Outskirts Press, INC.

Explore the existential world of the polarized psyche

During the 1970s, Doc, an idealistic college student, develops an evolutionary world view to address mankind’s myriad ills. His promising plans begin favorably as others noted his emergent nature. His mission leads him to drastic divergence into the extreme realms of his inner and outer reality. Doc's vagaries of existential extremes lead him through the heights and depths of human endurance.

Chapter One

If a man drives away his peers, perhaps he hears a different drummer. Let him dance to the music he hears, do not fear, just stand clear!

B. P. Thoreaubak


Doc awoke with a jolt as if his consciousness had burst out of an endlessly long pitch-black tunnel. The only prob- lem beyond the constant hum of pain in his head was that he couldn’t see a thing. Lights out! He wondered where he was as he shook his head, only to be blanketed in waves of more intense pain. As the scream of patient pain subsided, he could feel that locations on his body, arms, and head were hooked to wires and tubes emanating from him. Doc could discern for certain that there was something in his nose, and his inner throat felt parched as he identified the soft melancholy drone of nearby machinery.

“Oh you’re awake!” asserted a soft female voice “You’ve been through quite a trauma. How do you feel?”

“Where am I?” asked Doc with waning consciousness.

“You’re in the hospital.You’ve been under for a few days. You have a serious head wound. I’ll call the doctor,” informed the sympathetic nurse as she swung away from the bed to ef- fectuate her intent. Doc was under before her soft footsteps made it to the door.

Doc awoke again. He still felt terrible and his sight was still on hiatus. He thought foggily about the little information that the nurse had imparted on his last visit to the awakened world. Slowly and gradually the dark remembrances of occurrences flooded back into his awareness. Doc at least knew circum- stantially why he was there for he was an actor in a one-man play but then again, he was the director too.

In reviewing, Doc realized that the culminating scene of being in the intensive care unit had causal roots that led back through the years of his exploits. There appeared to be two po- lar phases of expression that entangled together in a tenuous truce. This psychic, tug-of-war dynamic had always been the fabric of his being. Although he was feeling profoundly dark in spirit, he was confused by the plethora of thoughts, identities, and emotions with which he had lived in the past. The dispar- ity of experiences was ethereal and lurid as his consciousness checked out again before the nurse was cognizant that he had been visiting the world of light.

Doc’s clueless eyes were open again. He felt that he had been on a tumultuous odyssey of mental, emotional, and spiri- tual upheavals. The here-and-now was utterly intermingled with the reminiscences of yesterdays and the anxieties of the impending future. He was now alone in the solitude of his thoughts. He sensed from the subdued aura of his surround- ings that it was probably the wee hours of the night where his wandering mind of myriad recollections was the only in- cessant activity about. He was busy recalling and fitting the puzzle pieces of his past into a fathomable path to his remote present. His manifold memories were disjointed patchwork parcels that frustrated his efforts to construct coherency and linear progression. Succumbing to frustration, Doc stopped struggling for chronological clarity in his memories and sur- rendered to the kaleidoscopic flow of his mind.

His thoughts rolled onto a psychology course that he took at college out in Arizona. He enjoyed the course and found it especially interesting because it was abnormal psychology. This particular day, the professor was lecturing on affective disorders. The lecture was broaching the topic of manic-de- pressive disorders. The discourse began with the character of depression, which Doc didn’t find very elucidating for he had firsthand experience with depression and on a tertiary basis. In fact, Doc regarded his bouts with depression as part of his initiation into adulthood. He figured that through his travails with depression, he had gained acumen with perspective and understanding in dealing with the adversary to the extent that his psyche was henceforth inoculated from any future ravages of melancholy. He personified depression as an old foe that would never again get the best of him without his adroit pre- emptive measures. He was preparing for a ho-hum class due to his personal expertise with the subject matter.

