The smoke from his cigarette curled lazily like a familiar lover around the rooftop, up into the midnight sky, vast and moonless, darker than a coalmine cavern.
We were out back on the deck, leaning against the hand railing like two crooks from a caper. Just Theo and I, taking a break from one of our last nightly sessions in outpatient rehab.
“How you doing bud?” I asked casually, gripping the railing playfully – my fingertips tapping a staccato ¾ waltz time signature as if the crisp night air were my dance partner.
I was feeling good. My senses were coming back to me. I’d hit 30 days clean next week, and it’s amazing what improvements you can make once you siphon the poison out of your system.
Plus, I couldn’t wait to close this chapter and put it behind me. To be out on my own, training wheels off, structure gone. There’s a lot of addicts that are scared to leave rehab. And that’s fine, because it’s normal… it can be scary… it can be terrifying. But I wasn’t one of them. I knew I’d put in the work, and it was time to either live it in the flesh or get knocked back down again. And there was only one way to find out in my mind, I’d never been a baby steps kind of guy – throw me to the wolves and I’ll walk across water in a baptism by fire.
“Okay,” he answered.
He took another drag of his cigarette, deep and furtive, staring off into the abyss like a lonesome silhouette in some post-modern abstract painting. But I picked up on his tone, something wasn’t right.
I waited for a little while, hoping the silence would do the work for me. Cowardly not wanting to press. And when I was about to finally say something, he turned to me suddenly with a desperate earnestness I had never seen before.
“I miss them,” he said, in the way a widower mourns the deceased.
The overhead deck-light caught his eyes, flecks of silver seemed to pirouette in the back of his irises like iron shavings from a steel mill.
His sudden outburst caught me off guard and I froze.
His words were heavy. They lingered there between us in the cold night like some insurmountable barrier. A gaping chasm, all because of a quick few slashes from the tip of a tongue.
And then he looked at me again. I’ll never forget that look. It was the look of a man who had just seen a ghost walk across his grave – the loss reflecting back at me in his pale grey eyes was assaulting.
Then he turned back to the railing and spoke to the night, his hands gripping the metal like a life preserver at sea.
“I miss them,” he repeated quietly, almost to himself. “The voices in my head. They were my friends. I feel so lonely now. Is it wrong to feel this way?”
When he glanced back at me, he was searching my face. And I knew exactly what he was searching for… answers. He respected me. He thought I’d be able to help him. But who the fuck was I to say anything? Sure, I’ve been through some shit. But I’m no counselor, I’m no shrink. I’ve never understood schizophrenia before.
But I couldn’t let him down. I liked Theo, I liked him a lot. And he was battling demons that made mine look like fluffy care bears.
So I gave it my best shot and said…
—
I could insert some witty dialogue here, make myself look smart and cool, but that’s not the point. The point I want you to remember, is that it took me a long time to be even able to talk to Theo one on one. I have a lot of shame that still rises to the surface when I think of him.
Because for a long time, I was scared of him. Scared shitless.
When people think of someone hearing voices, the first thing that comes to mind is they’re nuts, or crazy. A fucking psycho or looney bin. It makes us uneasy and fearful, because we don’t understand it.
But why is that? Why are we so frightened of things that don’t make sense to us?
We call it “5150 – pronounced: fifty-one-fifty” in the rooms. It’s the code for the psych ward. If you’re suicidal or try to hurt yourself that’s where they put you. Sometimes if the detox is full, they’ll stick you there as well. We say you got 51-50’ed. Or, as in Theo’s case… if you hear voices.
I’ve seen a lot of kids come and go in there. You’d be surprised how many people have done a stint in a psych ward that you’d never even suspect. It’s a trip. People that look and act totally normal but have that one moment of weakness and utterly break.
Yeah, that shit ain’t pretty.
Anyway, back to my tale of tilted truism.
There’s little I won’t discuss regarding addiction, but at the same time I have some ghosts in my own closet that I’ll probably never let out. All that you need to know is that I had dealt with someone before that heard voices and struggled with schizophrenia.
And I was scarred from it. Deeply. The trauma will always linger and because of that, I had judged Theo right from the start. As soon as I heard the word “schizophrenia” I shut down and closed him off.
