About Me — Matthew James
Writing is my therapy from the madness
I’d like to start out with a warning. The beginning of my story isn’t your typical beginning. It has sadness and some cruelty but it has a happy ending.
I was born and raised in Sacramento, California. I was born into and raised in a Christian cult. When I tell people this, it’s hard for them to grasp. Yes, I was raised in a cult that was quickly turning into the cult from Waco Texas. I spent the better part of fifteen years inside and completely cut off from the outside. world. We were not allowed to see outside family or doctors for fear of being caught. This enabled the pastor to get away with atrocities to the children and abuse was rampant. Much of my memories have been suppressed. A sorta self-defense mechanism to protect me from the trauma. However, some memories sneak by and show themselves in my dreams. Some memories have stuck with me, like my first time at Disneyland. But when we got home our family was punished because the pastor found out that we had gone on the Haunted Mansion ride. Our punishment was no TV for a year.
After my parents found out a particular incident that had occurred to me it frightened my mother to where she convinced my father to finally leave the church. So we did.
I was integrated into public life in the 5th grade. I was astonished at how public school was. Just until recently, I wasn’t aware public schools even existed. I was bullied and picked on because I wasn’t normal. I was very sheltered growing up and it showed. I had become overwhelmingly depressed and didn’t know how to manage. I had t been diagnosed then, but looking back on it after I had been, it was all too obvious.
During my eighth grade year my parents divorced and all five of my brother and sisters including me went with my father. So moving away from the area to fresh new stay was something I wanted. Highschool was another beast I had to tackle. I still wasn’t diagnosed but I was still fighting depression. I would have my manic to where I felt on top of the world with extreme irritability and anger. The summer between my freshman and sophomore year my father and I had a fight and he kicked me out of the house. I ended staying with a friend for a few months. It ended with his mother calling Child Protective Services and I went into foster care. Sometime later my mother won custody over me and my younger brother while the four little ones stayed with my father. And so it was. We moved out of town and I went to a city Highschool as opposed to the small town one I was used to and it was a culture shock. But the friends I made there are then ones I’ve kept throughout the years.
I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder and major depressive disorder in my early twenties. My depression had been gradually getting worse coupled with bouts of mania. My euphoric feeling was something of a break from my depression. But the crash into the darkness with something I could not handle on my own, and I finally went to go see a doctor about it. What followed my diagnosis was a search for the right medication. It was hit-and-miss at times. I’ve taken Seroquel, Prozac, and Zoloft, and finally ended up with lithium. Coupled with the Abilify I also take for mood, I seem to finally be leveled out. Over the years I worked oddball jobs. Met my girlfriend and we had our daughter. I decided to become a Christian again, the first time I came back to faith after the cult. I wanted to have a relationship with my father, and sadly the way he was he found a favor with the child that was a believer as he was and followed in his footsteps. It didn’t last very long. Tragedy befell my life, my daughters’ mother, whom I still loved and cared for died of a heroin overdose. I took her death hard and as I turned to the elders in my church I was turned away stating that I shouldn’t be grieving for her as much as I had been. And that is when I finally said I did not need the church or any god to help me through this difficult time.
So after a couple of years of deconversion, I finally became an atheist. Which then broke my relationship with my father. After the death of my daughter’s mother, I gained full custody of her. Unfortunately, I wasn’t stable enough to take her on full-time, and we moved from place to place over a few years. I had sustained a work-related injury and had two reconstructive surgeries on my right shoulder. And thus began my addiction to opiates. I was prescribed painkillers and was taking them for 8 years. During that time I had finally found a stable place for my daughter and I to live. Which was short-lived as my brother who lived with me at the time had me evicted. After the eviction, my daughter and I moved in with a friend of ours, and my doctor suddenly decided to cut me off of my painkillers abruptly over eight years, I had become addicted to opiates , and having been cut off I did the only thing I knew to keep myself from getting sick. Because my doctor didn’t offer any kind of help with rehab, I turned to heroin.
Toward the end of the summer after we moved in with our friend I had received a settlement for the injury I sustained at work. Needless to say, I moved my daughter out right away. I took the money and bought a truck for transportation but as I was still a heroin addict my money was spent on that instead of finding a place to live. I was off my medication my depression was in full force. So I masked my pain with more drugs. And became homeless in the process. The only thing I did that was smart was not to take my daughter down with me. I had asked my mother to take her until I could figure my life out.
Over the next few years, with no insurance and no medications and with my bipolar disorder in full swing, I dug myself into pit of despair. Masked only by the use of heroin. I would sit in my car crying until I could cry no more. I would be hit with suicidal ideation numerous times but the thought of my daughter losing me shamed me and I never could go through with it. I hit new lows tangled up in my darkness. I would commit crimes all over the area just to get money to feed my addiction. I was still very much apart of my daughters life. Just on the outside. I found out the hard way that who you thought were your friends were only using you for what you had at the time. When it ran out they were gone too. This fueled my depression even more. I had finally hit rock bottom. Suicide ideation was creeping in at a more substantial rate.
Then one day everything changed. I was taking my daughter back to a friend’s house when she stumbled upon a friend’s needle. We both looked at each other and I knew I had fucked up. She asked what it was and I lied saying it was for diabetes. But she was no fool. After I dropped her off she went in and googled the needle. And found that it was used for heroin use. Later that night I received a call from my sister. My daughter called my sister and told her everything. So she in turn called me and laid into me. It was only then I knew it was time to check myself into rehab. So I did. It took about a month to finally get in. I detoxed for a week before I finally started to heal. I spent ninety days there. Working toward my sobriety. It was hard work. But I did it and graduated. Toward the end of my stay, they allowed me to go look for work. There was a skilled nursing facility right next door so I went to apply for a kitchen position and found out they were doing classes for Certified Nursing Assistance. I thought that might be a little more rewarding so I applied and got in. After graduating from rehab I started my classes which were eight weeks. I met my now girlfriend in the class. We started dating and graduated class together and received our state credentials together too. We moved in together shortly after and we ended up pregnant too. We had our baby girl in June of 2021. My little family of my girlfriend and two daughters now live together. We have two cats as am well. I still work as a CNA and I’m happy to say I’ve been almost four years sober as well. I have now have insurance and I have found the medication that best suites me and my disorders have leveled out.
I started writing on medium to write and bring awareness to mental health, specifically bipolar disorder. I am a mental health advocate. So I mainly write on that subject. I’m starting research on my memoir. It will be about surviving the cult and my struggles with bipolar disorder. I write for four publications, two of which are mental health related. Invisible Illness and Speaking Bipolar. I want to start my publication, and someday I will. Until then I will continue to write as it is a form of therapy. And continue my advocacy for mental health.
