Ambien The Hospital

(From May 11, 2017)

Sunday evening I had a Dystonia episode (muscle contractions). The previous Thursday I had been prescribed a new medication, Ambien, which is used to help you sleep. I’ve also been fighting a cold. Since the best way to stop a Dystonia attack (for me) is to sleep, I decided to go to bed early. I took my regular meds, one Ambien, and some cough syrup. That was a big mistake. In a mental fog, not really awake and not really asleep, I thought that if I took some more Ambien it would help knock me out. Instead, it put me in a state that I’ve never experienced before.

The whole evening is just a series of snapshots. I remember watching the end of a movie in bed, but I don’t remember anything about it. Then I watched a documentary that I normally would have turned off after five minutes, or not watched at all. I only have a few flashes of that. At some point I sent a message to Monica through Daniel. I had scribbled on my touchscreen computer: “I took too much. I’m sorry.” I barely remember doing that. Monica says I told her to call somebody. She called poison control, who told her to take me to the emergency room.

Again, I only have short visions of what followed. I remember putting on my shoes, but I have zero recollection of the drive to the hospital. I remember sitting down in the waiting room, but I don’t remember — and this is really weird — taking out my phone and posting a Facebook check-in to the hospital location. I had typed, “Uh oh! My bad.” I had tagged Monica, and I rarely tag people. I had used the “Feeling” thing (“Feeling confused”) — and I almost *never, ever* use that feature. That part is totally blank in my memory. Why on earth would I do something like that?

The rest of the night are still frames of a usual overdose hospital E.R. visit. This is something that, around 10 years ago, I had experienced on multiple occasions during some very dark years in my life. Given my history and the fact that I was unable to communicate, the ER doctor and Monica assumed that this was another suicide attempt. I can’t blame them. I still work on depression and newly diagnosed Bipolar Disorder. But this really was an accident.

If you think the story is exciting so far, I’m just getting started. I was eventually moved to a secure room with a guard posted at the door — on suicide watch. As my brain began to clear I struggled to put the pieces together. Why did I do that? Did I try to kill myself? Because, if I did, I don’t know why. I had not had a great day, but it wasn’t terrible either. Sure, I have bad days, but I’ve been in much worse depressive states than lately. In fact, I got a lot done during the week — doing errands and taking care of the kids. I even fixed our shower! I recently had been scheduled in to play with the church band occasionally on Sunday mornings, which is a big step for me. The fact that I didn’t know why I “tried” to overdose scared me. Then I remembered something that my doctor had said about Ambien, the sleeping pill. She said that some people had reported sleep walking or even sleep DRIVING while taking it. I started putting the pieces together. The Ambien, combined with cough syrup and my regular meds, put me in an altered state. When I ended up taking SIX Ambien in that state, my brain had left the building. (Side note: Don’t take Ambien, people!)

As the fog lifted, I told Monica what I thought had happened. However, by that time the hospital had decided that I had to be transferred to a local Mental Health Hospital. We told them that it was a medicine mix up and that I could be treated outpatient, but the hospital’s point of view is that they would be liable if I went home and completed suicide (CYA). There was nothing I could do. I was going to be held in a psych ward. After hours of waiting in an extremely uncomfortable gurney, with a guard watching my every move, an ambulance showed up to transport me. So off to the mental hoosegow we went.

As I mentioned before, I had purposely overdosed several times about 10 years ago, so this wasn’t my first rodeo. I’ve voluntarily been admitted to a mental health facility on more than one occasion. It’s a safe place to recoup, maybe adjust medications and get your thoughts together. But this was the first time I’ve ever been forced to go. And given that this was really all Ambien’s fault, it really felt like prison. I was terrified. Fortunately, I had an understanding doctor who could see that I was telling the truth and let me leave the next day (normally they would hold someone for three days).

During the almost two days I was there, I interacted with some of the other patients. Despite this post being mostly about me, I want this next part to be the takeaway for anyone who has managed to read this far. Most of the patients were very young. There were two or three around my age and one quite a bit older. Aside from me and maybe four others, the patients were there for addiction problems. Some of the patients suffered from mental illnesses as a result of addiction. While during group sessions the patients would speak of beating their addiction, outside of sessions they openly bragged about the various drugs they had taken. Almost everyone’s vocabulary was heavily laced with profanity. I’m not judging these people based on their addictions or the way they talked. I’m just stating facts. Three of these patients were military veterans. About two-thirds were male. I was the only white male. There was only one white female. Those are the demographics. I should clarify that in my part of the country, if you aren’t white you’re probably Hispanic.

