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At a Crossroads
This is my first published column in thirteen weeks. Some of you may playfully be wondering what happened to me, but alas, that would be a legitimate concern. In hindsight, I used to say 2007 was the worst year of my life, and that “there was nowhere to go but up.” But now, unless things improve in the last quarter, 2018 is poised to overtake it.
On Thursday last week, which is the deadline to submit to the Monday Morning Memo, I went to a psychology appointment after the shortest wait between appointments in my eleven years of therapy. I know it’s the shortest because of my long memory. After a long break, I started seeing a therapist again in May and I feel like I’ve had more success with this therapist than all my previous ones put together. And when discussing our sessions with the people I trust most, I’ve told them that he may not be better than my previous therapists so much as I am being more open, and finally have a clear sense of what I want to accomplish.
This will be the shortest wait because, for the last two and a half months, I’ve increasingly been caught in a void between life and death. While I am definitely making some strides toward getting things done in my life—including my series, which is now online at https://archive.org/details/HeroesOfMotown—I feel extremely bored with my life. My loneliness owes more to being with bad company than being alone, especially when I’m out and about. Leaving my house has become such a chore that, for the first time, my triggers instill fear rather than anger in me. One activity that used to brighten even my roughest days no longer does. One particular stressor, which I’d rather not name, finally drove me from ideation to actively planning the end of my life. When my mother told me “it seems silly to let [it] waste my life,” I explained that I already felt horrible about my life and that it would be the correlation, not the cause.
One thing I think I have on my side is, unlike most people, being out of the closet and transparent about my mental health issues. There are several things I’m out about that for most people would be a carefully guarded secret. Having autism, I didn’t understand that I wasn’t supposed to talk about these things. But now I see coming out as beneficial—the first step toward acceptance by the greater population. I’m appreciative of the support I’ve gotten from my family and acquaintances regarding my mental health issues, so appreciative that it almost keeps me hanging on.
It’s a question of if, not how, I’ll get through this part of my life. If this isn’t the end, it will be a new chapter. I’ve enjoyed studying quotes, and I’ve read quotes from Holocaust survivors who said they gained a greater appreciation for simple things in life. The last few months will surely have the same effect if I make it through. I have already found myself to be more grateful for the good things that do happen to me. I’d be even more grateful if only I had more faith in overcoming these enormous obstacles.
Eric Gmeinder, egmeinder@gmail.com