Bad Liver and a Broken Heart

This is a story about a man who lost himself; a person that went from the top of a mountain and crashed into the hard ground, losing himself, his friends, his family and damn near his life in the process. I can do the telling of the story justice – because the story is mine

I was a self-assured, cocky, arrogant, full of piss and vinegar teenager. I played in rock bands and lived life to the fullest. I never focused on anything long term. There was only the moment – the right here and now. It was what I lived in and for. I carried that same attitude into the military.

I spent years traveling through war torn parts of the globe, writing and covering the jobs being done by soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines the World over. We slept in tents on front lines of battle, we flew in fighter jets over hostile skies, we ran headstrong to take a valley in Kosovo. We lived in the moment. That was all that was promised.

But with that kind of living and pressure came another kind of living. Hard partying and even harder drinking. Alcohol flowed like wells of water trickling down rocks – making those moments we survived slide further into the recesses of our minds. It’s easier to drink it away than think it away.

I got out of the military and got married. I had kids. But the lifestyle died hard. I’d drink to quiet my thoughts. I’d drink to calm my nerves. I’d drink to try and forget. And then at my saddest I’d drink to drink – or drink to not feel yesterday’s drinking.

Days blurred into weeks and into months. My beard grew long while my soul slowly died. I got heavier on the outside. My skin turned yellow. I’d drink for 70 hours straight. I’d make myself throw up so I could drink more.

I lost my job. My family left. I just drank that all away also. I lied in bed willing myself to death. And then one day something clicked. I decided not to die. I decided to try one more time to make my life something worth living – something of value.

I decided to be a father; to be a friend. I decided to do the things I hadn’t and face the demons I’d been running from. I won’t tell you that it has been an easy battle. I won’t even tell you that I’ve won yet. But I fight. And I live. One moment at a time.

I was talking with one of my oldest friends the other night about aging. We see friends from high school lose their lives to drugs or alcohol. It scares us. We sat and pondered over how one decision means the difference between living and dying. If not for our will to fight we’d be right there with them. It’s frightening, humbling and humiliating.

It seems like just yesterday we were only young men getting ready to become adults. We’d sneak off to drink a few beers; smoke a little pot. Now those very same frinds are dying to those very substances. It could have been us. Maybe it should have been.

But that’s not ours to decide. All we can do is fight on. I wish I knew then what I know now. I’d have taken better care of myself. I have children looking up to me, a family relying on me. I’m learning to be an adult and be responsible. But I’m paying for all that hard living. I don’t know how much time I may have on this Earth. I have pancreatitis. I had Hepatitis. My liver is a mess. I’ve got Bi-Polar disorder and I struggle with post traumatic stress.

But all those moments made me who I am today. I wouldn’t trade them. From the mud soaked grounds of Bosnia to a stage in a fraternity house on the campus of the University of Texas, I am defined by my experiences. Maybe this will be my last moment. Maybe it won’t come for another 40 years. But I know whenever it does I won’t be saddled with regret. And I’ll make the most of it.

Merry Christmas Baby

It’s Christmas and for most people that means hams, wreaths, gifts, trees and eggnog with weird in-laws that won’t quit talking about Alcoholics Anonymous. But this year Christmas has taken on a whole new tone for my little family. We are having a baby. Well – I should say that the misses is having a baby. I’m doing what dads do in labor and delivery units: pace frantically, fear what we might see and hide in bathroom stalls praying for a Cesarean section.

That’s right – We are expecting baby number three on Christmas Day. While most of you are watching the Cowboys squeeze out a win in a tight NFL game I’ll be watching a different kind of tight squeeze. Alexander Rhys Crowe had best come out bearing gifts (other than poop) because we are ready for his arrival. I’m ready to meet my little minion. Mother is just ready to get her body back. She’s like a hijacked 747. Only much smaller and way prettier. Perhaps not as aerodynamic, though. Either way she is ready to make this happen. She just wants people to stop wondering if she’s pregnant or prosperous. In fact she’s been ready for a few weeks. But there’s been a problem – her doctor, who I have unofficially dubbed “The Asian Assassin.”

I call her this because she’s assassinated any hope of me getting to sleep through the night. You see we are a traditional Southern household. This is a “If Momma Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy” home. And due to Doc Now or Preferably Later’s inability to get this baby out early I feel we are unduly suffering. I know I am. I guess it’s not comfortable to be super pregnant either. But this is my blog so I’m talking about me right now. Please don’t tell Teri. But she’s like New York City at night – she never sleeps. I know she wants to sleep because she wakes me up every 15 minutes to tell me. She also does this roll where she flips over and kicks her feet thrashing around the blankets and pillows. I imagine it’s similar to an alligator’s death roll. Except I’m the prey.