I mean, it’s hard to put into words what it’s like when someone has a psychotic break. I can’t accurately describe the feelings and emotions you experience when your best friend, someone I’d known my entire life begins to lose their grasp on reality. You can’t even have a logical conversation with them because they sincerely believe they don’t have to pay their electric bill because everyone knows electricity just naturally grows out of the ground? Or he accuses you of being one of those people following them, and they get violent, they turn into a monster before your very eyes. Threats, mental and psychological abuse, stalking, going after your family, your wife…
After a time it wears you down. The taint seeps into you like an oil spill in the ocean.
Our current system remains broken in how to deal with people that have extreme mental health disorders. You can get a restraining order on the proactive side – which really doesn’t do anything – but that’s about it. If they have violent episodes, they might get locked up for a night or two, but they’ll be released very quickly and even more furious and upset at those who tried to put them there. You can ask the police for all the help in the world, but they’ll always tell you the same thing:
“There’s nothing we can do. Call us when an actual crime has been committed.”
Essentially, they’re saying we can help, as soon as it is too late.
And when you deal firsthand with someone that has lost their mind – and I’m not talking peripheral, I’m talking a core and central relationship in your life – it changes you forever. It’s impossible to ever see the world the same. The reality that we all take for granted, the world we envision and interact with, is such a miniscule and fragile thing.
But I’m digressing.
Getting back to Theo, childishly I avoided him like the plague at first. It was pathetic in one sense, but logical in another. I had my own personal history with his disease, and I couldn’t look beyond it.
Then one day, everything changed.
What happened?
It’s what happens with all people that think they’re different than each other, we found something in common. And I realized every situation is different. The fear from my past didn’t have to shape my relationship with Theo.
It was a simple and insignificant thing that united us… it was sports – and that single ray of light opened up an entire sky full of sunshine.
There was an older postal worker in rehab that I’d always chat with during smoke breaks – once he retired from his postal route, depression nailed him, and he became an alcoholic, daily drinker with a pension and nothing to do. But he loved hockey and him and I would always chat up how the LA Kings were doing (if I haven’t mentioned before, I bleed silver and black). During one conversation, Theo overheard and joined our heated debate – the way only lifelong fans can invigorate for their cherished and idolized team.
Who would have thought it would be two LA boys connecting over a game of ice?
But that was it. That removed the barrier. We had found something in common and quickly after became friends. He was a dope guy and had a wicked sense of humor, smart as whip. Destined for greatness in a world that wouldn’t accept him for who he was.
He was also on a trial medication that had stopped him from hearing the voices in his head. And he was struggling with it immensely.
He was struggling to adapt to OUR WORLD.
Theo was a talented movie editor for a major Hollywood studio and could work remotely. But he often grappled with his coworkers. He was fine on his own, but when he had to deal with people that’s when he broke down and couldn’t function like a normal person – whatever “normal” is.
And that made me think, why is that? Why does society put so much pressure to make people with mental health issues conform to what the masses deem “proper” and “acceptable.”
We always think we’re helping people by giving them medication (I’m not saying I’m against medication, I myself use meds and think they’re extremely valuable in the right situation/diagnosis, however they are not always the right solution). But what are we really helping them with? Helping them come down to our level and function in our world? Maybe it’s us that should learn to adapt to them? Sometimes it’s the eccentricities that make the person… kill the spark that makes them who they are, and you might as well kill them too.
I don’t know.
This is tough one for me. I lack the answers. Addiction is one thing, but once you start going down the rabbit hole of schizophrenia, it’s a whole different universe.
—
I can’t remember exactly what I said to Theo that night when we were talking about how much he missed the voices in his head, but I know what I hoped I had conveyed to him…
“The world isn’t made for people like us. We’re messy. We don’t fit into the clean-cut categories of what a human is supposed to be. If the person you are without the medication makes you happier than the person with it, do what is right for you. Live the life you were meant to live, independent of what society thinks.”
Life is too short to be chasing someone else’s dream. And within this divided nation we live in, more often than not, the forgotten are left to fend for themselves.
Maybe next time you see something you don’t understand or scares you, take a moment to try to picture the world through foreign eyes.
I believe we all have more in common than not, it’s just whether we have the courage to look, and take the time to care.
-Q-FI
—
Ever judge a book by its cover and end up learning you had been wrong the entire time? I know you all have done this at least once in your life. Let’s hear about it. My expectation is that if you have read this far, then you owe me a comment. Hahaha. Depart from the shadows my timid reader. The gauntlet has been thrown down… Let’s get this discussion started.
