Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart (16 page)
Read Somewhere Over the Rainbow, I've Lost My Damn Mind: A Manic's Mood Chart Online
Authors: Derek Thompson
“ Which sounds good and all, but it’s up to me to actually do it. I have always complained that in my greatest time of need, I could find little information anywhere about BMD that I could relate to. “Mood swings,” my ass: ask my mom if that’s what she calls it when I cry uncontrollably and beg not to hurt anyone. If I am the gatekeeper of my BMD and may have a gift that would help others, then what type of person would I be if I didn’t share it? Tis the season. My first act of business to spread this craziness was to add my blog address to Bing and Google. As I was completing this task, I began to realize that if I am to be successful in this, then everything must come out about my past, even the difficult things. I would like to introduce everyone to Tristan . . .
Tristan is last seen here with his only known accomplice, Boomer (far left). For a crash course on Booms and Trist, here’s the story behind the picture. Halloween eve 2004, two young Witt coeds are anxiously awaiting their dates for the movie You could say Tristan is something of an alter ego, but I hadn’t heard from him lately, so he was out of sight, out of mind. He used to wreak havoc on my social life in college, randomly appearing at night to offend girls and chase away my hopes of being generally accepted on campus. Damn him, damn him, damn him. It was a good thing I hadn’t seen him or Boomer in a while because like I said, I’ve been trying to build this blog, and the last thing I needed was those two dicking off. Well, of course I spoke too soon, because there was a Boomer spotting in late summer at the funnel waterslide (they looooove water parks) in Browntown. I shrugged this off and paid little attention, as I was trying to piece my life back together at the time. I recently received an anonymous tip to check out the following link: http://thedirty.com/2010/12/tristan-douchebag/#comments, where I found: --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tristan = Douchebag
THE DIRTY ARMY: And he’s covering up as much as he can with that sweater to hide his online gamer’s body--Nik ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I have no idea what he’s doing in Denver other than obviously pissing off the local ladies, but I’m beginning to get nervous. I mean, just when I have built up enough confidence in myself to try and do something good, he comes along and starts to ruin it. I’m fairly nervous that if I show my face in Denver ever again, it could get ugly due to mistaken identity. On the brighter side, he’s rockin’ an .e4 logo hat, so big ups for that one, Tristan. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon . . . Session DT: Hey Nik, I don’t really like video games because of my mania, so the joke is on you! JP: You really got him with that one; you don’t look like the STD-infested creep on a pathetic wanna-be celebrity website or anything. DT: Wow, you’re definitely right about that. Talk about one of my all-time backfires. KEY TERMS: Submitted 1/14/11 Green “ I snapped down and grabbed the two-foot-long white stick with black horizontal stripes and tossed it towards Cuzin Art. The mountain striped stick snake hit Cuzin Art’s upper leg, and he reacted like a veteran hiker. Screaming (just a little, man, I hate snakes too, cuz), jumping/running in place, and trying with all his might to escape the snake, but not to lose his footing as we were a good ways up the mountain. Still clutching a tree for support, he looked down and realized what had been going on. “ At this point in our hike, I had to sit down and regain my composure. I was laughing so hard at Cuzin Art, I got a little lightheaded. Hey, we were like 9000-plus feet up, and I’m really out of shape. The old inanimate object-throwing at your friend and screaming something scary trick, I can’t believe it still works. If we were good (and when weren’t my brothers and I angels?) we would spend about a week every year on vacation with Stubby on the East Coast somewhere. Being the mature and well-adjusted family we are, this meant new territory for us brothers to torment each other. The handful-of-sand-crab trick was a family favorite and the inspiration for the mountain striped stick snake described above. Wading out in the water with my brothers, the object was to bend down nonchalantly and grab a handful of wet sand, slowly bring it to the water’s surface, scream “CRAB!” and throw it against your brother’s back and enjoy the screaming sissy fit that followed. Watching one of your family members scared out of their minds on your account is just funny, unless of course you’re the victim; then everyone else is just a dick. I’ve spent the last two weeks on vacation (I know I’m on a sabbatical from life but still, getting away is nice) up in the mountains, Denver . . . gorgeous. This was the first time I had visited the Mile High City since episode uno forced my move back home. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I landed there, but I believed I’d find something: maybe closure, maybe a new beginning, maybe peace with it all or maybe just some answers. My first stop was the toughest-- the house I’d climbed when I was manic. My stomach fluttered as I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant next to the house. I had forgotten just how tall it was and how steep its roof was. I walked around, looking up and trying to remember how I climbed to the top. I know stairs were not an option, TBC . . . Session JP: When you climbed this house, just how manic were you? DT: Well, I’d say I was pretty severe at that point. My memory fades in and out around that time, which is a strong indicator of how gone I was. JP: Interesting. Did you experience any manic symptoms when you returned to the house? DT: No, just some nervous butterflies in my stomach. I just kind of stared up at it and tried to imagine what was going on in my head that convinced me climbing it was a good idea. JP: So why do you think you did it? DT: When I’m manic, it’s as if I don’t have much control over what is happening with me, and I’m simply along for the ride. That ride probably took me to that house, and I probably felt like that’s where I belonged, on top of that roof. JP: Just how far would the fall have been? You mentioned the support beam saving your life or the very least serious injuries. DT: Well, I took some pictures on my phone. Here, have a look… KEY TERMS Submitted on 2/4/11 Green
So come to find out, karma really does exist because as soon as I got my W-2 in the mail and was reminded of how little I do with my life, something good happened to me. Out of tens of thousands of “patients,” I was one of like 6,000 randomly selected to participate in this year’s survey, to determine just how well the ODMH serviced me last year. Mind you, these are the same people who tried to put me in rehab; outpatient rehab, but damn it, that’s still rehab in my eyes. After opening this piece of good news, I could barely contain my excitement as I drove back to the sticks from Mom’s. I’m a nomadic renegade who’s moved seven times in the last five years, so my mail gets scattered throughout the country. Pain in the ass. I didn’t complete the survey that night. I thought it best to sleep on it. In hindsight, I probably should have slept on it a couple of nights. I didn’t rate the ODMH very highly because they literally made my life more difficult to live. I was flying through the fill-in-the- blank scale questions, and I wished that the survey was on the old Scantrons. That way, when they slid my survey through, all they’d hear were those awful signaling clicks. I used to love hearing those clicks in the hall whenever I’d pass the teacher’s lounge, always meant someone bombed (oh, like you don’t laugh at times at other people’s failures). I was answering questions about their administrative performance, parking at the office, ease of finding the office, responsiveness, and how I’m doing as a result of the services provided. Strongly disagree down the board. |
