Keith Magninn Shares an Excerpt From His Memoir Turning This Thing Around

Summary:

Turning This Thing Around is an inspiring memoir of overcoming personal struggles. This brutally honest, deeply personal account of redemption takes readers on a moving spiritual journey. Confronted with caring for a manic depressive fiancée in addition to several of his own obstacles, the author was outwardly happy, but inwardly miserable. Pushed to the lowest point of his life, Maginn shares how he gradually turned things around and used his experiences to grow as a person.

Supplemented by heartfelt poetry by the author and with quotes from Gandhi to Dr. Wayne Dyer to Eckhart Tolle, Turning This Thing Around has universal themes that speak to nearly everyone, as we all must face challenges as part of being human. Turning This Thing Around is a story of a normal young man’s resiliency when battling extraordinary circumstances.

Excerpt from Turning This Thing Around

HELL

What the hell did we do to deserve this? That question has popped into my head a few dozen times in the past several months. I’m in a shit-hole motel somewhere in Atlanta, but it might as well be a five-star hotel compared to my fiancée’s situation: Mary is in a psych ward being treated for severe bipolar/manic depression. I just got off the phone with her. She was hysterical, begging me to sneak her Coca-Cola and muscle-relaxers.

I have no idea what to do or how much longer I can take this. Tears are streaming down my face and I am asking God, once again, for help. My life has fallen apart and I see no daylight ahead.

Mary is still furious with me about check-in night at the “rehabilitation center,” as they delicately call it. She is enraged at me because I refused to give her muscle-relaxers despite strict orders to the contrary. Weaning her off the plethora of medications she was on was the whole idea of bringing her here: sixteen prescribed meds daily and another ten to be used “as needed.” Up to twenty-six different medications a day for one person (and she weighed less than 120 lbs.)!

And they were not helping; quite the opposite, actually.

I stood firm on that first night, refusing to “help her pain” by disobeying facility commands. Mary cried and told me to leave; she said I must not really love her. I stalled for a few minutes, waiting for her to change her mind. She did not.

Hadn’t I proven time after time I would always be there, that I truly loved her and would do anything I could for her? Hadn’t I talked her out of suicide multiple times, holding her on the bathroom floor or in bed as she cried uncontrollably night after night? Didn’t I lay with her in the hospital telling her things would be better someday? And now she’s saying I don't care and she doesn’t want me around?

So I left the building.

I went to my car to think for a few minutes. I decided to go back to Mary’s room. I asked her if she really wanted me to go. She said if I wouldn't give her the muscle-relaxers, then I should.

I left again.

*

The Most Loving Thing I Could Do

sitting outside your prison

where they’re trying to figure you out

wondering why you?

why now?

what’s this crazy world all about?

Been trying to read a little

but thinking of you a lot

you’re stuck inside alone

wondering if you’ll make it or not

I keep tearing up

looking to the sky

drops smack the pavement

as I ask “oh God, why?”

I know you feel so alone

maybe someday it will make sense to you

why I didn’t give you what you asked for

that’s the most loving thing I could do

I withheld from you

what I was ordered not to give

even when you said

I should leave

there was no reason for you to live

I would give up us

my love

only if that would help you

maybe someday you will understand

that’s the most loving thing I could do.

–KM (February ’08)

*

Mary had been manic on the drive down from Knoxville, Tennessee, the phase of her illness when she felt indescribable euphoria. I dreaded this stage because of the devastating low that inevitably followed. And it wasn’t her; it was a fake happiness, a mirage.

She’d had these sporadic manic periods for years, often staying awake for days. Mary would finish entire novels in one sitting or jog for miles, despite rarely exercising normally. It was a fantasy-like high, as if she were on hallucinogenic drugs.

The rehab center was one highly-monitored hallway of rooms. Patients stood inert with blank expressions on their faces. Others stared at bare walls as if there were no life inside them. I could not tell what gender some of the patients were. There were odd, primal sounds coming out of several rooms.

