I have been living in a fog I didn’t even know was there for 40 years. I have bipolar disorder, and it has made having clarity impossible. It was like having a house whose windows were so dirty it made it impossible to look inside.

On August 4, 2026, I started the ketogenic diet. It was rough for a month, but eventually my body became “keto adapted” which simply means my body got used to getting its energy from fat through ketosis.

When the Fog Began to Lift

It’s been great! It feels like a dark cloud has lifted from my mind. The ache in my brain, that has been there for decades, has begun to ease.

I can do my graduate level work much easier, I have been writing both in this blog and my memoir consistently, I don’t need 9 to 10 hours of sleep anymore (it’s more like 6.5 to 7 hours these days). And this is the first time in my adult life I have stable mood and energy.

All of that is great, but there is a shadow side of the ketogenic diet that I did not anticipate, which is the clarity I have gained.

Part of the clarity has been a great gift. Ideas about writing come easier and more often, I can make much better life decisions, and the words seem to come much easier when I write.

Looking Through Clean Windows

The dark side of this clarity is how I can now view my past. The windows of the house I spoke of, once dirty, have now been cleaned.

Which sounds awesome.

For me, however, it has been completely heartbreaking. I can see my past for what it is, without the haze or the grime. When I look into the windows I see isolation, pain, severe depression, confusion, and a man with great potential yet who could barely get through the day.

The Anger and the Sadness

At first my grief was anger. An anger that I did not know how to handle or direct. The anger stemmed from injustice, unfairness, confusion, and a yearning to go back in time and help young Drew.

I wish I could go back 20 years and tell him what I know now. To teach him so he wouldn’t suffer so greatly.

But time travel doesn’t exist.

After the anger had passed and I settled down, I was left with a deep trench of sadness. I could finally see what my trauma and my mental illness had done to me.

The years of overmedication. The late nights I had to choose, once again, to keep going. And the thousands of other events I wished could be erased from my mind.

It has been like diving into a deep labyrinth that I wasn’t sure had a bottom.

Learning Compassion for Myself

What I’ve learned about clarity is that it can be necessary but painful. Like having major surgery, it hurts like hell and can be scary, but it also has the capacity to be life changing. No guarantee, but the payoff is there.

I have learned to have more compassion for myself. I have definitely made mistakes, but now I see that I made them because I was a man drowning. A man with deep psychological pain.

He wasn’t lazy or spoiled. He was simply a guy trying to keep his head above water.

He was a survivor and despite everything he kept trying, even when he failed.

Preparing for Clarity

I write this as a warning about clarity. It is not an evil thing, but it hit me way harder because I didn’t see it coming.

I wouldn’t recommend running from clarity, but I would prepare for it. Like building a storm shelter in case of a tornado.

You may not need it, but it can save your life if you’re prepared.