In October of 1997, my boss assigned me to assist the Director General (DG) of the Water Commission, where I work. The task-at-hand: restore clean water to Acapulco, recently devastated by Hurricane Pauline, which destroyed the main water conveyance systems to the populous city. When I arrived, the DG was already busy, coordinating tasks to provide water to the thousands. The situation was critical, and time was of the essence. The army and several governmental agencies aided in re-establishing all utilities to the city. President Zedillo personally supervised all work being carried out. The DG reported directly to the President.
The DG's work ethic was remarkable, yet unfathomable. At the crack of dawn, he summoned key figures to a breakfast meeting, worked relentlessly and went to bed after midnight. Saturdays and Sundays were treated just as if they were weekdays. Being chosen his right-hand-man, I shadowed the DG everywhere he went. Life was chaotic, as reporters, cell phones, radio transmitters and walkie-talkies were commonplace. We got around by helicopter and were always on the go. The usual sights, sounds, and emotions of Acapulco had been replaced with desperation, yet I felt excitement and even heroism because I was participating in a very important task. After two weeks of non-stop activity, we slowed down a little bit. Maybe I hadn't felt tired at all because of the adrenaline.
I finally had time to reflect on the monumental efforts of our work, the DG, and myself. The DG also spent more time in one place instead of always being on the go. The DG was a mystery to me. He was a very quiet person, only speaking to give orders. He never mentioned anything personal or talked about anything that was not related to work. Since he didn't talk much, I had to "read his mind". Watching him became an obsession. Here was a very powerful person, one whom the President trusted with a transcendental mission, and I had followed him like a disciple.
I couldn't stop thinking about things. Why was the DG spending so much time watching a pipe being repaired? Sure, it was an important pipe, but I thought he was wasting valuable time by not overseeing other crucial jobs. He mentioned something about the comptrollers and the possible future audits. I also recall his statement about the PRD, the opposing political party which had recently won the elections to govern Mexico City, and that they would not have been capable of coordinating such a successful "rescue mission" like ours. My thoughts were consuming me! I was so intoxicated by my thoughts that I was unable to listen to other people.
My thoughts told me that the manner in which the DG worked was insane. Didn't he have a family to take care of? I pondered. Something was wrong. I thought "they" were going to blame me for anything that could go wrong. "What if the figures don't add up, and they come after me?" I hadn't signed any documents, yet I could see myself being blamed by them. This must have been when I started to experience paranoia. I needed to speak with someone else, someone I could trust. I wanted to leave the city. I wanted to see my girlfriend. I wanted to return to my family and friends. If only I could watch the news and see what was happening outside Acapulco. Frustrated, I tried to phone Mexico City from my hotel, but either something was wrong with the phone or with the operator or with me. I couldn't make my phone calls, and I heard noises as if someone were listening to me. I tried to watch television, but there was a black square that didn't let me see the screen. Sabotage, I thought. They didn't want me to see what was going on.
I was gone. I just started walking from place to place, from the military base to the office, back to the hotel, trying to escape my imprisoning thoughts. I didn't know what to think. Maybe they had discovered I voted for the PRD. Maybe I had divulged misinformation to an informant. That night I almost couldn't sleep. My mind was like a computer in a loop. I was thinking about the same things over and over. I couldn't stop thinking. Who was behind all this? What did they want to do with me? I wondered.
Finally arriving at my parents' home, I wanted to relax. To my dismay, we hopped in the car and embarked on a five-hour drive to Veracruz, where my cousin was marrying the following day. My mind was still working and I was unable to slow down. I could not sleep. Everything around me was strange. Everything I saw was real; however, things had a different meaning to me. For example, those people wearing sunglasses were secret agents. Did the governor order more police cars just for my arrival? They were after me. I saw some press agents on the streets and I knew they were making news reports about me. I witnessed foreigners pressuring the Mexican Government to leave me alone. They were the only ones on my side, but how were they going to halt a federal investigation of a key witness with insider information about Acapulco?
Then I thought the whole world was in chaos, and I was the one who held the solution to the problem. This was the classic confrontation between good and evil. My body wanted to relax and sleep, but how could I? My new responsibility: save the world. Inside, I knew I was in trouble and asked God to help me sleep. It was my fault since I didn't really leave all my troubles to Him. I was trying to do His job with feeble human efforts, since I thought the future of the world depended on the decisions I made.
My parents didn't know what to do. The changes they saw in me were new to them, yet they didn't know what was happening to me. I felt trapped. That's when I got violent and started to break things in the apartment. That did it. My parents called a psychiatrist since the homeopathic medicine I had been taking didn't seem to help me.
The psychiatrist sedated me and took me to a mental health hospital. It was terrible. I felt like I was in jail. I was tied down to my bed like a crazy person, one I thought I'd never become. At least I was able to sleep, as my brain finally slowed down. I still couldn't accept being in a place like that, though. I thought they wanted me to think that I was crazy. I was given Haldol and the side effects were unbearable. I could hardly walk or talk. I was an invalid.
After a couple of weeks, I left that hospital, still taking Haldol and feeling terribly. I sought a second opinion and the new psychiatrist was obviously more experienced than the first one. He prescribed Risperdal and it was like night and day. Why hadn't I been treated with Risperdal since the onset of my illness? I probably would have felt a lot better.
I recovered, started working again, and married my girlfriend. I continued taking Risperdal for a long time. Everything was fine, but I still harbored enmity against all that I had experienced. I couldn't accept the fact that I got sick and that I had been in a "madhouse." I felt depressed for a few months. Little by little I started to feel motivated again. I started to work harder and harder. My wife got pregnant and I felt even more motivated and very happy.
Last July, I took a course on the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. The lessons were interesting, very interesting. I was so enthralled that I started thinking and thinking about this subject. Uh oh! My mind was stuck in the computer loop again! I didn't let myself listen to what my wife had to tell me. She noticed the change and claimed something was wrong with me. I was unable to think about anything except for the "seven habits of highly effective people." I taught what was on my mind to my staff, like a consultant, applying the seven habits into our systems, structure, and productivity. I was excited! I was trapped by my thoughts, so I couldn't sleep. I was sick again.
Luckily, this time was different since I already knew what was happening to me. My wife was obviously scared, but she knew what she had to do. I asked God to help me, and this time I completely trusted Him. I knew all I had to do was relax, cast all my anxiety on the Lord, and let my wife take care of me. When I saw the strange things on the drive to the doctor's office, I wasn't afraid. The doctor prescribed Risperdal again, and I immediately got better.
I had to take Risperdal for about six months. The doctor said I could stop taking it. I feel fine, but I guess I have to learn how to "unplug" my brain when it wants to start racing. It's important to be motivated, but I have to be careful not to get too excited. When I start thinking over and over about a subject, I write down what I think and this helps me to slow down my brain. In the evenings, I do relaxing exercises, which help me unwind. Otherwise, if I think too much, I'm unable to sleep. I guess all this helps my brain achieve a chemical balance and regulate increases in serotonin and dopamine. I think I'm fine, now.