The group sessions were — in my opinion — routine, stale, shallow, and some of them were just weird. I went to all of them, and had I been there as a suicidal patient or even an addict, I don’t see how any of it would have helped. However, short-term mental hospitals are designed as a stop-gap and not a solution. Maybe that should change.

What I found interesting is that, while the food was terrible, some thought it was like a fancy restaurant. While the beds were almost torture, those who had no beds thought it was like a nice hotel. And while there were several who were clearly chemically imbalanced, most were just regular people — hurting people. Most were people who had made really bad choices and were now paying the physical, mental and social consequences of those actions. But almost all of them blamed someone else for their situations. It made me sad. I felt helpless.

In a mental hospital and as a patient, you can’t just go around spreading the Gospel of Christ. That’s a good way to extend your stay. So, while people noticed that I never cursed and couldn’t relate to their drug experiences, I didn’t have an opportunity to be any more of a good witness for Christ. I hope that, at the very least, I was a good example in that I was a different kind of person. After my initial shock of being locked up, I didn’t shy away from interacting with anyone — the girl in her early 20s who had been sleeping on a floor for months — the gang banger who was being transferred to a more secure wing because of his disruptions — the vets with PTSD who told me unimaginable stories of their time in the Middle East — the elderly lady who didn’t have a home — the young African American girl who wouldn’t say a word — the kind, gentle man who had been in a traffic accident and had severe brain damage, who couldn’t forgive himself for the death of his godson in that tragedy — the young man with bandages over his slit wrists.

These are “the least of these”, my friends. These are the forgotten. These are the broken. These are the lost. These are the ones that need someone to let them know that — even with their damaged souls — there can be peace in Jesus. Even homeless, addicted, torn, and discarded, they can find love in Jesus.

I could rant and rave about how the Church should do more. I could point the finger at individuals who could help show the Way. I could whine about how I tried to work with church leadership to work with people like this, only to be ignored. I could rail against the government for their childish handling of America’s health system. I could tell you horror stories of terrible doctors. I could blame you, reader.

Instead, I choose to look to God. Instead, I choose to see what I personally can do for these damaged souls. Instead, I’ll take the blame myself, because I know what it’s like to be staring into a dead end. And as I continue to work on the issues I face, in the name of Jesus… I’ll continue to figure out how to help others who have been down that same dark road.

Stolen: My Star Wars Story

I don’t think I had even seen the original Star Wars movie when I got my first Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader toys. I was only six years old and I didn’t really understand who these two figures were, but I knew one was good and one was bad, and I remember the early days of enacting sword battles between them. By the time The Empire Strikes Back was released in 1980, I was ten years old and had been collecting Star Wars toys for four years. I saved every dime of my allowance for the next character. I would wait in anticipation as my Mom would drive me to the local Gibson’s to make the purchase. Every birthday and Christmas present were Star Wars toys. By the time I was around twelve years old I had amassed a treasure trove of toys from the Star Wars universe. Each new toy I acquired added another dimension of excitement and joy to my world. And I was a purist. I would never mix Star Wars with any other toy line. It was almost a religion. And that was a problem.

I had decided to follow Christ at a very young age. I understood that God wanted my complete and devoted love. The conflict between my love for Star Wars and my love for God became evident to me one day. I remember the moment clearly. My Dad was building a two-story addition to a house we had recently moved in to. I was playing with my Star Wars collection in a framework of a room when I suddenly stopped and told God, “If I love these toys more than You, then take them away from me.” Then I kept right on playing.

In what must have been a few months later, the addition to the house was mostly complete, but it was still easily accessible to anyone. I was showing the progress of the building to a friend who lived in a trailer park a few blocks away. We happened upon my huge cardboard box of Star Wars toys. I showed them off with pride. “I keep them all in this box,” I’m sure I must have told him.

Several days later my friend showed up again along with a gang of boys whom I’d never met. I remember that there were six or seven of them. He introduced them to me and we hung out in the front yard for a while, at the opposite end of the house addition. The new boys said that they were going to leave, but my friend said he wanted to stay. I remember him urging me to stay in the front yard. I thought nothing of it at the time. In fact, what weighed heavy on my mind was to tell that boy about what Christ had done for him. I explained how Jesus paid for our sins when He died on a cross, and how all we need to do is accept His gift to be with God. It was a very basic introduction to salvation through Christ. The boy prayed to receive Christ as his personal Savior. Soon after, he left for home.

