Tuesday, August 31st, 2004
Here is a letter I wrote to my friends, Andrew F., and Robert J.. I have not really had any meaningful exchange of words with them in too many years. I am hoping the remedy that situation.
--My dearest Friends,
It is 9 in the morning. As I am writing this there is a wonderful breeze blowing, and it appears that it will be quite a magnificent day. The storms last night, remnants of "Gaston," were fairly intense, but they have cleared out the air and the sky is just downright brilliant. I'm feeling mildly philosophical at the moment, so please be patient with me.
I hope most sincerely that all is well with you and your families. It is one of my fondest wishes that one day we will get together again, with our families. I would love nothing more than for you guys to get to know my boys. Particularly Dante. He is my heart.
All right, I'm trying to avoid the main reason for this letter, and I need to stop doing that. I must, however, apologize in advance for writing this. That's not right. I am not going to regret writing it. What I am going to regret is the fact that it won't be a happy read. It appears that I am going to pour my heart out to you guys.
It seems odd, at least to me, that after all these years of avoiding you guys I am now suddenly going to lay my life's woes at your feet. I'm trying to get my life back, guys. You both played very major roles in my life, and I miss that. But, basically, I no longer know who I am, nor do I remember who I was.
History lesson: Back in 1999 I had a major breakdown. I was diagnosed with severe Major Depressive Disorder. I spent a week at an inpatient facility. They had me so doped up I didn't even know what blue was. They had me on depakote and thorazine, as well as other unpronounceable psycho-pharmaceuticals. I was apparently aware enough to ask my wife, Heidi, to promise never to let go to a place like that again.
The reason for my admission into that facility was for the treatment of the depression. The reasons for the depression were never diagnosed, but it was determined that it was something which had been building up inside of me for a great many years. One of the doctors did think that it had to do with our move to the states from Puerto Rico, and how I went about assimilating the new culture. Whatever. The reasons don’t really matter. What matters is that I was an inch away from taking my own life, and needed help.
They let me out, too, which, upon reflection, was a mistake. You see, they did stabilize me enough for me to know that I could talk my way out of the place. So, I did. I answered their questions they way they needed them answered. I acted the way they needed me to act. It was a stellar performance, but I am not proud of it. I had never made that admission to anyone, either, until just recently. The reason I finally told that story to Heidi was that I am, again, on the verge of collapse.
But, the reasons for any of this don’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that for a number of years I have been pretending that nothing was wrong, while inside I was slowly killing myself. I have discarded Friendships simply to avoid people who might notice that, hey, JC is acting. I have put on so many masks over the last 10 years that I have lost myself. I don’t know me. I’m scared.
I’m back where I was back in ’99. I have given serious thought to the taking of my own life. There is a difference, however, and it is a HUGE difference!! The difference is that this time I am reaching out for help from my Friends and Family. It is perhaps the most difficult thing I have ever done, this reaching out to people, but it is necessary.
I don’t expect you guys to come rushing out with support. What I would like for you guys to know is that I am going through a thing right now. That’s it. Just know. That by itself means a lot to me.
So, now that you know, what next?? Well, either today or tomorrow, I plan on getting myself placed into an inpatient facility. I have promised myself that I will not talk my way out of it, but I don’t if that is a promise I can keep. The mind and body do whatever they need to survive. This will be interesting to observe. I have a Friend out here, Andrew Abramson, who is a former psychotherapist, and he is helping me out. He reminds me a great deal of you, Andrew Funk. Some of his mannerisms. Some of his speech patterns. Anyway, he knows how much I love to act, so he will be coming with me to speak with the intake folk. Maybe they will believe him. Ah, yes. During my previous visit to the facility I was very clear and articulate when I told them that I was a terrific actor. They, of course, assured Heidi and I that they would know if I were acting. Heh. Right.
So, there you have it, sports fans. No phone calls, please, for I will not be answering the phone today. It may take me a few weeks to respond to mailings, too, but take heart, my friends. I will respond when I am able.
