May Is Mental Health Awareness Month

There’s a cause for every month of the year and in May, among other things, it’s Mental Health Awareness Month. What does that mean, “Mental Health Awareness”, is it just another bandwagon for celebs and those afflicted to jump on? Is it a real issue that is deserves a whole month for awareness? With so many things going on across the country, in the world, why in tarnation do we need a month for reminding each other about this issue too? There are people eating dirt in Haiti, there are genocides raging in Africa, people are suffering in Nepal, what the fuck, a month for mental health awareness? Okay, you’ve heard this one before, but according to The Center for Disease Control, 1 in 4 Americans are suffering from a long-term, chronic mental illness; even more shocking, 1 in every 2 Americans will experience a serious bout of mental illness in their adult lifetime. One in every two people, that’s 50% pf the nation will have mental health problems. Okay, so it’s epidemic, so what…a whole month to tell people about it, do we really need to waste the beautiful month of May talking about something so, well, so depressing? Well yes and no, I suppose it the truth. We do need to spend this much time getting people to think about this issue because, quite frankly, it’s terrifying subject to consider. But no, it doesn’t have to be a month spent talking about something depressing…because, well, Mental Health, in itself, is not a depressing subject. Depression, by virtue of the definition, is simple ONE TYPE of mental health issue, but there’s a whole lot more and it doesn’t have to be depressing or even serious, really…but it needs to be done each year, until the time comes when Mental Health is not an issue, simply another practice of medicine and wellness. 

There are many different types of medical practice, we can all agree upon this fact, there are specialist who deal with everything from toenails to brain tumors; we all are in the general habit of taking care of our bodies, we get check-ups and go to the dentist when we need to…even when we have an uncontrolled medical emergency, like a heart attack, there are doctors who specialize in helping us heal and mend, get better and take better care of ourselves. We have a Breast Cancer Awareness month, right and do you know why? Because it reached epidemic levels and all of it could be better controlled and even prevented if women were not so afraid to get a mammogram. But that is scary shit, I know, going to an oncologist to find out if you have cancer or not is terrifying. But, you know this too, the sooner it is identified and treated, the better the chance for a full recovery. This is why we need a month to discuss the topic of Mental Health, there are too many people terrified to find out what might be wrong with them, face it; Most people would rather face major root canal work from a one-eyed dentist than go see a mental health professional! Why is this? Name the three most important organs of your body and if you’re logical, you’ll agree that the brain, the organ which controls everything, is without a doubt one of those three most important organs (and if you don’t agree, then for sure, get help)! Okay, if your heart has a problem, you rush to the cardiologist, if your leg is broken, the orthopedic doctors help you…but what if it’s your mind? If something is not right, if you find yourself feeling depressed, unable to achieve happiness, having uncontrolled fits of rage, feeling paranoid, not able to sleep well, or perhaps sleeping far too much…or any number of other symptoms, don’t you think it’s worth having it checked out, if only to rule out mental health issues? Mental Health, for that matter, can contribute to the well being of your other vital functions without you even being aware of this; that nagging lower back problem might, indeed, be in your head!

Here’s the thing…this is a crazy, fucked-up world full of problems that bombard us on both a social and personal level everyday. Work is tough, it’s stressful and causes complex issues if it’s not addressed; relationships are confusing, difficult and heartbreaking…so if you need a little first aid in getting by, there’s no shame in that; if anything, it shows a sense of confidence and intelligence. Some people believe it’s about venting, unloading your feelings to a mental health professional, but that’s only a small part of mental wellness. You can do that with your spiritual guidance mentor or your friends over a few brews, right? They will listen, it might help for a while but when you realize it’s a pattern, when you discover you’re bitching about the same things over and over, perhaps trying a different avenue for help might make sense. You could also benefit from a simple blood test too, checking the levels of serotine, endorphins and other brain chemicals requires virtually no talking about your personal history (get your thyroid checked out too, it creates mental health issues if unbalanced). The type of therapy most people imagine, the kind of thing where you lay on a sofa spilling your guts about your childhood to some doctor taking notes and nodding is, frankly, a stereotype. Sigmund Freud, for as much as he contributed to the study of psychology, has done more damage than good ultimately. It might be about your mother, but chances are that doesn’t really matter now. It could be your lack of self-confidence because daddy didn’t give you the right kind of “Atta Boy!”, but fuck that, what about RIGHT NOW, right? That’s what many professionals focus on these days; not the family systems or Freudian roots of mental health issues, but how to cope, manage and, eventually minimize or even eliminate the symptoms of mental illness. This is done with a careful combination of Cognitive Behavioral Therapies (CBT) or Dialectical Behavioral Therapies (DBT), developing life-style and self-coping skills and, when needed, medication.

