It was tough being washed up at my Parents’ house in Seattle after my sixth manic episode. I remember being depressed, and having messed up sleeping habits. I would race to look like I was up and ready when I heard my mom coming up the driveway from work. I would sneak 24oz cans of beer into the basement, pound them, and hide the evidence. A friend had turned me onto “whipits.” I recall buying cans of whipped cream, with my food stamp card, and casually getting high as I walked away from the store. I was also still into weed at this point in my life.
Three or four times a week I would drive across town to drink beer and smoke weed with my friends. One night my friend and I decided to rent a couple flicks. Before heading to the video store we hit the bong. I took a fat rip, and for some stupid reason I took another before heading out the door. I said to my friend, “are you ready to go battle the stage?”
At the video store things were fine at first. Then reality “tweeked” for a second. It seemed like time stopped, and everybody around me froze. I watched the clerks nudge back and forth like time and space got stuck for a second. Right then a voice showered over my spirit saying, “I’m giving you a second chance.”
Like a record player starting with it’s needle down, reality began to function once again. I engaged with it cautiously. My next memory is my friend saying, “let’s go.” We got into the car and went to exit the parking lot. An uncomfortable feeling began to well up inside me. I told my friend to take a right out of the parking lot, which was the opposite direction from the house. It was like I was trying to escape destiny. My friend brushed off my request and headed for the store across the street.
I have no memory of the short drive to the store. I was starting to panic. When the car stopped we I looked over at my friend and thought he was the Devil. I could see imperfections on his face that I normally wouldn’t notice. I said to him in an utter state of fear, “I forgive you. I forgive all of you.”
My comment didn’t phase him much. He asked me if i wanted anything from inside the store. I replied no. He then said, “How about a chocolate milk?” I said sure. He then got out of the car and started to walk away. Then he stopped, turned around, and threw the keys in the window. They landed on the seat and I thought for sure that they were the keys to Hades. I begun to pound on the windows, a cop drove by, and I tried to get his attention.
Finally I realized that I could get out of the car. I was so freaked that I had to realize that I could pull a handle and exit the vehicle. Outside I became extremely cold. All I wanted to do was walk to my parents house, which was across town, but I was too cold.
At this point I decided to take the vehicle. It wasn’t even my friends’ car. He was borrowing it from his sister, but I was desperate. Once inside my situation didn’t get any better. I headed out of the parking lot and down the street. The radio was messing with my mind. I heard ZZ Top singing the lyrics, “should I go to heaven?” I quickly turned the station only to hear Santana singing the lyrics, “don’t turn your back on me.” It’s safe to say I was having a “panic attack,” to say the least.
The next thing I knew an intense “ball of energy” popped into my stomach. I had thoughts of a book on Zen Sickness” that spoke of holding on to a certain state of mind for ten years, in order for things to become one. I decided against it and relaxed. The energy pocket burst and filled me.
Finally I reached a stop light. I turned off the car, bowed my head, and told myself that I would stay right there for eternity. Some time passed and I opened my eyes to find the light green. I turned on the car and zoomed up the street. I felt a little bit of hope slip in regarding making it home. I made it only around 100 yards before the life slipped out of me. What was going on was just too heavy. I remember saying to myself, “eternal peace… ecstacy…,” and then everything went black.
My foot must have went down instead of off of the gas pedal because the the car raced up the hill, off the road, and into a telephone poll. My next solid memory was waking up to a bus driver knocking on my window. To his left were two Mormons, wearing name tags that included the name Jesus Christ, in large letters. I had a concussion, and thought I went to hell, and was being judged.
I got out of the totaled car, to find a sparking telephone in the middle of the street. The Mormons and I discussed salvation. I started to walk home, but they convinced me to stay and wait for help. Finally, a female police officer showed up. She asked what had happened, and I told her I was Bi-Polar. She later asked if I would like her to call an ambulance. I was still so scared that I agreed.
At he hospital they put me through through the works. They cut my pants off, put a catheter in me, stuck a finger in my butt, gave me x-rays, etc. I stayed the night and somehow didn’t get put into the psych ward. I have never been as scared as I was that night.
