I have always been afraid in my life. Even when I was very young before I knew what the boogeyman was, I was scared to be alone in any part of the apartment, and then house, day or night. My youngest memory is from when I was 3-years-old and I needed to use the bathroom really bad, but my mother was outside with me and her friend and wouldn’t go in with me. I refused to go into an empty apartment alone so what did I do? I pooped right there in my little red shorts. My mother was definitely not thrilled and had to take me into the bathroom to clean me up.
I used to have a decent memory. It wasn’t until the breakdowns that it ended up being shoddy, or shitty really if we are going to be honest. My first breakdown I thought my pharmacists who I worked for were part of an Oxycodone chain and were going to be busted. I also thought the cars on the streets were following me as all the cars looked the same and I thought they could hear into my car through the radio. So I had to keep the radio on so they knew I was safe. I thought my sister wanted to lock me away forever.
My second breakdown I did the most embarrassing thing, in front of a cop nonetheless who happened to be my neighbor at the time. My mother was out with her friend and my father was home, but he was around elsewhere. I was in my room with the shades open and I had my window open. I popped out my screen. And then, for lack of better term, Ninja danced from house to house. The cop thought I was on drugs. Looking back, I can see why. My mother had to explain my issues to him and I ended up committed that night. In the hospital, I ended up in what should have been a padded room, but county doesn’t make enough to pad it, I guess. I started yelling at one of the staff, then more of the staff got involved and I ended up in the room yelling at the top of my lungs that they don’t know shit. That’s one of the biggest manic episodes I can remember.
My last breakdown, which I am hoping and praying remains my last, I thought my mother was Nurse Ratched. I thought she was trying to poison me. I really wish I could remember how the breakdown started, but for some reason it’s not clear to me. I saw my psych and he took me off the Lamictal and added Abilify and the next thing I know I am paranoid delusional and the hospital says my Lithium level was at a 0.2. I don’t recall not taking my Lithium. Before the hospital though, my mother tried to keep me out of going to the hospital. She didn’t want me in county again. This time I went state though and it was a little better, but right before I went in, I had a huge argument with my mother because — as I stated — in this breakdown I thought she was trying to poison me. So I went running away from her and she was chasing me and when she had me cornered in the backyard, I threw Gatorade on her. Not one of my proudest moments.
Like my psych says, when I get sick, I get really sick. This last one worried him though because I was in the hospital for two-and-a-half weeks. That’s a long time.
But that’s what I remember from my breakdowns. They aren’t my fondest memories, but I live with them. I do have to say, I prefer the memory of crapping in my little red shorts over them.