Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (28 page)

After taking a closer look at the name that I used for my YouTube profile, I do have some idea of why I chose it. I was at one point nicknamed D-rok, so the root of the name kind of makes sense. The 01 also makes a little sense once I think about it. During my episode, I can recall stints when I got obsessed with mathematics and time and how they related in terms of my and everyone else’s existence. I recall thinking that time is just an “invention” or “method” developed by mankind to keep track of what we call life, as if our lives were defined by time. Man, that sounds weird, but it’s what was going on in my head then.

In my theoretical explanation of time and mankind’s relationship, there are two genders in existence (male and female in case you were wondering). If there are two genders, then they must somehow be related to time (how I believed we measured our existence). Therefore, there would have to be numerical designations for male and female in order for the mathematical formula of life to work and for time and existence to be real; hence the 0 and 1. In my mind, there were in essence only two numbers, and the rest were results of the two. Meaning, there is either nothing, which is 0 or something, which is 1. Thereby, any other number is a combination of the two.

To try and stop a confusing explanation from giving you more of a headache, I’ll just say the 01 in the name had to be some way of proclaiming that I understood how or deserved to win the fight because I had figured out the equation of life and time. Mind bottling, isn’t it? Why the K is capitalized and the d isn’t, I have no idea, and that’s probably a good thing.

Session

DT: I remember now why the d is lower case and the K is capitalized. It was my attempt to use symbolism to illustrate that there is no beginning and no end; that they are the same. Just as in a circle, each and every other point is both the beginning and the end, as was my life and all points of time within it. I believed I had solved the equation of time, and to show this, the d was lower case and the K was capitalized, symbolizing that they are interchangeable just like points on a circle and the points of time in my life.

JP: How did you remember all of that all of a sudden?

DT: TF’s Trailer Park Grape.

KEY TERMS:
TWO ROADS DIVERGED

Submitted on 6/30/09

Red

February 15 or so, 2008 (trippy manic flashback):

“
Two roads diverged --”

“
Two roads diverged in a yellow---“

“
I took--"

“
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and--"

Each step I took, these words raced through my mind. I was on my own pilgrimage, navigating my way through reality into my new calling.

“
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I took the one less traveled by--”

I had been on my way downtown to meet up with a couple of friends at a bar, but that objective was now far in the back of my mind. I was sitting at home when suddenly the spin began. My father was in town, and it was he who started me down this revelation; I had to complete it. I started my walk down Twentieth Street and suddenly found myself in front of some sort of Federal building; I took out my phone and snapped pictures of both sides of the Great American Seal posted on opposite sides of the entrance.

“
They’re watching you, leave inconspicuously.”

I turned and started to walk down the road, stumbling from side to side, thinking to myself that they had no idea what I was up to. When they ran the surveillance tape the next day, they’d just see a drunk.

“
I took the one less traveled by and that has made--"

I nodded and smiled at the passing Native American decent man riding a bike. He ignored my attempt to connect and sped by. I was stunned that the one person who I believed had an undeniable link to nature and appreciation for acceptance could ignore me. Was I supposed to be doing this? I stopped and found myself directly under a tree; the branches were bare and weak from the winter. I snapped a couple of pictures with my phone as evidence and moved on.

“
Sometimes you are the shepherd and sometimes you are the flock.”

I was now walking with no destination in mind, just walking and listening. I didn’t stop at crossroads but instead turned west or north or east or south, depending on which way the crosswalk signals sent me. I was losing control but felt at ease with it.

“
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood--"

I was wearing sandals and it was the middle of winter; these were my links to the past. I was beginning my walk, my journey just as so many had before me. Sometimes you have to walk through the mess of mud and despair so that others may have a better way. At this point, I was walking off the side of the sidewalk while the downtown crowd passed me on their way to the bars.

“
Wow, that guy can’t even stay on the sidewalk; what a drunk.”

I hadn’t had a drink all day. Suddenly I spotted a man and woman fighting in a car in a parking lot on my right. I did not want to draw attention to myself, so I nonchalantly glanced from time to time in their direction. I took out my phone and pretended to talk on it, describing my location to the party on the other end of the phone; it wasn’t even on. I continued this act for what seemed like forever; timelessness began to take its role. The fight stopped, and I continued on my walk. From behind me, a bumper fell off a van that was part of a recent five-car crash.

“
Just when you think it’s over, it’s just the beginning.”

I turned around and the man made eye contact. He jumped off the woman in the passenger seat, threw the car in reverse and sped out of the parking lot. Did I just pass the first test? Did I stop something horrible that was about to happen? Was this why I was sent here?

I sat down on a stoop and cried.

“
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference.”

I was somehow standing in front of a clock tower in downtown. It was only myself and my thoughts, not another soul around.

“
You have a choice to make; you can either head west towards the bad, evil, corrupt, and vain, the selfish temptations. Or head east towards the good, unselfishness, light, and charity for others.”

