THE MIND'S EYE
                                                        ( A memoir )

Introduction

          The stark contrast between decades long past, and the present can be measured in many things, and involve a lot of subjects that weren't something to be talked about back in the day nor properly diagnosed. One of these things is mental health, which has always seemed to have a negative stigma attached to it. Conversations about this subject were almost unheard of for a time, and anyone usually found talking about mental health and some of their associated afflictions were ridiculed or ignored completely.
          Not immune to this, it took me all forty-two (almost forty three at this point) years of my life to realize and accept that I have mental health issues, and have been struggling with them since I was a child, only not knowing or fully understanding any of this until recently, but it's always better late than never, right?
          One never thinks of their own mental health until well after they should have, and for me, it was most refreshing to finally make sense of things that I have experienced in such a way in which my own mental health was the missing piece of the puzzle. It can be nearly impossible in the moment (especially when we are children) to either contemplate or put into adequate words something that is happening to us and what it all means. Many (like myself) only being to assemblt the puzzle many years, even decades later. It gives us cause to reflect, and look back at how things could have been different had we been either diagnosed or given proper attention back when these issues originally occurred.
          Why do we hide these things? Why did we never have any support back then to address issues like these? Unfortunately, I don't have the answers to these questions, both of which have been asked repeatedly by many different people. I am only the latest member of society to have these questions, and ask them myself. That being said, I have always been someone that has gone to find his own answers where none were present, and this being a personal pursuit, helping to give me further motivation.
          I offer my own experiences with mental health as a way for others to learn and hopefully help themselves along the way, and that more than anything would make me most rpoud not only as a writer and creative person, but a human being that has always felt the need to help others, even if it's in my own odd way from time to time. Above all else, never stop talking about mental health. Start a conversation whenever you need to, and take care of yourselves first and foremost!

I: Childhood 

          Report cards in elementary school were feared by some, loved by others, and sometimes just shrugged off by most children who wanted to have fun above all else. Sure, the glowing marks for the best students were something to behold, and were always something special for those of us who were constantly improving ourselves to get them, but it was often what was read between the lines of the comments and concerns of the teacher that ended up getting the most attention.
          On every report card from first grade to almost eighth grade always had a comment like the following written in it: 

          "Jason enjoys helping others, and will sometimes go out of his way to do so. He is very creative, and finds new ways of expressing himself and showing this to everyone else as well. Jason does need to work on waiting his turn however, and doesn't take direction well all the time, especially when he has his mind set on something else.
          I have no doubt that if Jason applies himself fully, he can do better, and achieve even greater things in the process."
          
          As someone who has always been creative and had a rather large drive behind everything he does, it comes as no surprise that I was headstrong (and a bit of a handful) at an early age. I've always put myself fully behind something when I do it, and like to see things to their end no matter what. I have always wanted to help people as much as possible, but this has been tempered with impatience, and a lack of faith in others to see my vision the way I see it, which has caused friction all my life. 
          I did have one or two teachers back in those days that saw this, as well as my potential and nurtured it the best they could. I also had a lot of teachers that would either throw their hands up, and/or not find an understanding with me and take a more hands-off or distant approach unless it was to judge me harshly and mark me according to their own biased opinions rather than my overal ability and intelligence. Then, there was my eighth grade teacher (who wasn't very good at all, hands down the worst teacher I had in all of elementary school) relate a comment like this on a report card that year:

          "Jason has the ability to get things done that are set out for him, but is sometimes disruptive and chooses to do things his own way. He likes to help others, but gets easily frustrated when he does no agree with something that someone else is saying or doing at the time. Jason lacks focus at times, and his attention wanders."

          It was around this time that the creativity was taking me in a host of many directions, and having one of the worst teachers I have ever been assigned didn't make the days any easier. Being in a new school for the eighth grade and right before the jump to high school was also problematic as well. My struggles with creativity and the lack of understanding towards my vision or the way I see things will lead me into the next part of this story, and help to explain how the mental health fits in to it.

