It's the Ten-Year Anniversary of My Breakdown

April 23, 2020

This week marks the ten-year anniversary of my breakdown.

And what a decade it’s been.

[This is one of the few photos taken of me in the weeks following my breakdown in late April of 2010].

In the days following the Deep Water Horizon disaster on April 20th, 2010, as millions of barrels of crude oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico, I underwent a disaster of my own, a horrific mental breakdown that left no part of my life untouched. At the time, the two events seemed inextricably interlinked, as though I was plugged into the global mind and was energetically absorbing the etheric horrors of that oil spill.

It might sound crazy, but it felt as though I was transmuting the collective trauma of billions of fish, birds, sea turtles, dolphins, whales, cleanup workers, and a world that stood gaping at one of the worst environmental disasters in human history. I’ve since learned this is one of the many functions a bona fide shaman will take on. He or she will often act as a kind of cosmic filter for the community, transmuting collective trauma and stepping down its high emotional charge. It often comes at a great cost.

In my case, it came at the cost of my sanity, a precious commodity I’ve since explored endlessly in an attempt to restore myself psychologically. Ironically, ten years later, and after thousands upon thousands of hours of prayer, research, shadow work, therapy, nutritional experimentation, open dialogue, writing, meditation, and contemplation, I find myself emerging from the horrors of “schizophrenia” just as the world is slipping into a kind of “schizophrenic” break of its own.

I’m referring, of course, to the chaos surrounding COVID-19 and the social, economic, and geopolitical instability resulting from this event, which has already metastasized the overwhelming meaning crisis our species is facing. Just look at the fact that, as researcher Carl Miller points out, this crisis has already produced the “biggest moment for conspiracy narratives in history.” There’s a very real sense among ordinary people, not just countercultural types, that the current events are “surreal,” dreamlike, orchestrated, fake, rigged, stacked against us.

It feels like someone spiked the punch.

Similar to the debilitating paranoia a “schizophrenic” feels, many are entertaining beliefs that a generation ago would have been deemed unthinkable. Consider, for instance, the idea circulating the internet that the respiratory symptoms people are experiencing are due not to a viral infection sweeping the planet but instead to the installation of 5G transmitting satellites and phone masts. Whether or not you find this idea plausible or preposterous, its popularity and the polarization it has produced show what a breakdown we’re experiencing in our collective sense-making. And similar to the “schizophrenic” experiencing a breakdown of her preconceived notion of reality, this kind of confusion is fertile ground for some much-needed soul-searching and self-reflection.

Much like the “schizophrenic” whose imagination has opened to an epic battle between the different voices and archetypes that populate his psyche, we find ourselves in a profoundly disorienting space where we’ve left one world behind and the new world hasn’t set in. Heaven and hell seem to be practically bursting into our reality. We imagine worst-case scenarios and deflate in the face of the unimaginable suffering so many are experiencing. Another part of us realizes a kind of crack in the matrix has opened and that this is precisely the moment when utopia could be created, if enough of us collaborate in creatively unprecedented ways.

But take it from a recovered “schizophrenic”: we must not feed hell, for it is already filled to capacity. We must not give into fear. We also must never believe we have the world or current events or the government or ourselves completely figured out. We must make deep friends with mystery and uncertainty. This does not mean nothing can be known. It means humbly accepting our status as temporarily incarnate, meaning-making machines and doing our best to make sense of the mystery of our existence.

As someone who was trapped for years inside a hellish metaphysical paradox no one else could wrap their head around because the explanation went on for hours and people would get lost after the first few sentences, and who has since rejected such an extreme perspective in favor of a more “Jungian” perspective, I find myself temperamentally inclined toward less of a “conspiracy theory” rendition of reality and more of an archetypal, mythological perspective.

Maybe that’s for the sake of my own mental health. Or maybe it’s because it’s a more mature psychological framework. Carl Jung himself seems to have been skeptical generally of conspiracy theories, as well as literal interpretations of paranormal phenomena. Instead, he viewed bizarre events as evidence of the synchronistic nature of reality and the self-regulating nature of the collective unconscious.

Whatever the reason for my return, I’m glad to be back amongst all of you, partaking in the same reality you all are experiencing (for the most part). I’m more convinced than ever that this is the greatest time to be alive on this planet, despite the colossal difficulties we face. As Zachary Stein wrote recently, “Precious are the moments of world-making.”

I’m also convinced that “schizophrenia” is a spiritual development process, that the resurrection is very much worth the crucifixion, and that we have some serious work cut out for ourselves in the days and months and years ahead.

Godspeed.