn't come near putting anything else in my stomach without losing my guts, so I avoided my nightly dose of Depakote and laid still for about an hour somewhat dazed by the narcotic as visions from my previous past played out in my head, cycling through moments that could have or should have been different. Conversations played out with ex-girlfriends about occurrences that may have only happened in my mind, as I watched from a cushy seat from the back of a dilapidated movie theater where I was the only viewer. Regardless of the emotional value placed on the circumstances of my past, the influence of the narcotic made even the most painful moments slightly enjoyable. Which makes me question... If an ingested chemical can lighten even the worst of thoughts, make you appreciate the most insignificant conversation and send a smile to a stranger, there's something to it. A chemical can influence the manner in which you think and feel, it can make you less fearful, more caring, less absorbed, more present... is it possible that our ideal and natural state is a state of love and somehow we have deteriorated through evolution? Are these chemical reactions stimulating a connected state to what is intrinsic to our nature that we cannot seem to access on our own in a stabilized manner? Or is this a glimpse at an ideal that we have not yet achieved? Are we getting further and further from it within this chemical and concrete world or are these glimpses showing us what we will at one point become?

You can also acknowledge the overwhelming negative places that chemicals can bring us as well. I am not forgetting of the much more common reality of the negative feelings that come from chemically induced alterations of thoughts and feelings, I'm just not focusing on those right now.

The Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 01:02:00 +0000

Thirty-four years into my life and another bout of intense mental instability and a glorious display of unimpressive self-destructive behavior, I find myself running those same cyclical questions that I would so rather never to be asking. Is this ever going to change? Is it supposed to feel like this? Is there such a thing as sustainable happiness and purpose? And the most prevalent of all... Is there something wrong with me?

Throughout my life I seem to experience what I imagine everyone must, as there is no way in hell I could be so special to be the only lucky winner to be blessed with this eternal anxiety, insecurity, fear and paranoia, and that generally seems like a day off when I'm completely single and living carefree. Drop me into a relationship circumstance and the real self-induced torment comes as if every day was Christmas and every gift was wrapped with emotional inner tyranny. If capitalism was based on emotional anguish, subdued self-loathing and mental instability, wealth would be eternal and the human race would flourish. Why? Logically, everything seems to be kind of okay. No major deaths today, didn't lose a lung or a kidney... yet. The world is still functional to some degree and food is still fortunately plentiful... for awhile at least, and yet... the pettiness of ego banter and internal pangs of discomfort and fear and panic and stress and anxiety and insecurity and depression consistently rear their heads up to distract what otherwise might be a seemingly lovely day.

This is what has in one sense or another distracted my entire life. Fleeting moments of happiness and joy and a core base of unjustifiable weight. The home that I always want to vacate. Years of mind tricks, of discplined thought patterns that Wayne Dyer would prescribe definitely lifts me for a moment or a week and maybe even a month, however without an obsessively compulsive marriage with the positive-perception-shifting diet it quickly dissipates and I return to that 'home' inside of me that sits just a slight bit lower and slower than I feel it should. Even when I have sustained those disciplines, much like antibiotics, an immunity to hopefulness seems to arise. The viral strands of malconent mutate to overpower the New View that I have so diligently set in motion.

For the majority of my life, I have avoided articulating these questions and sensations as I fear being an ego-driven narcissist that thinks some how my issue is more advanced than those surrounding me. I have assumed that everyone is universally suffering from the same pain and distracted inner activities and that for some reason, I am less skilled at administrating myself through it. And, maybe that is true. That is something impossible for anyone to honestly measure and in the end, no pain is worse than another's as the highest point of the suffering scale may be different for each of us, but the high point is relative and therefore... equal.

The recent crash that I experienced was motivated by the end of a relationship, an ending car lease, an empty bank account and a slew of projects that linger but don't seem to ignite. On the self-judgment scale of a thirty-four year old supposed-to-be man, there are not many things less impressive than a homeless, money-less, car-less man, aside from a homeless, money-less, car-less man whining about his issues and contemplating suicide for lack of purpose. Even at your worst, there 'should' be the desire to live within this world of overwhelming beauty. This awareness has driven me to my current state of being, stimulating the determination to seek out what it is that makes us feel that void within ourselves that so arrogantly attempts to prove that nothing we do will ever make us feel like we are enough, like we are complete, like we are a participant within the whole. That said... here I go.