II: Imagination

          I've always had a vivid imagination that has coincided with my strong creative instincts, and this has sometimes led to me to express myself in interesting ways. Having started writing at an early age, I would see things in my mind as stories that could be written (although harder to do as a child until I learned how to translate what I saw floating around in my mind and putting it down on paper), or constructed using toys or other materials (cardboard was a favourite!) that could help me to visualize everything that I could imagine.
          Lego was my main way of being creative as a child, and it helped me to build and create many a thing, a lot of which were unique to my own style. There were times when I would spend an entire day with my Lego out on the floor, building a world of my own making and using my imagination to not only fill in the blanks, but give it a name and a story all it's own. That being said, it was always hard for me to take my creations apart when I wanted to build something else, and I was good at often managing to accidently provoke an emotional reaction that would give me pause before dismantling the very creation I had worked on so dilligently.
          One of things I remember most about childhood is being ridiculed by other children for thinking the way I did, or seeing things the way I did. My imagination was often something that was made fun of, or got me teased over. I fell in love with the Star Trek universe at a young age, and this routinely got me picked on. The vision of a better future, especially amongst the stars, was most appealing to me (and still is). My iritability with others started to become more prevalent at this time because of all of this. I could never understand why I had to be picked on and pushed around just because I liked things that others didn't, or had a different way of looking at things.
          As time progressed and elementary school was winding down, my lack of focus was turning into a larger problem, and my irritable nature towards others was turning into a short fuse as well as frustration. I have never had a large circle of friends like a lot of people, preferring to have a few close friends that understand me and choose to listen to me instead of criticizing. I've always been blunt and straightforward, especially in my childhood. It had been hard for me up until the last decade or so to fully read people and figure out their own emotional state, and I was never a social butterfly per se. I've found it more beneficial to be alone more often than not, and am quite independent.
          All I have ever wanted was to be accepted, understood, and listened to when I have something to say. Children and young adults have even less aptitude and inclination to do those things, unless there is a certain level of empathy involved. I guess you can say that I wanted to be taken seriously more than anything else in this world. You can also conclude that I might just be mildly austistic, even though there weren't any tests for it at the time nor was it something to consider.
         I did get taken to a psychologist when I was twelve, as my parents thought that I was underachieving in school. I was reading, writing, and comprehending five grades above where I was, but the issue of being able to focus properly kept resurfacing, which is probably what necessitated the psychologist trip at that time. Looking back, this could have been chalked up to being on one end of the autism chart, but was instead shoved into the box labelled 'great unknown' and shelved a short time later.

III: Overload

          Throughout my late teens and into my twenties are when I really started to notice how overwhelmed I would get over the simplest of things. Sure, this was present in my childhood, but as time passed over the years, the feeling of being overwhelmed and being unable to communicate this to others raged inside of me. Where some saw a childish temper tantrum or blown fuse, I saw being overwhelmed, and mentally taxed to my limits more often than not and unable to deal with this at all.
          Being overwhelmed would often lead to me crying, beating things up (not because I wanted to), and a general cantankerousness that would leave people wondering what the hell was wrong with me, or if I was just 'carrying on' while 'throwing a tanturm' or 'not acting my age'. Did anyone ever bother to ask me why I was behaving this way? Did anyone stop to consider that maybe there was something wrong with me that I couldn't deal with myself? Did anyone put my feelings ahead of their own? If you answered no to all of those questions, give yourself a pat on the back.
          While it's easy to put into words now, it wasn't back then. High school was especially bad for these frustations, as a lack of understanding and listening ended up with me sitting in detention or getting scorned by a teacher or principal for outbursts, or defiance on my part for what I perceived as a lack of common ground due to the ignorance of the educator for the most part. I could never fathom why some adults at that time found it easier to lay blame on me or create an issue where there was none instead of helping me though some of my issues and/or giving me the benefit of the doubt.
          Being ridiculed, shunned, and feeling overwhelmed constantly all helped to erode my mental health and leave me teetering at any given time, a trend that continued well on into the future. This also combined with my creativity and relentless drive to succeed and nearly ruined me time and again. As someone who has always put the weight of the world on his shoulders almost from the beginning, the late teen years are when the cracks started to show and the weaknesses get displayed. As strong as I am, even I succumb to the human factor and feel as if that very weight of the world on my shoulders will crush me and grind me into a paste because it can.
          The last few years of high school saw some of my highest academic marks, but also left me with a lot of uneasy thoughts. I was used to being passed over for things, especially those I had interest in and wanted to do above all else. I can remember always having the following question lingering in my mind:
  
          "Why did I get passed over? I know I can do this, and I want to do this so bad! Why can't someone just give me a chance to do it? How come I never get that chance, and someone else always does ahead of me?"

