A letter to a friend

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but  I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication.  Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic  Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter.  How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman".  It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that. 
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break. 

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family. 

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket. 


"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk

a letter from a friend way down south

Y has to be one of the most spiritual people i know. She is an incredible woman and from her, have learned so much about life.

She is a wise sage, a patient mentor and her advice on this issue has opened the door to peace and acceptance.

Thank you Y so very very much.

I am glad you wrote. I have had a rough week here and couldn't write anything positive. We have had a lot of rain here so my fibromyalgia was very bad and the pain was excruciating, and at work I don't have air conditioning which is unbearable on hot and humid days which makes me crazy working at the mental hospital! I love New mexico but it is the Third world here for the most part so all that I like about less developed places sometimes makes it hard to live here , too.

I have thought a lot about your situation with your father and I am going to say it as is. Hpk, your father does not behave like a mature adult, he behaves as if you owe him something all the time. He is what is called in the mental health world, a person suffering from a narcissistic personality disorder. they always feel they deserve more than others and feel they should be praised, noticed, entertained, honored for just being alive, and they feel they should do nothing to deserve that, and when they don't get the attention they want, they get vindictive.

Check the Wikipedia entry for narcissistic personality disorder. My mother was like that, and also very physically and emotionally abusive, and the only way I can think of dealing with her memory is to remember that she couldn't be an adult, a stable mother because she had a very serious personality disorder that she wasn't willing to work on to be a better person. Without having met your father, but having heard of his behavior from your mom and you, I think I can safely say that he also has a personality disorder and is not willing to be humble, forgiving, or self critical to make peace with his own life and family.

It's a shame, but that is his karma and his choice, and at some level, we chose to be born to an inadequate parent or (2 in my case) because we needed at a karmic level to learn about independence, to think in more creative ways, to learn about a certain kind of suffereing and be there for others who also have similar karma. that is how I deal with the situation, and I still grieve for parents I never had, the childhood or adulthood love and life direction I never had, but I try to accept it and look at my survival and my good relationship with my husband as a blessing and success and try to make peace with it.

I am especially grateful for your mother's presence in my life because she was an older female friend that listened to me, was present as a friend, and genuinely liked me through the years when I lived with a deep sadness that I wasn't loveable because my own mother didn't love me.

You have a wonderful man in your life, your husband, and it is all right to be a parent to each other spometimes as well as a spouse. Nathan and I are like that with each other, and we value each other espcially because we will forever be refugees from our strange childhoods, and we talk about the childhoods and youth we could have had if we had met each other earlier, and this fantasy is also very healing with us.


I will call your mom, tonight. I think of her all the time. I really don't understand why she is going through this. I don't know. god does work in mysterious ways and everyone's life path and spiritual journey is mysterious insome ways. i don't know why suffering happens. i wish i did. this is a very deep question, all I know is that I try to remind myself to be grateful for being alive, being alive one more day and to enjoy beauty.

I really think you need to connect with a cancer support group as a caretaker, you need to share your burden. And yes, most people will duck when things get rough, and yes I have experienced it in my life many times.

It would be good for you and E and your mom to look at finances, long term plans, Plan A and Plan B, and Plan C, to evaluate what you all can live with, what you can't, what is your bottom line, at least as you can identify them for now (because life does change all that as well), so that you feel empowered by having discussed the undiscussables! There is big relief in that as well; check all the programs, services, obligations etc around your situation. That is also something a based cancer survivor group might help you with.

change skins

augh.

I'm throwing up my hands for this one.

It seems like there will be a never-ending who hurt who first cat and mouse game.

I mean hello - the man is 67 years old. Grow the fuck up!

His email was like a kick in the face, transporting me back, 30 years ago when i sat at a table across from him. It was the final settlement of the alimony child support fiasco. I had moved in with my boyfriend, and he and his wife deiced to pay a visit. Turns out it was a fact finding mission, not a friendly drop in - according to my father (through his lawyer), since i was living with somebody now, there was no need to pay child support. So he began the process of claiming that he was going to sue me for all the back child support/alimony payments.

it was ugly - even more disgusting than the divorce. I was 20 years old, just recovering from a severe breakdown, sitting in front of a man who called himself my father. His eyes dead, black, not the brown i had remembered them to be.

Back room discussions between lawyers finally ironed things out.

He would continue with the original agreement as stipulated in the divorce papers 19 years ago. Child support until my 21st birthday.

As our lawyers passed around the papers to be signed, i passed him a paper with all the names of my current doctors. Three psychiatrist, an endocrinologist, gynecologist and a general doctor all agreeing that i was in fact, suffering from a severe hormonal imbalance, and severe Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PPMD) and manic depression. My "fits of crying and depression" were not in my head, and were not tools to "manipulate" him into giving me more money. They were real.

I said this, pointing to the list of doctors and their phone numbers.

"every one of them said you can call them for details. Every one of them said they would be happy to explain all of this to you. My problems are not "in my head". They are real."

Without blinking , or looking up, he snarled:

"well, if i asked my doctor when all my problems started, they would say they all started when you were born!"

and that was all he said.

He stood up, pushed the chair away, shook his lawyers hand and bolted for the door.

We all sat there - mouths gaping wide open.

Stunned.

In shock.

did he just say that?

His lawyer began to apologize profusely, sincerely disturbed by his client's outburst.

What could he say? What could we say?

Our lawyer took me into her office, and gave me a big hug.

"He's just an evil man. In all of my years of practice, i have never seen anything as despicable as this. I am so sorry this had to happen."

I was in shock. My mom was in shock.

We sat in the car, running the scenario over and over in our head for days.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months, and then into years.

And then one day, it just happened.

