A Week of Mystical Thinking
For about four years I have self-medicated with drugs and alcohol. My drug of choice was marijuana. Purple haze, orange kush, hot lady, train wreck, regs, chronic, black widow, bubba kush, schwag, viking, Maui wowi, warlock, star warz, juicy fruit and Alaskan thunder fuck - you name it, I’ve smoked it. A year and a half ago, I began smoking more than ever. Every now and then turned into once a week, once a week turned into everyday, and everyday turned into all day. I was literally in love with weed. As time progressed it seemed as if I couldn’t function without it. My dream was to graduate college, become rich and successful and be stoned 24/7 all at the same time. This dream was probably to prove to my mom and to the world that not all stoners are lazy losers. I was, for a short while, living out this dream. I got decent grades in college, worked full time and lived a pretty “fulfilling”, active life. But soon the love of my life turned out to be my worst enemy. I have constantly run away from my problems, but after this problem I never ran away again.
It all started the day before my 20th birthday March 4th, 2007. I had just finished the worst shift of my life at work. I worked in a dark, 50-year-old pizza joint that sold cheese and wine as well. Most days I loved my job and I had no problem working; but this day was abnormally damned. First of all I had to work a last minute 10-hour shift. When I finally got off work I just couldn’t wait to toke my troubles away. With the way my day was going it wasn’t going to be that easy because I had no lighter with me. This day was especially unique. It was the day of my combined birthday party with my friend Sara; a party that I was not on time to due to having to work late. To top it all off I ended up sitting in an empty, dark parking lot; a perfect place to be murdered or raped or both, in the freezing cold waiting for my ride. After the first 45 minutes I had noticed a change in my thoughts. I began telling myself that everything was all a joke - my friends were a joke, my job was a joke and most of all my whole life was just a joke. I convinced myself that there was no way the feeling I felt at that very moment was genuine and I was just a part of some sick punch line. Finally, Nick my ride arrived a whopping 2 hours late. I couldn’t express how angry I was in words, so I didn’t. I simply hopped into his beat-up blue van - (the “shaggin’ wagon” as Nick likes to call it) - grabbed the first lighter I saw, and began to smoke. Nick, being the manipulative little shit that he is, gave me some lame excuse as to why we couldn’t stop by my house so that I could change. I guess he liked the idea of me arriving un-fashionably late in a flour covered apron smelling like strong garlic and pepperoni. I felt like crying but that’s not my style so for every tear I wanted to cry I took a toke instead. To make a long story short, the rest of night consisted of asshole remarks and unfortunate events. I was so repulsed with the way the night was going and probably more with the way my life was going. At one point I sat in the shaggin’ wagon by myself and started balling. I ended up crying and smoking weed the whole night. I cried and smoked so much I didn’t sleep. For that next week, I didn’t know why but I didn’t sleep more than two hours a night and rarely ate.
After my birthday each day that week, I acquired an amazing, life-changing realization. But as the days went by the realizations became more and more bizarre from an outsiders perspective. All of a sudden I fell in love with the idea of life, which was a total 360 compared to how I felt the day before. Soon, I began to understand every single thing life had to offer. Understanding life soon turned into knowing about anything and everything. By Wednesday I was convinced 4 deceased people, who were significant to me, were visiting me from the dead. By Saturday I attended a party truly believing that I was psychic with the help of my new paranormal pals. By Sunday I had completely lost it.
I had my first psychotic episode on March 11, 2007. By then I had about 10 hours of sleep in a week and I was extremely malnourished. I was thin and the white of my eyes were a dark gray; I was a completely different person. Nick was working with me that day. I walked out of work in the middle of my shift and smoked a fat bowl in the shaggin’ wagon. I ended up stealing the shaggin’ wagon and took it home. When I got home and the whole family was there. I was swiftly pacing around the house trying to explain to my family that, “life is a science”, “everything makes sense” and my most famous line, “everyone else is in on it”. My whole family panicked and didn’t understand what was going on. I repeatedly ran upstairs, slammed my door, paced violently and ran back downstairs to have another tantrum. I was behaving like a bratty, terrible two-year old with ADHD lost in a fantasy world. My parents were very confused and scared so they called an ambulance. Seeing as their mostly well-behaved, quiet, easygoing daughter was now out of control for reasons unknown, I don’t blame them. The rest of that day is really a blur. I know that I was strapped to a hospital bed for 5 or 6 hours. They had to strap me down because I refused to cooperate. I was told later on, that I continually tried to escape and cussed almost everyone out in the hospital, including my mom.