There is a very prevalent, very obvious symptom of mental illness that almost every person is aware of and that’s the illness of addiction. This includes, of course substance and alcohol addiction, but also other addictive personality disorders. I bet you have a few of those yourself, don’t you? It’s not a bad thing, everyone has a vice or special something that gives them pleasure and for the most part, for most of us, it’s basically harmless when experienced in moderation. When it has an impact on other parts of your life, that’s when you’re in dangerous territory. Addiction is a tricky issue, however, because aside from being an illness in itself, it’s also a symptom of other mental health issues. People who are, for example, BiPolar (like me) have sometimes tried to “self-medicate” with drugs or alcohol. I know that when I drank myself into a stupor, thirty years ago before I got help, I was drinking so the voices in my head, the racing thoughts, they would stop long enough for me to get some fucking sleep. I knew that marijuana helped with my anxious feelings, but when the pain of losing a child struck, there isn’t a substance on Earth to numb that pain. The point of the matter is, sometimes people who over indulge are doing so because of something else they feel inside. Drinking, drugs, they can take it away for a while, but in the morning, the problems are still there so it’s only logical to try another approach to fix yourself, right? That’s what Mental Health Awareness month is about; take a look at yourself, a very close, honest and intimate look at your life and where you are then ask yourself; am I really alright? Ask yourself, are you comfortable and at peace, are you feeling loved, are you loving anyone? Think about happiness, not the happy ever after happiness, but the content and serene feeling of knowing who you are, where your life is going and you trust yourself to follow the right directions, do the right things, be the right person…to you. If you can honestly and truthfully tell me you have reached this state of well being…either you are a Buddhist monk, or you don’t understand what I mean at all, or you’re a liar or you’re someone who practices the art and science of mental well being every day. 

For the month of May, each day…no matter where I might be, what I might be doing, how I might feeling…I am pledging to post a short video with helpful hints, tips or just observations about mental health issues EVERY DAY…starting tomorrow (Friday, 1 May 2015) and through the thirty one day continuum of time that comprises this long final month of Spring…I am going to give a little every single day and with a little bit of luck I’ll be able to get one or two people to do something good for themselves (or those they love) and I encourage you too…do the same thing, or something completely different, it doesn’t matter…just doing something makes a difference!

www.dphilipchalmers.net

Lastly, although the “World BiPolar Day 50% Off” sale is over, I do want to encourage you to order the book from my website (www.dphilipchalmers.net) during MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS month and get $10 off the list price plus a special funky little gift or two from me and mine! As always, I am most Grateful for your time and interest…please take good care, be well and stay safe!

Peace, 

d’Philip

The San Joaquin Valley

Republic of California

Earth

An Introduction (excerpt from "My BiPolar Reality")

At a speaking engagement...

Greetings!

My name is d'Philip Chalmers and I was born on Thursday, the 7th of December of 1961 in Chicago, Illinois. I have fathered four children by three different women; I am presently married to my wife of 19 years and we live in the same suburb I grew up in with our two school age children. I’ve always been an artist, a writer mostly but I have dabbled in music, video, performance and photography.  On the contrary, most of my employment experiences have been as a professional driver, a marketing manager, in retail sales or with a multitude of menial labor opportunities for cash under the table. I was, as a child, considered to have great potential to excel academically because of my high IQ (176), however, I was more autodidact and was never very interested in the educational process in school. As an adult, I earned both an occupational degree in sound engineering and production (1981) and then a bachelor's degree both in media communications and marketing (1991), but to date I haven't made very much of these accomplishments. I have tried to start and operate four different businesses in the past 30 years. I enjoy the organizational development process, but fail to manage the daily routines of running a small company. These days, I prefer to work by myself at home, simply writing.  I am on disability as the result of a major psychotic break in November of 2006; and that, in essence, is what this book is all about...How I've Learned to Successfully Manage My BiPolar Disorder so that my Life Goes On!

There are dozens of clinical and educational books about what BiPolar Disorder is, including books from a personal stand point by a wide range of people and their BiPolar experiences, not to mention, hundreds of resources available online for gathering information about all aspects of this very serious mental disorder.  Why is this book any different, what makes this story worth telling and how could I shed any more light on an already exposed issue? This is why; with this book I have crafted an engaging, unique style of telling my story which will create something of a “BiPolar experience” for the readers of this book. This book not only teaches you facts about BiPolar Disorder, but it will give you a taste of this madness as well. In reading this book, a graphic, vulnerable, sometimes brutal journey of one person’s personal struggle then perhaps, one might have a better understanding of this mental illness. My hope is that after you read this story, if nothing else, you will have a bit more empathy for those afflicted with this disease (and others). I have not only been living with this disorder since I was 14 years old when it was still being called “manic depression”,

www.dphilipchalmers.net

I have been very diligent for the past 20 years in developing a form of therapy for myself which includes a variety of traditional and nontraditional methods for managing this disorder. I have personally used my own mind and body as a vessel for experimentation with numerous substances, drugs, medications and preparations. I have undergone many forms of therapy throughout the whole of my life: extending from family systems talk therapy, which focused on the dynamics of my family situation, to new age men's groups which included sweat lodges, dancing naked around bonfires with other men, and expressing every emotion imaginable in an effort to exorcise the demons I felt inside of me. There are literally dozens and dozens of notebooks, computer files, and scraps of paper with my meandering journal entries in them dating back as far as the 1970's with all of it, every last page of it, somehow stemming from this affliction of mine, this Rapid Cycling BiPolar 1 disorder.