It wouldn’t be so torturous if we didn’t keep getting admitted to the labor and delivery unit for monitoring. We go down because of high blood pressure and stay a day or two or six. When things look better or the nurses are tired of me bringing in Chinese food and stinking up the hall it’s back to bed-rest. Teri hates bed-rest. I’m a professional. I’ve been on bed-rest for 4 years now. Also I don’t know if doctors have some kind of discount gas card or they all drive SMART cars  - but we can’t take this coming and going. It’s cheaper to stay there and have the baby than it is to keep filling up my truck’s gas tank.

Tomorrow we go back yet again for a check-up which I’ve come to believe I could preform from home and for less than your usual copay. I’m gentle and I have small hands. But being that I’m not qualified, hopefully Dr. “All Natural or Bust” will give in and decide to help guide Alex out sooner rather than later. If not maybe she’ll prescribe dad some sleeping medicine. If she doesn’t I’ll just have to turn up the eggnog with those weird in-laws.

A Tale of Two People

I always feel like I’m watching myself implode. I just don’t know it. That’s the nature of a manic depressive. It’s almost like there are three completely different versions of me and you never know which one you’re going to get. Right now I’m normal Russell. I can laugh at your jokes, play with my kids, keep my better half happy (as much as you can keep a woman that’s nine months pregnant happy) and pretty much function like most of society. But these times are few and far between…so I felt like I should get this written down while I can.

I believe this disease is going to be the death of me. Maybe not directly, but certainly indirectly. Because the times I’m the guy I mentioned above are few and far between. I was so ashamed of being mentally ill that I didn’t dare speak of it or even tell anyone about it for many years after the diagnosis. I just carried on living a life that’s hard for most people to fathom.

You see, I can become a monster. When I get manic it’s as if “my amp goes to 11.” And it doesn’t stop blaring tunes for a while. I’ll get in the car and drive off on a whim. I’ll cheat on my spouse. I’ll do drugs and drink non-stop. I’ll spend enormous amounts of money. I’ll do things that seem insane to most people. It feels incredible. It’s the greatest Euphoria ever. It’s like liquid energy coursing through me. The problem is that I am completely unaware that I am being manic. I just feel great. My brain is on overloaded. It’s scary and amazing and dangerous and so many things I don’t even realize all at once. I walk away from jobs never to be heard from again. I call and scream at friends in the middle of the night. I live to the maximum.

And then I wake up one day and I feel normal. I have to asses the damage and piece together what I’ve done. It’s not that I don’t remember it. I just can’t stop it – and I never think of the consequences. I find myself broke. Jobless. In jail. My house empty and my family gone. All that has been my life.

Or worse I go into a depression. This isn’t the general malaise or “I hate my job” most people fall into. I once layed in bed for 3 weeks straight. I didn’t even get up to use the restroom. I laid in my filth and waste and was willing myself to death. I have times when all I can focus on is not wanting to be here – of slipping back into the nothingness we existed in before we were born. I imagine my corpse rotting and the smell of decay. It’s as if I can actually smell it coming off my skin. I can taste its bitterness on my tongue. I have no regard for what will happen to my children. Or my parents. I will just cease to be. And I desire that. It’s a black hole that sucks my life away and I vanish into despair and nothingness.

I have just recently started admitting I need help. It took a long time and a lot of coaxing. Thankfully I’m being medicated and finally trying to get myself right, and to fix my life and make it one that is livable and worthwhile. If you’re still reading this I imagine you’re someone that knows me. If I’ve run you ragged, used, abused or mistreated you – I apologize. I never intend for things to happen how they do. I just have no off switch on my ups and downs. I should have been more transparent earlier. Please accept my apologies. You are and will always be my friend. I hope to prove that to you again in the future.

Maybe you’re someone who is here because you too struggle with the ups and downs of bipolar. Or just depression. If you are thanks for sticking around and listening to my rant. If there’s one thing I can tell you it is this: get help. Now. Don’t wait until later. I was lucky to have a support network that pushed me into help. I was about a step away from dying and even closer to being one of those sad old homeless veterans you see on the street.

If my kids ever read this I want them to know I’m sorry I haven’t been a better father for them. It was selfish of me not to seek help sooner. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the man, the boyfriend, the friend and the father I know I can be. Your unconditional love pushes me in a way nothing else could. My kids are the most beautiful blessings and I often wonder if not for them would I still be alive.

I hope whoever you are reading this – wherever you are – you appreciate the little things. Your health, your family. The ability to control your mind and your faculties. We all have daily struggles. Life is a challenge. I hope you too are climbing your mountains and fighting the good fight.