The next day I was so confused that something as simple as brushing my teeth and taking a shower seemed as if it was my first time doing it. I was acting as if I were an infant. I was admitted into a mental hospital that morning. I spent the first 20 minutes screaming, cussing and trying to escape. This is so not my style but like I said I was a completely different person. I had to be locked in a small room with a bed and a skylight. The whole hospital was painted with the most hideous shades of blue and pink. Each room in the hospital for some reason reminded me of death. Everything was cold and wreaked of BO. Since I had time to spare, I paced around the small room and began to read the papers they had given me. I realized where I was and why I was there. At that point my brain was so out there I stared blankly and watched bright neon colors creating pictures on the walls. As I laid there I saw smoke-like rays of light dancing away from me and up and out through the skylight; this kept me entertained for quite a while. At first, whenever I saw the doctor, I would tell her truly what was going on as if they could see what saw. Most of the day I would spend my time heavily medicated, sleeping and smoking cigarettes. I felt that the people on my ward needed this much more than I did and I was just wasting space for someone who could really use it. I soon figured out that whatever I thought was real, wasn’t real to them. I began to lie to them so that I could hurry up and be discharged. I shut myself off from everyone solely because I was afraid of them. My only friend was Maria, my roommate. She had gone crazy due to speed and her kids were taken away from her. She was nice, but really into exercising at inappropriate times. On the 5th day I was discharged and diagnosed with Psychosis induced by marijuana. Even after this scary, confusing and intense time I spent at the hospital, I refused to believe that marijuana had done this to me.
I began taking my prescribed anti-psychotic and ADD medications. My psychiatrist believed that I had ADD due to the fact that I felt normal and focused when I smoked. I had been sober for about 2 weeks and I was certain that it was anything but weed that made me go crazy. Perhaps it was stress, lack of sleep, a head injury (from a recent head-first drunken fall) or maybe something inherited (I have schizophrenic family members). So I decided to spend the night with my friends and forget this had ever happened. I bought a sack and smoked it all within a couple of hours. Right away I actually started hearing voices. It started out as a warped whisper that sounded like a different language. By the middle of the night I heard birds chirping. I ended up staying awake the whole night…again. I got home the next day and I just had to tell my mom simply because I was afraid. I tried sleeping that day but every time I dosed off I heard a low, robotic-like voice asking, “what are you doing?” At this point I didn’t feel safe in my own home and my mom had to sleep with me.
The next morning I woke up early and walked around the neighborhood with my dog, opening car doors. I’m not sure why I was doing this, but obviously I was experiencing a relapse. I walked into a neighbor’s open garage and stole a Monster energy drink. The neighbors caught me and they took me home. My mom explained to them what was happening to me, and admitted me back into the hospital. This time I believed that it was the end of the world and my friends’ and families’ spirits were dwelling in other people’s bodies. Basically I was, for lack of a better word, fuckin’ nuts. The first day I mostly walked around the ward in a daze and refused to speak. I was sort of used to this place by now and it wasn’t as bad as before. The people in the ward were much less “crazy” than the first time. All of us ended up morphing into a sort of dysfunctional family. There was Scott who had staples in his head. He was convinced the hospital was his house and we were his children. Then there was Mary who cut her stomach open in an attempt at suicide. There was Hannah who was addicted to Oxycodone; she was more like the annoying attention starved little sister. There was Daniel who was homeless, toothless and perverted. Charlie, an older gentleman, shook like Ozzy and reminded me of a grandpa. Christine, who was bipolar, was the most kind-hearted human being and I really enjoyed her company. I connected more with this group. It was always sad to see someone get discharged; mostly because I was jealous but also because I knew we would never speak again. When I was discharged this time I left with the most valuable realization of all: marijuana is the reason behind all of this and there is no way I can ever smoke it again.