BiPolar disorder is a very serious mental illness of which there is no known “cure” for and all we can do, as patients and a community, is learn how to best manage disease and develop the best possible coping skills we can.  I am not a doctor nor a clinical researcher so although I will use some clinical and medical terms to describe this disorder, I use it in context of reference only, and make no claims to having any formal training on this subject matter.  No formal training unless you count the past 37 years (plus) of having this mental illness and learning, the very hard way, how to successfully manage it to enjoy a very productive, positive and happy lifestyle.  I am inspired to write this book because, through the various blogs and online community forums I have participated in, I realized that my words and actions, the things I was doing for myself and then sharing with others, was, in fact, starting to work for them as well!  Indeed, when these random folks from the Internet tried doing the things I was doing, it was somehow working for them too. I make no claim that this is any kind of a cure for this horrid disorder, I suspect it's a different matter for different people because it always is, however, if I can help somebody, anybody and/or their loved ones who are suffering with this disorder,  I'll have successfully reached an important goal.  I have a lot of hope for those of us who are dealing with this “blessed curse”; we are a very unique breed, often with a lot of positive potential and passion for Life.

 

Although this book should give you a clear and concise insight into how this disease manifested in the life of one person (me), it is most certainly not a guide for diagnosis.  If you suspect this disorder, my best and most sincere advice is to get yourself a professional psychiatric evaluation by a doctor or clinic that specializes in mental illness.  This is not an easy step to take, quite frankly, it's like going to find out if you have cancer or something, it is that scary!  Think about this, if you were having trouble with your heart or your digestive system, you would not hesitate to seek professional medical help, would you?  So why is it, when it comes to having your brain checked out, possibly one of the most important organs in your body, people cringe at the thought? It's perhaps more terrifying than seeing a dentist, yet it's far more important to simply have your brain checked out, perhaps even tuned up a little, after all, without the full function and potentials of your brain/mind, your life and health could be far worse!  Trust me, BiPolar disorder can wreak havoc throughout your world, it will negatively impact the world of nearly everybody you come into contact with, it's that destructive.  It can kill you, in fact, you get so down you get suicidal. If it doesn’t kill you, it can easily turn inside out, creating homicidal actions causing you to do harm to others, without any control of yourself! Being BiPolar is nothing to shrug off, don't laugh about it (well, maybe a little) but don’t just keep ignoring the fact.  If you even slightly think you or someone you know is ill, please get professional help as soon as possible!  I know, with all my heart and soul, that if I did not get the treatment I did when I did, I would be dead today.  So get help if you need it, please!

Valerie Anne Chalmers
11/18/83-4/16/01

Lastly, in my most humble of moments, this book is deeply inspired by my sweet, departed daughter, Valerie Anne...for it was in her tragic loss, that I finally found my own salvation.

Thanks for reading and Enjoy!

Have Peace, Share Love, Find Bliss!

Be Well,

d’Philip

01 June 2014

Palatine, Illinois, USA, Earth

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Looking down on San Jose from The Lick Observatory

This week is a very short blog because I’m not in town…I’m promoting “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” in The San Francisco bay area this week. Yesterday I had an awesome day with my wife driving into the bay along the long, twisting route towards the Lick Observatory and then into San Jose for an evening engagement with a church organization.

Today, Monday, 4/20, I’ll be in the Haight/Asbury area, then over to Hippie Hill for the annual “420 Event” where all the pot smokers within 200 miles show up, listen to music, sell and trade their wares and celebrate the freedom to smoke cannabis in public. It’s a lot of fun, for those of you into that scene and I hope to post a greeting from the event before the end of the day (or first thing tomorrow). 

I’ll be in Berkeley tonight and all day tomorrow…then back to San Francisco until Thursday afternoon when I’ll finally get to come home again. We’re staying near SFO, the airport area in a place we stayed last year before we relocated but check out time is in a couple of hours and I have two meetings (non promotional) before this afternoon’s engagement in The Haight and then Hippie Hill and all that fun!

www.dphilipchalmers.net

The 50% off deal expires at MIDNIGHT TONIGHT, but we’re backlogged with orders because it was rather successful. I wish I could convince my publishing partners that a lower price point on this title will sell more books. I have been reasoning that people like me, people who are dealing with BiPolar and other mental illnesses are, more often than not, struggling to get by financially and so we should offer the book for half off ALL THE TIME…or at least, for those afflicted, get a 50% off deal but so far, it’s done no good. I understand the value of this book, I can see the reasoning in keeping it competitively priced but I really don’t care about the dollars. I just want the book to get out there because I KNOW IT HELPS people and that’s my primary mission; Helping People. 

They have been listening, there was mention of lowering the price again at the end of May, when my promotional tour is ending…so, if you’re interested in getting the book for HALF THE PRICE NOW buy it from my website, www.dphilipchalmers.net BEFORE MIDNIGHT TONIGHT or wait until it goes on sale again at the end of May. I hope you get it now, before the book gets too popular to reduce the price by that much (that’s almost cost)!

In conclusion, I do hope everyone is doing well and I’ll do my best to stay in touch this week, at least with a few photos and random observations. As always, I am very Grateful for your comments and if you’d be so kind as to re-share this blog article with others, that’s the best!

Take care, be well and stay safe!

Peace,

d’Philip

Monday 20 April 2015

South San Francisco

The Republic of California

Earth

I Pity Inanimate Objects

Earlier this week I was on a podcast with a mental health professional in Oregon when the subject of how and why I name my various inanimate objects. I do, I have a name for all the things I typically utilize in any given day, I’ve done this for a long time too but when the interviewer stopped me and asked “Why?”

“Well…” I had to stop and think, why did I do this, when did I start doing this and I wondered if others also did this, but I said, “I pity inanimate objects, this gives them a little dignity.”

