Razzie and I are back from a two-day jaunt to the old mining (ghost) town of Carthage, south of Socorro, for a walkabout where dinosaurs and mammoths once trod (not at the same time, of course). Why so? Because this is the deal I made with Richard at Kamp Kaseman.

If you’re following the serial, last weekend I drove myself over to Kamp Kaseman for psychiatric evaluation. Although I’m getting a much better hand on living with severe PTSD symptoms, I grudgingly acknowledge that my self-taught coping tools are deficient by and large. It’s that “tired of marching to reverse drumming” thing, you know? And lately, romantic paranoia (unfounded) is eking its way into my thought processes. And significant panic attacks… so annoying. Grrrr… annoying. My ex-wife did a preemptive dance on my grave thing. Couple this with a lass (Paula) who has poorly developed boundary control, well, grrrrrrr. So annoying.

Responsible Steve. I took myself to Kamp Kaseman as I promised myself to do in crisis.

So after spending the evening in Kamp Kaseman Limbo (behavioral health ER) waiting for a bed to open inpatient, I had the kind opportunity to get a great night’s rest free from external stimuli. I slept, I ate, I had a chance to get things right in my head so I could make the best choices for my treatment. And the decision I made was an inpatient stay would be useful.

Thinking it through further, I was able to mull over why it would be useful. Change in scenery. Liberation from internet access and mobile access. Displaced geography. All of these things are available with an inpatient stay. All of these things are also available with getting out under the big New Mexico skies to hoof about and partake of geology-stuff.

With clearer head, Richard (psych eval dude) and I talked it through, and Razzie and I talked it through, and while I would benefit from an inpatient spell at Kamp Kaseman, I would also benefit in the exact same way from a short trip into the New Mexico wilds. And before I was diagnosed properly, it was driving and hiking into the New Mexico wilds that staved off depression, paranoia, and psychosis.

So, Razzie and I hoofed around the old mining (ghost) town of Carthage. And now I feel better, rested, reinvigorated, and renewed. Perfect.

Inpatient or travel. Either/or, and both effective in the most similar of ways except now I have a lovely tan.