Nearly all the patients had attempted suicide at least once, some several times. Many were in the midst of electro-shock treatments. It was a sullen, grave place, much like the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with Jack Nicholson.

The huge difference to me, of course, was that in this real-life psych ward, my fiancée was the main character.

Mary was adamant that no one know the whole truth of our predicament. A great number of prejudices and stereotypes are associated with mental illness in our society and she did not want to be judged unfairly. Nor did she want pity. My friends and family eventually began to suspect something was not right, but chose not to pry. I admitted to others that Mary struggled with migraines and insomnia—which she did—but no one had a clue how serious her problems were.

In the meantime, I could feel myself slipping away. I was going down with the ship. My mind was a whirlwind of worry, sadness, confusion and anger. It was overwhelming.

I feared I was losing my mind.

Repeatedly, I asked God for help, but things kept getting worse. What did Mary do to deserve this? She was a good person—so great with kids—yet had suffered almost her entire life.

And, what did I do? I was a good person. Had I not spent years in low-paying jobs helping others instead of chasing a bigger paycheck elsewhere? And for what, so we could struggle with bills and barely afford groceries?

I often feared Mary would finally give up. She swore she could never do that to me, but she talked about it often.

We had no idea how long Mary would be at the rehab center. Thank God my boss was understanding and told me to stay as long as I needed and not worry about work right now (I only told my boss that Mary’s health was terrible and we were going to a center to help her regulate her medications). I had very little money, hence the shoddy motel. My “smoke-free” room reeked of cigarettes and had multiple burn holes in the drapes and comforter. The cleaning crew neglected to clean the shavings from the previous guest, which were still on the bathroom counter-top and in the sink. Yet compared to Mary’s circumstances, I had no right to feel sorry for myself.

After Mary asked me to leave, I drove an hour toward home before I swallowed my pride and returned to be with her. I didn’t know if she would pull through. I didn’t know if either of us would ever be “okay” again. I had no idea how we’d gotten into this mess or if we could get back out.

Visiting hours at the center were 5 to 9 pm. I spent the days reading and writing, but mostly worrying. I also passed time in a small hospital chapel next door to Mary’s facility, meditating and praying. I prayed mostly for Mary, but—for the first time in years—I also prayed for myself.

Author bio:

Keith Maginn was born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, the youngest of four kids. He attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, as an Evans Scholar. After earning a Bachelor's degree in Sociology, Keith relocated to Knoxville, Tennessee, to work for AmeriCorps (a service organization like the Peace Corps, but within the United States) and for Knoxville Habitat for Humanity.

In December 2012, Keith self-published an inspiring self-help memoir, Turning This Thing Around. Maginn's second book, Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward, is about a philanthropic experiment on the road. Released in January of 2013, the author hopes it will be his second book of many more to come. He feels writing is his life's purpose and that he has a message to share that will help others.

Please check out my books...

Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward

Turning This Thing Around

...and connect with me on...

http://keithmaginn.com
https://twitter.com/Keith_Maginn

Meet Accidental Author J.T. Weaver Creator of the Anecdotal Memoir "Uphill Both Ways"

 Exclusively on Amazon.com

What's an accidental author? It's just a term I use to refer to someone who never intended to publish like J T Weaver. He intended his anecdotes as a gift to his children. Something to leave to them about where they came from. When his tales were shared though he was encouraged to let others read them and thank goodness he has. Evidently story telling runs in his family and he's been kind enough to write some of them down.

Here he briefly chats with Lynnette Phillips and shares a part of his journey into the writing world. 

^^^^^^^^^^

Lynnette Phillips: I know it wasn’t ever your intention to become a published author.  How did this happen for you then?

JT Weaver:  Hi Lynnette thanks for the opportunity today.

In January 2013, for the first time in my life, I felt like writing something.  I had heard about this ‘blogging’ thing and tried a few of them before I hit on WordPress.  I wrote of couple of Op-Ed posts; one on Social Security and one on the 2^nd Amendment.  Much to my surprise, people liked them and made encouraging comments.

