psychotic break

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.

baptism at the mall

I had been manic for a couple months and was staying at a friends house in Santa Rosa, CA. One morning he got up to go to work and I decided to go with him. My friend worked at the Mall. We got off the bus and he walked into Sears, where he worked, and I walked into Macy’s. i was sporting large, black, “jive turkey” style shades, and a stalking hat.

I walked by the make-up islands and noticed two, young make up artists. They had no clients so I took a seat in the empty chair. I said, “I would like to have my make-up done.” They replied, “You have to pay to have your make-up done.” I went on to tell them that they have the power to give me a free make-up job, and that I need It done because I’m an entertainer.

About 15 minutes later I had a nice, even amount of make-up on my face, and one of the young ladies’ phone number. I asked her if could add some extra eye liner and she handed me some. I then began to draw on my face. I remember drawing a big tear just below the corner of my eye.

Now I was all geared up. With my new look, including lipstick, “jive turkey” shades, and a stalking hat I felt unstoppable. I would flash my crazy make up from behind my shades while spinning around and slapping people five. Young kids were the most intrigued, and a small pack of them began to follow me. The kids weren’t the only followers. I looked up to the second level of the mall to find that security guards were keeping a close eye.

Eventually I ended up in the center of the mall where there was a large fountain. A Hispanic couple sat on the side of it with their new born baby. After sitting next to them and adoring their child I decided that It was time for a baptism. I gave the parents a questioning look, and the father nodded. I then reached into the fountain, wet my fingers, and touched the forehead of the baby. I believe I said some sort of blessing or prayer to myself. The baptism was complete.

I then got up and left the mall. The security guards followed me all the way out to the sidewalk. As I walked down the street towards the town square two teenage girls said, “there’s that crazy guy.” I smiled and continued on my way. There was another large fountain in the town square. I walked up on the side of it and stepped in. I found myself up to my waist. One fountain was squirting up a thick stream right up to microphone height. I stepped up to it and began to sing. I remember belting out some Bob Marley. I sung the lyrics, “because I feel like bombing a church; now that you know the preacher is lying.”

Later that night my friends and I met up at a local dive bar. We sipped on whiskey and reminisced. I told them about my day, they appreciated my make-up, and we laughed.

My first big fight

Living next door to my school when I was young was nice. It gave me easy access to a large play area. During the summer there were little league games held at the back, upper level of the school. Me, being a little leaguer myself, would gravitate to the games.

One day I found myself up at the field in an difficult situation. A group of boys from one of the cross town schools decided to pick on me. One of them, who i believe was in the grade ahead of me “called me out.” He had all sorts of boys supporting him and heckling me. Some of these boys were two or more grades above me.

Sure enough I backed down. They followed me all the way across the school and down a street, calling me names, etc. I even passed up my house because I didn’t want them to know where I lived. They eventually stopped, turned around, and headed back to the school. I sat alone, timid, and shaken to my bones. I felt pretty much like a “chump.”

After standing for a while a change of mind welled up from within my being. I decided to go back and stand up for myself. I walked all the way back to the field and told the kid, “I accept.” Of Course I was still feeling kinda scared and timid, and we were close to the stands where the parents were. Sure enough they called me on my desire to fight in that spot. They said, “You just want to fight here so the parents will save you.” They requested to move the mob to behind one of the school buildings. I reluctantly accepted.

Around this time two older boys from my side of town saw the uneven “back up” situation, and told me they would “coach,” and support me. They filled my mind with all sorts of boxing related strategies. All this wisdom was about to go out the other ear.

The circle formed and into the ring I went. This fight would set the tone for several others that I had growing up. Intense and Fierce. I walked right up to the kid and punched him in the face. Immediately, I got him in a head lock. I dragged him back and forth across the ring. Then I threw him on the ground and straddled his chest/stomach region. With both hands I choked him till his face begun to turn blue. The older kids from his side and my “coaches” rushed in and broke up the fight. I remember one of my coaches saying, “you fight dirty.”