I continued taking meds for about 2 weeks and decided I didn’t want to take drugs of any kind. I have stayed away from drugs, weed and alcohol and have slept every night since the incident. It has been 5 months since my last episode and I am truly grateful that this has happened to me. It has given me a new perspective on life and I have realized the importance of family. Also, I have learned that running from your problems is no way to solve them. I heard a story once that is relevant to my experience. A man who worked on boxcars locked himself in a refrigerated boxcar. He was convinced that the boxcar temperature was 50 below and he had frozen to death. The next day he was found frozen but to everyone’s surprise, the boxcar was broken and was only about 70 degrees. Therefore, the mind is a powerful thing and it is absolutely not something that should be wasted. Whatever you truly believe will become your reality; just make sure your reality is realistic.
It all started the day before my 20th birthday March 4th, 2007. I had just finished the worst shift of my life at work. I worked in a dark, 50-year-old pizza joint that sold cheese and wine as well. Most days I loved my job and I had no problem working; but this day was abnormally damned. First of all I had to work a last minute 10-hour shift. When I finally got off work I just couldn’t wait to toke my troubles away. With the way my day was going it wasn’t going to be that easy because I had no lighter with me. This day was especially unique. It was the day of my combined birthday party with my friend Sara; a party that I was not on time to due to having to work late. To top it all off I ended up sitting in an empty, dark parking lot; a perfect place to be murdered or raped or both, in the freezing cold waiting for my ride. After the first 45 minutes I had noticed a change in my thoughts. I began telling myself that everything was all a joke - my friends were a joke, my job was a joke and most of all my whole life was just a joke. I convinced myself that there was no way the feeling I felt at that very moment was genuine and I was just a part of some sick punch line. Finally, Nick my ride arrived a whopping 2 hours late. I couldn’t express how angry I was in words, so I didn’t. I simply hopped into his beat-up blue van - (the “shaggin’ wagon” as Nick likes to call it) - grabbed the first lighter I saw, and began to smoke. Nick, being the manipulative little shit that he is, gave me some lame excuse as to why we couldn’t stop by my house so that I could change. I guess he liked the idea of me arriving un-fashionably late in a flour covered apron smelling like strong garlic and pepperoni. I felt like crying but that’s not my style so for every tear I wanted to cry I took a toke instead. To make a long story short, the rest of night consisted of asshole remarks and unfortunate events. I was so repulsed with the way the night was going and probably more with the way my life was going. At one point I sat in the shaggin’ wagon by myself and started balling. I ended up crying and smoking weed the whole night. I cried and smoked so much I didn’t sleep. For that next week, I didn’t know why but I didn’t sleep more than two hours a night and rarely ate.
After my birthday each day that week, I acquired an amazing, life-changing realization. But as the days went by the realizations became more and more bizarre from an outsiders perspective. All of a sudden I fell in love with the idea of life, which was a total 360 compared to how I felt the day before. Soon, I began to understand every single thing life had to offer. Understanding life soon turned into knowing about anything and everything. By Wednesday I was convinced 4 deceased people, who were significant to me, were visiting me from the dead. By Saturday I attended a party truly believing that I was psychic with the help of my new paranormal pals. By Sunday I had completely lost it.
I had my first psychotic episode on March 11, 2007. By then I had about 10 hours of sleep in a week and I was extremely malnourished. I was thin and the white of my eyes were a dark gray; I was a completely different person. Nick was working with me that day. I walked out of work in the middle of my shift and smoked a fat bowl in the shaggin’ wagon. I ended up stealing the shaggin’ wagon and took it home. When I got home and the whole family was there. I was swiftly pacing around the house trying to explain to my family that, “life is a science”, “everything makes sense” and my most famous line, “everyone else is in on it”. My whole family panicked and didn’t understand what was going on. I repeatedly ran upstairs, slammed my door, paced violently and ran back downstairs to have another tantrum. I was behaving like a bratty, terrible two-year old with ADHD lost in a fantasy world. My parents were very confused and scared so they called an ambulance. Seeing as their mostly well-behaved, quiet, easygoing daughter was now out of control for reasons unknown, I don’t blame them. The rest of that day is really a blur. I know that I was strapped to a hospital bed for 5 or 6 hours. They had to strap me down because I refused to cooperate. I was told later on, that I continually tried to escape and cussed almost everyone out in the hospital, including my mom.