With fondest regards, I remain your true Friend,
jc
--My dearest Friends,
It is 9 in the morning. As I am writing this there is a wonderful breeze blowing, and it appears that it will be quite a magnificent day. The storms last night, remnants of "Gaston," were fairly intense, but they have cleared out the air and the sky is just downright brilliant. I'm feeling mildly philosophical at the moment, so please be patient with me.
I hope most sincerely that all is well with you and your families. It is one of my fondest wishes that one day we will get together again, with our families. I would love nothing more than for you guys to get to know my boys. Particularly Dante. He is my heart.
All right, I'm trying to avoid the main reason for this letter, and I need to stop doing that. I must, however, apologize in advance for writing this. That's not right. I am not going to regret writing it. What I am going to regret is the fact that it won't be a happy read. It appears that I am going to pour my heart out to you guys.
It seems odd, at least to me, that after all these years of avoiding you guys I am now suddenly going to lay my life's woes at your feet. I'm trying to get my life back, guys. You both played very major roles in my life, and I miss that. But, basically, I no longer know who I am, nor do I remember who I was.
History lesson: Back in 1999 I had a major breakdown. I was diagnosed with severe Major Depressive Disorder. I spent a week at an inpatient facility. They had me so doped up I didn't even know what blue was. They had me on depakote and thorazine, as well as other unpronounceable psycho-pharmaceuticals. I was apparently aware enough to ask my wife, Heidi, to promise never to let go to a place like that again.
The reason for my admission into that facility was for the treatment of the depression. The reasons for the depression were never diagnosed, but it was determined that it was something which had been building up inside of me for a great many years. One of the doctors did think that it had to do with our move to the states from Puerto Rico, and how I went about assimilating the new culture. Whatever. The reasons don’t really matter. What matters is that I was an inch away from taking my own life, and needed help.
They let me out, too, which, upon reflection, was a mistake. You see, they did stabilize me enough for me to know that I could talk my way out of the place. So, I did. I answered their questions they way they needed them answered. I acted the way they needed me to act. It was a stellar performance, but I am not proud of it. I had never made that admission to anyone, either, until just recently. The reason I finally told that story to Heidi was that I am, again, on the verge of collapse.
But, the reasons for any of this don’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that for a number of years I have been pretending that nothing was wrong, while inside I was slowly killing myself. I have discarded Friendships simply to avoid people who might notice that, hey, JC is acting. I have put on so many masks over the last 10 years that I have lost myself. I don’t know me. I’m scared.
I’m back where I was back in ’99. I have given serious thought to the taking of my own life. There is a difference, however, and it is a HUGE difference!! The difference is that this time I am reaching out for help from my Friends and Family. It is perhaps the most difficult thing I have ever done, this reaching out to people, but it is necessary.
I don’t expect you guys to come rushing out with support. What I would like for you guys to know is that I am going through a thing right now. That’s it. Just know. That by itself means a lot to me.
So, now that you know, what next?? Well, either today or tomorrow, I plan on getting myself placed into an inpatient facility. I have promised myself that I will not talk my way out of it, but I don’t if that is a promise I can keep. The mind and body do whatever they need to survive. This will be interesting to observe. I have a Friend out here, Andrew Abramson, who is a former psychotherapist, and he is helping me out. He reminds me a great deal of you, Andrew Funk. Some of his mannerisms. Some of his speech patterns. Anyway, he knows how much I love to act, so he will be coming with me to speak with the intake folk. Maybe they will believe him. Ah, yes. During my previous visit to the facility I was very clear and articulate when I told them that I was a terrific actor. They, of course, assured Heidi and I that they would know if I were acting. Heh. Right.
So, there you have it, sports fans. No phone calls, please, for I will not be answering the phone today. It may take me a few weeks to respond to mailings, too, but take heart, my friends. I will respond when I am able.
With fondest regards, I remain your true Friend,
jc
posted by Cherrycat at 1:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home