Oops I Did It Again

Life, Love and My Baby Momma

What’s that? Now that I’m back you’re dying to know all my intimate stories and private details? I’m pulling a Lee Corso here – “Not so fast my friend!” Suffice to say thumbing through my blog is a lot like reading my diary. I air it all out. I always have. Blogging is therapeutic and who are we kidding? The only reason you’re here is to read about my zany bipolar antics. So let’s play catch-up.

About a year and a half ago I picked up a couple stalkers online. Funny how that happens on Facebook. Obviously I photograph thinner than I am in real life. One stalker stuck. The other I sent packing. We built a friendship and before I knew it she had moved into town and was stalking me in person. This of course seemed all natural and right for me. Our first date was at a graveyard. Date, meeting, get-together…its all semantics. Being that I’m certifiably insane none of this seemed strange or curious to me. And I’m glad.
I’ve cultivated my stalker into the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’ve been together for a quite a while now and I’m proud to say we are expecting our first (AND ONLY) child any day now. I’m cashing out after child número tres.

Teri really pushes me to do and be better each day. I couldn’t have asked for a better human to share my life with. Plus she puts up with the circus that is my life and will carry, haul or push me when I need it. She helps pick me up when I’m down. She’s the kind of folk I like to be around. (I’m stealing your lines, Guy Clarke)
Things are good. And I like being able to say that. It still feels odd when I say it; rolls of my tongue a little funny. But practice makes perfect. I try hard everyday to live it right – to make the most of the time I have and be the most I can be. That’s stuff that works.

My Blog Is Back…

And you’re gonna be in trouble. Hey nah. Hey nah. My blog is back.

 
 

Let me start off by giving a few apologies. I’m sorry I took such a long hiatus from blogging. Hell, from writing in general. Life took some strange and unusual twists and when things get hectic a lot of times I put items on the back burner. Blogging for me was easy to step away from. No one rides me to make sure I’m writing each day. Plus I’m not all that interesting. But here I am ready to rejoin the rank and file of the blogosphere. My typing fingers are stretched and neatly manicured.

Also let me apologize for the blog itself. Obviously it needs a little TLC and I am working on that diligently. For those of you who actually read what I write (all three of you) and have kept up, you will notice I’m no longer at my former fancy domain. I’ve temporarily moved back to a WordPress hosted blog. That’s fine and dandy for the time being. And I promise if I get a fourth reader I will convert back to self hosting. 
 
For you non geeky types ignore everything I just said. It’s fairly obvious if you look back through my old updates that there are a boat load of missing posts. That’s on me. I suppose I should have backed up all those moving, award-winning posts I made on the old site so I could have them here. But in a drunken stupor (that lasted about two years) I failed to do so. So now you are missing a big chunk of my life… That is if you are so inclined to stalk me. If it’s that big a concern just call. I have nothing, or at least very little, to hide. 
So in summation – here I am…again. Prepare yourselves for a veritable onslaught of HiTech Redneckery. Hide yo kids and hide yo wife, because Im blogging about erebody out here. 

 
 
 

Mi Llama Russell

Say it from the heart – Say it with a llama. If only I could be the one to come up with sites like these…

Slip Slidin’ Away

It’s taken me a long time to feel like I’m back on “top of my game.” I haven’t really felt complete or successful in six years. I was a newly-minted civilian straight from military service, studying pre-medicine in college. I was killing it. The “Freshman of The Year” at my college and a 4.0 student, I was achieving everything I desired.

But then a funny thing happened – I met a girl. And everything changed. It’s funny how that works. I had a paradigm shift. My priorities and focus changed. (It’s amazing how that happens to a man having sex on a regular basis.) Before I knew it my grades had plummeted, I was married, suddenly out of college and in the working world. Before long I found out I was going to be a father. My entire world had changed in two years.

Don’t let me mislead you into thinking I was unhappy about all this. I was thrilled to be having a child and be married – but something inside of me could never let that dream of medical school die. I always felt like I hadn’t achieved what I was meant to. But over time I came to realize my wife didn’t share the same goals as I did, and for that and a plethora of other reasons, I woke up one day to see she had decided to make like Tom and Cruise.

It took me a good bit longer to get back to being me; to finding who I was and what I wanted. It took lots of beers, a handful of great friends, a half a year in a different city and the help of my faith to finally get back on the right track. And here I am. Amazingly I’ve come full circle.

I’m back in college; albeit older but definitely wiser for the times. And while my dream of one day becoming a doctor seems highly improbable due to my age and responsibilities, I found a middle ground with the Physician’s Assistant program. I finally feel back on top of the World. I am so excited and happy to be able and pick back up where I left off. Every day I get up stoked to go study something I love and get one step closer to becoming the person I want to be. There’s no doubt I will achieve my goals this time around. I just have to stay away from girls.

