An Uninvited Alien Experience - A Memory of Depression -

By Jorge C. Torrez

In an "Uninvited Alien Experience," one young man searches for 'normalcy' amidst a world grossly distorted by a disorder of the mind. He is constantly besieged by a roller-coaster of convoluted thoughts and emotions converting his sane world into one huge, chaotic mess. However, underneath the projections manifested by his deteriorating mind, he discovers hope in a tiny corner of his unconscious. But not until he realizes that defeating his illness is not a matter of winning or losing, yet the key to his success is arriving at a consensus-an accord not with himself, but with his Depression.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781329974494

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An Uninvited Alien Experience - A Memory of Depression -

Table of Contents

Dedication

Introduction

The Invasion

Path of Destruction

Understanding the Intruder

Battle Within

Early years

Depression's Footsteps

No Boundaries

The Invasion

Living with Depression

The Swing of Things

Life's Perspective

No Root Cause

Complacency with Depression

Different Person

Stigmatization

After the Fact

Accepting Treatments

In and Out of Institutions

Spirituality

My Reflections

Here to Stay

Final Thoughts

Biography

Dedication

As such, I would like to extend my special consideration to the disabled community, especially most dear to my heart are those in the many psych wards of this country and worldwide who suffer a mental disorder, I wish them all the best of luck.  And to the people who for no particular personal interest have taken the time to read this book, I extend my warm thanks. And I especially extend my gratitude to Mahsa Sedaghatian for her time and effort in revising and editing my memory.

Conceivably, it’s only fitting in ending this excerpt with a little poem I wrote not too long ago, as I sat confined within a tiny room with padded white walls:

Afflicted

"My quotes and poems are mainly for those with an affliction, whether from an unfortunate physical or mental condition; to provide solace and peace of mind is my intended mission.

My words are free not bound to any particular cause or group interest; it is for all to enjoy and appreciate the message the words interpret, to a bridge to a world of the sufferer where many are oblivious. Where rays of hope on a world of the sufferer are no longer a sickly binge;

to conditions, illnesses, and afflictions absent from making us cringe waiting for the day to be disease free, from afflictions that are physically and mentally unlike anomalies.

My quotes and poems are mainly for those with an affliction."

Introduction

Despite my everyday challenges of living with an extremely debilitating disorder, it is with extreme pleasure to inform my readers that I am just managing to break free from the security of Depression's mental restraints.  I was unfortunately strapped for decades not knowing if I was ever going to break free. I was as they say beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. As such, the light has been for me the lifting of the thick fog that has settled within my psyche. With each passing day, the heavy and dark mist has dissipated as I am getting a whole lot better in deal with it.   And of course it was not for the lack of trying on my part, as I was able to punch and kick my depression through the heavy fog  I managed to  continue and move forward with my life.

When I first was diagnosed with depression in my middle 20's I was in complete shock, I felt as if I was battling cancer, a disease with no cure. I didn't know how to handle it or how it would affect my social life. And there were days that I did not want to get out of bed I only wanted to crawl under a rock and die. I felt that my life was meaningless which in my mind I had the delusion that I would never meet anyone in which I would be able to share my life with.

Thank god, those days are now over along that negative energy I felt in the early to middle stages of my Depression. Therefore, I must emphasize that there were days I knew I was getting better and better. Some of my overall positive experience of course had to arrive from the help I received from the psychiatrist and the medicines he prescribed for me. I had visited  countless doctors and tried so many different psychiatric drugs that I felt as if I was a drug addict popping pills just to feel better about myself. I'm not going to lie here with a straight face, but it actually took years and years of treatment to get to where I am today; it was definitely no walk in the park.

Mental accounts smothered in both worlds where rationale and irrationality reign supreme. Thus, differentiating among both is what keeps me searching for a way to balance the two.

***

However, thanks to my friend Mahsa Sedaghatian, my proverbial dark cloud is no longer hovering over me.  She provided me with love and compassion that no medicine or doctor can provide, she made me want to live again and turn my life around.  Of course, having someone beside you in the worst of times is of the up most importance only if one wants to hope on the bandwagon to recovery. One quick example yet speaks volumes was the several times she was able to visit me in the psych wards of MJT. For a young woman whom has recently been battling her own demons that have transmitted into her very own muscle weakness disease that has strapped her to a wheel chair. So as one can imagine that on those sometimes cold and dreary days she had to take the entire day just to get ready and visit me.  That is the reason why it is I am so exuberantly grateful to have her and have of had her for what almost sees forever as a friend and confidant.

