It's Been Awhile

It's been awhile.

I do not know how long it has been since I have posted anything of any substantive value.

It's been awhile.

Did the Lakers actually win the NBA title with Kobe? (Yes.) Did Michael Jackson really die? (Maybe.) Are the Democrats going to keep the governor's mansion in November in Virginia? (No.)

It's been awhile.

I just finished watching the Falcons play and lose to the Cowboys on the nationally highlighted Fox NFL game. The Falcons proved that they will never win a championship in any of our life times. Most cockroaches will not live through to a Super Bowl championship for the Falcons. What does it matter anyways since we are all going to die in 2012 win the Earth explodes or Michael Jackson returns from the dead in the form of Britany Spear's unborn baby that she will have in 2011? Make amends now, I say.

The debacle of the Falcons rests not on the players. Not really on the coaches. It rests in the hands of upper management. As usual. Upper management continues to drink the water in Atlanta. It's the same water that all of Atlanta's sports teams upper management has done since 1966. That is to basically drink the water and make sure they do everything possible to make personnel moves that will insure that their team will never win a championship. Ever. The Falcons decided in their infinite wisdom to not re-sign three starters on defense from last year. One of which is a Pro Bowler (which kind of means nothing, but it proves my point here). This would have been fine had it not been for the fact that the Falcon's defense was not very good last year and were lucky that they were first in the NFL in offensive rushing, thus protecting the fact they could not stop anyone throwing the ball. Now their defense can't stop anyone who has a real NFL offense (the 49ers and Panthers don't have real offenses-they are CFL caliber at best). Keith Brooking, the Falcon's mainstay linebacker who had played for them for 2000 years was dancing around with glee like a 16 year old girl in his nice white Cowboys uniform as they were laying waste to Atlanta like Ice Cube in a LA pot dispensary. Sad. So the vaunted upper management of the Falcons have done what the Hawks, Thrashers, and Braves have done. Spend just enough money to be competitive, but not enough to actually win anything. The Thrashers made their one play-off appearance a few years ago and got swept in four games and scored (I think) three goals. Then they blew the team up and now are in the bottom third of the Eastern Conference. The Hawks finally won a play-off series last season. Then while every other team ahead of them in the conference loaded up, what did they do? They got Jamal Crawford. Do I need to say any more? And does anyone think that the Garrett Anderson acquisition sent the Braves over the top? Really? I want to know. None of Atlanta sports teams are going anywhere except middle of the pack one step above being mediocre. All because of the water that Atlanta's GM's all seem to be drinking which is as toxic as the make-up that O.J. Simpson has been using in prison.

It's been awhile.

Why?

It's hard to say.

Let's just say that I went to Fuck It mode. Everyone has probably had one period of time in their lives where they went into Fuck It mode. It's a mode where you end up not giving a shit about anything that happens to you or anything or anyone around you. You make stupid decisions and as a result you hurt yourself and the ones you love. You are in such a bad space where you have no idea which end is up and you have no clue who the hell you are anymore. For me, I made some crazy reckless decisions. As a result, it was clear that I did not care enough about myself or anyone else to pull out of a downward spiral I apparently was in. That was my Fuck It mode where I had more in common with Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, Mike Tyson, and Steve McNair than I did with Tom Brady, Coach Hoodie, and the baby from the E-Trade commercials. I'm deeply sorry for those I hurt along the way.

It's been awhile.

I am now healthier. I am now wiser (I hope).

To those who stuck with me (and you know who you are)...I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking by me. For those who chose to abandon me I want you to know that there is such a thing as a karma and it can be a bitch (just ask OJ and Mike Tyson).

Meeting In The ER

One of the saddest parts of my job in behavioral health is when I meet a young adult in an emergency department. A young adult who typically is in their late teens or early twenties. A young adult who has just made that faithful step towards independence. That step to be "on their own" for the first time. Maybe they have gotten their own pad or started college. Then I meet them in an emergency department for the first time. Sometimes an emergency department in a town away from home. Totally unfamiliar. Totally scary. Their emotions locking up or becoming more extreme with every passing hour. New voices. In their head. Whispering. Commenting. Biting. Commanding. Their thoughts derailing. Their knowledge of time, space, and location slipping on the ice that is freezing parts of their brain. Strange ideas such as the television communicating messages to them or that agents from a foreign country are watching them drift like plywood in a dangerous current. Regular activities to sustain well-being such as sleeping, eating, or drinking are forgotten as the shifting sands of their thoughts slide and spiral as if they are in a blender. Sometimes thoughts of killing themselves or striking out at the people around them, while the taunting voices pound away, and the fear stumbles in flood to the surface with the filters that stop the action are burned away like parched paper under the flames of disorganization. All new experiences for a young adult just trying to stand on their own two feel for the first time. All happening at once and now they are in an emergency department. An emergency department already flooded with patients and staff who don't want to deal with "those" kind of patients. Doctors knowing that this person is going to take up an emergency bay for hours upon hours. Then I am called in. Sometimes in the middle of the night and sometimes right at lunch. I walk in and see this young adult with that look. The look of fear, desperation, and loss. I conduct my interview. I try to build rapport. I try to establish a mental life raft. Many times it is already too late. I observe. I collect. I pray. I pray that all of these symptoms add up to something else. Anything else. Anything that can be fixed quickly. Like if the drugs clear the system or that they have a serious infection or maybe a drug interaction. My hopes drop as I am told that there is no other cause and that the drug screen results are negative. No drugs, no infection, and all signs pointing to a psychiatric diagnosis. A diagnosis that will follow them for life and dictate how they see the world and how it sees them. All within the mind and body of maybe a 18 year old, a 20 year old, or a 22 year old. The deeper sadness creeps in as a meet the parents. Full of fear. I am a stranger. I am an informant. I am the bearer of bad news as I explain that their child, now a young adult, is suffering symptoms of their first psychotic episode. That they are losing touch with reality. They are losing touch with who they were, are, and who they planned to be. I listen carefully to the questions. I answer them with care. I advise to a course of action. Typically it is to send their young adult to a psychiatric unit for their own safety and treatment. I feel like a judge handing out a life sentence and the hopes drift away from their parent's eyes. It is a deeply personal moment. I am filled with deep sorrow. A sorrow that I have felt too many times as I have made too many trips to an emergency department to meet a young adult.