After a few sessions with a longtime therapist, a kinesiologist, a N.E.T. (Neuro-Emotional-Technique) processing chiropracter, a psychic, two energy healers and a general practitioner, a common suggestion occurred. Maybe it was time to look for a 'medication'. This was referring to pharmaceutical drugs that would potentially assist me in managing insufficiencies that apparently my brain was suffering from. Two of the specialists I visited expressed that my brain was ineffectively producing Serotonin, Epinephrin and Dopamine. The three key components to mental stability, functional energy, emotional stability and overall happiness, at least from the standpoint of general medicine. All my life I had avoided these types of treatments and have been overwhelmingly skeptical that a pill of sorts would 'change me' or 'assist me' in feeling better. It was my responsibility and my job to do that. I avoided medication of all types at all costs. When I traveled to Third World countries I avoided vaccinations. When I was ill, I avoided antibiotics. When I had a headache, I avoided aspirin or Tylenol. When I was stuffy, I avoided decongestant. The only thing I ever caved in for was pain medication for migraines. For the past seven years, when I experience significant stress I can always depend on a debilitating migraine to show up to knock the shit out of me with every ounce of determinate anger one could imagine. After cycling through the standard migraine medications, nothing helped so the only option seemed to be knocking myself out with narcotics. Vicodin was decent if I took two, however it ripped the shit out of my stomach half the time and sometimes I would prefer taking nothing then keeling over with the sensation of knives carving graffiti art on the walls of my stomach. Norco was better, but the day after was always wasted with an aloof and quietly bitter quality that washed over my demeanor. The one and only precision drug that seemed to have no side effects and has been on my mind ever since was Dilaudid. I was fortunate enough to receive a dose of it when my brain was tearing itself into two separate hemispheres, much like the separation of a dolphin's brain, only they were born with it while my left brain seemingly needed some space from my right brain and decided to achieve that without my permission. The pain drove me to the hospital and within second of the Dilaudid injection I was healed and felt an inner love for all of those strangers in the hospital with snot, puke and grime covered faces. Outside of that, I was pretty chemical free when it came to medication.

But now was the time... I had explored so many alternatives that I was ready to throw in the towel and with absolute cynicism threw myself into a world that I had never before agreed with.

Arriving at my newfound psychiatrists office, I was forty-five minutes early as there was a scheduling mistake, which gave me far too much time to ponder. There was a pile of magazines filled with Celebrity Gossip that I always loathed for obvious reasons, but for lack of any other option, I grabbed one and started fllipping through. Brittany, Lindsay Lohan, Heath Ledger... and another and another. All of them chemical altered and damaged in their own way and all suffering from the same isolated emptiness that I assume we universally experience. Okay then... you really want to do this? i asked myself. Fuck it. I replied. What's the worst that can happen?

The doctor called me in and it was brilliant. His right leg couldn't seem to bend so he walked with a bouncing waddle and moved slowly through the hall. He was a bit over weight, seemed to be from Pakistan, spoke very slowly and had an eye tick which jerked his eyes to the right every now and again while he would speak. His voice was slow and challenging to understand, but his eyes were caring through what seemed to be a slight chemical haze. I explained my anxiety, my paranoia, my bouts with suicidal thoughts, my depression, my isms and did so as thoroughly and honestly as possible. He would ask me questions occasionally based on what I was saying... do I have rituals, do I have recurring thought patterns that repeat over and over... and so on. Probably took fifteen or twenty minutes, at which point he looked over his notes and began speaking.

�??You do not fall into one simple, clean cut category as you have irregular symptoms. My initial assessment on your case would be as follows. You suffer from an irregular bipolar disorder, A.D.D., O.C.D. and possess a Paranoid Personality Disorder�?� There will not be one single medication, as we will have to fish through a number of them and for all we know it may take three or four different medications to find a solution. And there are ten different options of medications that we will sift through.�??
This is where he won me over, and remember, he spoke extremely slow with long pauses between words...

"I cannot help you... if you... will not help me. For instance... if you... go... to have... a haircut... the barber... cannot... help you... if YOU... do not... sit... in... the chair."
He stopped speaking and stared at me in silence as if this was the big kicker.

"You understand?"

"Yeah, yeah... definitely. He's probably not gonna chase me down the street with scissors, I imagine. No, I understand."

