It seems about once a month it becomes necessary for me to update my ‘about’ page. Not that anything new happens in my life, but a lot happens in my head. This time, rather than discussing why I write, which changes month by month, the description will stick to events. History doesn’t change (although our memories and interpretations of it do).

A former physician, I’ve spent the past ten years dealing with the aftermath of career loss. After ten years of medical training, I practiced as an oculoplastic surgeon for a little over six years. During that entire time the work was taking a toll on my neck, and by the end operating caused excruciating pain. If this were happening today, the hospital would no doubt have ergonomic specialists available to help me work out a way to keep practicing. Back then, however, no one seemed able to give me any advice that helped. The administrators at the medical center/HMO that employed me expressed annoyance at my ongoing complaints, but did nothing to assist me. In the end, it seemed like there was nothing to do but quit. At that point my superiors came down very hard on me, and accused me of exaggerating the pain and shirking my responsibilities. The sadness I felt at losing my career and the hostility I experienced from those around me took a toll on my mental health. So did a number of other large stressors that hit me around the same time.

My susceptibility to psychiatric catastrophe was largely due to a dreadful childhood, which is outlined elsewhere and repeatedly on this site. It included early parental divorce, frequent relocations, maternal depression and suicide, vicious child abuse by a stepmother, sibling psychosis, plus paternal narcissism and alcoholism. That upbringing left me traumatized and despairing as an adult. A few years of joy immediately after leaving home (half way through my senior high school year), were soon followed by decades of recurrent, severe depression.

In the aftermath of losing my career, I became suicidal and ended up in a locked ward on suicide watch. After discharge, I stuttered about for five days, and then had a series of profound spiritual experiences. Unfortunately, psychiatrists labelled these as ‘hallucinations’ and ‘delusions’. They diagnosed me with type I bipolar disorder, and started me on a shockingly powerful medication regimen. In short order I deteriorated from fully functioning surgeon to over-sedated mental patient.

It has taken ten years to get back to something resembling mental health. The first seven years were pretty hellish, but the past three have brought me wonderful growth. I have explored a number of different types of therapy, and blossomed spiritually. I’ve learned to keep a fairly regular schedule of exercise and meditation. I work hard to maintain equilibrium. Most of the time I succeed, but anyone who looks through this site will see that periods of darkness continue to plague me.

This blog began in May 2009. Looking back, I am surprised and pleased to see evidence of much personal growth in the short time since the site was launched. My maturity and perspective have improved. At age fifty-one, I am still growing up. If you are interested, you will see evidence of that here.

To round out the picture, I was born in Michigan in 1958. After moving almost every year during my early childhood, my father settled us in a nice Los Angeles suburb in 1968. We lived close to the beach, and our house was nestled in hills with trails that extended for many miles through the coastal mountains. It would have been idyllic, if my family had not been so sick. Although I loved the availability of nature, and used it as my refuge throughout the remainder of my upbringing, my time in LA looks bleak in my memory. Fortunately, I only spent the nine-month school year there. Summers were spent back in the midwest, with relatives who treated me well.

I currently live in a suburb north of San Francisco. My wife and I left the city itself around the time of my career loss. The idea was to bring me closer to work, and save my neck the commute. In the end I found myself with no career, and living in an uninteresting and conservative town. To give ourselves a place to get away with our dogs, we built a small vacation place near Yosemite National Park, where we now spend a third of our time.

That’s my life in a nutshell. Thank you for taking the time to read about me. As I said at the outset, this ‘About’ essay has changed several times. You’ll notice that the comments refer to older versions. I hate to delete them, because every message from every visitor strikes me as a special gift.