I never did share my art with my new friends ... think you might like the piece entitled "Bi-Polar."  You may see a lot of my personality in my work as well as my disease.  Enjoy. 

Louie  http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/

This SharePost is a response letter to a friend from this forum as it represented where my head is at this am. 

Hope you don't mind, MC.

Dear MC,

Thanks for your comments. It's true that when I write, I challenge my intentions; it's almost like I have discussions with my 'self,' on paper. Hey, why not? We do it all the time in our heads. It's kind of fun when you write it down as you can actually see the demons working away at you, each trying to have their way with you. Kind of P_____sses them off when you see them, exposed.

I wrote a blog a month or so ago, in which I saw for myself, firsthand, this ongoing discussion - (fight for controlling interest of my head).  Check it out if you are interested ... http://www.uswalker3.blogspot.com/

I write a daily email inspiration (positive life affirming quotes, poems, parables, etc).  This daily mailing which has taken on a life of it's own over the past year, growing each day to include people from all parts of this planet, is called the 'Daily Good Dog Feeding.' 

Here is the story about how Good Dog was born.  I mention this because it reminds me of those two voices in my head ... as well as inviting you to receive it as my gift to you, if you'd like.

ABOUT 'Daily Good Dog Feedings' 

A friend shared a story with me about a meeting he once had with a Native American elder. This story had a great impact on me. The elder told my friend that his people believe that we all have, within us, a 'Good Dog' and a 'Bad Dog,' that are always fighting to be in control. My friend asked, "Which One Wins?" The elder simply replied, "The One That You Feed."

 

______ . ______

 

I started researching and sending out a daily inspirational message to my son as well as to reinforce the 'Good Dog' in me. Thinking my friends might find it of value, I added some people. Soon, it took on a life of it's own. This simple story, from my friend, has grown into something that has greatly improved the quality of my life and from what I hear, from people from all over the planet. What a blessing. Want to be added to the list? Email me ... uswalker3@hotmail.com

You or anyone else reading my rantings are welcome to receive Good Dog.  Just send me an email.  Cancel any time, if you don't like it and I will NEVER sell it out with Ads or use the names. Promise.

I really love to share this with people. It makes me feel great to do something that I know makes life a little better place for others.

Kind of selfish, but hey, I'm human.

You know, MC, this email column that I write every day is one of those 'God Shots,' a powerful tool that I use every morning, and have for over a year now.  I get so many positive responses from people, that I have come to look at it as a responsibility for me. 

Even when I am suffering from extreme depression, which is usually the first few hours of most days, this mandatory self-requirement forces me to turn my minds attention around towards a positive 'Good Dog.'

Without this tool, I'm afraid that I would spend many days hiding under the blankets, feeling sorry for myself and falling victim to my disease.  I am so done with that energy - having done that all my life and really don't have time for it these days! 

I have to admit, this may sound simple, (changing your mood by focusing on Good Dog) and it is simple ... but it is FAR FROM EASY.  Beating mental illness is not whimps!  Many days, it's like turning the Titanic around, but you know, I've found that I can always turn it around, with constant steady pressure.  Some days, it runs my ass over.  Oh well, 2 steps forward, 1 step back - Progress, Not Perfection is my goal these days.

Good Dog always helps turn around my attitude, inspite of my mind's intentions.  I have found that my attitude is a direct reflection of my emotions, and my emotions come from my thoughts and my thoughts come from whatever it is that I CHOOSE to focus on.  Seems to be totally backwards, putting the acrt before the horse, but it works, for me. 

I have found this to be a valuable tool for my emotional survival, something I need to work at, very hard, each and every day, hour by hour, minute by minute - sometimes.

In the Dog, I always use quotes, poems or parables that seem to address what issues I need to focus on. Funny how that works; it's almost as if I do my part and sit my ass down at my laptop ... then God takes over and writes what He wants. I am not claiming to have any inside connection with the Big Guy - it just seems that whenever I do my part, ideas pop into my head.  I just have to type. 

It's pretty much the same with my sculptures - I have to do my part and walk out into that cold studio when everything within me is screaming NO ... and usually, within a short time, ideas come to me and I start getting excited.  All I need to do is allow my body to move around and put stuff together and eventually, VOILA ... something is created that was just a pile of stuff.