And that was it... he wrote on a pad of paper for what seemed like five minutes, but when he ripped it from the pad and passed it over, all that was written was...

250mg Today - 500mg for the next four days... then 750mg after that

He then proceeded to fish through his office and upon retrieving a pack of trial medication, tossed onto the counter and said...

"See you next week."

No further insight or information. No recommendations or restriction. My issues seemingly had nothing to do with me, it was simply a chemical imbalance of sorts and we would throw drugs at it. This is what our world consists of these days. Fifteen minutes of banter and then some pills that an average patient might really think is going to fix them. Nothing about responsibility for yourself or watching your diet or your activities or what you're doing in your life... just take the pill and it'll be fine.

And that was my beginning and that's when I decided that I would document this experiment and as best I could, I would approach the situation as if I was going to follow the doctor's orders, regardless of my instincts, as an average patient is expected to do. I will have my usual staff of doctors, plus a team of specialists that I have assembled monitoring me mentally and physically and investigate and track what happens to the human mind and body as it becomes satiated with mind-altering pharmaceutical drugs. At the point where I begin to feel it's gone too far, I will work with the doctors to wean me off of the medication and monitor what occurs on the other side as well... along the way, we will be investigating what these things really do, how they work, why our world has become so needy for mental health aids, and mainly... why the hell do we all feel like something is wrong with us?

Day 6 - Joyous Norco

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 03:16:00 +0000

Physical status deteriorated. My head has been slowly overtaken today by what resembles a migraine. I'm not sure if what I experience is actually a migraine as no migraine medication has ever worked. The pain becomes so debilitating the only thing that helps is Norco or Vicodin. Norco doesn't rip my stomach apart and Vicodin does. So now, I will be mixing Norco with Depakote... now, Depakote also has been approved by the FDA as a migraine preventative so that is another bit of evidence supporting the idea that maybe this is not a migraine. The best way to describe it is imagine a sweet little old fisherman sitting in your stomach and he cast his line out and it hooks into the vein just behind your left eye and then with all of his might he reels and reels the hook in for three to four hours.

So... it's taking all my might and my eyes are struggling to get this done. The bottom line is this... my immune system is shot. These past days went from a sore throat to intense allergies and now this. I'm done and out. Give me the pain pill and I'll see you tomorrow. Wish I could tell you more, but at this moment, I can't... though one interesting thing is this, the only time my head didn't feel like this was while driving my motorcycle, then within moments of stopping, the pain returned. Which shows I guess, that if you pull your focus out of yourself forcibly, it will momentarily exit, so... all we need to do is figure out how to cease from focusing on ourselves all together.

Day 5 - Shaky, but Depakote

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 08:07:00 +0000

Day 5 -

Went to my second appointment with the psychiatrist today and we didn't talk much. Basically, I explained that I was feeling pretty decent, a few days of exhaustion and hunger, but mostly good aside from not knowing what to do with myself throughout the day and all of those typical ADD symptoms. He said to remember that I am suffering from extremely severe conditions and that I should not be hard on myself about anything at this point and that it will take more than a week to overcome years of... and so on.

The plan was to up the dosage 250 mg every five days for the next two weeks until I see him again and in the meantime get a blood test. He dug up tons of free samples for me and on the way out I asked him what he meant by what was written on his note, which was... increase dosage every five days as tolerated. What was meant by tolerate? He explained that if I experienced extreme exhaustion and it didn't go away then that would be something to make me not go forward. And I left.

Had a session a couple hours later recording music with a friend and it was great. I felt slightly wired though I hadn't had anything to make me feel that way. I wouldn't complain. I liked the feeling, even if it was a bit chemical in nature.

My energy then grew weak and I began to have a bit of pressure in my head. A subtle headache and a runny nose. I was also a bit nervous to take the next dosage as 750mg seemed like quite a bit honestly. We'll see, maybe it will make me into the super-version of myself, the super-amazing-and-brilliant version that I've been looking for this past few weeks that does everything super well and everyone loves so super much. Alright, I'm shutting up.

Later in the night... after midnight...