Then, one day in February I found a picture of myself with my mother.  I was about 18 months old.  It intrigued me because I remembered the story that went with the picture.  You may know the story as “My Mother’s Birthday.”  Before long, I had written several stories and my wife and my best friend and I began a discussion about what I was doing with all these stories.  From that discussion came two very important points; if you’re going to write these stories, write them from your heart and if you’re going to tell your story, tell the whole story, even the difficult parts.

The first post that followed was [what is now called] the Prologue to “Uphill Both Ways.”  My readership increased 10-fold overnight and the stories poured into the blog.  As I was nearing the end and my readers could sense this, they began encouraging me to publish.  I said “no, these are stories for my children.”  But they persisted.  I had accomplished what I had intended for my children, so in the end, there seemed to be no harm in the idea of publishing the stories.

LP: Did you keep a journal or enjoy writing essays in school?  Did your career require you to write?

JT:  Oh my, no.  I don’t want to give away the story, but when I was 15 I could barely read and write.  I had never even written a letter to anyone.  I certainly had never written an essay for school and I have never taken a writing class at any level.  My career was in Computer Science working as a Department of Defense contractor.  There were some occasions when I was called upon to contribute to proposals, and I think my technical descriptions of functions and processes were generally well received.  That is to say, I wasn’t fired because I wrote them.

LP: “Uphill Both Ways” is referred to as an anecdotal memoir, are there any anecdotes involved in the writing experience you’d like to share?

JT:  I’m sure there are dozens of them involving the matching of pictures to stories.  But the most important anecdote would be how the stories were written.  My father was a recognized and accomplished storyteller.  He taught people hundreds of lessons, always using a story as his vehicle.  I wanted my stories to be as good as his.  So, in my head I did what he did.  I closed my eyes, found a comfortable chair near the fireplace, and began to tell a story.  Only my stories found their way to paper.  I could hear him retelling story after story and I wrote them down as fast as I could.  When his stories were completed, I told my own stories in the same fashion, with the same inflections, and characterizations, that he did.

LP: In a recent post to your blog, “Lazy,” you refer to yours and your father’s OCD.  Does this concept carry over in your writing?

JT:  I don’t think either of us would ever be accused of full-blown OCD, but we certainly do have some of the characteristics.  I think those characteristics do carry over.  When he told a story to us, it contained such detail and rich description that you never wanted it to end.  He was capable of astonishing recall of detail and when there were gaps that he needed to fill, he would do the research.  He would check and re-check every detail until each story was it’s own masterpiece.  While I try to emulate my father, and sometimes I come close, I don’t have near the talent that he had. 

LP: The cover of your book intrigues me.  As you’ve probably been told, the cover is the first impression readers have of your book so it is very important.  How was it created?  Did you have different possibilities and choose just one…did you ask others for their opinion?

If you'd like to read more about J T
and his stories visit his
blog at jtweaver.net

JT:  Just as I wrote each story in my blog before it was published, I did the same thing with the book cover.  I have no artistic talent, but I knew that my college roommate John Manno, http://www.johnmanno.com, did.  It was his ideas and encouragement that brought the cover together.  When I had a couple of them done in a concept that John and I agreed on, I posted them on the blog and asked for comments, just like I did with the stories.  The comments were amazing, critical, supportive, and timely.  John, and I, and my readership overwhelmingly approved the final product.

LP: Do you intend to keep writing?  Perhaps put together another book based on your blog posts?

JT:  [Grin] No promises.  But yes, I will continue to write for as long as I can.  I don’t write fiction so I don’t have an inexhaustible supply of subject matter.  Perhaps someday, someone will come along and say, “you know these 50 stories go together extremely well and you should publish these, and here let me tell you how they fit …” And then someone else … and someone else … 
~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for talking with me here today J T. I hope you do put more of your stories together in an anthology of sorts and share it with what I'm sure are going to be your loyal readers.