Then the professor changed the course of the lecture to the topic of the state of mania. This was different and Doc’s interest perked up again. The professor began with the general layman perception of mania and what led to common miscon- ceptions, which culminated in the misnomers such as maniac. The instructor pointed out the linear nature of the manic’s thought process, although the rapidity of the thoughts would increase as mania progressed. He further noted that the manic’s accelerated thought process still exhibited logical connections between ideas in comparison to the disorganized disassocia- tions found in an acute schizophrenic’s thought experience. Doc found this discourse stimulating as he reinvested his inter- est in the class.

The lecturer went on to enumerate the symptoms of mania: expansive euphoric mood, heightened self-regard, excessive energy, little need for food or sleep, talkativeness, creative and unending plans, and overactive sex drive. A cerebral lightning bolt struck Doc! He was dumbstruck by an epiphany cloud wrapped around his being when he finally muttered, “That’s what that was!” Doc sat mute as the description of a manic episode went on elucidating the debilitating aspects of the dis- order, such as mixing thoughts and becoming easily distracted, taking unnecessary risks, moodiness, impulsivity, severe irri- tability, and performing harmful acts–sexually, financially, and socially. The professor even went on to note how many man- ics try to regulate their frenzied state by self-medicating with alcohol and other substances. Along with feelings of grandeur, such as messianic complexes, unrealistic conceits like creat- ing utopian societies were common with manic folk. The truth slayer loosely concluded on the all-encompassing manic epi- sode likely transforming into major depression. The purveyor of the emotional, physical, and social manic fallout following the mania experience will be befallen with gnarled, buried wreckage exacerbated by the incessant pain of the bipolar pi- lot laden with the legacy of wrenching debris in the wake of a raving flight path.

Doc abruptly came out of his stupor this bulletin from his past helped fill in the clues of an ongoing mystery of a six- month period in his life that had baffled him for the last several years. This elucidation of his mysterious manic experience was revealing, but discomforting at the same time for Doc’s overall recollections were favorable and cherished. Many times, Doc longed for the feelings of well-being, mastery, and energy that he so fondly recalled as the essence of that unique odyssey in his life. In this period of his life, everything felt so alive, in- cluding Doc! This was truly a two-sided edifying sword. His newfound developing understanding of that specious time in his life was coupled with the implicit label of mental illness.

Memories of manic adventures and tenets of the manic-de- pressive discussion were alternately flitting in and out of Doc’s perplexed awareness when the sounds of shuffling feet and su- perfluous conversations signaled the end of class. Doc slowly aroused himself out of his seat, collected his notebook and such, and muttered to himself, “That was one hell of a class!”

He emerged from the classroom building into the brilliant Tucson sun, fitting symbolism for the illuminating experience he had just endured. Doc’s overall need for understanding was conflicted due to his favorable brush with mania as opposed t0 the societal judgment of mental disorder. Doc’s impressions of mania just didn’t jive with the disruptive, debilitating con- sequences laid out by the psychological establishment. That special time in his life was remembered with the longing and wonderment of ever being able to recapture that lost sense of a scintillating spirit. For that time of ultimate stamina, creativ- ity and sexual prowess was exhilarating, even if some of the experiences got a bit bizarre. His attitude was that the experi- ence was fantastically stimulating regardless of a few awkward occurrences. Doc associated longing, not foreboding, with his manic experience as he mused to himself, “Ahhh mania, till we meet again!”

Doc returned with the inured familiarity of the hospital as his consciousness rose above the threshold of his soporific world. He didn’t shake his head vigorously with the absence of light for he adapted to his present plight of no sight. He perceived by the sur- rounding sounds of activity that he was awake during the daytime. He heard soft footsteps coming closer. “ You’re awake and among us! How do you feel?” inquired the caring voice of a nurse.

“I’ve got a giant headache and you don’t look so hot! In fact, you don’t look at all!” answered Doc in a surly tone.

“I’ll get the doctor!” replied the nurse, followed by reced- ing footsteps. Doc slipped back into the wisps of his memories of the abnormal psych class where his conflictual dichotomy arose between his approving remembrances of the indomi- table spirit that knew no boundaries and the medical mavens that preached inevitable, debilitating demise. He had felt elec- trified and invincible in those magic moments when all was stimulating, interesting, and never mundane. Life just seemed to be a fluid flow of escapades mediated by Doc’s will and re- silience to lead on. Yet, these reveries emoted tainted shadows looming just out of his sight.