Disclaimer: If you suffer or are challenged by schizophrenia, I by no means am trying to paint your condition in a negative light or offend. I acknowledge it is a complex disorder that manifests in many different forms. However, these were my thoughts and feelings at the time based solely on my own experiences.
This is an excellent article and came at the right time. Thank you.
I’m glad it resonated with you and the timing was optimal. Thanks for reading MF!
There’s two people in life MQF, those who lift and those who don’t. Those books get judged and maybe ribbed a little bit until they join the brotherhood of iron. I could continue to preach the good word but I’ll let Ronnie take it from here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRcR-_nF84o
-31
Whoops, and great post! Love theses story time posts.
So it’s all about the brotherhood of iron, huh? Hahaha. I’m not sure I entirely understand, but that was a ripped dude lifting. Thanks for the interesting comment TAG.
Crazy tale. I know I’m amazed by how much I prejudge a situation without realizing it till later on. Trying to keep an open mind is tough, but I always give a person a chance. I’ve worked with plenty of people who have bad reps but turned out to be good guys. The older I get, I’ve noticed I’m quicker to judge a person—really only in work situations. Out in the real world I know not to ever assume—you never know who might be carrying a gun or is having a terrible day.
Mental health is always overlooked and sadly stigmatized in our society. I know the streets in SF are full of people who were let down by our healthcare system because of their mental illness. My uncle suffered from schizophrenia after coming back from Vietnam. He was an Army medic and saw some crazy stuff that I guess he was never able to get over. Meds helped him for the most part but he was unable live on his own. Luckily he had family around to help him out. Many don’t and end up in the street.
You know, I think there’s some truth to that Noel. The older I get, the more experience I’ve amassed, then sometimes I’m quicker to judge as well. It kind of depends on the situation I guess. But I’m also a little quicker on the draw in the work setting. Good observation.
I like that, “you never know who is carrying a gun or is having a terrible day.”
I’m sorry for your uncle – schizophrenia is a hard challenge to deal with for everyone involved. And as you point out, unfortunately, many homeless are on the streets because of mental health disorders. You get a lot in addiction as well trying to self medicate. But if they can get clean, then the real work is only beginning.
It’s a sad cycle to watch though. I wish more could be done, but that’s how it is right now. People are really on their own.
good one, q. i have 2 mental health anecdotes for you. the first one regards an ex girlfriend back in the 90’s. i hadn’t seen her in 6 months or a year and we went and sat on some swings and chatted a bit. while we were catching up she had mentioned she had been taken away for a few days to the booby hatch. a concerned friend called and she had said when the authorities came she did not have much say in the matter. she was not anti social but a bit of a loner with no immediate family in the area. anyhow, it was “interesting” to hear her describe the events. I haven’t seen this person in 20+ years but still worry about a little bit.
the other has to do with an elderly family member who we thought would die from depression and his inpatient mental health facility experience. he was always one who was the tough guy until he threw in the towel of life without his own free will. long story short: he came out of that experience basically cured. he lived a normal elderly life for about another 5-7 years just for that mental health stint. sometimes the stuff really does work. i know this has nothing to do with schizophrenia but made me think about related mental health stories.
That’s interesting she said she didn’t have much say in the matter – I’d be curious if she was dependent on family at all to go? In CA it’s almost impossible to put someone in a ward without them agreeing to it on their own free will or a crime being committed. It probably differs from state to state requirements. But you get a lot of families that essentially bargain with the person. After long bouts of mental health, the person can become unemployable and dependent on the family (if they are lucky enough to have one that will help) – this is also when you get a lot of people taking to the streets because they have no support system. Anyway, usually the family will threaten to cut them off if they don’t seek treatment and this can sometimes lead to a successful outcome. I say “sometimes” because I’ve also seen it backfire. People get pretty smart and can agree to a week in therapy, play along, and then when out do whatever they want again. That dance will carry out as long as the family keeps paying. It’s a heartbreaking and gut wrenching decision, to ever have to cut a kid off and let them be on their own.
Thanks for sharing the second story. It’s always great to hear when things work out. That one made me smile.
Q – I’ve been I recovery for over 30 years. They say you stay sober and you see it all. One of my friends was getting his act together going to nursing school and I found out he just snapped and lit himself on fire, literally on fire. Scared the shit outta me. You know long term recovery rates are really low (3%). Probably even lower in those with severe mental illness. Thanks for ur thoughts on FI and addiction. PS – I don’t know this guy, but I picked up a book by Barry L called Yesterday’s Tomorrow Recovery Meditations For Hard Cases. It’s a good read based on his years of going to meetings; he also talks about a near death experience he had which always peaks my interest.
