Eighteen Years Forward, Three Days Back

Yes, I battle mental health issues and I ain’t afeard to admit it.

Where, how, and who made the error does not matter, especially if I goofed. What matters is that my medication finally arrived from the VA after three days late.

The last time I was in this position, I did it to myself, falsely believing I didn’t need medication. My only symptom then was tremendous ‘anger.’

I struggled with and was royally wiped out by a new set of withdrawal symptoms this time.

The crinkling of paper or heavy plastics drove me wildly insane. My wife was opening a bag of chips (crisps for you across the pond,) and I swear to the Almighty, I about lost it because of how amplified the sound became.

The light was a difficulty too. Not only was it excessively bright, but it seemed to emanate from objects that usually only have a bit of reflective quality, and it made me sick to my stomach at times.

Lastly, color — my goodness — colors can be so loud without making a sound! My wife has an iPad with a light blue case, and it was this case that stabbed me through the head with its blaring.

It needs to be said, but I was tempted to self-medicate at various points but fought off the urge. The other is that I spent a lot of time hiding in my darkened office.

In explaining to a Marine friend how hard it was, he claimed he could tell. I must have wrinkled my brow or something because while I said nothing, I was thinking, “How?”

“Your hair is standing on end,” he answered to my unasked question.

I laughed hard at this because I have a crew cut, and while I am still not fully back to ‘myself,’ I am on my way to recovering my damned mind.