One thing that I have found out for a fact ... I have never written one word or created one piece of art, from under my blankets. That is where my disease wants me to be - in bed, despising myself for my illness, trying with all it's might to convince me that I am a worth-less, use-less pathetic parasite carbon based life module.  I say F______ the disease ... I got stuff to do.  I have a life to live and even though it seems, some days, that I can literally feel it's cold breath on my neck as I am moving on, I AM moving on.  If I stop, then it catches up and takes me down.  Most days, I out run it.  Some days i don't.  That's' life.  Those days, I just stand there and hurt and that's OK. 

The real miracle for me these days, is that I don't feel desperate to run around trying to find something to put out the flames.  Being a Dual Diagnosis (recovering from BPII as well as an alcoholic) it is my nature to feel the need to not feel the pain, to obliterate my emotions when they hurt so bad.  In all actuality, I am addicted to damned near everything.  I am addicted to 'MORE,' more of anything has always been my answer to pain and suffering, which of course causes more pain and suffering.  You name it, food, alcohol, legal and illegal drugs, workaholism, relationships (or in my case - hostages), sex ... i mean, there is NO END to where my 'self' wants to hide.  I have spent my entire life is FEAR, which up until an accuarte diagnosis of BP and proper meds, FEAR stood for F--- everything and Run.  Today is stands for Face Everything and Recover.

OK, now I've noticed that my mania has kicked in as I'm rambling on and on.  Sorry mania, time to cool your jets for a while.  I'm in control these days.  Thanks for listening to my head.

God Bless Us All, We Deserve It.

Louie R (uswalker) http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

About a year ago, I started writing a daily email inspirational to my son, entitled 'Daily Good Dog Feeding,' which I started to help myself first thing in the morningto point my head in the right direction.  It's helped me a lot.  Since then, it has taken on a life of it's own, spreading all over the planet.  Must be helping other people point their head in the right direction as well.

Anyway ...  have been struggling with BiPolar II depression all of my life and did not have a proper diagnosis until last year.  Finally, over the past 12 months, I have found great relief, actually finding balance, most days.  This is nothing short of a miracle, for me.  Every day, I use every tool in my bag of tricks to stay well.  I fight hard for daily sanity.  I'm sick and tired of letting the demons win over my mind.

There are days that aren't so fun, but on the whole, just having hope in my life again - is simply amazing and I couldn't be more grateful.  I am so happy that I didn't end my life as I never knew life could be this good.

I wanted to share one of the quotes from a recent 'Daily Good Dog Feeding' that I have on my wall.  I take my meds, religiously, every day.  I also read all my favorite positive quotes that I have collected from my daily email project.  This is one of them.  Hope it helps you as it has me ...

Vaccine for Depression

"... and therein lies the genius of my teacher, my mother's mother, who fulfilled herself completely by always forgetting herself in the joy of the welfare of all those around her. This is the only real cure for depression.

It is the prescription that would come from any authentic spiritual physician. If you dwell upon yourself and your own private satisfactions, the first disappointment will throw you into a depression.

If you can train to think more and more of the needs of all those around you, to work with people around you even if they are not always pleasant, you will be making yourself immune to depression, and you will be helping others to do the same."

From

THE PROPHET, Kahlil Gibran.

Louie R (uswalker) 

http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

Looking back over what I have written, I apologize (no, I don't) for ranting a bit ... I am a bit, a BIT manic right now, and blurted out some memories.  It's helped me.  Here it goes ...

I have learned to be very careful with who I share my mental ilnness issues with, as I do with my alcoholism.  Unfortunately, there is still so much misunderstanding about depression, with 'normies' that experience situational depression from time to time.  They look at us with contempt, as weak because they had the strength to 'pick themselves up', 'think happy thoughts' or whatever form of self discipline they used that they judge us as lacking.

It really isn't their fault.  They simply don't understand.  I'm learning this even more, everyday, especially the last few days with all the comments I've gotten from 'normies' that have expressed that they have a different way of looking at those they love, struggling with mental illness.

The most maddening part of my journey, was the ignorance and misunderstanding of my illness and symptoms from the very people that I have always believed I could trust - the medical profession.

Sometimes it would take me a year of intense suffering before I was worn down enough to be able to crawl into my doc's office and lay out all my symptoms, only to be told "Sounds like you a have a bit of depression." 

"A BIT OF DEPRESSION, YOU .......... .........!" I think.  Then she gives me that nervous, almost scared little smurk of hers and shoves a piece of paper with 12 questions into my hand, leaves the room and asks me to evaluate my 'bit of depression.'   Hell, I can't evaluate up or down, black or white, reality from delusion ... I can barely hold the pen as I am shaking so bad from the inside out and she wants me to calmly assess MY condition?

