Who Are You? Journey to the Center of My Mind

Have you ever wanted to just go up to someone and ask that? Like the man on the street... a stranger in a $1,000 Armani suit. Do you wonder if he really is "successful" or is he just wearing a costume to try and impress someone? Or the woman who comes into a convenience store to throw away another $20 or $30 on lottery... can she really afford to do that every night? Who is she trying to impress? Are people's "public images" an accurate reflection of who they really are? And, if we wonder about those kinds of things, surely we must also wonder: "What do people think when they see me?" Take that a step further... "Who are you?" ... what's your answer when you look in the mirror and ask yourself that question?

I'm not a psychologist, or a psychiatrist, or any kind of an expert in things like human nature or human mental processes; normal or otherwise. I'm like most people: a participant and occasional observer in what we call the human race. And, I'm bi-polar. So, I suppose I do have some expert knowledge of at least one mental disorder... mine, but just my own case. This isn't an article about bi-polar disorder, though. It's not filled with technical details or other such "data" of the manic-depressive condition. It's not even a "case-study" of my own case. It's merely an interpretation of a recent, and profound, observation. Perhaps, you too will experience a self-reflection of some sort.

Once upon a time... there was a happy child in this body... carefree, unpretentious, unassuming, and without extraordinary expectations; neither of himself or others. He had realistic hopes for a bright future; he had a "plan" that seemed easy enough to implement... goals that seemed simple enough to accomplish. He had already figured out what he wanted to be when he "grew up" and knew how to do what he needed to do in order to arrive at what he believed was his destiny. And it was easy. Effortlessly, he achieved scholastic excellence and learned "responsibility" working his first summer vacation/after school job. He earned the respect and trust of his contemporaries, and freely gave the same without ulterior motive or thought of any "return on the investment." Yes, indeed... a happy child grew into a contented young man.

The years went by as expected. The young man began a career in the U.S. Navy... and it really was an adventure, not a job, as the ads said back then. He traveled both sides of the globe, did important work, and learned a lot about a lot of things. By all accounts, he was "successful" but after only six years of what he had originally planned to be at least 20 years, his plan changed... unexpectedly. Without exercising his usual thoughtfulness, he acted on an impulse and ended up pursuing a wild-goose. He chose a "promising" career in the aerospace industry, and although he became "successful" quickly, it didn't take but a year to realize the promises he had interpreted were never really promises at all. Far from home, an entire continent, and frightfully alone for the first time in his life, his once soaring spirit crash-landed. He could have returned to the Navy, but his stubborn pride wouldn't let him... and so began the actualization of one of his Mother's favorite Biblical warnings: "Pride goeth before destruction."

The Calm Before the Storm... Although his Mother's words were always important to him, he soon relegated those particular words to his deepest subconscious level, perhaps in an effort to categorize them as just more idle ramblings of a loving mother; something that just couldn't apply to him. It didn't take long for him to actually start believing that the warning really didn't apply to him... Pride? What pride? He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and jumped into college raring to go... to prove to at least himself, and hopefully others, that he was worthy... that he was SOMEBODY, damn it!

Once again, he excelled in an academic environment... a constant presence on the Dean's List, Managing Editor of the university's weekly newspaper, a successful internship with the local city's daily newspaper... and adding his magna cum laude degree to his Navy experience, he had what he was sure was quite an impressive resume. (Pride? What pride?) Armed with "credentials" and a thick press book filled with his by-lined articles, he stormed the local media, as if to declare: "Here I am!" but soon discovered that for the most part his so-called impressive resume and credentials were mainly met with: "So? And you are... who?" The once crash-landed soaring spirit that had tried to rise again was barely off the ground before it fell. Instead of remembering the age-old adage: "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again..." he accepted defeat, and the desperation that followed.

Being "responsible" and needing to pay his bills, he opted for a position in a temp's agency, and was sent to work in an accounting firm to do data entry work. Once again, he adapted nicely, and was offered a full-time position with that firm to take charge of its data processing department. And, once again, he became successful rather quickly. His spirit began to rise, then started to soar again to unimagined heights as his annual raises grew... new clothes, a new truck, a new condo, an expensive briefcase that he really didn't need but it looked good with those expensive three-piece suits that he really wasn't required to wear. People who saw him on the street might have thought: "There goes a successful man!" but in reality, a reality that he still hadn't discovered, he too was just wearing a costume. The storm clouds were forming, and he didn't even notice... probably because he was so absorbed with himself that he couldn't notice.

"Down came the rain, and washed the spider out" ... He woke up one day... months later, actually, after trading in a comfortable lifestyle paid for by a job he really didn't like for the depressed state that he really didn't want. After his resources had finally dwindled away, he found himself once again frightfully afraid... afraid to try again to get back on track with the plans he had made so many years before... afraid to even go on living. It was his Mother's words that revived him though; not her Biblical warning, and not even a loving mother's "There, there... everything will be alright" comfort. Her "You need help... you need help NOW!" was the match that lit the fire under him to finally take his first real look in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw looking back at him, and it wasn't the scruffy beard that bothered him, either.

"It's really not so uncommon," the doctor had told him and his parents. "It's called bi-polar... manic-depressive disorder... it's really quite simple to understand and treat."

And it was... most of the time. It took a few trials and errors to finally get the right combination of medication and therapy, but as simple as his condition was to explain and understand, maintaining his treatment regimen, though, turned out to be the most difficult challenge he had ever known. It was hard to "brainwash" himself into believing that all those times before when his spirit was soaring were really just indications of a manic state. It was depressing to realize that all those "valleys" really hadn't been just bad luck. And, it was tough to suppress his often-times stubborn pride... "This can't be happening to me," he'd often cry out. "I'm SOMEBODY, damn it!"

He fought bitter battles with himself over the next ten years, desperately seeking to recapture who he had been, while trying so hard to convince himself that he really still was that "happy child" and "contented young man." He went from one unfulfilling job to another, often quickly succeeding at practically everything he attempted, but he'd soon get bored and give up on his untapped potential. And all the while he waged his silent war inside himself, he unknowingly pushed away those who had cared enough to get close to him. He became a recluse... isolated in his own little world... afraid to let anyone else in all the way, but at the same time so desperate to be noticed; it was as if other people's opinions of him mattered more to him than his opinion of himself. What he didn't know, though, was that people did notice... and saw right through him.

"To thine own self be true..." That long ago "happy child" and "contented young man" was me... and as I approach my 5oth birthday, I look back on my life so far and wonder: where did all that time go? what do I have to show for it? "Water over the dam," as my Father has often said. Dad rarely offers advice much more profound than that... he likes to let us figure things out on our own; he says we learn better that way. Mom, on the other hand, was better at explaining such mysteries of life, and her near-constant advice: "To thine own self be true... remember?" was a standard response to many of my "Why am I like this?" questions over the years. Her familiar words came back to me recently... wide awake, I could actually hear her voice saying what she had said so many times when she was alive. This time, I finally had the courage to answer her out loud: "No, Mom... I guess I really haven't been true to myself lately."

The eyes that looked back at me from the mirror told me some other things I hadn't wanted to admit. Finally allowing myself to look into my own soul like that, I discovered a bitter man, an angry man, a weak and defeated man... and a man who is afraid. Afraid of failure... failure in career and in a relationship... and a fear that what I've been believing as true and real really isn't. I realize I've been deceiving myself, and in so doing, I've been deceiving a lot of people around me. But after awhile of that self-searching, I suddenly saw something else... something that I haven't seen in quite a long time... I saw understanding. I saw redemption. I saw... hope.

It's time for me to start listening to my Mother's voice again... "To thine own self be true." How about you?

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