It wasn’t immediately that I realized… it was a day or two… my box of Star Wars toys… I couldn’t find it…

My parents and I searched the house. We checked the new addition. We looked through closets. We searched outside the house and in our cars. There was only one conclusion: the toys had been stolen. We drove up and down the nearby drainage ditch, where kids would play, looking for a box or for scattered toys. We found nothing. A couple of days later, my parents filed a police report. I remember a uniformed officer sitting at our table. I described each of my toys in detail, naming them off like some kind of intergalactic playlist, “Hammerhead, Boba Fett, Millennium Falcon, Bespin Guard, Tauntaun…”  He wrote each one down as he asked for spellings and descriptions that must have seemed outrageous to him, but secondhand to me. The list was so long that the officer had to use at least two additional sheets of paper. “This is a felony,” I distinctly remember him saying. I didn’t know what it meant, but I heard a change of tone in his voice.

Naturally, I was devastated. I had devoted virtually half of my life to collecting and playing with these toys, and now they were gone. Imagine that for a moment: ALL of my toys were just… gone. I laid there in my bed, talking to God about it. Everyone was asleep. The house was dark. Then, I felt the need to tell my parents something. I got out of bed and walked into their bedroom.

“Mom, I’m really sad that my toys are gone. But… I still feel a happiness inside. Is that okay?” It’s true, I didn’t understand how I could be sad and yet still at peace. I almost felt guilty about it. “That’s Jesus,” my Mom replied. “That’s Jesus.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that I put all the pieces together. I guess I was so shocked by the disappearance of my toys that I didn’t think of the obvious. While my friend from down the street was occupying me in the front yard, the others went around the back and stole the box of toys. I went to my friend’s house to confront him. His mother met me at the door and told me to leave and not to come back. We didn’t pursue the matter any further, but I’m sure it was those boys, and I’m sure their mother knew what they had done. As to why she didn’t do anything about it, I’ll never know for sure. Perhaps she feared the police. Perhaps she just needed Jesus in her life.

There are so many lessons that I took away from this experience; lessons that I still adhere to today. First, be careful what you ask God for. I outright asked God to tangibly let me know if I was putting Star Wars before Him, and apparently, I was. I might have rephrased that request if I had it to do over again, asking for some other sign than to remove the toys from my life. This would be a lesson I would learn several more times in my life. God does listen to us. He answers prayers. But sometimes the answer isn’t what we want to hear. God was so real in the answer to that prayer. He is undeniable, and that’s the bigger lesson.

Second, doing the right thing doesn’t always mean that something bad won’t happen to you during the process. I was literally trying to help save someone’s life during the exact same time that my childhood was being robbed from me. I hope and pray that if that boy didn’t genuinely ask for God’s gift of life through Jesus that day, that at some point in his life he has done so. As Christians, all we can do is plant the seeds. And while all was being stolen from me, I was planting the seed of the Gospel. If I had to sacrifice all of my toys for that one soul, it was worth it.

Finally, I experienced a true peace that literally made no sense, just as described in Philippians 4:7. It’s a peace that would take me through some very dark places in my life. It’s a peace that continues to dwell in me, no matter what the situation.

I wouldn’t trade that peace for all the toys in the world.

“That’s Jesus.”

 

It’s that time of year…

…when some of us want to run and hide.

Ah, the holidays. A time to spend with family, exchange gifts, attend festive parties, decorate the house with joy… and totally freak out! I have to be honest. I just barely made it through Thanksgiving and I’m dreading Christmas. Over the past fifteen years I’ve struggled with depression, anxiety and agoraphobia. Once the life of the party, I’ve found myself avoiding any type of party at all, especially holiday gatherings. This past Thursday, Thanksgiving was hosted at our house with Monica’s family. Where was I? When the bulk of the crowd arrived I had one of the worst panic attacks in years and I ended up hiding out in our dog kennel. (I know you’re picturing me in a doghouse, but it’s a 6-foot-high fenced in area with a pitched tarp over it.) So I stood there, sheltered from the drizzling rain, like a scared little doggy. I called Monica on my cell phone from my cage. I told her I didn’t think I could “do this.” I was content to just stand out there until it was over.

 

In a few minutes my son, Daniel, came outside. “Whatcha doin’, Dad?” “Um… just checking to make sure the dogs have their own Thanksgiving set up for them.” “The dogs are inside, Dad.” “Oh, yeah. I guess we better go in.” So, reluctantly, I slipped in the side door. However, I know my house well. And I know how to hide from a house full of people. So I did. I eventually had to make conversation with a couple of people. I tried not to make eye contact. I’m ashamed of how I acted. I don’t understand these feelings. It makes me not want to try at all for the rest of the Season.

 

I can think back to more dismal days during the holidays and recount stories that make this one seem tame. Years of holidays and birthdays lost because I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house. One time I spent alone in a car, in an empty school parking lot, wondering if I could even go on living, let alone force myself to drive to a family Christmas party.