The next day I was so confused that something as simple as brushing my teeth and taking a shower seemed as if it was my first time doing it. I was acting as if I were an infant. I was admitted into a mental hospital that morning. I spent the first 20 minutes screaming, cussing and trying to escape. This is so not my style but like I said I was a completely different person. I had to be locked in a small room with a bed and a skylight. The whole hospital was painted with the most hideous shades of blue and pink. Each room in the hospital for some reason reminded me of death. Everything was cold and wreaked of BO. Since I had time to spare, I paced around the small room and began to read the papers they had given me. I realized where I was and why I was there. At that point my brain was so out there I stared blankly and watched bright neon colors creating pictures on the walls. As I laid there I saw smoke-like rays of light dancing away from me and up and out through the skylight; this kept me entertained for quite a while. At first, whenever I saw the doctor, I would tell her truly what was going on as if they could see what saw. Most of the day I would spend my time heavily medicated, sleeping and smoking cigarettes. I felt that the people on my ward needed this much more than I did and I was just wasting space for someone who could really use it. I soon figured out that whatever I thought was real, wasn’t real to them. I began to lie to them so that I could hurry up and be discharged. I shut myself off from everyone solely because I was afraid of them. My only friend was Maria, my roommate. She had gone crazy due to speed and her kids were taken away from her. She was nice, but really into exercising at inappropriate times. On the 5th day I was discharged and diagnosed with Psychosis induced by marijuana. Even after this scary, confusing and intense time I spent at the hospital, I refused to believe that marijuana had done this to me.
I began taking my prescribed anti-psychotic and ADD medications. My psychiatrist believed that I had ADD due to the fact that I felt normal and focused when I smoked. I had been sober for about 2 weeks and I was certain that it was anything but weed that made me go crazy. Perhaps it was stress, lack of sleep, a head injury (from a recent head-first drunken fall) or maybe something inherited (I have schizophrenic family members). So I decided to spend the night with my friends and forget this had ever happened. I bought a sack and smoked it all within a couple of hours. Right away I actually started hearing voices. It started out as a warped whisper that sounded like a different language. By the middle of the night I heard birds chirping. I ended up staying awake the whole night…again. I got home the next day and I just had to tell my mom simply because I was afraid. I tried sleeping that day but every time I dosed off I heard a low, robotic-like voice asking, “what are you doing?” At this point I didn’t feel safe in my own home and my mom had to sleep with me.
The next morning I woke up early and walked around the neighborhood with my dog, opening car doors. I’m not sure why I was doing this, but obviously I was experiencing a relapse. I walked into a neighbor’s open garage and stole a Monster energy drink. The neighbors caught me and they took me home. My mom explained to them what was happening to me, and admitted me back into the hospital. This time I believed that it was the end of the world and my friends’ and families’ spirits were dwelling in other people’s bodies. Basically I was, for lack of a better word, fuckin’ nuts. The first day I mostly walked around the ward in a daze and refused to speak. I was sort of used to this place by now and it wasn’t as bad as before. The people in the ward were much less “crazy” than the first time. All of us ended up morphing into a sort of dysfunctional family. There was Scott who had staples in his head. He was convinced the hospital was his house and we were his children. Then there was Mary who cut her stomach open in an attempt at suicide. There was Hannah who was addicted to Oxycodone; she was more like the annoying attention starved little sister. There was Daniel who was homeless, toothless and perverted. Charlie, an older gentleman, shook like Ozzy and reminded me of a grandpa. Christine, who was bipolar, was the most kind-hearted human being and I really enjoyed her company. I connected more with this group. It was always sad to see someone get discharged; mostly because I was jealous but also because I knew we would never speak again. When I was discharged this time I left with the most valuable realization of all: marijuana is the reason behind all of this and there is no way I can ever smoke it again.
I continued taking meds for about 2 weeks and decided I didn’t want to take drugs of any kind. I have stayed away from drugs, weed and alcohol and have slept every night since the incident. It has been 5 months since my last episode and I am truly grateful that this has happened to me. It has given me a new perspective on life and I have realized the importance of family. Also, I have learned that running from your problems is no way to solve them. I heard a story once that is relevant to my experience. A man who worked on boxcars locked himself in a refrigerated boxcar. He was convinced that the boxcar temperature was 50 below and he had frozen to death. The next day he was found frozen but to everyone’s surprise, the boxcar was broken and was only about 70 degrees. Therefore, the mind is a powerful thing and it is absolutely not something that should be wasted. Whatever you truly believe will become your reality; just make sure your reality is realistic.