Out of the Way Stuff.
I want to get this stuff out of the way. It will likely be the first thing any skeptic will use to minimize my story. That’s not a complaint. That’s what people do. We find flaws, we focus on the flaws. Hypothetically, I personally think it is interesting that a person who has a known history of mental health problems is invalidated as a human being, or their experiences automatically dismissed because of a label. Dismissing a person could actually escalate a mental health issue. Seriously, Bipolar or not, human beings experience emotions, like anger and sadness, and their emotions shouldn’t be dismissed just because you don’t happen to agree with their perspective, or the intensity of their feelings. I am not Bipolar. I do have a personal history of mental health challenges. I experienced years of dysthymia with interrupted episodes of Major Depression, severe. Many of the episodes went without medical intervention.
There is a family history of mental health problems, abundantly clear on maternal side. There was generational sex abuse. There was generation physical abuse. There were was, and likely still on going, folks experiencing substance addictions. Substance use usually equates to mental health issues. There are others who have been, who should be, and are receiving mental health care. That’s true enough for all families. Mine is not unique.
As I write this, I am not presently experiencing significant levels of depression. I am reasonably content. I have had some life changes I am not fond of, but I recognize my participation in the way things evolved. I could expound, but it really isn’t relevant to the discussion that is to unfold.
I am an ‘experiencer.’ I like that term, because it leaves explanation open. I will go ahead and get this out of the way, too: it’s aliens. It is my intent to share my story and thoughts about the subject. I have delayed sharing for multiple reasons, my inability to share significant details being one of them. Perhaps the average encounters are like mine, with the surface of being, ‘yeah, I saw a light in the sky. The odd thing, I remember suddenly turning and walking away. I don’t remember why. It was a big light.’ Maybe the big stuff is not where the pudding is, but that’s just the cherry on top that brings you to the meat of the subject. Maybe more people need to come forward and share the seemingly insignificant encounters because the meaning is likely hidden in the totality of it all. So, for example, I have this assumption, I should likely say, I share this assumption: if aliens are real and here they are clearly significantly more advanced, and if they wanted us dead, we would be. That seems like a reasonable conclusion. That conclusion doesn’t mean they are cute and loving bunnies and we should greet them with open arms. I would like to believe that, but truth is, my encounters were terrifying. Maybe not for the reasons I think. Maybe they’re benign, maybe they’re not. I don’t know enough. But we’re still here, that’s something
Why am I coming out now? I think the atmosphere for sharing is more conducive to sharing than it was when I was growing up. Hell, I got ridicule for enthusiastically sharing dreams. UFO, ghosts, you’re watching too much television. I did. And, maybe the family had too much going on to entertain my level of crazy. I have journals, where I have explored the encounters privately. I have shared encounters with a few, very few, close friends. A couple family members know several incidents. My mother thinks I am bat-shit crazy, too much into my dreams and a product of being raised by television. Maybe she’s right. I sometimes prefer that explanation. I am reasonably educated in the sciences and psychology, and so I have explored alternative answers. I reasonably capable of compartmentalization, and so I can box things pretty well; I can put those experiences, and bad experiences in general, into a container and reasonably get along with daily functioning. That ability is sign of health. It exemplifies resilience and perseverance. Keep on keeping on.
I am versed in science, I can write in APA format, and I am not going to do that. I am writing from the perspective of just being human. I want this to have a conversational feel. Maybe I should write in APA, but then again, there are people who have written from a more professional, academic position and still been ridiculed. So, this conversational style, which is my preferred way of interacting, is just the way I am going to write it. I love science. I pretty much love everything. I am capable of being critical. Just ask any friend who ever watched a movie with me. Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s movie reviews are less harsh than mine. I have had friends say, it’s just a movie. No! A six shooter should not shoot ten bullets before reloading. You don’t have to drill a hole in a planet to deliver a black hole. I didn’t protest the sky in Titanic; I assume all skies are inaccurately rendered. Most people don’t follow. Hell, you can’t see the stars half the time. I moved out to Justin to get away from most the light pollution and then they built that damn race track. How does a race track qualify for public domain and property confiscation? Sorry, wrong rant. Movie criticism example: If you can hold or move or create black hole, you just have to drop it on the planet. That’s it. I love Trek, but the laser dril platform, not necessary. It looked nice. Free fall parachute transporter rescue scene, that was alright. I know astronomy. My math sucks, but I can operate telescopes, reflecting, refracting, set them up, align them… I can reasonably figure out parallax, but truth, I hate math. I am knowledgeable about biology, and I can work microscope. I can do statistics and can reasonably interpret data from sociological and psychological studies. I can determine significance. I am better at quoting literature than doing the studies and math.
I am knowledgeable about psychology. Some of that comes from intermittent therapy. At age six I ran away from home. On recovery, I was taken to my first psychiatrist. I don’t know his real name; he called himself Doctor Batty. I was not interested in talking to him, but I was interested in his toys. This Doctor, whatever his real name was, was operating at Scott and White Hospital, Temple Texas. I was born in Jan, 1968. So, sometimes in 73ish I was treated for depression. I am confident it was age six. I am open to not being precisely right. I remember riding my bike along the freeway, at night. I remember coming to a trailer park and knocked on someone’s door and asked for tomato soup. Nice couple. No police involvement that time. They called my parents. People that like to chase facts, there will have to be a medical record of that. Dad was military, Scot and White was attached to the military.
Did I say I am knowledgeable about psychology? I have a masters in counseling. I am licensed by the state of Texas as an LPC. (What? Crazy folks helping crazy? Well, it takes one to know one, right?) I have been working in Mental Health since 2012. I knowledgeable about hypnosis, though I don’t practice that professionally. I have a certificate from an online school from California. That’s likely insignificant, as I don’t consider myself that skilled, definitely not that experienced, but I apparently passed a standard significantly enough to get a license. I think anyone could. I do like guided providing guided meditations and other transpersonal modalities.
I have dabbled in dream work all my life. Dreams were so important that I ignored all the subtle hints that family wasn’t interested and was finally told directly, dreams are meaningless. I engaged in a lucid dream technique prior to being knowledgeable about lucid dreaming. At age 16, maybe seventeen, on waking from a recurring dream of being chased by a monster, I experienced anger and told myself: “the next time I have this dream, I will turn and face the monster. I will not run away again.” I had the dream again that night. I remembered my intent. I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face this thing that had chased me all throughout childhood. To my surprise, it was not a monster but a friend. Short of having a fever dream, I have never had a nightmare since.
I would like to believe the stance I took there is also the correct stance to take with the aliens. Truth be known, I am still a coward. I have improved marginally. Hell, even though stories as this are more acceptable in mainstream, there is risk involved in sharing. Even when caveats and other explanations are involved, there is risk. Hell, I am using real name. Consequences could be loss of license or employment. Not likely. Seriously, I don’t think anyone cares. Navy Pilot comes out and says, ‘it’s aliens,’ and Pentagon releases evidence they have been chasing things, and the world kept on going. Society has momentum. The mitigating factor is I acknowledge that some of these experiences might just be misinterpreted dreams. That doesn’t make them less significant. I am a huge fan of Carl Jung. Dreams hold meaning. They can be informative in a number of ways. More precisely though, Jung held the position that holding ones ground against the inner demons, even walking into the shadows was the path to health. Loosely quoted, you don’t become enlightened thinking about beings of light, or running from the shadows. Run towards the shadows, the light’s on the other side.
So, Trek-friends, into darkness, here we go.