 

The notion that suicide rates go up over the holidays has been debunked, however no one denies that those who suffer from depression and related illnesses struggle more during Christmastime. Even people with physical illnesses can notice an uptick in symptoms. I had three dystonia attacks before and after Thanksgiving this year. I had been dystonia-free since August. There is probably a correlation.

 

The point of writing this isn’t to draw attention to myself. I’ll be fine. There have been worse years than this and I thank God that I’m in such a better place than I used to be. I’ll go to the endless annual progressive dinner with my family. I’ll entertain Monica’s co-workers at the annual company party. I’ll get by as best I can. I’ll even hide if I need to.

 

However, there are so many people out there who are in a much darker place, just like I was a few years ago. Frozen. Scared. Ashamed. Lonely. For some, the holidays will remind them of the people who aren’t with them any longer. I can’t even fathom that. For some, the holidays will remind them of things that they’ve lost. Relationships. Health. Purpose. Dignity. It’s easy to say, “Be of good cheer.”

 

For some, it’s just not possible right now.

 

For some, they will retreat to a cage.

 

On behalf of those who want to hide this year, this is my phone call from the cage. It’s a call to action. To those of good cheer, come out into the rain and check on us. We don’t really want to be alone. We don’t necessarily want to be dragged to a big party either. We just need someone to ask how we’re doing. To spend a little time with us. We don’t want to be “fixed” right now, so please don’t try. We just want someone to listen. Or maybe we just want someone to sit with. Nothing fancy. Nothing loud. Just someone to be with for a while during this crazy time of year.

 

Who knows? Maybe we’ll come inside. Just keep in mind that we’ll probably want to hide in the crowd… and that’s okay.

 

Tim Eason November 30, 2015

Conference on Mental Health and the Church

Mental Health & The Church

Click here for more information about the event

Background:

I just found out about this event today. After talking it over with Monica, we decided I needed to attend. I used to travel the country conducting seminars and speaking at events on the topic of using media in the church. My book, “Media Ministry Made Easy”, and my website, ChurchMedia.net, were the go-to resources for many churches from 1999 to 2008 (I previously served as Media Minister under Lance Witt in Las Cruces, NM). During these years I was struggling with health issues, including Dystonia and the loss of my left hip at age 31. The physical burdens, along with the stress of “success”, and a myriad of medications quickly led to mental health issues. There were multiple suicide attempts, self-harm and hospitalizations. In 2008, I sold my business/ministry and asked my publisher to take my book out of print. Things went even more downhill from there. To make a long story short, I “re-entered” life and conquered opiate dependency after a serious breakdown in 2013. I still struggle with occasional depression, but I am making progress in that area.

I have felt (even during those dark years) that God’s next step for me is to put my speaking, writing and media presentation talents into health awareness for churches. I’m interested in addressing the needs and lifting the stigma in the areas of both physical and mental health. It is my hope that this conference will help me in my efforts to be an instrument for God in helping the church understand the need for more ministry in this area. With only my wife working right now, this is a financial stretch for us, but I’m confident that it will pay off. Please pray that God opens up my eyes, ears, and heart to learn all He will be teaching me during these days.  This is my first time traveling solo since 2008, so it’s a big step. I’m looking forward to it.

 

“EveryDayResolution” (1994)

I’ve written a song for pretty much every holiday on the American calendar. One year New Year’s Day fell on a weekend and I wrote a special song about New Year’s resolutions. I really like the way the verses flow. This was written in 1994 or 1995 — most likely 1994. I didn’t record it until the 1999 release of “Leap of Faith”. I tried a new “breathy” sound with my voice. This version is missing a bunch of overlapping voices during the percussion bridge. They were me in different voices saying ridiculous resolutions that people never keep. Feel free to listen online or download ~ and make getting closer to Jesus an EveryDayResolution. Enjoy!

Listen Online:


Download “EveryDayResolution”

Verse 1

I can’t believe it! Another year gone by.
It went by so fast, in a blink of an eye.
So many things undone, unfinished plans.
Last year’s resolutions all got out of hand.

Chorus

We resolve to get close to Jesus,
And pray to draw us near.
We need to make that resolution,
More than once a year.

It’s an everydayresolution.
I’m working on my crown.
It’s an everydayresolution.
No more messin’ around, starting right now.

Verse 2

When the New Year’s over, we take down the Christmas tree.
Get ready for real life again and get back to routine.
Decisions that we made, we try to keep.
But most of the goals we had don’t last more than a week.

Chorus

We still need to get close to Jesus,
Hear what He has to say.
We need to make that resolution,
Each and every day.

