Manic Depression is Capturing My Soul

When I was a teen and into my twenties, I spent a lot of time travelling up and down the west coast of the US, as well as British Columbia and Mexico. I really did not have any close friends… actually I had one. One that I was close with and we have remained friends to this day, but I guess I probably would have said that I had a lot of friends had you have asked me back then. I knew a lot of people. I was part of a culture of run away kids, drug addicts, and travellers who had all flocked to Seattle to use as our playground. I almost never met an actual Seattle local, just travelling kids. I would have told you that I had never been happier in my life, and at the time I would tell myself “I feel so free, and I absolutely love it. I am pretty sure that when this time of my life is over, I will never again feel that same feeling of freedom”. I didn’t mean it necessarily as a sad thought, but maybe hopeful. I was having the time of my life, but somewhere inside I knew that if this lifestyle went on forever then my story would have a sad, boring ending. I didn’t know how I could get there but I knew eventually I wanted more in life. I would think to myself “I’m enjoying my retirement now while I’m young in case I don’t get a chance to enjoy a retirement late in life”. I had not kept a job longer than a number of months at that time and wasn’t exactly contributing a lot to a 401k.

Everything goes back to when you are young and developing, at least on some level, right? Unless it is something you are born with, genetic vs environmental. Some people also say your soul passes on the good/bad scorecard from your previous lives. I do have several diagnoses, some related to my back and others with neurochemical instability (I guess that is one way to put it) also types of anxiety… I’m also a multiple project starter. Everyone experiences anxiety. It is a survival trait. There are good reasons to be anxious, like “I think I hear a smilodon outside the cave, maybe we should grab our spears or something.” Smilodon is usually called a saber-toothed tiger, but I like the name smilodon so much better! It makes them seem friendly, like a nice kitty kitty with a lovely smile full of big teeth. Apparently smilodon in ancient greek means double-edged knife, however, so were back to maybe not so friendly. There are also reasonable sounding explanations for ADHD as a beneficial trait in human history. They were the hunters. Their attention can be drawn to something uncontrollably, and if it was a deer then this would be a great benefit over those who are so focused on their task that they may miss something happening around them. In modern society, probably thanks to the education system, we are trained to believe that the traits that will benefit you in life now are the ability to sit still in a desk, pay attention to an authority who passes on information to you that you are expected to memorize. You are even tested on your ability to remember things, isn’t that what most tests are? Memory is not intelligence. I have said for a long time that I think everyone is equally intelligent (its a hunch), but there are many forms of intelligence such as emotional intelligence, musical intelligence, interpersonal, intrapersonal, linguistic, and so on. It’s not like I have done a study where I calculate up peoples intelligence in different areas and determined that the numbers all added up to the same, but I don’t think intelligence is really that cut and dry anyways so to me it is a moot point. We all have capabilities and difficulties, but all we can do is work with what we have and find what makes us happy while not causing others harm.

My point? Well … I’m not going to get too deep into it at this time, but I do want to advocate for gardening as therapy. See, I came back to Tucson to stay after something like 9 years of nomadism with a touch of hedonism. At this point I knew I was done with previous phase of my life, but other than that I had no idea what I was doing. I was back in my home town, seeing old friends, and staying at the house I grew up in. My mom had moved to California in the time since I had left, but we still had the house. In the past, I had been disallowed from staying at that house. I was not the type of guy you want your daughter to bring home to meet the parents. I’m not going to try to decide how I feel about that now. It was a long time ago and my mom was doing what she thought was right at the time. She may very well have been right, I can’t say for sure. Now I was back in the house, though. Maybe she figured at this point I was better off having a stable home in Tucson with my sister in Phoenix than continuing on in the fashion I had kept up for so many years.

In their eyes I was doing a lot better, but I got into trouble a few times. I’ll share one story here. When I was about 15 my mom built a guest house at our house so that she had a place for her mother to live if she ever needed somewhere. That was the justification I was told and I think my mom wanted her mom there with her, which eventually she did get to live with her. That’s her story though. So we get this guest house built and while I don’t remember all the details, somehow I got to live in the guest house, as troubled as I was, where I had air conditioning (the house we grew up in only had evaporative cooling) a little kitchen, fridge. Let me tell you, it was a sweet setup for 15 year old Nichollas. I’ll just say for now that fun times were had at the guest house. Many many fun times. The story though takes place many years later, and I must have been in my late 20’s or possibly my early 30’s. I was drinking heavily at the time, and I was back living in the guest house. There was a woman renting out the main house. I had this speaker system I got for christmas one year that was extremely loud… much louder than any speaker I own today, and I would get shit faced drunk and listen to music at full volume. It would take me to another place and emotionally I felt like I would travel to somewhere wonderful where all the pain and confusion didn’t exist. I would sing, really loud, or dance. Oh, by the way, I would do this at any hour. I was a child of the rave scene after all and music is to be felt.

