A few years ago, I ordered the records from my 2005 trip to a Dallas psychiatric facility, after a near suicide attempt. I was dragged there by my two brothers, kicking and screaming right into the admitting lobby. Obtaining mental health records is not something I endorse or recommend for anyone else. It was simply something I felt I needed to do for a better understanding of my journey. I had very little recall of sitting in that room with the attending physician, the psychiatric nurse and my two brothers.

The notes were revealing. Most of the time was spent screaming at my older brother, Mark, blaming his success for my perceived failures in life.

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