It’s an everydayresolution.
I’m working on my crown.
It’s an everydayresolution.
No more messin’ around.

It’s an everydayresolution.
I’ll take it day by day.
It’s an everydayresolution.
Jesus will help me all the way.

 

“Children of Light” (1995)

Song Information

1 Thessalonians 5:5a ~ “For you are all children of light, children of the day.”

I wrote this circa April 1995. I composed it on a Roland JV-50 with Cakewalk software. It was released on my 1999 CD, “Leap of Faith”. This song has a very poppy feel and I sing some of the highest notes in my entire repertoire. The entire first and second verses and the first chorus is referring to Monica. We were dating exclusively at the time. When I introduced the song at Calvary Baptist Church (Las Cruces) that weekend, many of our friends thought I was going to propose to Monica on stage. I didn’t propose for another couple of months. Every word I wrote about her then still applies today. Enjoy!

 “Children of Light”

Verse 1

When you walk into a room,
You light up the whole place with an energy.
You shine just like a star,
The smile on your face when you look at me.

(Yeah)

Verse 2

And it’s all because of Who’s you are,
Your love for Christ, the filling of His Spirit.
And it’s more than just a game you play from day to day,
I’ve seen your walk, It’s more than talk, you live it.

(Yeah)

Chorus 1

Everyone sees Christ’s love in you,
Magnified by all the things that you do.
Like a star shining clear and bright,
Everyone knows you are a child of light.

Verse 3

Calling out to all who call Him Lord,
Time to come together as His children.
Time for all to shine in one accord.
Talk the talk. Walk the walk. Let’s live it.

(Yeah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

Chorus 2

Everyone sees Christ’s love in you,
Magnified by all the things that you do.
Like stars shining clear and bright,
Everyone knows you are a children of….

Everyone sees Christ’s love in you,
Magnified by all the things that you do.
Like stars shining clear and bright,
Everyone knows you are a children of light!

Note: This recording is a little noisy. I’ll update it with a better version soon.

Listen to “Children of Light” Now

Download “Children of Light”

“Years” (1995)

Song Information

This is definitely the best instrumental I’ve ever written; possibly the best song I’ve ever written. It was composed in October of 1995 on a Roland JV-50 with Cakewalk software. Each movement/theme crosses over into each other, with Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” thrown in a few times.

I named it “Years” because I knew that the vows that Monica and I were making were a lifetime commitment. The song represents stages of life and the many years that we would spend together. It means more and more with each passing year that we are together. I released the song on my 1999 and final CD, “Leap of Faith”.

Here is a description of our 6 minute, 16 person processional:

 

First Movement: “The Groom and the Groomsmen”

After the intro music, myself and the groomsmen walked down the isle. This included my best man and brother, David, my life-long friend Jay Cline, and my brother-in-law Lupe Cuellar. I think my Dad, who performed the ceremony, walked down with us as well. I was going for a calm, but somewhat percussive feel for the men’s theme.

Second Movement: “The Kid’s Theme”

We wanted lots of kids in our wedding, so rather than just a flower girl and a ring-bearer we paired up a niece or nephew with each Bridesmaid and Groomsman. This included ring-bearer and my nephew Joshua Cuellar, nephews Michael Cuellar, Matthew Cuellar and Cameron Devine. Our flower girls were nieces Tabitha Eason (Norvell), Amber Devine and Stephanie Cuellar (Butler). The kid’s theme is playful and fun. I love the pan-flute sound and timpanis.

Third Movement: “The Bridesmaids”

Transitioning into a more mellow theme, our Bridesmaids were Tammie, Brenda and Sharla. Monica’s lifelong friend, Tammie, was the Matron of Honor. I tried to give this movement a little more elegance and it mixes itself with the groomsmen theme to connect the two together.

Fourth Movement: “Monica’s Theme”

The beginning of this movement slowly builds and foreshadows the bride’s entrance with a simple “Here Comes the Bride” horn. Then to let people know to stand for Monica’s grand entrance (complete with smoke and beams of light behind her) I added a blast of horns playing her theme and then slowed it all down for her walk down the aisle. Her Dad, Gene, escorted her down the aisle and gave her away. I used lots of bells went for an ethereal feel for Monica’s theme ~ like she was floating down the aisle. By the time she reached the front and the piece ends, I added back in a bit of each of the other movements and ended with a couple Wagner’s famous perfect fourths.

This song was used in another wedding. Someone had heard about it and contacted me at the music store I was working at. I was paid $10 for them to use it. 🙂 I’d love for more people to enjoy it, so be sure to let me know if it shows up in anyone else’s wedding.

Listen to “Years” Now:

 

Download “Years”