“You pity inanimate objects?” I could hear her shaking her head, but she said, “They are inanimate, they have no feelings, they are not alive, why do you pity them?”

“I beg to differ…” I opened a can of worms and continued, “I can sense some kind of life force from them, some kind of belonging to this symbiotic reality of the 21^st century…” I thought I was going off my meds, I was so lost in my blabbering, “…or maybe I name them because I feel lonely.”

“Ah, that’s deep…” the interview said and continued talking about the loneliness of having a mental illness. She continued talking for another five minutes with only minor agreements and an occasional Grateful chuckle from me. The interview concluded the show, “Thank you d’Philip Chalmers, author of “My BiPolar reality; How Life Goes On…” it’s been a very interesting conversation!”

“I thank you too!” I smiled and signed with relief, “Great show!”

I hung up the phone and sat alone in my thoughts, I remembered this song from my past, when I was perhaps 16 or 17 old, by two of the most brilliant, creative and original composers of the 20^th century…Kevin Godley and Lol Crème…they were very influential on me as a young artist and it was a song of theirs which got me into the idea of naming my inanimate objects.

"Freeze Frame" 1979 Godley & Creme

The song is called “I Pity Inanimate Objects” and it was on their third album “Freeze Frame” which was released in 1979…the song is really trippy, the lyrics difficult to understand because of the wild production of the piece, but for the sake of this story, used without any permission whatsoever, are the lyrics which influenced me:

I pity inanimate objects
Because they can't move
From specks of dust to paperweights
Or a pound note sealed in resin
Plastic Santas in perpetual underwater snowstorms
Sculptures that appear to be moving
But aren't
I feel sorry for them all
What are they thinking
When they arrive at a place
Do they sigh with disappointment
And when they leave
Do they have regrets?
Is a sofa as happy in one corner
As it is in another
And how does the room feel about it?
I pity inanimate objects
I pity inanimate objects
I pity inanimate objects
I pity them all
Physics isn't fair
Is a tree as a rocking horse
An ambition fulfilled
And is the sawdust jealous?
I worry about these things
Peppercorns don't move
Until they contaminate the ice-cream
Three weeks later
Is the gold in Fort Knox happy gold?
I care about these things
Some things are better left alone
Grains of sand prefer their own company
But magnets are two faced
No choice for sugar
But what choice could there be
But to drown in coffee or to drown in tea
The frustrations of being inanimate
Maybe its better that way
The fewer the moving parts
The less there is to go wrong
I wonder about these things
I pity inanimate objects
I pity inanimate objects
I pity inanimate objects
I pity them all

"Della" my computer for six years...

This Expy, my present laptop...

So that’s about when I started naming things that were inanimate…it started with cars and guitars, but as time and technology progressed it includes almost everything I use on a daily basis. I would even say that this little mind game of mine helped me during the darkest days after my recovery. I had severe agoraphobia and couldn’t relate to other humans very well, but my trust old laptop,  Della was there for me everyday. I got a new laptop last October, her name is Expy. 

This is Dalek, the coffee maker...

                                                      

     I call my phone (an android) S3; the coffee maker is called Dalek (“CAFFEINATE!!”) and even my medicine bowls have names (my favorites are either Ervis or The Last Moon of Poosh) but all of this still helps to this day. I keep better

This is Ervis and Poosh...

track of my things because they are not just my things, they are my friends too. Like in the movie “Star Wars”, R2D2 and C3PO were as human as Yoda! Well, maybe Yoda isn’t the right character, but they were characters in the movie in their own right and so it’s a little like that in my reality too; I have a personality for these devices, I have an emotional investment in them. I take really good care of them and never lose them either, so for it’s worth, it’s true, indeed…I Pity inanimate Objects!

Do You?

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This is a random blog article for the day because I'm starting to feel a little better than I have all week...the pain is subsiding, the blue optimistic skies are giving rise to hope in my sould and I'm feeling a bit silly...which is always a good thing! This is the FINAL THREE DAYS to get your copy of my book "My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On..." for 50% OFF (plus it's personally autographed and comes with other stuff)...Next week I'll be in San Francisco for the week and everyday, sometimes twice a day, I have engagements and meetings...I may not post my Monday article, or I'll post it on Sunday night and try to keep everyone abreast during my time in The Bay City...

I am looking forward to another fun filled weekend with the family...We're having an out of town guest, our adopted step-daughter, my moonchild, Caitlin Arwen will be visiting on Sunday for the next week or so...we're so excited about this but have not told the kids she's going to be here, so it's a surprise (please don't tell them if you happen to see my kids)!

www.dphilipchalmers.net

Once again, thank you to everyone who bought the book on-line this week..it's been our best on-line sales week to day with a stagger 19 copies sold...My goal was 25 and we still have a couple of more days...so help me reach my goal and get your copy today!

I am always Grateful for your comments and re-shares, as always, I wish everyone a very splendid weekend...Take care, be well and stay safe.