Suddenly, there was activity around him as he heard a mas- culine pronouncement, “Well, son, you’ve been through a hell of a time! It’s incredible that you’re still with us! I am Dr. Zychak. How do you feel?” Doc rolled his head toward the doctor and replied tersely, “Maximum pain, minimum sight.”

“Well, we can help with the pain, but the jury is still out on your sight. There is massive trauma behind your eyes and we still can’t get a good enough look back there to evaluate the extent of the damage.” This was the first moment that Doc truly focused on the condition of his eyes and sight. The intense pain, falling in and out of consciousness, and trying to figure out how he’d landed in the hospital had taken up all cognitive priorities until now. The obscure ramifications of his future sight began to ominously well up in his chest as his psyche began to tumble precipitously into darkness. Forlorn silence overtook Doc’s be- ing. In an effort to avert Doc’s free fall, the doctor offered, “Doc, you’ve made quite an impact on people around here! Nobody could fathom how you were able to keep yourself together in your condition and get yourself to the hospital. Even the police were impressed! There are a lot of people pulling for you! You could say that some people felt your efforts were heroic and inspirational!”

Doc remained mired in silent darkness, mulling over the fearful possibility of never seeing again. The doctor hovered momentarily, recognizing the remote possibility that Doc was going to respond. He placed a hand on Doc’s shoulder, im- parting, “Hang in there, son. Get some rest and I’ll check in on you later. Nothing is definite yet.” The sympathetic words resonated as the doctor strolled out of the room.

Doc sunk within himself. He felt physically stronger since his first awareness of being in the hospital, but his emotions were discernibly heavier and darker. The depth of his de- pressed feelings was remarkably familiar as he slowly realized that he had been wallowing in this dark morass long before his arrival at the hospital. He knew that he needed to rally his spirit in order to deal with this diabolic intruder, but he just couldn’t find the resolve. He sought solace by retreating into the fogbank of slumber.

Doc awoke suddenly with his dark eyes wide open. Instantaneously, he felt the weight of depression land on his chest. His thoughts began to cave into a pit of hopelessness and despair where the only sensation was endless sinking into a pulling, voracious, devouring blackness. He felt trapped in the stranglehold of this oppressive stupor, which enabled the mere capacity to breathe and suffer. He could no longer escape through restless sleep, so he rallied himself in an effort to re- construct the remnants of his memory to answer the questions of the present. The dark abyss began to ebb as his recollections began to flow.

His whirlpool of reminiscences landed him in Tucson again about a year after he had first ventured out west for school. It was Thanksgiving break. Doc was sharing an apartment with a couple he had met at the beginning of the semester. Life was good, especially with the backdrop of the scenery and the weather. Doc was feeling buoyed for his girlfriend, Liz, was flying out from New York for Thanksgiving Day and they were going to spend a week together. He had known Liz for several years, but it was only last summer while he was back east that they had become romantically involved. Doc enjoyed Liz’s looks, personality, and mind, but was truly struck by how much she really cared for him. He had been involved with plenty of girls, but there was certain genuineness about Liz’s feelings for Doc that he found unique and endearing. Doc had always been somewhat untrusting of women, which he com- monly ascribed to his alcoholic mother.

With the hours drawing closer to Liz’s arrival, the antici- pation mounted. Doc’s roommates and friends had planned a big Thanksgiving feast to coincide with Liz’s visit. Under Doc’s supervision, his roommates, Lee and Marc, planned the Turkey Day festivities. Everything was covered, including a 20-pound S8S Doc: Sojourner of Polar DiScorD turkey purchased via food stamps. Considering this was basi- cally the first Thanksgiving that they had all spent in Tucson all the accouterments were in place to make this holiday special. A bona fide fiesta plus Doc had the special trimmings of Liz’s visit.