          In the last year of high school, I got write for/work on the yearbook. I took pictures, collated, and helped to make it work. I also really wanted to be the editor, and felt that I could most definitely leave my mark on the job. Unfortunately, the job of editor went to a girl who was also an honour student all through high school (of which, I was not, as I was hoverning just below the 80% average needed), and it wasn't even close. Several of us hand our hands up and wanted to be editor, but the teacher in charge of the yearbook looked directly at the honour student and no one else.
          Again, I delved into frustration at being passed over, and found that it made me both frustrated and irritable afterwards. This also helped to heighten my feelings of self-loathing, mainly due to feeling inadequate and inferior to not get important tasks and losing out to others that either came from more affluent backgrounds, or instead considered themselves better than me.
          Most people have a good amount of doubt in their lives, while I have always been used to having a ridculous amount of self-doubt that can be paralyzing and soul-crushing at times, and has been responsible for emotional outbursts, and has shut me down on occasion and leaving me unable to process or cope with any of it. This is also another classic example of being somewhere on the autism scale (as well as being a basic characteristic of being a writer), and leads me into another tenet of this neurosis, dear reader.

IV: OCD

          Obsessive compulsive disorder is another facet of what I carry around on a daily basis, and in my mind, this goes hand in hand with mental health for reasons I shall explain as best I can. I have always had a desire for order, and this has been present since I was a child as well. Things that others would see as either odd or inconsequencial would be extremely important to me. Lining up my Hot Wheels cars on the sidewalk, making sure my toys were organized in a certain way, and even managing to get a large set of storage bins to organize my Lego in the various pieces and parts was only the beginning.
          To this day, certain items in my possession have places they go, and are organized to a T quite well. I have always felt a level of frustration or emotional distress if something manages to not stay in the order I have laid out. This would include an item rolling off the table, someone borrowing or using a thing and not putting it back in the exact same spot, or something as mundane as having something extra left over after a re-organization or restructuring due to cleaning or tidying up.
          Having something suddenly out of place has always rattled me, to the point where I have started to cry because I either can't fathom why it's not in it's spot, or how I could have been so careless to ruin my own system. Yes, that seems quite extreme to have reactions and blame myself, but it has happened to me. This also causes a strain on my mental health and I end up questioning myself and having that doubt inhabit my mind for a short time before I can move on and put it behind me. I never asked to be this way, but over the years, I have learned to manage it and not let it get out of control. Sometimes, I can even dismiss something minor and shrug it off, so as long as I rectify the problem immediately to my quick satisfaction.
          OCD can be crippling at times, which is why I have a strong respect for others that deal with these issues and never question their own emotional states when something similar happens to them. I go out of my way to not disturb order for others, as I know how crushing it can be to have order disrupted.
          I can honestly say that my own OCD is connected to my overall neurosis, which often helps me answer my own questions. The extent that something like OCD can be connected to our mental health as a whole is truly intimidating at times, and it feels like another weight pushing on me. It's not one that weighs me down per se, but rather gives me a feeling the the 'walls are closing in on me' at any given time. I've never been afraid of large problems, as it's always been the small stuff that triggers either my OCD or neurosis and can stop me in my tracks and ruin a day at the drop of a hat.
          As I have mentioned previously here, there have been times over the years (starting in childhood and continuing through to today in a lesser state) when I was ridiculed for having 'freak outs' when my order was disrupted by people who never bothered to ask why I'd have an emotional response instead of shrugging it off immediately. Some people would go out of their way (and still do) to disrupt my order by moving things when I'm not around, changing the layout of a desk or storage area, and purposely make it point to move every last thing in a workspace just to watch me have a melt down.
          Does that constitute bullying? I'll never know, and I don't lose any sleep pondering that question as my neurosis keeps me quite busy as it is.

V: Writing

          Anyone that knows me will tell you that writing is my passion. Writing is my calling in life, and it also serves a greater purpose for me than just telling stories and showing my imagination to the world. Writing also calms me, and helps me to regain composure and focus, especially when my neurosis and/or OCD is triggered. That being said, writing can also be a hinderance due to my mental health condition on any day.
          The self-loathing aspect of my core being also applies to writing, and I can be extremely hard on myself, the writer, moreso than normal. I am meticulous about editing and fixing spelling errors, yet I will feel emotional and sometimes cry if I do locate a spelling error during a writing session, or even if I happen to make one while writing. I don't know why such a small thing like a misspelt word triggers me, but it does. I don't deal with rejection very well (never have, in any form), and tend to feel a wave a sadness when receiving a rejection letter from a publisher that I have submitted work to.
          Even though rejections of this type don't affect me as harshly these days (as there are many, because it goes part and parcel with being a writer), there is the odd one that still gets to me and provokes an emotional response that can lead to crying and self-loathing, while my overthinking mind tries to solve the problem as to why it happened. Robert DeNiro was once quited as saying the following in regards to writers:

          "The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. Isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination, consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that's on a good day...."