This was not the end however. One of his older friends called me out. Within seconds I repeated the same process. Punch to the face, head lock, followed by a choking on the ground. I totally wasted these guys, both, in a few minuets. An even older friend of theirs tried to call me out, but it was a totally wack proposal. This guy seemed like he was in High School. My coaches backed him off.

The Saint of Consciousness

It had been about four years since I had crashed my friend’s sister’s car into a telephone poll, and was put on Risperdal (an anti-psychotic) full time. I had gotten fed up with the weight gain, lethargy, and general loss of drive, so I voiced my complaints to the Doc. He offered two solutions for relief. A) reduce the Risperdal. B) reduce the lithium. I went with option A.

Not much time passed before i moved back to Chico. My girlfriend of 2yrs and I had separated, and i still had some solid bros left in my old stomping grounds. Besides, in Chico it would be easy to take another crack at my last class. As i write this i still stand one course short of my BA.

That summer I recall a couple week shwoosh of energy that ran through me. I remember helping friends move out of their place in Sacramento. I had an unusual amount of inspiration. It had been quite some time since i had felt some real inspiration.

Back in Chico a couple friends and myself shared a room while we looked for a house. Again, I felt a swoosh of energy. This time I channeled it into a script for a film. I would sit and write large chunks at a time. I remember my friends calling me inspiring.

Later in the Summer we found a place to live. Soon after i was taking my last course, as well as another course in order to get financial aid. I had a new doctor now, and he decided to take me off of Lithium and Risperdal and put me on Depakote. Not too much time passed before I was staying up late, writing music, and having thoughts of God, Church, and the Devil. I started attending Church services, and then a weekly bible study. There were weeks where I would do church related activities three or even four times a week. I began to write music that one of my friends said, “carried weight.” I had totally dialed into the local theater scene and had begun to interview actors for roles in the script i wrote. My mood was becoming more and more elated. I would go on late night walks with the desire to sleep outside. It would seem like God was talking to me in the form of my roommate, then the Devil.

At some point I checked into the County Psych Facility. I couldn’t figure out how to get service at “Crossroads,” the nice Facility, so I settled once again for the dungeon. Once inside it was like I remembered; dingy, and dark. I remember going into my bathroom and trying to pray in “tounges.” I also remember staying up late and writing about my experience, in the style of a Saint or an Apostle.

Finally, I tried to check myself out. They called in a “mental health professional” to assess me. The woman decided that since I wanted to leave at 3:00am that i was a danger to myself or others. The best thing i could do to distract myself was to smoke cigarettes and play an occasional game of ping pong. Then, while outside, i had an idea.

There was a movable basketball hoop in the back patio area. Just tall enough that it could lean to the top of the fence that was built to keep the loons locked in. I leaned it against the fence and somehow maneuvered my 240 pound body, like a monkey, up and over the fence. I happened to have a credit card on me so i stopped a couple blocks down for some Asian cuisine. In my mind were thoughts of the Chinese new year, the year of the dragon, and the dragon for the book of Revelation.

I grabbed a bus home and found that nobody was there. I then walked to the nearby mini-mart and picked up some beer. Back at home I enjoyed a couple of them and then took off to Church. At Church I remember rambling to people about my recent experiences. I must have stuck out because one of the Pastors, and another guy I knew led me aside into an empty room. They questioned me and wondered why I smelled like beer. I thought one of them told me, “your carrying the flock.” Anyway, they drove me back to the loony bin.

Once i got out it wasn’t long before things just got too weird, so I made a run for my Parent’s house in Seattle. I told my friends that I wanted to be closer to family. My ride up was intense. I smoked a lot of cigarettes, and was having thoughts about Heaven, Hell, and The Spirit World all existing simultaneously here on earth. I was having Apostolic-like thoughts about the spiritual related work that was ahead of me.

Once in Seattle I found myself out and about quite a bit. I was frequenting about four churches, and catching up with old friends. I was manic to say the least. I was having thoughts about how I was an Apostle on a mission to bring unity to the Church. A Saint that would act as the glue between the various denominations. I was the token “white boy” at an all black Baptist Church, I took communion at Catholic and Lutheran Churches. I would show up at a reformed Presbyterian Church, and by this time thoughts had been whispered into my head saying that I am a “power Saint.” With one of my friends in the Seattle area I would relax and let the Spirit of God speak to her directly.