Peace, 

d'Philip

17 April 2015

The San Joaquin Valley

Republic of California

Earth

A Thursday Throwback with Words…

It is sometime past three in the morning, I can’t sleep…

When you’re a child who has lost your parent to death, you are an orphan. When you’re married and you lose your spouse you’re a widow(er). But when you’re a parent and you lose your child, there is no word for that…there is no term, nothing to call it but unnatural. Tragic. Painful. Heartbreaking. For the last fourteen years, fourteen years ago today, the 16^th of April, I have been wrestling with this concept but I never win. I always come up crying and never find the right word to describe it…a parent who has lost a child is simply indescribable. Even after all this time, these many months and years, I still have this unbearable hole in my heart, this deep scar on my soul and I know it will never go away. It’s said, “It gets better with time, time heals all wounds…” but that’s a crock of shit. It doesn’t really get easier with time, only more expected and tolerable…every year, twice a year it hurts worse than you can imagine. I know she’ll always be with me in my heart, but fuck that, I’d rather have her next to me. It’s selfish, I know and it’s up to me to “let it go” but I won’t, I’ll never let it go, I’ll never forget 4/16/01; after this pain, there is very little in life that frightens me, there is nothing which can be to me that’s worse than what’s already been done. Except, the fear of losing my any of my other three children, there is not a single fear left, not even the deaths of my parents, my brother, my wife…myself…none of that frightens me at all…why, should it?

I’m trying to remember good things, thinking about happy times, I try to imagine the night we were sitting together as a family, painting arts and crafts…Valerie was sitting between Cassidy and Julian, I was sitting across from them while Kelly buzzed around the table helping all of us; I still can remember The Beatles “Sgt. Pepper” playing in the background and the aroma of cranberry candles. I try to remember when I let her drive the car and how giddy (but good) she was at doing that, I remember how she didn’t want to see “The Phantom Menace”, the Star Wars film that came out in 1999, but once she did, she demanded to do a video marathon watching the original three movies; but then I get sad, she never saw the next 2 films, nor the next three...I cry. I try to think about the love we shared and not focus on the pain of losing her. I have, in the past, tried to erase the pain by sinking myself into my work. That doesn’t work well. The sadness comes out sideways and I don’t really get away from all those feelings. They always catch up with me like a tsunami crashing on the beaches of my soul; welling up fifty feet high and then smashing into my life, nearly drowning me. This year, although I’m not trying to bury the pain, I’m just hurting badly.

I always hurt badly.

I have punished myself this week already by doing the promotional engagements that I did, I didn’t really have to do them and I only sold three books over two days. Tuesday went alright, I felt a connection with my audience and I felt like I made a difference. But yesterday, Wednesday, was hell. I was a prickly mood to start with, I had not slept well but when my presentation was cut short, I got miffed. I didn’t stick around for the luncheon, I just got on my bike and rode almost 50 miles home. It took me almost five hours, being old and in the way didn’t help anything so when I arrived just before dinner, I was in no mood to cook. But my family loves me, they took care of me and I was feeling better when I went to bed early, just past 21:30, I took a Klonopin and fell asleep quickly.

Now I am up, awake from another terrifying dream, another staggering, breath-taking wicked dream where my deceased daughter, her flesh like a Zombie, peeling from her face is warning me about the demons that are coming to take away all of my children and they almost have Cassidy, they have him and they’re going to kill him too, just like they did to her! I run and run, inside of the dream and run into Vince Vaughn in a misty blue and green colored room, he’s surround by others, but I can’t see their faces. Vaughn looks like a gangster, but he knows me because we both hung around Lake Forest 20 years ago, so he was my friend and he said something about how I need to stay out of sight. The henchmen he was with just stood in the shadows and I started to tell Vince about my daughter and the demons when, in that strange way dreams are, I was suddenly alone in a deep canyon. I looked up, the narrow walls were eighty feet high, I could barely see the sky. There was a stream trickling at my feet so I got on my hands and knees and started to crawl…the stream got bigger, wider and deeper and before too long I was floating inside the stream and being carried away swiftly. For a moment it felt nice but then, when the waters started running faster and I felt the current turning, I saw Cassidy on the riverbank and I started to try swimming towards him. By now the stream was a rapids of rivers and I was tossed against rocks, splashed until I was blind and eventually find myself beached on the banks of a murky tide-pool.

Then I woke up. I walked around the old farmhouse, I strolled in the night under the fading moon and then tried to go back asleep again. I was tossed and turned, I flipped on the tele and streamed an old movie from Netflix. But when that was over and I was still unable to sleep, I started to write this…I thought about sharing it with you, this crazy insanity I feel inside my head my head as it’s happening because sometimes, my fellow babies, this whacked out disorder will clobber you blue without the slightest provocation; this week, I have a trigger the size of a nuke, it’s scaring the fuck out of me right now too…take a deep breath, d’Philip…close your eyes and find the center…listen for your heart…let the music play.

The scary thing about what Valerie said to me sort of fits into this strange feeling I’ve since we went on this cruise to The Caribbean in the summer of 2000…we stopped in Haiti and while there we witness this sacred voodoo ceremony and dance performance. I took a couple of snap shots of this event and right after I did, this creep, old woman with war paint and bad teeth got in my face and said something tribal. I got shivers, I didn’t understand what she said but I felt this cold, shiver in my spine and for the rest of the performance I retired to the back of the ship. When we returned home and had the photos process, all the shots of the VooDoo ritual dance were a murky brown and you couldn’t see anything very clearly…except, in one shot, in the middle of the murky brown chemical burn, I could see the eyes of the freaky old lady who freaked me out…that tripped me out and I tried to write about it, only to find the reality of what happening in my life was far worse than the tragic events my characters were suffering.

