Man In The Mirror

"I'm starting with the Man in the Mirror.
I'm asking him to change his ways."
- Michael Jackson

***


I need to apologize to Catherine Zeta Jones and the Ice Doctor (I honestly cannot even remember her name).  It was unfair of me to poke fun at such a serious topic, but to be completely truthful, sometimes humor is the way I know how to handle something.

Dear Catherine Zeta Jones,

I am terribly sorry for offending you in my previous chapter.   
Entrapment was one of my favorite movies and I actually owned it on VHS.  
That whole cat suit and gymnastics through the laser beams thing?   
You were my idol for years.   
I hope that makes up for my offside comments yesterday.

Sincerely,
Sarah Lee

***

Oh noooooo!
I am going on Ellen, aren't I?

I'm going to be on Ellen and I will be sitting in that chair in front of the audience while she asks me questions.

Ellen: "So, you wrote a book that challenges the stigma of mental health and you talk about getting mentally fit and releasing your hold on medication." 
Me: "Yes."

Ellen: "In chapter two, you make reference to Catherine Zeta Jones in a rather bold attack against your health care."
Me: "Um, yes.   I clearly lost my filter that day."

Ellen: "Well, our team did a big search and look who we found to come in today."

As the audience claps, the Ice Doctor walks out onto the stage.

I start to remember that feeling of being about the size of a pea.

As she discusses all the benefits of the latest new antidepressants on the market, I feel like I want to be swallowed up whole and spit out into a garbage can.

Ellen: "Wait.  We have one more surprise for you Sarah.   (of course she does.)  If I remember correctly, you loved the scene from Entrapment with the red laser beams and the catsuit?"
Me: (laughing nervously)
Ellen: "We have recreated that exact scene and backstage have a replica catsuit for you to put on."

Oh dear God.

Ellen:"Just to be sure you remember the steps, we have someone here who'd like to show you the way."

Of course you do because you're Ellen.

Catherine Zeta Jones walks out on stage.

I am officially going to die.

The next five minutes shows embarrassing footage of her killing it, cat-like, as she maneuvers through the laser beams while I somewhat look like a child playing the board game Operation, being zapped and hearing the buzzer every time I try to weave in between the rays of light.

***

I feel it's somewhat important to note here that just because the Ice Doctor's treatment didn't seem to work for me, doesn't mean it doesn't work for thousands of others.  (I also bailed probably before a real solution was found.)   I didn't mean to be mean to my friend Catherine, who I secretly really admire, and I would be mortified if someone referred to me that way (which, by the way, has totally happened before.)

Back peddling complete.
Let's move on.

***

In 2015,  I ran my first half marathon in Toledo, Ohio.  The night before, I drank a bottle of California Cab, smoked 7 cigarettes, and ate two bowls of pasta.

(If you haven't seen the hockey commercial mocking carb loading from the team drinking green smoothies, you tube it.)

I call this Balance.  

Some might argue it was not.

A few months after this run, I announced that I was going to quit smoking.  (Generally, this goes as well as my failed attempts at coming off the antidepressants.   Irrational mood swings leading back to running to the corner store at some godawful hour and purchasing a new pack and smoking two on the way home.)

I will always remember the conversation because it become a negotiation of sorts.

I was challenged to come off the drugs first, smoking second.

"You know you don't need that stuff, right?"

But I could hide the drugs.  

I couldn't hide the cigarettes as easily and I was constantly looking for an escape to smoke and I was starting to feel like a second class citizen.  It had been years and I was feeling like a complete fraud, talking to people about fitness, and coming home to my smoking haven.  I made a deal that if I could get off the smokes, the drugs went next.

Two months after I quit smoking, I decided to give it a shot.

***

The process is long.

My pill cutter became my new best friend.

I got down to one pill a day, half a pill a day, a quarter of a pill a day.  

A quarter of a pill every other day.  

A quarter of a pill every two days.

I hung on to that last quarter pill for as long as physically possible.  

And then I was free.

***

There are things I did not know at this time.  

I did not know it is scientifically possible to build new brain cells.

I did not know there was more to my recovery coming than just the accomplishment of releasing the hold on the drug.

And I did not understand the power I had to control my beliefs, my thoughts and my future.

***

Whoa!

It was like someone had just thrown my emotional first aid kit out the window of an airplane and my oxygen mask was missing.

I had hid my feelings and emotions for so long, I didn't really know how to handle all that was surfacing.  

I would relate it to getting out of a float tank.  

A sensory deprivation tank but for my emotions.

The high's were high, the low's were crushing.

Everything was amplified.

I thought I could cry when someone gave me a compliment and cry when someone hurt my feelings.

Welcome back Sarah.
We missed you.
You have a lot of work to do.

Wait, what?

I thought this was it.

You know.

Come off the meds and carry on.

Aren't they supposed to re-wire my brain and fix my neurotransmitters so that eventually, when I come off them, it's like a magic new me?

NO?

Damn.

***

Over the period of a year, I discovered my tolerance for alcohol reduced from 15 glasses of wine to about 3 or 4.  (So much cheaper.)

The mood swings started to even out.

I woke up at the same time every morning without an alarm clock.

My empathy and intuition grew at alarming rates.

My internal compass had it's batteries replaced.

The areas that needed work in my life started to glow for attention.

The fog I lived in for so many years started to lift, and as the picture became clear - every mistake, every failure, every poor decision and every loss from my past all decided to compete in my thoughts.

This time though, I didn't cave.

This time, I took a deep breath.

This time, I walked right up, sat in the middle of all of it and looked it straight in the eye.