Now, that I am somewhat sitting at a point in my life where the fog (Depression) inside my head has lifted just a tad as I am able to peer out and see more clearly I haven't been to part in life where I get to smell the flowers. Yet, some of its remnants are very much visibly lingering on like an annoying itch that will not go away, in other words not dissipating completely within the pretense of returning.  Well, whatever the case maybe I can proudly state that much of that mental clarity had risen and placed into action than none other than yours truly. Do not get me wrong but it has not been easy, but because of my willingness to forge ahead, I have seen the green light.  And it is exactly what I had been expecting and as the saying goes: 'I wasn't disappointed'.  Therefore, it was with great patience and persistence that along with many wishes kept me on the correct path.  A well lit road that led into a tunnel where I could see a very faint dot of a light towards the other side. That tiny light ignited the speck of an ember type kindle of hope that burned within me guiding me typical of pilot mode towards the light. A throbbing and flashlight that got just a tad larger s I got closer to the end of the tunnel.

Then again, I shouldn't judge too harshly my nemesis which I exclusively termed my Depression, after all if it wasn’t for my mental disorder I probably would have not been engaged in writing as I have been doing now for the latter part of about two and a half years. Moreover, because of my illness was able to finish my college education. Therefore, I should oddly enough thank Depression for bequeathing me with the ability to write and express myself through words on paper like the one I have never done before in my life.  I guess that at the end of the day, I am only speaking on behalf of myself whenever it concerns speaking about the reconciliation with my Depression. 

As such, I believe it was the only appropriate measure needed at that time for me to have discovered the hidden inner self that held a secret which could of probably never have been uncovered.   Perhaps, it was part of the illnesses' insidious ploy to have placed a dark veil over a budding talent, which I believe it was at the most crucial time in my young adult life that was crushed and o be dealt later.  I cannot even fathom to explain it.  And I do not need to or want to, but accept my talent just as I had accepted Depression a long time ago. I assume it is what many people mean when they say that they saw the 'light at the end of the tunnel'.

In light of the turbulent rollercoaster, absent the theme park mind you, with Depression I was able to bring together the memory that had been in the works for approximately two years.  After the long battles and intermittent skirmishes, I believe depression somewhat finally caved in and in return reciprocated me with the ability to write creatively. It is a memory depicting my first experiences with Depression at a time in my life when I felt invincible with so much to look for.  I was one of those young fools who thought the world was my oyster when disease and death were only myths, so naturally I was consumed with forging ahead and making money.  Conceivably, Depression I believe has opened my eyes to see the world in a completely different light.  Though it had bequeathed with torment and darkness I managed to find in me a whole other person one that had found the light at the end of the half way destroyed tunnel. 

So, it is without question that I am providing with the greatest of pleasure a small snippet into a part of a world seen through the eyes of only a selected few. Those whom knew about my disease and in this particular case via none other than me the author have put forward valuable insight. Furthermore, it is by all accounts an attempt to enlighten those readers that do not know anyone or are not familiar with depression but have no other recourse to turn to.  As such, I will try to combine history with real life events in which I was privy to and I am to a small degree still living with it.  It is to inform and educate on the elusive disorder that was and is my Depression.

For me, it has been a neurosis-based initiative that had arrived unexpectedly like an alien characteristic of an extra terrestrial traveling through the vacuum vastness of outer space out in the vastness of an abyss that has managed to plant itself to provide with great consternation. Others and I are still in the dark about.  Perhaps one day Depression will be eradicated almost just as it arrived announced one particular day and not  even by a long shot  did I do the for what it was as I have done so today.

The information is only a brief glimpse into my world. A realm once oblivious to me made surreal on fall morning. From a moment in time which since then life hasn’t been the same; not just in the way of burgeoning ill-begotten strife, but rather knowledge that has opened several avenues into my life. Otherwise I would of have not known. And I would of remained blind in a world of confusion and great consternation. It was not, yet is a story that spanned for several decades, years I am able to place as best I could.

Moreover, and most important an agenda to place certain events that I hope render a clear picture of the person I was and to the individual that I have become. I'm a person that has been forged by a disease( Depression) which has twisted and molded my psyche into a different persona, but really at the end of the day I'm not any different, perhaps little quirky here and there, yet otherwise normal as just anybody else-it's what I keep telling myself.

So, in what at times appears gibberish with the splicing of words and placing paragraphs where otherwise would fit in precisely like the perfect script, my dearest apologies. Many times, they were more like mumbled utterances, which ultimately resulted in confounding verbiage.

In a sense, the intent in writing this memory was never to create a jumble and misconstrued piece of literature. On the contrary, it certainly seemed that way at the time of my affliction, I wanted to create a piece of writing resembling a darn jigsaw puzzle. The struggles and victories of my disorder are pretty much seen through the memory. My unintended slip into bouts of Depression as I wrote an inexplicable event kept me forging ahead to provide the most accurate account of my illness as much as I could.