In the year after we returned from that cruise my whole life unraveled…My relationship with Valier got very hostile because her mother was trying to use Valerie to pump money from me and I refused to deal with Valerie’s mother; I told Valerie she can call me when she’s not with her mother and she called me a fucking asshole and hung up on me. That was the last thing we said to one another. In September, Maggie was born without complications, however there was a concern for her hip placements; November the land development company I worked for announced it was pulling out of Arkansas and relocating to Missouri. I was offered a lateral move with the company, but it was a very rural place and so we declined and I got a meager compensation package. Christmas was supposed to be a big family reunion…my brother, his wife and their new baby were coming from Chicago…Cassidy and Valerie would be arriving in Arkansas on Christmas Day and we planned a grand celebration…However a freak ice storm took the entire south and Midwest! Valerie and Cassidy never made it to Arkansas, their flights were cancelled. We got several feet of ice and ended up being trapped in our house until New Year’s Eve with no power, no heat and when 2001, chimed in at midnight, I knew it was going to be a really weird year.

Why I am writing this now? I already fucking wrote about this in the book! FUCK! It’s the re-living thing, it’s  PTSD trait, I have these vivid flashbacks and the best way for me to cope with them, sometimes it to describe them…sometimes I draw or paint them…I’ve even tried to write music for these feelings…but there’s also a paranoid thing too, like…okay this is COMPLETELY CRAZY…what if in the dream that’s keeping me up tonight, Valerie’s warning about demons is real? What if there ARE DEMONS going after my children…? Could that be why there were no culprits caught in her murder? They gave her poison, they did very bad things to her and then they left her alone in a condo, nobody knew her and worse, nobody knew who these scumbag, these killers, these evil demons were…now Cass, he’s been known to get taken in by “the wrong people” very easily, he’s gotten into serious trouble with the law because of fights and violent behavior…he’s been whacked on drugs for a while…although he says he’s been clean for seven months, not even a drop of booze…I don’t believe him because, well, I know what a liar sounds like, especially when it’s my own son lying to me…those demons work in mysterious ways, they slip in and out like a knife from the shadows…what if these demons are haunting my son now? I worry about this like it’s real, it was a fucking dream and I’m worried and working myself up because it like it’s actual…SHIT!

I’m going to try to go back to bed…

FOUR HOURS LATER…

I have things to do today to distract me some…my schedule is clear for today and tomorrow, I wanted to allow myself time for grief because it’s important to me to let it flow…roll away the tears, sail the waves of highs and lows until, again, the sea inside my soul is again still, peaceful, at rest. I don’t know what else much I could be doing to help myself get through this pain. I don’t want to just keep writing about it; it’s like picking at the wound. I just miss her so much, I miss everything about her…music, I’m going to listen to and play some music…I miss having friends locally, but I’m very Grateful for the friends I have here…Like I mentioned, I don’t want to dwell on the loss of my daughter because it’s such a powerful matter I can’t get completely around it; the best method is to keep busy, focus on the life around me and know that this pain will subside with time. It never goes away, but it subsides.

I feel guilty for feeling so sad right now. There are so many other parents who have also lost their children unexpectedly, some parents having lost more than one child. Who am I to dwell on this issue so much, how can afford the luxury of pining for the death of a child 14 years ago? I feel shame, I feel weak and lost. I should have been over this by now, I think to myself, it wasn’t this hard last year or the year before; I was getting control of this wicked, slippery pain. Not this year, for some reason I’m really tender about it and feel consumed with this agony, I have been feeling all week and in the last 24 hours it’s become almost unbearable. I am writing this as my cheeks stain with falling tributaries of tears, nobody else is home, I’m alone with the pets and my pain. I just want to crawl back to bed, hide under the blanket and play dead myself. But I know, that’s not going to make anything better, it might just make it worse. I feel like talking about her, about telling her story, telling the story of her and I and how we never had the chance to be a part of each other’s life, but I did that already…in “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” my issues with my Valerie weave through my life like an invisible thread which eventually unravels my life. I wish I could talk with somebody who knew her, but the only person who knew her as well as me is my mother and she’s 79 years old, in poor health and I don’t want to burden my mother with my whiney little bitch act. My wife knew Valerie, a little…they became close in the two years that Valerie was a part of our lives but its painful for her too and my wife, she loves me so well, she would simply cradle me, stroke my hair and coo while I fall asleep. Maybe another intense bike ride would do me good, but my thighs hurt so badly I could hardly do my morning stroll around the block and I skipped my exercise routine today. Physical pain does not lessen the emotional pain, it just distracts me from it for a while until, later, both my head and body hurt…I don’t feel creative, I don’t feel happy, I don’t feel like doing shit…not even house chores or vegging out on the tele…I just feel like a useless clump of fleshy shit!

Excuse me, but I just have to stop writing here and now, it hurts too much.

I miss you Valerie Anne Chalmers…I love you.

Valerie with my mother and I, February of 1985...