I learned to let go.

I woke up and told myself that he did what he did for some strange alien reason that i would never understand (which turned out to be his psychotic wife who always believed i was out to steal him from her) and that holding a grudge was only poisonous to me. I had to accept and love him nonetheless.

So then i opened the door to forgiveness. Opened the lines to dialogue.

And one day, out of the blue he called. Left a long message on my phone. He had cancer, had beat it, was retired, and looking forward to reconnecting.

And we did, and it was wonderful. Finally, as adults, we were able to talk, laugh. I had my father back in my life again. Not as my father per say, but a wounded man who was happy to reconnect with a young woman he had once loved dearly. A part of him. He a part of me. Associated by blood lines.

Blood is thicker than water.

but after months of spotty correspondence, old patterns re-emerged again. "Yea, we will get together, come up north", but something would always come up.

Here we go again.

I was the 11 year old girl, sitting on the stoop of her front door. Tiny suitcase in had, waiting for dad to pick her up for a nice weekend up north.

he never came

"I forgot..."

I forgave, moved on. Accepted and then let go.

Life went on.

Then one day, the nasty email from facebook.

"I'm entitled to know what is going on because I am your father.."

whaaaatttt???

I wrote back, calmly. Logically, giving all the facts.

His reply, short and sweet. Something about he suffered pain of loneliness, and that certain people and situations kept me away from him.

cryptic.

I moved on, opening the door to dialogue. Besides, i wanted him to be a part of the biggest day of my life. He was still my father. Not a very good one, but still one.

It was pleasant, but that was it. He only came up to me to say goodbye at the end of the night. We laughed, took a few photos and that was it. The joy of the day overshadowed the awkwardness of that final exchange. But I was still happy he came.

Then the lovely email - a day after my honeymoon.

Another kick in the stomach.

Then the news mom's cancer had come back.

Sucker punched again.

wounded and weary, knowing that another boxing mach would begin soon - round x with cancer treatment. Not again, fucken cancer. Can't you stay away?!

so i replied. Trying to be as honest as possible. What did i have to lose anymore?

Dad,

All i can say is that i'm so very sorry that you felt the way you did. It was in no way done to hurt anybody. I was very saddned and very depressed when i got this email a day after my honeymoon. I didn't know what to say - what could I say after all? I think sorry would not be enough...

You know, not having you in the wedding party was such a tough decision. I was very very confused and it caused me many sleepless nights, but please try to see this from my perspective, please try to understand - if things were different in both of our lives and i had to make decisions on how our lives would have turned out - we all would have been a happy family - both mom and dad walking me down the isle, but the reality of it all is that mom has been all alone to raise me all by herself for the past 30 years. I could not make you a bigger part of this wedding without causing her a lot of pain, and because of everything i have seen her go through first hand, and all that she has done for me and seen me go through, i felt it was my way of thanking her for taking care of me and loving me so much. She was involved right from day 1 - driving me to every store in the city, spending late nights with me making the invitations, planning, and all while in between, doing her il2 treatments. Lots of stuff happened so quickly - it seems like i blinked and the day was over.

It was a hard decision but i hope you understand that as an adult, people have to make difficult decisions in their life, and this was one of them...

And the day really went by so quickly - it was hard for me to get to everybody. People were coming up to me to talk, i really wished you had taken a moment, taken me aside and had a nice father/daughter chat, wished me well, and told me how pretty i looked, because every girl wants to hear that from her dad on her special day - regardless of the situation. But I want you to know, that despite the way things turned out, I was so very happy that you came, and yes, i too wish we could have taken some photos together - but you know what? Nobody got family photos. I have none of us with eric's parents or with you or mom, so don't feel left out. Somebody was supposed to be looking out and making sure all of this got done, but it happened. We can't go back in time and change it or be angry because of it.

but alas, things happened the way they happened. We live and move on.

i think there are a lot of unresolved issues - and the wedding was not the place to talk about them. I know we need one on one time so we can really talk. Email is so hard, and not very personal.

In an email long ago, you wrote: Some situations and some people had kept you away from me

what did that mean exactly? I was always there, always waiting, hoping that we could reconnect, and i hope that we still can.

hpk

Mom had her operation. Another hell experience in the hospital. They didn't give her medications to her for 4 days. Prozac, synthroid. Anti depressant and thyroid medication. Two very important meds. She was going through serious withdrawal. You don't come off cold turkey with prozac. It can make you lose your mind.

Seriously...

She was let out of the hospital too early, without any dressing on her 30 inch incision across her belly. No follow up appointments. Nothing.

She got sick, the wound seriously infected. Rushed to the hospital again.

The never-ending saga.

Then a reply.

Mute and dazed, i walked away from the computer. E was away on business and knew that re-reading this would drive me insane. I fwd it to him and waited for his call.

He came back. We talked. I cried, yelled and cried some more.

I had no more strength. Fighting for my mom in the hospital with incompetent and insensitive staff, seeing my poor mother suffer again drained me. And now this.

Thank you for your email.


It still does not change or lighten up my hurt.


I'll make it short, like your comment, "as an ADULT, people have to make difficult decisions in THEIR LIVES and that things happened the way they happened." You certainly made yours.


In closing, I truly wish you and your mate all the best.


Dad.

I guess that was it.

or that is it.

There is no solution to this never ending fight.

He is now dead to me. How anybody can do this to their own child is beyond my comprehension. Grow up old man. You will forever be under the iron thumb of your so called wife. She got you to tie your tubes, she will make you cut the strings with your only daughter.

You are made for each other.

so i try to walk away, not looking back,

not looking back.

“To change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one's mind and the psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use.”

~Anais Nin