The Invasion

In a world full of surprises riddled with dangers lurking in every corner, akin to a trap door spider waiting patiently to snatch its next victim. Yet, unlike our eight-legged hairy friend of course, we don't hide under a trap door. Nonetheless, we do sometimes suppress our most sadistic and dark notions the best we know how-each to his or her own.  The trap was that clump of grey matter between the ears, one of which had all the trappings of a predatory animal with the instinct to kill. But I was not going to fall prey. So then, how does the rest of the overall majority deal with such animalistic urges?

Well, at least from my perspective, I yet have to uncover a manner in which to contain such encumbrances bombarding my psyche, since I can recall specific events with great lucidity. Suffice it to say, it is a constant battle with our animalistic instincts; the constantly growling and clawing as the inner dark beast attempts to rise to the surface and thus shepherd us into a life of despicable horrors. As such, life or our minds, for that matter, seem to generate for most of scenarios or us different streams of consciousness yet the trick is discovering the manner in how to tune in to such frequencies and close ones eyes and hope for the best.

Unfortunately, fate for me had very different plans. Call it fate or destiny; the fight and struggle for everything in life was upfront and personal. Nothing was attained without the greatest of efforts, I had to transform into this other personality, one of which completely contradicted whom I was. Usually a metamorphosis would take place and as within me birthed an aggressive and obnoxious personality just so that I could simply attain the simple things in life, yet the irony of my whole existence was that I didn’t even have miserable penny to fall back on and die.  All the long-lived years of adulthood were set in a straight line, from point to point b. Never was there any novelty in my life only the rudimentary and mechanistic lifestyle accompanied me from sunrise to sun set. I had become an unwilling party to work's scheduled confinement, the only thing missing from the cubicle were a set of shackles. And what did my faithful loyalty to the languor of everyday work routine ever relinquish?  As far as I was concerned, only a kick in the butt and stab in the back is all I got out of it.   Not to mention the sheer audacity in which it blindsided me while detaining from life's unlimited possibilities.

In the end, the world I had erected over the last twenty-five years cascaded like an avalanche in one single moment in time.  As I found myself betwixt from the thin veil separating insanity from sanity under a mountain of debris forged by the countless fragments of my shattered past. Therefore, I had found myself helpless like a newborn baby. As a result, of the unfair and inhumane treatment by none other than life itself I can safely admit I will never be the same again.  But how and why was chosen to act out the small dramatic script I had not volunteered to play.  Or perhaps, I was part of a much larger scheme. Whichever the case, in me the blood boiled unleashing a fervent desire to uncover the truth to my misery. And I had to act promptly for time was of the essence, as it was becoming my worst enemy. It is especially the case with every second that flashed past my eyes, bringing me ever closer to sealing my fate forever.

Events in my life at one time seemed as real as the sun sets and rises, however learned of them to be only my brains own misrepresentation of the facts. As such, there were several events in my life preceding the initial progression of the disease, which took me on a subtle road to destruction.

***

Darkness as black as coals seeped through every crevice of the location I had awakened. My eyes were akin to a newborn baby's vision; they were without sight- devoid of any light yet for the time being, I resided in pitch darkness as if I was in my mother's womb once again.  Despite my visual senses renting away any temporary luminescence, my tactile senses were already working arduously behind the scenes. Suddenly, my thin and frail frame felt a nippy tingle right along my back beginning from the bottom slowly rising to the top. Immediately after the cold intruder departed out through the underside of my collar I was unceremoniously introduced to a cold and damp floor. Moisture had seeped through and soaked the underside of my clothes creating slight discomfort.  Make no mistake about it, where I lay; there was some type of puddle, and mind you, I did not care for what that small body of water might be composed. 

Notwithstanding, my apprehension of the place I had awoken to was obviously dark dreary, suffice it to say I was living my own horror story. Yet my olfactory senses straightway kicked into alert mode. And the freaking damp place: it appeared as if an alleyway centered somewhere in a city's downtown, but I wasn't sure. I could sense it wasn't night yet something inside told me it was early dawn. As I raised my head from the cold cement, cracked floor, I could see the faint ember glow of the sun's rays bouncing off the roof tops of several huge skyscrapers and other high rises. Enormous steel beams that seemed to touch the clouds casted a somber, dark shadow over the walls to the discomfort of the hard, cracked cement floor in which on it laid my poor head raised only a few inches above the ground. Tenably, for the moment I conveniently decided to take refuge from the walls that temporarily deprived me of sunlight yet were more importantly my temporary-fortified fortress as my hunch was justified. Lonely and frightened kept me company, as did the howling artificial sounds of predawn of a strange land. I was in a place I had no recollection off or better yet, I was mystified as to how on Earth I could have ended up here in the first place. An alleyway filled with the stench off piss along with the ghastly sight of unused condoms strewn about the floor in almost every direction. And to make matters worse time seemed insignificant for some unexplained reason. There wasn't the slightest recollection of time; everything in the immediate seemed to move in slow motion.

