A Letter From Elias

A Letter from Elias.

I still don’t know how it happened. In my most vivid dreams, I could never have imagined this, but it happened. One day I just wasn’t me. I changed.

I was the guy that was always having fun. I had friends at school, home, and the ones I met at the gym where I trained. I wasn’t just ordinarily outgoing like the next guy; no, I was exceptionally outgoing. I was interested and involved with all of life’s offerings. I did things for the challenge and experience. I was a Columbia engineering student taking ballet just for the experience. I bartended, was an extra in a movie and of course my passion was personal training. I was laughing, learning, living and the next thing I knew, I was dead. Not physically dead, mentally dead. The guy that I was died. I became a guy who had newfound anger and unwarranted hysterics. I was ranting and raving, banging on walls and doors. I was unrecognizable. I stopped understanding the world around me. I wasn’t processing life; I was scared but didn’t know how to ask for help. I lost all connection with reality. It’s only now that I’m physically dead that I can understand what happened.

I was destined to be an electrical engineer. My Ivy League college was guiding me into a career in artificial intelligence. The girls were all over my personal trainer’s body and good looks. My men’s roller hockey team honored my goalie skills. A successful life was laid out in front of me. But then I died.

Looking back, I can say that my sophomore year in college was when the start of my demise began. I was functioning, living my life but then out of left field I experienced periods of brain silence, my thoughts flatlined and then it would rev up to mania. My head hurt; my thinking changed. A thick veil from nowhere was wrapping itself around me and I wasn’t strong enough to fight it, it wouldn’t let go of me. I struggled. Life became difficult, I wasn’t having fun anymore. But when the veil would momentarily lift, I was back.

Throughout the next 2 years, the veil kept sweeping down and then it would lift. On and off, repeat. I made it to graduation and then it swooped down and stayed for good.

The veil of mental illness made me helpless. I could not do anything, I was stuck. But then an opening in the veil would appear, maybe a small hole in the weave, and that small hole would allow a tiny ray of light through. Those photons would wake me from my stupor and connect me to some tiny bit of reality. My brain turned on, "fight,” it said, “be me.”

I would try but truth being, I didn’t succeed. I finally would want to but in reality, I could not do it. My mind was gone. I could not be the person who I always wanted to be. I became sad and angry; I couldn’t stand being around those who loved me. I became mean and didn't appreciate those who tried so hard to help.

I became medication dependent. It made me so angry to take medicine. “Why do I have to”? would repeat like a mantra in my head. I couldn’t stand taking those pills. They made me feel different from everyone else. I couldn’t stand needing them or taking them. I never wanted to take them, but I couldn’t function, and after the denial subsided, I knew it was my only option to be sane again. But the thoughts kept repeating, “why couldn’t I be normal without them? Why me”? My head would hurt with and without the medicine so why take it?

No one realized this but I did, they made me different, they clouded my thoughts, they made me feel not worthy of life. I felt useless. I needed drugs. I would think, “who needs that”? “People shouldn’t need that”. I just wanted to be me without the drugs. But they didn’t do their job, they didn't cure me. I was still sick. I kept trying, fighting, but it didn’t work. I needed them. But my disease would tell me, “You don’t need to take your medicine; it makes you weak”. I tried to be normal, stop those mind-altering drugs, but I couldn’t sustain it. Back to my meds. So many to take at once. The constant scheduling of waking, eating, swallowing those damn pills, interrupting my day, making me sick and they didn’t even help, I still felt inferior.

The constant self-abuse was relentless. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I sucked. On the meds off the meds; on off a battle of will. Me vs. the meds. They won. I needed the meds and I lost. I lost it all. I lost the battle with the meds, and I lost my life. I would never be the person I had dreamed of being. This was not me. I disappeared. I didn’t recognize the person everyone was calling by my name. I turned into someone else, and with the help of some free radical photons I realized I would never be me again.

Who was there for me to blame and get angry at? My family. They were there for me to verbally beat up or ignore, but they were always there. But I am sorry. I couldn’t help it. I was angry, I was depressed. I was resentful. I needed meds.

No medication would help me be who I thought I was destined to be, so why take it? They made me sick. They hurt my brain; they ran my life. They won. I lost. I’m gone. I’m really gone. No more me, they won.

My brain hurt so much; the veil became so heavy that I finally wanted out. I prayed for an end. I wanted out. It’s ok to leave, it's ok to be pain free. It’s ok. I needed it.

I miss you all so much but I’m happier here. I’m me. I watch you and see your pain. I’m sorry, but I’m here and I’m me. Please forgive me. I will love you all forever. You were my rocks, my supporters, my cheering squad. You were everything to and for me. I will love you all forever. I’m finally me. I’m free! Please understand. I’m free! I’m me. Elias! I’m Elias and I’m free!