People often ask me to describe living with dissociative fugue disorder. The best way I can describe it is to tell them to watch episode one of the MCU television show “Moon Knight.” In this episode, Mark, the protagonist, goes to bed after a long day at work. He wakes up in another country, being chased by mercenaries. As the chase ensues, he blacks out and “wakes up.” He then finds himself doing various things, like driving a car he doesn’t remember getting into or defeating multiple attackers. Honestly, it was very hard to watch the episode, yet it was somewhat satisfying to be able to see on the television screen what I have experienced. Minus the mercenaries, of course. Unfortunately, I have experienced such blackouts. Over the years, I’ve woken up in motel rooms hundreds of miles from our home with no memory of how I arrived there. I’ve even woken up only to realize that I had just rolled our car over on a highway in Canada. Yes, Canada. By far, though, the worst episode I’ve ever experienced was being awakened and restrained to a bed in a psychiatric facility holding area in Los Angeles, California.
The year was 1990, and it had been about six to nine months since my first fugue episode. I worked as a title examiner for a local title company. I loved the thrill of digging through real estate records and researching the history of a property’s title history. As much as I enjoyed the hunt, the job was very stressful. While at the Recorder of Deeds office, the phone on the desk would ring constantly like a bell ringer for a Salvation Army collection kettle. The phone calls were always one of the escrow officers or underwriting agents demanding that the needed information be found quicker and faster due to the tight property closing time. The job also only paid minimum wage, so finances were always tight in our home. Jamie was at home raising our three kids, who were 6, 3, and almost 2. I was taking Prozac to help deal with what was then thought to be Manic-Depressive Disorder. So, to say the least, the stress level in my life was humongous. I distinctly remember sitting at our company’s desk in the Recorder of Deeds office in Clayton, Missouri, trying to finish a large stack of titles. I had a tremendous migraine headache that just wouldn’t go away, which probably wasn’t being helped by the second can of Jolt soda I was drinking. Then, I guess I blacked out.
My next conscious memory was lying in a hospital bed with restraints! I freaked out completely. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. I was in a large room with other individuals who were also restrained to a bed. Many of them were yelling and screaming. As I looked around the room, I was so terrified. Where was I? How did I end up here? Then, my mind turned to Jamie and the kids. Did they know where I was? Did my family put me here? I started crying as I struggled with the questions burning through my brain. I don’t remember how much time passed before a nurse came into the room to check on me. Seeing that I was conscious, she asked me how I was feeling. I immediately began asking my questions. She told me that I was in a facility in Los Angeles and that I was found in a hotel room by local police. I was told I was in restraints because I was combative when brought there by the police. She then said something disturbing.
“I really can’t tell you anymore. That information will have to come from the doctor.”
I was in shock. How in the world did I get to Los Angeles? How long had I been gone from home? Did Jamie know where I was? How was I going to get home? When the doctor eventually came to see me, I had more questions than answers. He told me the current date, and I could see I had been missing from home for almost two weeks. He asked me for my home phone number so they could contact Jamie to let her know I was okay. Then he told me something I was not expecting to hear. The doctor told me that when I was discovered by the police in that hotel room, I had obviously attempted suicide by ingesting three bottles of sleeping pills and a bottle of alcohol. He said that there would have been 150 pills in those three bottles and that I should not be alive. He patted me on the arm and said, “Someone is looking out for you for sure.”
Again, I was dumbfounded. I didn’t remember any of the incidents I was being told about, but I had no reason to think people were lying to me. There would be no reason for them to lie. It was at that moment the truth sunk in. I should be dead! Yes, I should be dead, BUT God had saved my life. I remember being so overwhelmed with that realization. Once again, the tears flowed. The doctors finally contacted Jamie, explaining everything about finding me, the suicide attempt, and how it was a miracle I was alive. Later, I was informed that my Dad had contacted my aunt and uncle. Fortunately, my aunt and uncle lived near Los Angeles, and the facility agreed to release me to them once my psychiatric hold was over. I was never officially admitted to the facility’s main area but was kept in holding. I was eventually released from my restraints and tried to stay out of the way of other people being detained. It was not a pleasant time at all. I witnessed people fighting, attacking each other, yelling, screaming, and having psychotic episodes. This place felt like a war zone.
Soon, I was released to my Uncle Don, who picked me up at the facility and took me to their house. Before I was released, I was given back the property I showed with. It was then that I realized that my wallet was empty and my wedding ring was gone. I was heartbroken that my wedding ring was gone. Even though it was a little awkward, Uncle Don and Aunt Lynette were amazing to me. They had purchased a plane ticket to fly me back to St. Louis and took great care of me till I left the next day. After arriving at my aunt and uncle’s home, I briefly talked with Jamie. She was relieved I was safe, but there was weariness in her voice. The entire flight back to St. Louis was riddled with worry regarding how Jamie would react to me when I landed. This was the second time I had just up and left without warning. Yes, we had spoken briefly over the phone, but I knew there would be tension. When I saw her at the airport, we hugged and cried. We were both overwhelmed with what had transpired. The drive home was quiet and awkward. As I said, this was only the second fugue episode I had experienced, and we were years away from a true diagnosis. The road to that point was long, painful, filled with much anxiety and many more fugue episodes. That is a story for another day, though.
What brought me to the point of sharing this major event in my life was a picture that appeared on my Instagram feed recently. The picture of the dirty little lamb is featured at the top of this article. As I looked at this picture, tears formed in my eyes, and I was overwhelmed by the grace of God. The blurry part of the picture behind the little lamb grabbed me. It was the shepherd running with all His might to get to that dirty, lost little lamb. The realization that I was that lost little lamb flooded my soul. I was lost, helpless, and covered in dirt. How many times in my life was that me? How many times was I lost and alone, yet God ran with all His might to my aid? Instantly, I was mentally transported back to this incident in 1990. By all accounts, I tried to kill myself and should have succeeded. But God intervened. If I had succeeded that day, I would have missed out on so much in my life. My two younger children would not have been born. I would have missed God’s calling on my life to minister. I would have missed the weddings of my three oldest children. I wouldn’t have met my grandchildren, and my youngest grandson would not be alive. Plus, I would have missed all the wonderful, happy years with my wife, who is my best friend. Only by the grace of the Good Shepherd am I here.
So many times in the Bible, we see that God and Jesus are called shepherds, but none more familiar than these two.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows. He leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength. He guides me along the right paths, bringing honor to his name. Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me. You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings. Surely, your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.”
- Psalm 23
“So Jesus told them this story: “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!”
- Luke 15:3-7
Try to think of it this way: God is God. He is the one who created everything and everyone. He put the sun in the sky and formed all the stars. He made the earth and everything that walks, crawls, swims, or flies. He intricately positioned our planet from the sun in order to sustain life. He put the moon in the perfect position to keep Earth on its axis, which causes ocean tides, weather seasons, and our 24-hour day. That same God, who is in charge of all of creation simultaneously, cares more about you and me as individuals. The realization of that truth is deeply impactful. Knowing the God of creation is walking with us “through the darkest valley” and running with all His might to get to you when you are lost, dirty, and alone is life-changing. You may think your problems are insignificant to God, but that is absolutely not true. He wants to scoop you up in His arms, wipe the dirt and mud from your “wool,” and bring you back home to Him.
