January is Eternal: Psychosis and Time

I don’t mind “gaining” an hour with Daylight Savings Time.

I thought Daylight Savings Time was discontinued but then… well, it wasn’t discontinued as it still happens where I live.

Or no one told Wisconsin it doesn’t exist anymore.

Wisconsin is usually the last to know about things.

In any case, I genuinely enjoy “gaining” an hour when the weather again starts to cool. However, in stark contrast, when an hour is “taken” from me on the other side of the year… I feel like I’m just off for the many months while we in Daylight Saving Time are an unfortunate hour ahead.

“Off”

This is a terribly controversial subject due to the increased presence of darkness during the autumn and winter.

For a few months, I like the decrease of light so it’s not motherflipping sunshine until 8PM and it JUST starts to get dark and… I have to go to bed.

This wasn’t such an issue when I was younger as I didn’t go to bed at 10PM like I do now.

Back in the good old “Let’s meet at 10:30PM to START our night!”

Now when it starts to get dark in the summer it’s all OH MY GOD

IT’S

NINE O’CLOCK AT NIGHT I HAVE TO GO TO BED WHAT’S HAPPENING

Right. So I’m fine with how it gets dark more around 6PM (seems fair… it’s high noon on the other side of the clock so… appropriate) and then it’s still light at 6:30AM. This is my favorite time of year. It usually contains Halloween too.

The best time.

But now… it’s dark when I wake up. Even when I wake up early… it’s dark. I have to use my phone’s flashlight to get dressed in the morning (we don’t have “normal lighting” in our bedroom).

So now the dark is getting to me.

And it’s also January. THE LONGEST DARKEST MONTH.

We’re all at our ends by the time February hits and that’s why it’s the shortest month.

And then it turns into the wettest, muckiest month.

Really, it’s all downhill after Christmas.

Or just after Halloween, really, but the lights are distracting.

What darkness?

And then… the lights are taken down and suddenly it becomes clear that

JANUARY IS ETERNAL AND DARK.

Darkness forever.

Dark, dark, dark, dark.

Which brings me to psychosis…

I work with psychiatrists now who are clinicians. In the short time I’ve worked where I now work I have heard so many really disturbing and incredible stories from the clinicians and the kids and families which has reminded me of the many disturbing and incredible stories I already knew.

The best psychiatrist on the planet (I don’t have a lot of love for psychiatrists) is our psychosis expert.

And yesterday we all did a 2.5 hour training with our clinicians and the brilliant psychiatrist and they all talked about psychosis (for one of the programs we do intake for) and how those of us who are genetically inclined are more susceptible to experiencing a psychotic episode (it’s a gun) but may never experience that psychosis if that triggering experience never occurs.

But if a triggering, traumatic event does occur, it can serve as the gunpowder/bullet.

(The metaphor (above) was really powerful at the time but I guess I don’t know enough about guns to retell this metaphor at this time with the punch I felt upon hearing it.)

SO this all really got me thinking.

My family history has quite a colorful collection of psychotic events from people who were in fact psychotic… for example, a great aunt of mine (my grandpa’s sister) tried to kill my grandmother once (the psychosis seems to be housed with my maternal grandfather’s family who were also wealthy – correlation?) and she was prevented from murdering my grandmother and then she was institutionalized.

In addition, my grandpa’s parents had died from a murder-suicide starring both of them.

So the violent side of psychosis is what was at play in my mother’s family back in the day.

When my mom later lost her mind, I felt that it was my fault because I got epilepsy, had seizures all willy-nilly, and then was hospitalized for anorexia as the meds made me a Star Wars villain IN HIGH SCHOOL.

And witnessing all that made my mom lose her mind.

It later took me testifying against my mom in court to get her on meds and a diagnosis for the complete change in personality.

She was diagnosed with schizophrenia but, unlike her father’s sister and parents, she was never violent.

At the same time… with that gun and bullet metaphor… I was the triggering event which caused my mom’s psychosis potential to actualize!

I then spent my 20s waiting to go crazy because that’s when schizophrenia was most likely to manifest and… it turns out it can happen anytime.

Still. Nothing psychotic happened. Plenty of trauma happened, but none of it was the gunpowder or bullet for me.

I remained sane as rain.

However, not all in my family have remained sane and the story goes on. My beloved mom’s brother who is closest in age to her has long lived on the big island of Hawaii.

He has lived on the west coast for the time I’ve been alive.

After my dad, cousin Nicky, grandma and mother died, respectively, my uncle flew up for each of the funerals except my mom’s funeral at the end.

He called me once a year later to say that my mom and dad were with him and they were happy and he was talking with them.

In case you’re skimming this, my mom and dad were dead at this point.

I was up to my eyeballs with grief and insanity at the time so I didn’t call him back.

Now I feel bad because they found my uncle wandering around the big island, naked and confused.

He now resides in the State Hospital which is located on Maui.

He hates Maui and Oahu. The situation is shit.

SO it seems that all the deaths were too much for him to bear. They were his gunpowder.

But I can’t help but think…

IT WASN’T TOO MUCH FOR ME.

I HAVE NOT YET BEEN TRIGGERED.

I’m still just a gun.

I’ll probably see a bird hit a window and that will be the triggering event that manifests my psychosis.

Clearly, I must live as recklessly as possible to avoid this fate.

Finally, I again have great co-workers. I’m on a roll with finding amazing colleagues. My desk partner this week told me a story of experience he’d had at work which made him just give up. He described how the situation made his brain leave his body and the room of the meeting, pack its bags and call an Uber.

He wanted to tell the uncooperative parent, “I’ll do the inpatient instead of your child.”

And then we talked about how nice Mendota Mental Hospital could be for a week. I said, “If you score grounds privileges, it would be better than most vacations I’ve been on.”

“Great company, if you get the right ward.”

“So true.”

Stay sane, everyone! May beckons… we just have to make it there.

Mendota is not a place you want to go. But it sure looks like it’s May there.