However, the energy in me began to get mixed up. I got really into doing this thing that i referred to as the Jack White/Jack Black impression. I recall walking down Broadway Street in Seattle, stopping people, and asking them if they want to see my Jack White/Jack Black impression. I would jerk my body around with an “air” guitar, and a ridiculous face. The acting was Jack Blackesque, and the song and vocals were like Jack White. I eventually got fed up with the “standoffish” Seattle vibe and darted back to Cali.

Before leaving to Cali I called my old roommate in Chico and asked him if I could crash there for a little while while I look for my own place. He approved of my request and made some sort of joke about out drinking me under. I stopped at my sister’s on the way out of WA. My 3yr old nephew and 7yr old niece helped me clean up my half broken jeep and sent me on my way.

Upon arrival at the Chico house I promptly acted out my Jack White/Jack Black impression. I don’t think they really “got” it, but they laughed. Then again what was there to get? It was totally wack. Anyway, I was all about going out. However, one of my friends seemed stern and controlling, and the other seemed “dead.” In my partially delusional mind one friend had mafia-like characteristics, and the other one’s natural mono tone style made him seem like a robot or man with no soul.

It was the robot friend who had talked some sort of “smack” regarding drinking, so he and I headed into town to meet up with another friend. After having some casual beers at one spot we moved to another. It was at this place that I ordered six tall whiskey-cokes and challenged my friend to a pound off. Now I was the one talking smack. My buddy did his best, but I ended up pounding about four of them. I later found out that he was making trips to the restroom to spit out most of the whiskey that he had.

Not too much time passed before I was feeling buzzed. I imagine I was talking mixed up spiritual related gibberish, and i told my friend that seemed like a robot that i would kill him. He took off on foot for the house, and I made a run for the Jeep.

Back at the house there was a stand off between me and my friend that seemed like a mob boss. I danced around him like an animated boxer while talking “smack.” He finally flicked his cigarette at me and hit me right in the face. He then followed the cigarette with his beer, which i partially dodged. He told me later that the beer toss was done in order to put out the burning cigarette cherry that was stuck to my cheek.

Here’s where my memory starts to fail me. Thinking back it seems like the cops came out of nowhere. My roommates tried to get them to take me to the Psych Facility, but these days you have to be homicidal or suicidal in order to be taken in. My friend plead that he felt that his life was in danger, but the police’s hands were tied. They told me to go and hang out in my room. My room had not been taken over yet, and I was still on the lease. I believe that less than a month had passed since I bolted to Seattle.

Eventually I ended up in the house and all the old roomies were outside. I was guarding it like a fortress, staring at them through the window with intensity. I was on this trip about how I organized that living situation, and how my roommates weren’t being sensitive to my condition. They finally called the police. When the police arrived they knocked on the door. When I opened it they told me to step outside. When I did so they said, “drunk in public,” and threw the cuffs on me.

They transported me to the local police station where I was eventually loaded into a paddy wagon with a bunch of gangster-looking individuals. During the ride to the county jail I found myself having to take a pee really bad. My hands were cuffed in a way that I was able to get my fingers to my zipper. It was dark in there and a number of seconds later I was relieved. The problem was that we were all in our socks. Everybody started throwing shoulders. What can i say? I had to go really bad.

At the drunk tank the officers asked me if I was going to hurt myself. I was scared to be seated by the wet footed thugs so I replied, “I’m worried about myself.” After them asking me that a couple times and me giving the same reply they had me get naked, and put me in a cell with a straight jacket for a blanket.

In the cell I did the usual things: bang on the door, piss on the floor, plug the toilet. It was tough to get sleep naked, on a hard bench. Thoughts swirled in my head about thousands of moons passing. I was having thoughts of the book of Revelation, Purgatory, and the Devil.

The following morning I was released, and a sheriff took me to a nearby hospital for evaluation.  I sat in a exam room and waited to see what was going to happen next.  They fed me a sandwich and some sort of beverage.  After I finished my snack I told them I was going outside to have a smoke.