Okay... so, I have a bit of a off-kilter sensation physically... my brain is running quickly and I have subtle waves of energetic bursts moving through my nervous system. My breathing is slightly.... uhhh... winded at times, I find myself taking large gulps of air. I didn't sleep all that much yesterday and then I didn't eat or drink anything throughout the day from about 2pm until about 8pm which is generally pretty normal for me but maybe these new chemicals cause some sort of something that make a need for this sort of thing. A bit jittery, jerky... what you might expect from an unsettled amphetamine... taking person. I'm trying to find a way to get across the jerkiness that I'm experiencing without writing the never ending uh, um, well, uh... sounds that my thoughts are actually composing and trying to save you from a never ending series of ellipses as that's what I feel like over here. I had to force myself from picking my face off in the mirror. It was a fucking field day between the chemicals and my new prescription I could shovel shit from my pores that doesn't even exist yet as I seem to have a psychic awareness somehow of where the zits might come out later. A skill that might stem an entire new string of gypsies with storefront homes next to dermatologist offices.

Forming these sentences at the moment is forcing my brain to ground slightly, but my nose has been running all day and my body is kind of high strung, giving me the illusion of being on coke and honestly, if I stopped by my house and saw me, I couldn't convince me that I wasn't on something illegal.

Until now, I have felt nothing off kilter since I started taking the Depakote. There is no valid proof that what I'm experiencing has anything to do with it. I actually slept for awhile last night with on a friend's comforter covered in dog hair and whatever other shit found it's way onto this battered piece of cushy material that I was desperate for, as I was freezing my ass off... anyway, it set some sort of allergy off and it wasn't just me, she was having issues as well, so I can't even go so far as saying that my immune system is weaker than usual, as it happened to both of us... aha!! maybe she's on it too? I don't think so, she might have mentioned it when I was talking about it.

My agent/friend called me just before midnight, I guess what I told him about this project sunk in and he became worried about me doing this correctly and it was a really wonderful phone call to get. I realized how many people have responded to what I'm doing with this documentary that I'm sort of forced to go through with it now and it's at the early initial stages of the... whatever the hell it is... the process. The one thing that came out of the conversation that I will mention is this... I brought up the idea that it is difficult for me to assess the affects because we are all dissecting it so much, so at the end of the day, when I go into the doctor I have to communicate in a manner that is average, based on the overall feelings that stand out, as when you go to measure something, the simple idea of taking the measurement influences the object being measured in a quantum physics sort of way I guess. I will do my best to keep things honest and thorough and we'll see where it goes.

At the end of the day, what do people want from this form of help? Maybe you can tell me that. Please, anyone on medication for mental instability, write what it is you are hoping for? What is it that you are looking for in this?

I guess for me, it's simple answering a question. The question being... is it supposed to be this way? I haven't seemed to figure out how to achieve what I want with myself in so many ways and I'm wondering if maybe there is something wrong. I'm skeptical in every way to believe that a pill is the answer and that in any manner the answer exists outside of ourselves... however, that said, if you had leukemia or were bitten by a poisonous animal of sorts, would you believe that you had the answer within yourself, or might you reach out to medicine of all sorts?

Writing has slowed my body down and my brain is begin to calm. An occasional, guttural hiccup jerks my body a bit and a strange taste shoots up my throat slightly, but otherwise I'm feeling good... things are cruising along, aside from the spider that just made me scream as it crawled across my blanket, then wrist and computer. What fucking medication will get me over that whiny screaming panic? My god, can't forget to talk to the doctor about that one.

Day 4 - Shining Bright

noreply@blogger.com (Chris Jaymes) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 07:58:00 +0000

Day 4:

Surprisingly, amazing. I am more grounded than I've ever been. Not so overwhelmingly exhausted and not having the appetite of a slobbering, starved, slothy fast food junky.

No strange physical sensations except for vile smelling toilet visits and an occasional whir of subtle pings in my chest and at the base of my skull. Otherwise, when in public, even when no one is recognizing my presence, I feel happy to be present.

Still unsettled mentally with the amount of ideas needing to achieve focus that slip by untouched in a day and still having unsettled thoughts about certain areas of my life or people that would usually flare up jarring bouts of anxiety or fearful stabs, though the sensations are noted, they do not sustain a presence in my body.

I am aware of the thought-feelings, but the physical shock doesn't hit, just the thought. When the physical sensation doesn't hit, it allows the issue to quickly pass without ruining thirty minutes of the day.

Not so bad, so far. My skepticism hasn't disappeared and I'm curious to see where it's all going.

One day away from the dosage shift and tomorrow I visit the shrink again! Fingers crossed.