When Life Looks Like Easy Street…

The first three months I worked on developing our little website business, “dPhilip.com LLC” and getting a Microsoft Certification for myself. I picked up some skills with a program called “Flash” and felt very creative in this new media. I networked our “Small Business Website Program” to large corporations looking for support, guidance and, of course, cash for my unique, innovative marketing concepts. I attracted the interest of a large Internet Service Provider called “Earthlink” when I presented my general ideas to their regional marketing director at conference in Dallas. By late March he set up a meeting with the marketing department in their corporate headquarters in Atlanta for the second week of May. I negotiated and obtained a license agreement to resell a web authoring software from a California company. They sent me a beta-version of their latest software, it was a simple web authoring program with great advance application potentials. I got the local Gateway computer company store to support the program by having them “customize” a small, affordable laptop to my design specification. I was authorized to sell this customized machine to my potential clientele. I tried to partner with the cell phone provider, Sprint because I anticipated the transition to the cell phone age and I saw an opportunity to “bundle” the Sprint service and products in my marketing plan. I didn't get Sprint to fly but I did establish a working relationship with the local Sprint representatives, we got hooked-up with a multiple line cell phone account (in 2001, cell phones were still a very new concept). I built a small team around my idea, at the core was Kelly and mom, they handled the money and administration functions. I recruited a couple of ladies willing to work on commission to sell this idea around the greater Hot Springs area, or anywhere they could in the region. Both of them, Kim and Kathy, were attractive women with very positive personalities. I had a kid from Boston named Aldo, a programming geek who got involved for a while, but he often flaked out. The final technical issues were left to me but I'm not a technical guy yet somehow I got it all going. I accomplished the design, building and launch of our business website on April 1st of 2001 with mixed results. There was a lack of real interest in the product and service, my sales team had trouble getting potential customers to see this inevitable vision of the future. Kim did land a local gift shop as dPhilip.com’s first client, then Kathy got a larger sports card trading company in Dallas to also buy our services. These two customers helped establish our skills, build our reputation as a real company with real website design services and floated our little company for the first 90 days.

Monday, the 16th of April in 2001 was a very warm morning, sunlight beamed through the small windows in my command center office/studio room. I had been up and at it for several hours, working away with that manic energy focus and determination. I was walking from the office/studio room, down the hallway when Kelly emerged from the bedroom and stopped me, “Babe, I just got off the phone with your mother…” there was that tone in her voice, that tone that tells you something is not right. Her eyes were welling up as she held 6 month old Maggie in her arms, she placed her hand on my forearm, “Your mom’s on the way over now.”

“Why? What’s up?” my heart was racing and I knew there was death, “Tell me, Kelly, what happened? What’s going on?”

“Just wait…” Kelly started, “…until your mom is here.”

“Just fucking tell me!” I gripped her shoulder and tears of confusion started building up inside of me, “What the fuck is going on?!?”

“Valerie…” Kelly’s voice cracked and her tears streamed, “It’s Valerie, she’s dead.”

“What?”  I couldn’t believe it, I did not just hear that, I stood there a moment and repeated to myself, “What the fuck is going on?”

“She was found dead this morning…” Kelly was sobbing, Maggie started to cry and the gravity of her words clobbered me in the heart of my soul, “Valerie died, they found her in some condo in South Carolina, dead.”

“What?” my knees buckled, I slumped to the floor and Kelly followed me down, trying to hold me while holding the baby when my mother walked in and found us in a heap on the hallway floor. I was in shock, the tsunami of tears yet to hit me, “What happened? How?”

“They don’t know…” said mom as she group hugged us on the floor in the hallway before lifting Maggie from Kelly’s arms and standing back up, “I’m flying to Raleigh this afternoon, Rachel just called and said Valerie was found dead of unknown causes in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.”

“South Carolina?” it sounded so absurd, so out of synch with anything that seemed normal or reasonable. My daughter, my first born child, this poor girl who’s had a terrible life, who I just got to know, who I was trying to rescue and save, how could she possible in all God’s wisdom be dead? “Dead?”

“Oh God, d’Philip…” Kelly hugged me tightly as the wall of tears started to simply slip from my soul, first a drop on my knee, then another on Kelly’s arm, a few more tears that seeped into my beard before they all started streaming, like a crack in the dam, those wet spots suddenly burst, spewed violent, deadly painful water. I cried harder. Kelly slowly rocked me, I remember her softly saying, “Okay baby, she’s in a better place, we can make it through this, it’s alright, just let it out…it’ll be okay.” 

It was over two weeks before I recovered from the first shock, but there was still so much pain, crippling agony and nothing seemed to make sense. I didn’t go to North Carolina with my mother, I wanted to go, I should be there, Valerie was my daughter. However, my mom in her wisdom and careful diplomacy, convinced me that it was for the better for me to stay home in Arkansas. Mom knew Rachel was not be receptive of my being there, it would cause all sorts of drama and maybe even legal troubles. Out of respect for Valerie, because I was feeling so catatonic in those first few days, I didn’t go to North Carolina for the services. I’m glad I didn’t go, in retrospect, had I seen Rachel, feeling so much blame and pure hatred for what she’s done to this poor child, I might have strangled her immediately. Mom returned a week later, in tears, the scene at Rachel’s was so terrible. Mom described it as an awful gathering of thugs, a lot of heavy drug usage, there was no respect for Valerie, let alone for those who loved her, it was an awful party scene. Inside the apartment was so filthy, so full of a horrible drug smell, mom stayed outside. While mom stood outside grieving with Valerie's Uncle Mark, Rachel and her lover came crashing onto the lawn, rolling around, punching one another, pulling hair, screaming, spitting, cursing and fist fighting until the police arrived. Before mom left North Carolina, Rachel showed up at her hotel room with the plastic container of Valerie’s ashes. Rachel offered them to my mother for $1,000; only because the container was still sealed with the certification label and had not been opened, my mother, for the last time, paid off Rachel.