“
Two roads diverged . . .”

I walked home, towards the light.

Session

DT: I’d say at this point, I was about as manic as I could be during episode uno and still able to remember the details. I was definitely in the spin.

JP: Is the presence of good versus evil common in your mania?

DT: Yeah, it plays a very significant role.

JP: Have you explored any “spiritual emergency” or like explanations for this?

DT: Yeah, but unfortunately I’m not a shaman, just bipolar.

KEY TERMS:
WILMA, BIBLICAL VERSE, TRANQUILIZER, SANDALS RESORT

Submitted on 7/6/09

March 4 or so, 2008 to March 10 or so, 2008 (trippy manic flashback):

Her name was Wilma, and she sat alone in a corner of the room with a blanket around her frail body and a lifeless gaze in her eyes. His name was Paul, and he paced around every inch of the ward, mumbling Biblical verse after Biblical verse with a look of pure confusion on his face. These two would put a real smile on my face, one that I hadn’t had for what seemed like a long, long time.

It was 8:00 a.m. and breakfast was being served, or I should say you grabbed the tray with your name on it. I was still befuddled at this point about how my name was there because I didn’t recall ordering anything. I was suddenly sent back to junior high at lunchtime, when your social standing depended on your next choice: where to sit. There were about ten tables, each with a number of people sitting and talking and enjoying their time together. Then I spotted Wilma. She sat alone at the corner table with a look of total distrust and paranoia. I wish I could say I chose to sit with Wilma because I somehow knew I was supposed to, or that I could see she needed help. But the truth of the matter was I didn’t know one single person in the ward aside from Wilma, and there weren’t many seats open, so I sat down.

Wilma and I shared the distinct honor of being admitted to the suicide watch hall of the psych ward. I had been admitted a couple days prior and spent most of the next day sleeping, thanks to tranquilizers and the average of three hours of sleep a night I had been getting for the past couple of weeks; thanks, mania.

For those of you who haven’t had the opportunity to spend some time in a suicide watch room on a psych ward, it’s kind of like a night at a Sandals resort, with some key differences. You don’t have a view of the ocean; instead, you look out the window to see a brick building about three feet away. The king-size bed with soft fresh linens and an abundance of plush pillows is exchanged for a single bed with one sheet, pillow minus the pillow case, and a metal frame bolted to the tiled floor. The hand carved cabinets are nowhere to be found; your clothes are thrown on the floor. The whirlpool tub is replaced with a seat-less toilet (stay classy, Porter Hospital). Oh yeah, one more thing: the intimate privacy you so desire at Sandals. Well, instead, let’s go ahead and put a surveillance camera right on you all the time--perfect for anyone who’s paranoid they are being watched.

Wilma’s room was a few doors down from mine, and I had passed her from time to time when I managed to awake from my drug-induced slumber to use the shower (solid connection, I know).

Wilma didn’t say much at first. It was as if she was so weak and tired that she could barely muster enough energy to lift the fork to her mouth. I tried to make small talk, but to no avail. She was terrified of me, of everyone and everything. She got up and walked away, and I sat there and thought to myself that even with the total chaos in my life the past few weeks, I was still happy to be alive and wanted to continue to live. I wasn’t sure Wilma could say the same thing. It was hard to imagine what life events could totally crush someone to the point that they seemed as though they had given up.

Over the next few days, Wilma and I ate together, and her defenses came down a little, probably because I shared my milk with her at every breakfast. She actually began to talk to me a bit, but nothing huge. I never found out where she was from, why she was there, what had happened to her to get her to this point of her life, and I’m not sure I really wanted to know; I’m not sure I could have handled it. But in the next days, I could slowly see the life coming back into her eyes.

One morning, I woke up and started walking down to the shower when I saw Wilma dancing around the halls. I had to do a double take because I knew this could not be the same woman who could barely feed herself a few mornings ago. One of her friends had brought her a Discman and a CD. The next day, I stood by and watched Wilma dance out the ward doors with her headphones on her ears, a smile on her face, and life back in her eyes.

I smiled and thought to myself, if she can get through this, there’s no reason I can’t. I finally smiled.

TBC . . .

Session

DT: I wonder at times whatever happened to Wilma. I like to thank she’s still dancing around somewhere.

JP: Do you feel a bond or connection with those patients you met on the psych ward?

DT: Unquestionably, there’s something there. When we played Pictionary during my stay in Denver, one of the other patients and I were unstoppable. I mean, he’d draw a single line, and I’d yell out it was a stop sign before the ink dried. Seriously, we dominated and nobody could touch us. So you can go and put that in your pipe and smoke it!

JP: Not really what I was referring to but still quite intriguing . . .

JP: So, you gonna get that pipe out or . . .

KEY TERMS:
REVELATION, SUICIDE, ROOFSLIDE, AMAZING