Even my wristwatch was gone perhaps snatched sometime during the night, as I lay vulnerable like a newborn baby exposed to the dangers of the night. And to make matters worse, I was in a musty and damp dark spot. If I was correct, it was a place where a completely new breed of individuals came out of the woodwork to work and play.  Many citizens trek to and from furtively to impressively hide under the cloak of darkness in which the night had vicariously bestowed upon them. The night was their time to shine so that they could pursue and engage in their illicit misconduct. It was subtle indication that the urgency to depart was becoming greater.

And as if things couldn't of gotten any worse being only awake for spurred on by my missing or should I say stolen watch, it was only natural that I immediately reached into my pant's back pocket then into my inside coat pocket thinking the worst: it was sort of like a knee jerk reaction. I was flabbergasted when all I could feel was empty, abysmal space as I rummaged through the remaining pockets.

Shit! My wallet, I exclaimed mostly in a nervous sort of panicked tone.

Immediately I reached over into my pant back pockets; they were both empty.

Fuck, both my watch and wallet are gone, I added in disgust.

Furthermore, just as my heart sank to my stomach the unmistakable and uncomfortable urge of going to the bathroom set in.

The panic mode, which activated my internal clock only, seconds ago gradually as enveloping me and I succumbed finally to the anguish and worry more than anything did.  It wasn't so much for the valuables that my mind found itself distressed over, but it was the lost time, which sometime during the night seemed to go on a vacation of its own.

Heck who needed time, after all is but abstractions conjured up by our minds and given not substance but only form which on their own can't exist. The numbers on a rotund dial  ticked away and for what but yet another form of compliance and a reminder that sooner than later that ticking along with those numbers will one day cease to exist.  So why the hell should I be worried about losing a few material possessions, geez it just had hit me there that  at least I was still alive.

Now alone and frightened in a metropolis I couldn't figure out which city it was; only the memories of a time long ago served as my security blanket. Images coated in the warmth of yester-year as the sounds tethered to those same images reverberated the walls of both my inner ears. They fast-forwarded and rewound themselves to a certain point in time, yet not in the sequential, orderly fashion I wanted, but instead ceased dead in their tracks and have not moved beyond a certain threshold to the exact present time I found myself in. Thus, I tried so arduously to justify what I hoped to be a temporary bout of amnesia or at least I tried to make myself feel somewhat better thinking otherwise. Funny, somehow the lunatic notion of another personality was surfacing to the top.  Or perhaps insanity had crept up slowly and was now inches from implanting itself in my psyche. Whatever the case, it was time or the absence of it seemed which appeared to increase my distress by the minute.

For the moment, it appeared I had only my wits and common sense to accompany me.  So, I grudgingly contemplated to commence my trek through the harsh and unforgiving terrain of the concrete jungle I was now helplessly tethered to; as it waited for me like a predator with its jaws wide open riddled with sharp knife like teeth ready to take a bite and consume me.  But all along I felt more like a pawn, a temporarily and unwillingly participant in someone else's demented and twisted, perverted scheme. Clearly, I was mentally maneuvering every possible angle to calm myself down. I had even tried to delude myself into believing that it just might be better not to try and grasp any  recent-past memories, but leave things  the way  they were and just hold on to the past, at least for the time being.

It was difficult to place everything that was happening to me neatly into a box and forgets about it, as non-stop body sensations kept relentlessly bombarding my psyche since I had arisen only a few hours ago. Somehow, I felt as though if I was recently rebooted which was typical of restarting a faulty computer yet somehow in the booting sequence valuable data was either lost or corrupted.  Yet, there was something I sensed gently and gradually enveloping me like the suave caress of a cheating lover's hand luring me into an impending doom.

What else could go freaking awry? I cried at the top of my lungs as I flung my arms into the air.

Fuck...someone help me-please! I added in great distress.

***

My mind without a doubt was in some kind of suspended animation mode with my memories drowned in a sea of confusion. I attempted my best to fish them out but to my dismay, I was bewildered in how to go about in reeling them in let alone cast a net and retrieve them. I was at my wits end. I didn't know who I was or where the hell I came from. But then I had become of a chicken shit and simply walked out of the cesspool of toxic dump that had become my temporary niche, although such conditions made me feel like a fucking sewer rat minus the sewer of course; I needed out ASAP.

Contingent upon what was reality, I was still aware that in order to feel comfortable with myself and most importantly reduce my anxiety, I had to arrive at a balance of mind. If I was to have a goddamn swell of a chance in surviving out there in the hustle and bustle of what I had speculated to be a bustling metropolis: my mind had to be somewhat in focus. Yet, it shouldn’t t remain immersed in the dense heavy fog  that  rolled in like a steam roller blanketing everything in its wake with layers  of white puffy-mist decided to lift and wither away I