I sought out help from a local center for mental health and saw a crisis therapist because I was concerned about having some kind of psychological relapse. They were not much help because of their limited resources, they wouldn’t even be able to get me in to see a therapist for several weeks. I then thought about my roots, my religious roots of being a Jew and so I found some refuge in the one of the only synagogues in Arkansas. Oddly, it was at Temple where I ran into my former psychiatrist, Dr. Waterman. I told my troubles to the rabbi, then to the congregation and felt supported. Dr. Waterman prescribed a mild dose of Valium for me, he saw me for lunch or coffee, outside the office for therapy. While I continued to get support from the congregation, I used the Valium twice a day and smoked a lot of weed so by the end of summer, I thought I had a solid and stable base again. After all, I reasoned with myself, I have a wife and three other kids to think about and care for, I can’t let this awful tragic event sink my spirit. I was, in truth, in such great pain and agony, I felt such rage and anger but I internalized it, I put it inside a box someplace in the back of my mind. I did this so I could carry on with the work at hand, so I could get out of bed each morning. It was my place, as head of the family, to continue and take care of everything else except myself. I just locked it away, out of sight, out of mind; pain and fear and rage? No, not in here, not inside my head, not inside my heart! What a fucking liar. I wore that mask so well that I even fooled myself so life would just go on, in the most ordinary of ways, life goes on.

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www.dphilipchalmers.net

This week’s blog article is an excerpt from Chapter 4 “2001, A Space/Time Oddity; Life in The Natural State” from my 2014 book, “My BiPolar Reality; How Life Goes On…” (published by The Intrepid Editor Press) and available almost everywhere. I selected this passage today because this week, on Thursday, April 16^th will mark 14 years since the day my daughter was found murdered in a South Carolina vacation condo.

It’s a magnificently heavy issue to deal with, a completely unnatural and surrealistic experience for any parent. Being BiPolar only made it worse, naturally, because I was very adept at hiding and compartmentalizing my feelings. I was an expert at wearing a mask, stiff upper lip with the chin up and all that…I had a wife and three other children, I had a new business I was launching and despite the crushing pain and agony I was feeling, I barely let it out…and that’s how I developed PTSD; however, PTSD didn't manifest itself for another five years. I had been showing symptoms of this order all along…terrifying nightmares, feeling detached, estranged…having uncontrolled feelings of fear or random outbursts of violent anger. But I didn’t notice, no one around me expected it and so for five years I carried the PTSD monkey on my back.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of a life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist incidents, serious accidents, or physical or sexual assault in adult or childhood. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time. However, some people will have stress reactions that do not go away on their own, or may even get worse over time. These individuals may develop PTSD. People who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person’s daily life.

People with PTSD experience three different kinds of symptoms. The first set of symptoms involves reliving the trauma in some way such as becoming upset when confronted with a traumatic reminder or thinking about the trauma when you are trying to do something else. The second set of symptoms involves either staying away from places or people that remind you of the trauma, isolating from other people, or feeling numb. The third set of symptoms includes things such as feeling on guard, irritable, or startling easily. PTSD is marked by clear biological changes as well as psychological symptoms. PTSD is complicated by the fact that people with PTSD often may develop additional disorders such as depression, substance abuse, problems of memory and cognition, and other problems of physical and mental health. The disorder is also associated with impairment of the person’s ability to function in social or family life, including occupational instability, marital problems and divorces, family discord, and difficulties in parenting.

I have been successful in getting a grip and healing from this disorder, although there are still moments, especially around significant dates like this week or her birthday, when the trauma of losing Valerie will stir my emotions and prompt some PTSD-like symptoms. By and large, however, I am managing with it and I know that although the pain will NEVER go away, how I choose to feel about the pain is different. I make the choice to use the pain to create something expressive, I use the pain to feel empathy for others, I use the pain to increase the value of my joy. I don’t prevent myself from feeling these feelings anymore. I give myself a few days, a couple times a year, exclusively for grieving and feeling the pain. This week, from Wednesday afternoon until perhaps sometime Saturday, I know I will be carrying tissues in my pockets, welling up with sadness at the slightest provocation, knowing the ghost of my daughter’s murder is haunting me. I allow this for myself, I need this to survive and I believe if I didn’t do this for myself I would be far worse off…so that’s my game plan for the week.

 I have today here in my home office, tomorrow and Wednesday I have to go to Stockton (yuck) for some promotional events but then…until I feel better on the weekend, I’m checking out and sinking into my private pool of misery.

I’m having mixed feelings about all this because as much as I like talking about this issue, the cost on my soul is very high. It really takes a lot for me to keep it together, I can skate through it while it’s all happening, but when I’m done, when I’m home again, I’m wiped out and need to seclude myself to regenerate, gather my energies and re-focus my mind.

In conclusion, I anticipate being around somewhat today but then…maybe not until Thursday or later, we’ll see how the week plays out, yes? 

I again appreciate your reading my blog, leaving comments and staying in touch…I am Grateful for friends I have gathered here and indeed hope each and every one of you has a superlative week filled with good fortune, excellent health and a lot of fun and Love!

Peace,

d’Philip

13 April 2015

The San Joaquin Valley

Republic of California

Earth