Here’s the last installment of the story I did for my first year creative nonfiction class. It’s pretty cheesy. We had to tell our prof which publication we were aiming it at and I said Readers Digest because I figure that’s the only place people read stories about this stuff, getting bipolar and being in a mental hospital. But, I’ve said all this. I’m just never happy with anything I write. Ever. I’ll write about that sometime.

In the meantime, here’s part 3, the conclusion, of…

BOY OVERBOARD, pt. III

I tried different activities I did when I was young, failing at each one. A race with a patient, hide-and-go-seek, and a game of Monopoly all ended with a nurse’s warning and a random injury. I played with LEGO toys a friend brought in, trying to channel the childlike imagination that used to send them on space adventures, until I realized my LEGO men were negotiating mortgages for a block house. That was it. My arm sent the blocks scattering across the floor and my mind clicked, a revelation. I had become obsessed with dredging Jamie up, forcing it and taking pity on myself when I felt the process wasn’t happening fast enough. As I took this step back, shadows of the boy began to flicker to the surface.

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Here’s Part 2 of my Sunday series. I’d call it my Monday series since I post at 1am or 2am, but I only deem days to start when I wake up. So, it’s Sunday.

Disclaimer: I wrote this in first year writing class. It’s kind of sentimental and sappy because I wrote it aimed at Readers’ Digest, the only publication I figured anyone would want to read about this stuff.

BOY OVERBOARD Pt.II

The initial “coping phases” are like riding choppy waves in a tiny boat, gripping white-knuckled during a storm.

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Since I’ve had this blog up I’ve been approached by a lot of people, the most important of which are those of you with bipolar or another mental illness. I had hoped I could do some good with my words and that seems to be happening, so thank you all. You inspire me.

(There is another lot who approach me and yes, I apologize. I will be posting on a more regular basis. Just let me get through midterm week alive.)

So, along the lines of bipolar being a theme today, and since all fun is being postponed to reading week in six days, I wanted to do some more sharing.

On my 25th birthday I crashed and was admitted to the city’s mental hospital.

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MISSION: EMO FOR A DAY
STATUS: FAILURE
DEBRIEF:
As it turns out, it takes two days to gather the nerve for dressing up emo and going out into public to see what hardships these emotionally challenged youth face.

It also takes 100 bucks in emo fashion. My only black pants are my one pair of dress pants that I’m still trying to lose another belt notch to get into. My only chains are on my bike. And my only black make up is, well… the only thing that would come close to that is my shoe polish.

Major wardrobe malfunctions aside, I totally wasn’t in the mood. Bipolar has a funny way of creeping up on you when you want to do something fun. I ended up getting distracted by other people’s blogs, three different books I just started, Flight of the Conchords clips, Twitter, a script I’m writing, Jay-Z’s new song, Live’s old song, and one another thing… what was it? Oh yeah, homework. So, I was up until 3 or 4 in the morning for three nights and destroyed my sleep schedule. I’m pretty sure I can speak for everyone when I say that a messy inner clock makes a messy mood. With bipolar, this is very much true. I upped my meds and I still wanted to choke customers with DVD cases. In general, I’m feeling like I’m failing at most stuff except for being a caring friend/boyfriend/family member, but even that I can’t really feel.

Bipolar Myth #543: When we get the low end, the depression part, common belief would be that at our lowest we get suicidal. Not necessarily so. It seems that the majority get angry and hateful. Sometimes I really just want to hurt someone. Scary stuff, but don’t worry,joneses are emotions that are too scary to act on. It’s probably the same thoughts that go through your mind when dealing with ICBC or the Commissionaire who just slapped a parking ticket on your one-inch-too-far-from-the-curb hatchback, moped, bicycle, or whatever you drive. Dragon?

So, mission “Emo for a Day” is postponed until sleep corrected, costume created and generally happier. The sun is out, but I don’t feel it. I need to feel the warmth on my face and all I’m getting now is a bitchslap of frost.

I wish pretending came as easy as it did when I was 6. I do have thug/gangsta clothes from my hip hop highschool days. Should I do “Wigger for a Day” and compare with “Emo for a Day?” Hmm. A perfectly fun and totally childish plan is hatched.