That’s a crazy story Glincoln. Thanks for sharing some of your experience in 30+ years in recovery – that is a remarkable achievement in itself by the way!
I agree the long term rates for recovery are EXTREMELY low. I’ve been outta the rooms for a few years now, designing my own program so to speak. I feel like I’d always hear the 10% number thrown around but thought it was way too high. Just in my personal experience with addiction around the 25 year mark – only 4.5 years in recovery for myself – I’ve always felt around 5% seemed to fit – but that’s based off nothing, only what I have experienced to date. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it were lower at the 3% like you mention. Tough to find an accurate number that is apples to apples and same assumptions in the addiction world.
I’ll check out that book for sure and pass it on. I appreciate the recommendation and thanks for the comment! I don’t get too many people commenting that have addiction experience, so love it and always encouraged.
Wow! I feel like I say this to all your stories, but wow!! During nursing school I had the gift of being on the mental health floor and loved it! It was hard in its own way and sometimes frightening, but I felt like I made a difference simply through listening and connecting. Seeing someone’s humanity changes everything as you learned with your friend. Finding some commonality with patients is how I connect with them, even the most unlikely, and it makes such a difference in care. It’s amazing how we can connect with the most unlikely of people as you’ve beautifully illustrated.
Are you still friends?
Hey Katie.
That’s really cool you enjoyed your time on the mental health floor. For a lot of people, and myself included as I wrote about, it’s scary and a big turn off. Again, very cool you were able to connect.
I think the best way to describe Theo and I is out of touch – I couldn’t tell you what he’s been up to for the past few years. I’ll be writing about this in the future and it’s complicated, but when you decide to leave the rooms – meaning 12-step programs – and try different things on your own, you kind of get black balled. It’s one of those things where they say they support you but behind your back they say you’re “dry” not “sober” and it’s just a matter of time before you relapse or come back. Personally I had a big problem with that and it led to me going my separate way. This had nothing to do with the individuals I was close with, but it kind of becomes out of sight and out of mind. Plus, the more busy my life has become, I haven’t been great at reaching out as well. You kind of just move on and deal with what is in front of you, which is sad to say in a sense, but also reality.
Thanks for reading and chiming in!
How I wish I’d found your blog earlier. This blew me away. Thank you.
It’s odd isn’t it how often the ‘right’ person wanders into our lives and helps us as much as we try to help them. Your shared experience with Theo sounds like it did you both good.
Gauntlet accepted. I like messy people, I like interesting. I don’t like how society does try and dictate “normal”. You only have to travel a little to realise how different one person’s ‘normal’ can be.
But I also totally understand what you mean when you say there’s a point at which it can be daunting, scary. Tbh, for me, it’s more often about not saying something wrong and unintentionally doing damage.
I’ve spent a fair bit of time volunteering online. Some of that sh#t is hard core. Well beyond anything I could ever hope to do more than help by listening and giving them my time. Letting them be heard. Sometimes it seemed to help, many people just need someone to rage at for a while in a safe space. But it was eye-opening for sure and I can only do it for a bit before needing to recharge myself. It sure does give you perspective on your own life.
IRL, I’ve had anxious friends and family, I’ve had depressed friends and friends with violent mood shifts. But nothing like what you have dealt with. I do my best to help, I don’t pretend it’s not there. If I’m really a friend, then I know when to listen and when to gently push. You do what you can & you hope it helps. I suspect what you said to Theo made more difference than you know, I thought it hit the right spot entirely.
Thanks for the compliment Michelle and commenting! You are one of the few that has accepted the gauntlet… hahaha.
I enjoy writing these little stories/reflections on things that happened in rehab/detox. I have a fucking million weird tales to touch on some day. Haha. For some reason it’s been cathartic for me. They’re random episodes but hopefully give people a glimpse into areas of life that don’t show up in our normal daily living.
You make a lot of good points that I agree with. “You only have to travel a little to realize how different one person’s ‘normal’ can be.” Well said.
You also touch upon a universal truth that I have found to work almost 99% of the time: listening, giving them your time, and letting them be heard. That’s all that people want most of the time. Someone to listen and know that they’ve been heard. And as you’ve experienced, it’s such a complex and difficult topic to deal with – so many different shades of grey woven into the human framework.
Great comment and I appreciate the feedback as well as you sharing your experiences.