I’ve been off, to say the least. For the longest time happiness was all I knew. Seven years of stability gone in an instant. I didn’t start dabbling in drugs again. I didn’t go off my medications. I was doing everything right yet everything went wrong. The last four months though, they were hell.
I had no idea what was going on, but something was seriously wrong. It all started with a Post-it note. Yes, a Post-it note made me spiral out of control.
I had a friend staying with me so I stayed up later than normal and we decided to go for a drive late at night. I slammed the door to my apartment and I noticed a Post-it note stuck to my shirt. I thought it fell off the door.
On the Post-it note was a list of eight names. There were seven names and then a line was drawn and then one more name which was Mary Bell. My friend looked at the list and that she recognized Mary Bell. We looked her up and she murdered two young boys in England. My friend then started to research the rest of the names. Every name above the line was a serial killer that was either born or died in Ohio.
The Post-it note drove me manic. I thought someone was out to murder me. Whether it be a neighbor, anybody I could make some remote connection to with the killers on Wikipedia that I knew or maybe somebody that I spoke to or knew of me. I mean for some reason I was dumb enough to even have my address listed on Google.
It drove me to the point to call the police who questioned me and I gave them all sorts of conspiracy theories and told them who I thought it might be. I had good friends around me, which was the best thing going for me. They were asked several times by the police if I was off my medications knowing that I was bipolar.
I was afraid to sleep at my place so I had my aide help me pack a suitcase full of enough stuff for me to live at my parents for about three months. All the sudden I got a knock on the door and the first thought that went through my head was, “oh my God it’s too late!“
There were three of us in the apartment and my aide, who I had scared to death, fully believed everything so we hid in the bathroom and stayed completely quiet. My friend looked through the peephole who didn’t think it was that serious and saw that it was just my neighbor Andrew. He came in and I cussed him out telling him this was actually serious and that I needed to get out of there.
We took my suitcase to my van where I once again proceeded to speak with the police at their station and explain more conspiracy theories. They questioned me multiple times if I was off of my medications, which I wasn’t. To which I replied, “I can’t be manic. I’ve been stable for almost 7 years now, so I am perfectly fine.“
I most definitely was manic. I proceeded to drive home and the fear and anxiety started to fade away as I started to feel safe. I kept the speed limit down because I didn’t want to have another accident like the one that left me in this wheelchair. I got home and fell quickly asleep and the next day my mom had me call my psychiatrist.
I talked to my psychiatrist about the situation and she decided to double both my mood stabilizer and my antipsychotic. Pretty quickly I started to think rationally again. I made it back to Columbus after they had checked all the video footage of people entering my apartment that night. It was only me, my nurse and my friend who was staying with me that entered.
I felt safe back at my apartment and a day or two later my nurse came. My friend asked me if I wanted to tell her the story and I said I was tired of talking about it. My nurse was interested so my friend explained that it was just about me being scared of a Post-it note. My nurse asked, “a little yellow Post-it note about this size with names on it?“ Then she started to laugh and put her head down because she was kind of embarrassed.
I told the story and at the end of it my nurse asked, “if the only people that came into your apartment were me and her, then why would you not ask me if I wrote the Post-it note?“
“You seriously wrote that Post-it note? Why would you want a list of serial killers?“ I asked.
“I’m just interested in serial killers and how their minds work and they are interesting to read about,“ she said.
She laughed so hard and could not believe it. I told her I was going to keep the Post-it note and frame it, which I still have today because that was one hell of a story.
Now that the mystery was solved there were some other things going on in my life. I was relentlessly going after a girl, but things did not work out and I was absolutely heartbroken. I had never felt heartbreak like this in my life. I had so much love for this girl and her family and I truly saw a future with her and I truly thought she felt the same way. Now that dream was crushed and I didn’t know which direction to go.
Time went by and time heals everything. Certain songs would come on and they would bring back memories of our time together. It was like I could not avoid the songs. I felt so connected to her and I didn’t know what to do without her. My future was starting to make less sense.
Over time I gained a new sense of self and just told myself that I was going to prove myself more and more to the world. That no obstacle could stop me. I got back in the swing of things, but then another heartbreak.
I have been taking care of three kids. One of them for six years and the other two for almost 3. The other two live together and I found out that a pest condition at their house allowed them not to come over to my place due to the fact that I live in federal housing. I was absolutely devastated. I could no longer see them.
I treated these two as if they were my own sons. I taught the one how to read who is now nine years old. The 12-year-old I spent so much time with and his dad has been in and out of prison his whole life. Just before I found out the news that I could not spend time with them he told me that he really saw me as his father. This meant more to me than anything anyone has ever said to me in my life. I have wanted nothing more in life to be a father and even though he was not my own child, I saw him as my own and he saw me as his.
I broke down probably 10 times crying uncontrollably listening to songs that would make me reflect on life without them. I bought the 12-year-old a cell phone so that we could always stay in touch. I promised both of them that I would always be in their life no matter what.
The 12-year-old said some pretty profound things about how much our relationship has meant to him and how he was in a very dark place before he met me. His aunt noticed him smiling as he did as a young child for the first time after he had spent some time with me. He meant the world to me and I meant the world to him. The same went for the nine-year-old.
The nine-year-olds dad had told me just the week before that he had always called me his second dad and he asked me if anything happened to him if I would take him. I knew that was something I wanted to take on without hesitation so I shook his hand on it.
It was like having two sons taken away from me at the same time. It was very very rough. I was at an all-time low. I grew more and more depressed and I started to get angry at the world. I felt lonely for the first time in a long time because those kids were always there to keep me company. I will always have love for them, but I will have to be there for them in different ways.
I went home for Christmas and my mom could tell I wasn’t the same person. We talked about my medications and thought maybe it was time to make a switch. I talked to my psychiatrist and told her it was time to change my medications back to my regular dosage. So that night I changed them. This was on Christmas.
I woke up the day after Christmas optimistic and excited about the day. Overnight I was back to my regular self. I started to see all the good in life again and the depression was completely gone. The irritation and anger were gone. I was the person that you have all have known who could go years without saying he had a bad day.
The medications were one thing that played a factor in changing my mindset, but at the same time life can get rough for all of us. When I lost my grandma depression did not take over me, but rather a sense of hope that we were going to work together and change the world in a positive way. She was going to be working from the heavens and I was going to be working on the ground.
I strongly feel her with me today. Some unexplainable things have happened since she has passed. I know some of you may not believe this, but I do feel that she reaches out to me through music. She has guided me through these difficult times. The adversity that I faced the last four months was hard to overcome, but I learned so much from it and I now have my guardian angel to lead me into the New Year.
Her strength on earth was undeniable, but her strength in heaven is an even much stronger unstoppable force. I’m ready to take the world on with her by my side. I know together that we can make a positive change to so many lives. She is the light that will be guarding my path. The 93 years she lived on this earth is nothing compared to what she’s going to be doing as a guardian angel in heaven.