One time my next door neighbor came and knocked on the door. I opened, probably barely able to stand, and she asks me to turn the music down. I believe I was going to oblige at that point, but then she started going on and on about not liking the loud music in the middle of the night. I had gotten that from the initial statment, but since she had to push the point in deeper, I just shut the door and left the music alone. Now the rest of the story may have been that same night, but I believe it was another night, probably just a few days later or so. I remember I was listening to Bassnectar and drinking a handle of whiskey. I was using shot glasses at the time for some reason, that isn’t really typical of me but it’s part of the story. So I’m on cloud 9 sloshed to the gills and bouncing to some great music when I get the funny idea to throw a bottle out of my door into the front yard. It’s my fucking yard, I thought. I’ll clean it up in the morning, fuck it. Now that I mention it, I must have also been drinking beer because it was a beer bottle. Anyways, Nichollas the super genius casually opens his door and chucks the bottle out the door good and far. I don’t specifically remember hearing the bottle break, because I was immediately distracted by two police officers with guns drawn barking commands at me to get down on the ground or ill get tazed. Well I have had a lot of experience with the police, and I had at this point as well. I’m not saying as a criminal per se, but we used to have to stand up to the police when we threw raves in highschool, and we would meet with city counsel and stuff. That’s another story I think I have blogged about already. Point being, I am generally unfazeable when it comes to police, they either get nothing from me or if I am feeling particularly certain that I am in the right as far as the law is concerned then I might take out some of my concerns on them, possibly quite boistrously, but generally your getting my ID with my name and the number to my lawyer. Talking to police just doesn’t do you any good. Maybe the one exception is if your kid got kidnapped and they are driving away, then I would say “hey officer that car is driving away with my kid!” but somehow they may mess that up too. They are there to gather evidence for the state. I work for lawyers, I see a lot of what goes on. It’s a dirty business. I’m have some family that are retired police. The way they are trained today is not the same as it was 30 years ago apparently, and that’s not saying much.

Yes I tend to go off on tangents. I drift from subject to subject. I make a connection between two things and then branch to that discovery and then that links to another concept which requires consideration and certainly leads me to consider the relational ponderance, as such.

So of coarse, I drop to the ground and put my hands on top of my head. I was very quick to react although inside I was as shocked as I’ve ever been. They take me inside the guest house and sit me down. They handcuffed me at first, but after realizing I was as surprised as they were when they had a random bottle flying at them. It was obviously an accident, so they uncuff me. They are going back and forth to the car, doing their thing, checking my history, probably playing solitaire, I dunno. At one point though, they both left me alone in the room. I was still certain at this point that I was going to sleep in the tank at the jail that night and I already had poured myself a shot before this situation presented itself, so I took the opportunity to throw that last shot back. I sit back down and they return, and after a few moments one of the officers noticed the shotglass had been drunk. Those were some keen observational skills, officer. One was clearly fresh off the griddle and the second one had been at this job longer, clearly. The new guy picked up my giant Tommy Chong Bong and asked the other dude about it. He said nah just leave it. They let me stay at my house and went back to whereever they come from. This was one incident that put the wheels in motion for some life changing activities I was going to start.

I started seeing a doctor, and I started on some meds at the request of my mother and as a requirement to continue to live in the house. Around the same time, I had started using my moms garden area because I was inspired by someone I miss very much, Lana, and she loved to grow plants and inspired my love of them. She knew long before I did that I should be working with plants. She tended to be right about everything, and now that she’s gone it’s getting harder to proove her wrong. So I started growing a garden, and I was talked into getting a cat. I grew up with a lot of animals, but I didn’t think I could take care of a cat. I was told “It’s easy, all you have to do is give them the juice from your tuna. They love it.” Suffice it to say, that is not a proper kitty diet, and at first I had this idea that I would just have a cat around and it would be nice to have company, but she changed my life. Her name is Samantha and she is still alive, something like 14 years young. She’s still the same adorable little kitten I remember getting. So I would sit out in the garden, in the shade, and watch the plants grow. I would watch the plants, and Sammy would join me. She loved to lay underneat the big tomato plants as it was damp underneath and very shady. Every once in a while she would jump on my lap. Sitting out in that garden with my cat, along with medication (because I am somewhat extreme), turned my life completely around.

I am still the same person, albeit a much much more stable person, and not a danger to myself or others… not that I ever was purposefully. I am able to get very close to looking fully functional, but I am still struggling (I am not referring to finances, rather more emotionally, mentally). With age comes wisdom and while I no longer drink gallons of whiskey, I am drinking a beer right now and listening to music (Audioslave) as loud as it goes, but on cheap little speakers that don’t get loud. I have a constant internal battle between two sworn enemies. I’m still singing and dancing, because as long as you can talk you can sing and as long as you can walk you can dance. My wife and I have been working very hard on trying to clean up the yard and house. It is an incredible amount of work for two “very special” people, but we got quite a lot done. Still, I look around, and anywhere I look, I see a project needing work, but it’s way too hot right now.

Manic Depression is a Frustrating Mess.