Escaping From 'The Scary Place'

Last Wednesday I did not, as they say, "have a plan." But I was having, as they say, “a shit-ton of suicidal ideation.”

Today is the greatest day
That I have ever really known

“Today,” Smashing Pumpkins

So I don’t get accused of burying the lead, I’ve been feeling good since that last, alarming post. In fact, I’ve been great: today is looking like it will be the sixth straight day I’ll be able to check off “balanced” in the little log I use to track my moods.

If you never really listened to the song quoted at the top of this essay, you might think of it as “happy” song. It’s the kind of song where people sing the chorus and don’t pay attention to the verses. It’s the kind of song people get arranged for a string quartet to play at their wedding. At least that’s what I thought until I heard an interview with Billy Corgan, where he said the song was about the day he did not kill himself.

I was not at that point Wednesday. I did not, as they say, "have a plan." But I was having, as they say, “a shit-ton of suicidal ideation” -- the broad term describing contemplation, wishes, and preoccupations with death and suicide.

And that post, perhaps obviously, generated more than a handful of notes of concern. One of them came from a high school friend I reconnected with after she started reading “Fun With Bipolar” and who has a good understanding of what I’ve been going through the past 13 months.

She told me I was in “the scary place” and asked me to get help if I went much further in.

More emails and text messages came in. My nephew invited me to the quarry where he built his own house (couldn’t go, but needed the invite). An old camp friend thanked me for helping him better understand mental health issues. A woman from my support group offered to listen. For a post that only 159 people viewed, getting those and a dozen other texts and emails from people who said they'd drop whatever they're doing if I needed help is a pretty good batting average.

Thank you all.

As an aside, the best thing you can do for someone you think is in crisis is drop your phone number and a note saying “call me whenever you need to” in an email or a text. Err on the side of being wrong about where they are mentally. When someone in crisis gets too deep into the thoughts, they can start to think no one cares or, at best, they’d be imposing — we think this even though we know we wouldn’t think twice about answering a 3 a.m. call from someone who needed help.

We may never call you. But knowing we could — knowing we can — can be the difference between surviving and going too far into “the scary place.”

Something clicked on Thursday. I spent a good chunk of time unloading on one of those friends who always listens and never judges. One of those friends who tells you to go to hell when you try to cancel coffee because you’re “in a bad place.”

Later that night, I thought about the “scary place” note. And it made me think about how my anxiety drives so many of my episodes. My mind races to every worst-case scenario, and I get depressed or manic or hypomanic or rapid cycle through all three — even though my history suggests most things are never as bad as I think they’re going to be.

And I realized I have already spent most of my life in the scariest place I know: my own head. I realized there really should not be much left that can scare me.

(If you have never been scared by your own racing mind, congratulations. You’re probably saving a lot of money on therapy.)

I also realize I can fall back into a bad place as fast as I emerged into my current great place. That’s life with a head that tries to go to the scary place as often as my dog tries to go to the sofa.

But for now, Thursday was the greatest day I’ve ever known.

But so was Friday, when I kicked ass at work. So was Saturday, when I surprised my seven-year-old with a trip to the water park. Sunday was the greatest day because I hit 72 hours with no suicidal ideation. Or was Monday, when my wife and I took another major step in managing my bipolar disorder, the greatest day?

And today is already feeling like it will be the greatest day I’ve ever known.

781-507-4312. Call me whenever you need to.