As some of you may have been able to figure out, I really haven't been able to do too much reading these days other than books related to my research. I've had to completely rehash my research methodology that had no human subjects compliance to a full blown human subjects compliant study. Eeeech! Basically that means I have to go through what is called the Institutional Review Board. This has its pros and cons. On the Pro side--research with Human Subjects has a greater chance to be published. On the flip side, human subjects are sometimes difficult to deal with because of logistics. Oh well chalk one up for Eddie Murphy's Law.
But I digress. On reading, I simply have not had the time nor the energy to focus too much on any other literature ergo I have discovered audio books. Strangely, they appeal to me much better right now simply because I can just download the book from I-Tunes and play them on the go, be it in the car, on the plane or on the treadmill. One of my friends, I'll just call him the master of the Alpha brick, said I should convert my blog into a book called the Souls of White Folk and co-author it with a colleague with whom I share the same last name. I think its a good idea provided I can break free from this one legged ass kicking contest (of which I am coming out on the loosing side these days).
The one audio book I have been left with a serious impression is titled: Madness: A Bipolar Life. The oral delivery of the text really engaged me. In thinking about the topic of mental illness I really have to come back to the question of psychology and Black Folk. For some reason, we just don't seem to get it. Lets not get it twisted, Black Folk have made it this far by the faith of God. But what we don't seem to realize is that as God, Allah, Buddha and others made everything, God, Allah, Buddha and Others, made Prozac too. This question seemed to follow me ever since I actually started psychotherapy. Some of my readers will probably say-Oh no, he actually goes to see a shrink. Yes, I must confess that I have seen a shrink (psychologist since 2001 and psychiatrist since 2006 and been taking psych drugs since 2006). Now before anyone goes out and says, "that brother is crazy!" please allow me to say he or she who is without crazy, let them be the first one to throw the first stone. Hell, we all are a little crazy. Just some more than others. Then you have those who make CNN. I think personally that those who choose not to seek help are in a serious state of denial. Hence my problem with a majority of us folk. In this season of my transition, trust me, I have been on the couch quite a few times and on one occasion, been to the ER for panic attacks twice in one week. That should let you know off the bat what type of year 2009 was for me. I have never been so happy to see a year leave. But unfortunately the remounts of 2009 had spillage into 2010 which unfortunately again had me doing the couch trip more than what I wanted.
Again, with everything that was swimming in my head, I had to get a few self help audio books and some audio books just to keep my self esteem in tact. Hence the book on Madness. Nope I don't have bipolar but still I felt the need to listen to this book because the writer was doing what I am doing now: going through. In listening to her memoir, I really had to step back and consider myself blessed in many circumstances because this person, whew she had to go through shock therapy, continuously until her mind got right-or-left. In listening to this text, I was able to see certain episodes which I experienced but just was unable, and still, somewhat unable to really articulate at this point in time. I think what just really had me and still does have me twisted is the fact that we as a population, as a culture, still see mental illness as taboo. It's like that relative we see at the family reunion (unfortunately in my family they take place at funerals) that you just don't want to see or talk about. The common response we would have to someone calling us out about our moods would be, "if I am mentally ill it's because you made me that way." I tried to get a dear close friend of mine to go to therapy because I thought that their emotions were just a weeee bit off the register. I mean it was like, I knew what the button was that would make him ackadamnfool. I could just say a particular word and this one would just bust out their clothes like their name was Bill Bixbby. What's weird about it is that they would stay mad for a week. Now that's pissed off to the highest point of pistivity. When I checked them on it, form a distance of course, I tried to explain to them the benefits of cognitive behavioral therapy infused with psychotropic medical intervention. Of course you can figure out how this conversation went. "So you going to buy me a joint!-- All I need is some weed and I can work it out right?" Needless to say I just had to leave the room, because that just kinda threw me. Joint Therapy, that's a new one. Don't get mad, just get lifted. I retuned back to him sometime latter. I put my college degrees on the shelf and in my most humble southern accent (this really was manufactured) I was like dude, look, you gotta calm down; I'm going through the mind field and you coming right behind me dribbling a damn basketball--I'm going to get through this isht, because I got a little boy to raise; the rate you going, you wake up with a stroke. Go to the doctor! Get your altitude calmed down! Needless to say, damn fool didn't want to listen. Well as they say in the UK, pay attention or pay the price.
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