          That describes me to the letter, both as a writer and a human being, but it also helps me to relate to my core being and help me understand that this is more normal than most people will let on, and that I'm not alone. The only item in that quote that is the opposite for me is procrastination. I rarely procrastinate, so at least there's that!
          Even though at this point in time I have been published twice by respected publishers (not to mention my own self-publishing), I have always felt that my writing and all the worlds and universes I create are simply not good enough. I do have supportive friends and fans that say otherwise, including my amazing girlfriend, Steph, who is my number one fan and always will be. Regardless, this is where the 'soul-crushing inadequacy' comes into play, and hampers my progress and weighs down on me considerably. 
          I'm obviously never going to stop writing, as I have a great many stories to tell, and more universes to create. I enjoy bringing worlds and characters to life and having deep connections with my creations. When they are happy, I am happy. When they are sad, I feel for them. The rare time I've had to either end a series of stories, or kill off a long-time character, I have shed tears and reflected on each and every one of them. As a writer, I rise and fall with my creations, and I really wouldn't have it any other way. Even though being a writer has tested my mental health boundaries and nearly ruined me on occasion, the rewards are greater than the risks by far.

VI: Autism?

          The premise of autism is quite wide and encompassing, but I do relate to it, as I have mentioned earlier in here that I do land on some part of the spectrum. I can relate to many of the signs, and will relay what I know about them as to how they relate to me.
          The most obvious one is the processing of information. Where as most normal people will take information at face value and go from there, my neurosis and overthinking mind creates scenarios and tries to make sense of what I'm taking in by unconventional means. I don't take things at face value, as I am always trying to find the hidden meanings behind the information, nor can I understand what I'm giving all at once - this is something I had issues with in school. Verbal instructions and information needed to be accompanied by a graphic or text or something tangible that I could have in front of me for reference, as my short term memory is poor and forgetting things leads to frustration.
          Non-verbal communication. Even worse for the longest period of time extending to adulthood was reading body language. It took many years and a lot of trial and error (not to mention hurt feelings) to properly read people by what they were not saying. Some people can read body language quicker than the spoken variety, but I wasn't one of them. I could read emotions on someone's face to an extent, and have always felt empathic to a degree, but the bulk of body language escaped me for quite some time.
          Sensitivity to noises (this is a BIG one). I am prone to sensory overload, but not in the ways you might think, dear reader. I've worked jobs that had me around loud equipment, machinery, and I currently work in the automotive sector in a repair shop, with loud air tools and things going off in the background. For me, it's not the big sutff, but what others might think of as minor. Examples include teeth scraping a metal utensil during a meal, excessive typing on a loud keyboard, repetitive dull thuds on a sturdy surface (paint cans slamming on a counter back in my industry days, for one), as well as several loud voices talking at once in a small, enclosed space.
          All of those drive me crazy and cause pain, and lead me to leave the room/area for a period of time due to the extreme sensory overload that they create. While I do wear glasses due to astigmatism, my hearing is not only excellent, but sensitive and susceptible to causing me great pain and anxiety in the process. A trade off, one would think? In my case, not so much.
          Being alone. I do enjoy spending time with others, but I have always been independent to a certain degree. When I was a child, if no friends were available to play, I'd amuse myself easily for quite some time, either using my imagination or combining it with toys to create worlds and other things. I have lived with a partner in the past, but when that fell apart, I reverted to an independent state and was able to continue on by learning how to pass the time by myself, and how to take care of myself as if the world was only a world of one - me.
          Anxiety. By definition, I am not an anxious person, but things like those listed above cause my anxiety. Luckily, anxiety isn't as big a problem for me as it is for a lot of people, especially those who have severe autism or other underlying mental health issues in which anxiety can be crippling and/or all-encompassing. Respect to anyone out there dealing with massive anxiety every day, and all the time. One of my other character traits (also connected to autism) is my devotion to routine and repetitiveness, which in this case have helped me to control or avpid anxiety. I prefer order over chaos, and it's the order of my everyday routine where I find the most comfort some days.

VII: Drive to succeed.