The End Is The Beginning Is The End

Where does it all end?

I feel just like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I woke up today and realized I am living the same thing over and over again. Maybe the people and places are a little different; I traded the woods of Alabama for the skyscrapers of Atlanta, but the events and emotions are exactly the same. How and when does it all end?

Maybe I have to start changing my ways and making the “right” decisions just like Phil did. It’s really surreal to wake up and realize you’re 30 years old and still your own worst enemy. I’m sitting here, once again unemployed, once again trying to figure out how to be happy, how to make a living and how to get out of this vicious cycle that has had me trapped for more than 8 years now.

My father calls what we have “The Crowe Curse.” Maybe he’s onto something. Perhaps I should just embrace this existence of daily struggle and acknowledge that’s what my life is meant to be. But I can’t help but think there’s a way out. Surely since some of the folks around me that got caught up in the curse were able to escape and find something more – I should be able to also.

Living this life was fun once upon a time, but not anymore. It’s time to change. I just don’t know how. And until I do I’ll wake up and live this same day, these same feelings, over and over until one day… when I just won’t wake up at all.

Homeward Bound

Hanging out at my casa with one of my two best friends. Being back here with them just feels so right.

I came back home this weekend. A house is more than just four walls; it’s a refuge where we feel warm, secure and welcome. The house I sit and write this in is littered with memories.

 

This house came to me in an unusual fashion. Quasi-bequeathed to me, my grandparents bought this home in 1964 immediately after my “paw-paw” retired from the Army. The brought their three children here – the oldest of which was my mother – and lived out their life together.

My mom married my dad in the dining room; my Uncle Sam tried to sneak in drunk late at night. I remember throwing baseball in the yard and listening to Braves games on the radio. I remember spending the night here every chance I got, completely content in the love and affection only grandparents can give.

But there are memories that hurt as well; having to say goodbye to my grandfather as he laid on his deathbed with that rattle in his chest. The kitchen table my grandmother was eating her breakfast at when she has a fatal heart attack greets me every time I go to grab a bite.

Then when a time came in my life that I needed a place; a time when my young wife and I were struggling, this house was our safe haven also.  I started raising my kids here; playing ball in the yard just like my family had done with me. I remember jumping out of bed and rushing to the hospital to see my daughter’s birth. We celebrated birthdays at that same kitchen table.

And as prone to happen in life, the bad times followed the good. I remember sitting in the same room my paw-paw died in and hearing Heather tell me that “she was sorry…but it’s over.” A part of me died in that room also. I remember sitting in the same kitchen chair my grandmother ate her last meal in and crying the day I got out of jail for DUI.

So I ran away. I let those painful, negative memories overpower those positive ones. But this weekend I came back home. Now I sit here writing this, watching my son play on the bed where four generations of my family have lived, loved, laughed and sometimes died and I realize that this place will always be home. I’m so tired of running and feeling lost. Tonight, sitting with my children and soaking in all these memories again…it’s the first time I’ve felt warm, secure, welcome – Home – since the day I left.

I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

Bono tells us of how he has run, crawled and scaled city walls; climbed the highest mountain and run though fields only to realize that he still hasn’t found what it is he’s looking for. It’s a feeling that I think we can all relate to at some point in our lives. I have had a lot of time on my hands lately to do some soul-searching; thanks to U2 I realized that I too haven’t found what I’m looking for.

I am so tired of being unhappy, of fighting the same battles over and over again…with loved ones, my ex-wife, my friends. I get so frustrated with burning bridges and squandering opportunities again and again. Why is it that I am my own worst enemy? Why isn’t my life where I think it should be? I blame my bi-polar disorder and call my friends “enablers,” but I realize that what I am really missing is a sort of inner peace and happiness that only I can find. I have to look deep into myself and seek out what it is I want from this life.

Mr. Bono and I won’t find it atop the peak of a mountain or guarded behind city gates like a lost treasure. I have to look inward and find it. I have to take time to listen to myself and stop drowning out what my heart is trying to tell me. Sometimes the white noise around us can be deafening. In this world of technical marvels – this Age of Immediacy – we all forget to stop and listen; to other people and to ourselves. I do it all the time. But I have to stop and listen now.

My back is against the wall in a way it never has been before. I’m scared to death of the future. The economy is a mess, I’ve been unemployed for what seems ages, I am behind on child support; I’ve given myself ulcers and spend my nights coughing up blood. What for? Why? Am I doing what I need to be doing? Am I in the right city? Am I applying for the right kind of jobs? How do I know?

It’s simple in theory. I listen. I do what my heart tells me. And I write about it, of course. I haven’t heard myself for a long time now. I hope you all listen better than I do. And I hope you too find what it is you’re looking for.