Then, she comes back, glances at the paper, and says, "Yes, seems like you are pretty gloomy these days."  OK, that's about it!  This ...... is going to get a a good healthy dose of MY reality. 

"Hey doc, do you think it's normal to wake up in the morning and the first thought of the day, is that you want to be dead.  Do you think it's normal, that in order for me to even fall asleep at night, I create these elaborate fantasies of my own death, complete with my hands folded neatly across my chest, which fills me with a sick sort of peace, that lulls me into a fantasy that reassures me that the pain is over, that I have to fool myself into thinking I am dead, in order to function?"

"Well, does sound a bit serious."  She uses that word 'bit' just one more time, and I think she will get a first hand lesson and example of exactly what 'going mental' looks like, right here here in her little cubicle.  "OK, calm down wacko, let's try and get some help," I reassure myself.

"So, what do you think we ought to do?" she asks, ME!!!! 

THAT's IT ... I'm done acting sane.  I can no longer control it and start shaking and crying ... ****, I hate that.  A 54 year old man, that has always prided himself on being able to handle anything that life has to throw at me, has totally broken down in front of my incompetent medical expert. 

"What do I think we should do,"  I shout at her. 

"Do you have any idea what it took for me to walk in here today.  It took me 6 months of agony to even pick up that damned phone to make an appointment and now ... NOW, you ask ME, what I think?" 

"I CAN't Think anymore, that's why I am here.  I don't trust my thinking.  I'm scared.  I'm scared to death that I'm losing my mind.  Do you have any clue how terrifying that is, to believe that you are actually losing the ability to control yourself, to function or to even pretend to be OK?  Do you have any clue as to the fear I have of what it would be like to be locked away, forgotten and written off, lost forever in a coma of insanity?  I NEED YOU, to HELP ME!!!!  I don't know what to do.  For two years, I've been coming to see you, beating around the bush, always afraid that you are thinking in the back of your mind, "Oh here comes that hypocondriac ... wonder what new symptoms he has now.  My sick mind won't even allow me to look into the eys of your staff nurses imagining that they are all laughing at me as well, hell, they probabaly laugh about me at lunch.  This is the what my head thinks about ... Do YOU think normal people obsess over these kinds of things D O C T O R ?  I need help, please, help me."

I felt better.  Relieved.  Had a sense of hope that maybe she will finally understand the depth of my suffering, that I'm not making this stuff up, that I need help .... until ... once again, I see that scared, nervous look on her face as she attempts a smile and says, "Alrighty then, I think we should try an anti-depressant." 

"Oh GOD!  I have so been here before, for 15 years, I have so been here, and have tried every kind of anti-depressant known to medical science," I think to myself.  Maybe I should just walk into a mental hospital, lie down on the floor and let them whisk me away into Zoo-land ... I just don't care anymore."  This, was my experience with the medical community, for many years.

As I've written in my journals, it took many more years, before I happened upon the perfect storm, a set of circumstances that availed a new opportunity to get the proper care, medical professionals that understood what they were talking about.  Do I regret those years.  Not really.  Guess it took what it took to get here.  Do I wish I would have found the proper diagnosis earlier in life, saving so many years of pain and suffering.  Yes, of course, but that's just not the path I was supposed to walk.

Today, I will NEVER stop trying because I KNOW what it feels like to be alive and even though I may not be there, as I write, I've been shown the miracle of sanity.  It was possible once and it is possible again.  I will never give up on myself.  This disease is treatable.

For anyone out there that is suffering and has lost hope and feels embarrased and humiliated - I suggest that you GET MAD!  Do whatever you need to do to get listened to and don't be afraid to express your pain and ask for help.  My ego held me back, for so many years from uttering the three most powerful words I have ever verbalized, resulting in almost instantaneous results ... "I NEED HELP.  Please help me."

God Bless Us All.  We deserve it. 

Louie R. (Uswalker);

http://rochonsculpture.artspan.com/mbr_bio.php

My diary description says I’ll let you know about new stuff we release, being this is my first post – I guess I should start with diaries.

So – we are officially launched the diaries (it was on for the last couple of days, but not officially announced). This is the place you can share your progress, experiences and knowledge you gain along the path. It can be related to the challenges you’re dealing with, a day-to-day log, a place to rant-off or anything else you think of.

As this is a first version many changes will be done later, if something doesn’t work right or you think can done better please let me know (comment on this post or PM me). This is also true for everything else in the community.

Enjoy writing your diaries! Wooooohoooooooo!