          The bulk of my mental health issues comes from my relentless drive for success, and all the pressure I put myself under on a daily basis. I have always been one to try and do everything myself, as well as being my own biggest critic. Work ethic is paramount to me, as well as doing something right the first time and doing it more than one hundred percent regardless. I never give less than my all, but I do come down hard on myself when I don't live up to the high standards I've placed on my own shoulders.
          One would look at this and think I am crazy, but this is just another aspect of my neurosis that I have managed to accept and live with. No one has a greater adversary than their own potential, and no one can push us but ourselves. I sometimes levy unrealistic expectations on myself because I have this thing inside of me that tells me that I have to hold myself to a higher standard than the rest of society. Is this noble, or stupid? I'm not sure I'll eve be able to answer that one.
          I've had numerous comments from people I've known over the years (friends, colleagues, etc.) telling me about how big a drive I have, as well as my work ethic and sense of purpose. I am relentless at times, and will push my own limits to the breaking point to accomplish things. Unfortunately, this also leads to the bulk of my mental health issues and has come close to me having a nervous breakdown on many occasions. I do take on many responsibilities and tasks not to overload myself on purpose, but rather to accomplish them, gain experience, and above all else prove to myself that I am capable of doing those things and doing them better than anyone.
          In doing this, I also cause friction with others from time to time, and feel the need to constantly apologize for something that most would consider minor, but in my mind has the potential to ruin professional relationships, and to a lesser extent, personal friendships and relationships that are in no jeopardy to begin with. Failure for me is never an option, but the fear of failing and the anxiety that goes with it are more than enough to give me trepidation and expand my worrysome nature to it's breaking point.
          Why do I do this to myself? I wish I knew. There was a time back when I was a teenager in which I had little drive, and I didn't take things (much less a job) seriously enough at all. One day after I was out of college, a switch flipped inside of me, and my drive came out of nowhere and gave me a greater purpose as well. I started to push myself like never before, and wanted not only to succeed and make a name for myself. My work ethic and relentless pursuit of excellence are unmatched, and even though I put the world on my shoulders and almost let it break me, I wouldn't change this part of me at all.
          The desire to improve and move up the ladder has always been with me, and even though the path to success has been a struggle at times, I have slowly been getting there. I work hard for the little I do have, and I can honestly say I'm proud of myself and what I have accomplish thus far, regardless of the near meltdowns and cracks in my armour it has produced over the years.
          As Yoda famously was quoted as saying, "Do or do not. There is no try."

VIII: Final thoughts

          Mental health is no joke, and needs to be taken seriously for sure, especially if someone exhibits some of the signs that I have related to you here, dear reader. It is a much more complex problem than most people realize, and shouldn't be shunned or ridiculed in any way or form.
          I'm not even sure how I make it through on a daily basis, but I do know that it's not easy by any means. Human beings are fragile as it is, and what we have to deal with from one day to the next can exact a very heavy mental toll on us, and this is cumulative. Structured breaks, walking away from a stressful situation, even spending time alone in a quiet environment can serve to address these issues and help to mend them.
          As someone who has always felt like an outsider (mainly due to the way I perceive, act, process, and retain), I can honestly say that if there was a lot more support, and a greater level of latitude aimed towards people like me who are fragile when it comes to mental health and have a severe neurosis, the world could be a much more better place to be in than it is now. I've faced and continue to face reprocussions for having the issues that I have, and it's truly distressing to see this. We've come a long way to address the perils of mental health in the last few decades, but there is still room for much improvement.
          Same goes with autism and neurosis. There is still too much stigma attached to them, and not enough support for those who truly suffer and can't put words to what they are feeling or going through. I am lucky enough to be a writer and be able to put my thoughts into words for others to learn from. Some people won't be so lucky, and find every day of their lives to be a massive jumble that they can't hope to understand, much less help someone else to sympathize with.
          This hasn't been easy to write, and it's never something I can talk about without going into an emotional state that can overwhelm me, but nonetheless, I did it, and you are still here reading about my story and what I have experienced. For this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, dear reader.

                                                                    -

          Author's note: I would like to offer a rather large thank you to those out there who have helped me with my mental health issues, and continue to help me on a daily basis even if I seem normal at any given time.
          My loving girlfriend Steph, who understands me like no other, my friend and colleague Vanessa who accepted me from the every beginning and has always been kind and accommodating, to my two best friends Chris and Dave who always seem to make me laugh and forget about the bad stuff, I thank you all for everything you do!
          The one thing we can all do is keep the conversation open about mental health, and strive to help everyone/anyone that feels the strain and goes through similar things on a daily basis. Everyone needs a friend, a sympathetic ear, or someone they can confide in just to relate their troubles and feel a tiny bit better, even if it's onyl for a short time, so let's all do our part and help out!

                                                                                                              -Jason J. Buchholz