Once outside I realized that I could be free if I wanted, so I headed out to find a bus stop.  While walking down the hospital driveway I had an experience where I was speaking with my mother in my head.  It was like she was in Heaven.  I believe she said that she fell.  My mother has Parkinson’s disease.  The sun was round and bright in the sky, yet there was a cool, brisk, breeze.  It comforted me to know that I could speak with my mother this way, even if it was delusional.

Eventually I made it back to Chico.  I went to pick up my Jeep at the house to find that it was packed with a bunch of the stuff that I left behind.  I was greeted by a different friend who was visiting my old roommates.  We decided to head to one of our favorite bars to belt out some karaoke.

Later that night I ended up at a Motel 6.  There was

I also recall that I did check into Crossroads around this time, but only for part of a day. I’m not sure if it was before or after my stay at the county facility. I remember being assessed. I went in depth about all the abstract and deep spiritual thoughts that I was having. I asked the staff member if she’s ever heard of thoughts like the ones I was having. She told me yes, but not from someone with as clear of a mind as me. I was admitted, but left at bedtime. Crossroads allows people to come and leave Voluntarily.

Melody

Although manic episodes had ruined a few semesters, I still managed to make progress towards my degree. In the Summer of 97 an old friend of mine and myself moved into what would be my 5th home in Chico. This story is not about School, living with Bi-Polar, or relationships with humans. It’s a story involving me and the only pet I’ve owned. It’s about Melody.

During the the Fall semester that followed I got the inspiration to adopt a Cat.  Once I was at the pound there was no question what kitten I wanted to adopt.  Melody was an adorable Siamese cat.  I kept her indoors for a while, but the time came soon enough to let her explore the outside world.

I followed her out the door and she eagerly began to explore.  She raced down the driveway and past the neighbors house.  I followed behind her.  Through the lawn she went and right up the tree!  Up a big tree.  Up and up she went, and this was the type of tree you can’t climb without gear.  Once she was far enough up to seriously hurt herself she walked out to a limb.  I had no idea what to do.

At his point my memories go into slow motion.  I had a friend with me and I’m sure he could also sense how freaked Melody was.  She perched for a few moments and jumped!  “Spread Eagle,” like a person doing a swan dive, she soared through the air.

I made a run for it.  I did play college football, and like a wide receiver going for a pass, i gave it my all.  Touchdown.  I caught my kitten.  My friend was awe struck.  It literally took all the talent i had.

Sexy Plants

I don’t remember if i was manic or depressed, but one thing’s fore sure, i couldn’t fall asleep. My doctor had prescribed Ambien for this problem. I remember that he said to take it after i had laid in bed. I asked him why. He replied that strange activity is known to occur in individuals who take it while going about their business. Anyway, i could not sleep so i laid down on my parents’ couch and popped an Ambien. I laid with thoughts racing in my head, waiting for the “sleepy time” drug to take effect. About forty-five minutes passed before i took a second pill.

About four pills later I was still feeling wide awake, with a pool of thoughts swirling in my brain. However, after a little more time passed, something began to take place. I remember laying on my side, thinking away, and staring into my mothers plants. They began to come alive. I watched with amazement as they developed personalities and began to extend across the room towards me, in a gentle, friendly way. At times they seemed like they were only a few inches from my face. My new “shadow friends” were quite entertaining. I just laid there and stared, and stared, and stared. Then something really fucked up happened. I started to get horny.

The next thing I knew I was sizing up these new found friends. I was thinking to myself, “how the hell is this going to work?” I would reach out my hand to touch them, only to find that they would retract the closer i got to them. I would look for orifices within the medley of vegetation. I was becoming obsessed. I was determined to Fuck my mothers plants! My solution was to dress the plants.

Now that the plants were decorated in miscellaneous clothing I laid back down to re-size up the situation. Again they drew me in, so I dragged the sofa across the room right up next to the plants. I laid back down contemplating my angle. Finally, the sleeping pills did their job and knocked me out. I don’t remember when i put the couch back into place, and the clothes away. What an odd night.

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