Stalker

She is pretty, but not your typical kind of pretty. There is just something about her. I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t. When she smiles my heart beats a little faster and when she gets close to me I feel as if there is an electrical current flowing through my chest.

I remember the first time I saw her. She was standing outside the library with her long blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun and she was chewing on a pencil. I thought it was so cute. You don’t see people our age chewing on pencils, but there she was, blue eyes turned toward the matching sky and an old fashioned yellow number 2 pencil hanging out of her mouth.

Now don’t think me weird or anything. I don’t get turned on by women having things in their mouths, but there was something about her that I was just drawn to and I knew I had to know more about her.

It started innocently enough, I promise. I followed her onto the bus and sat a few seats behind her. She tucked a few loose strands of that perfect hair behind her ears and pulled out earbuds. She plugged them into her phone and proceeded to hum a tune that I didn’t recognize. She gazed out of the window and swayed back and forth to a beat I couldn’t hear.

I followed her off at her stop and stayed behind her a good ways as she made her way down the side walk. I knew I was going too far by that point, but no matter how much I told myself to stop it, I couldn’t not follow her. I followed her into an apartment complex and to the third brick building. I waited for her to disappear onto the stairway before I snuck up to the bottom steps to see which apartment she went into. I watched her disappear into the second apartment on the second floor.

I didn’t know her name then, but I knew that I needed to find out.

My name is Charlie by the way. I’m not a stalker…I promise. I don’t find pretty girls and follow them around and jack off outside their window. That would be disgusting. So no, I’m not a monster…but I am in love. Tara is like a magnet and I am metal. There is an irresistible pull that comes from her and I can’t help myself.

I realized I was going to be late for work after she disappeared into that mysterious apartment, so I hightailed it back to the bus stop. I was 20 minutes late for my shift, but I didn’t care…I felt like I had just had a religious experience and I couldn’t wait to go back to that complex and get to know her.

Work took forever that day. I bus tables at a little pizza joint downtown called Mario’s. I hate pizza by the way. I use to love it, but after you clean half eaten slices off tables 6 days a week, you kind of lose your taste for the stuff.

So I got off at 10 that night and I got on the bus and headed back toward her apartment. It wasn’t until I was standing at the bottom of the stairs in her building that I realized that I had no idea how to do this.

Scenario one: I could knock on her door and introduce myself. But what would I say…”Hey, I’m Charlie…I saw you outside the library earlier today and followed you home and now I’ve just gotten off work and wanted to come by and see if you would like to go on a date with me?”

Yikes, no…that’s really bad idea.

Scenario two: I could make a loud noise outside her window and pretend to be investigating the ruckus when she comes down to check it out?

Hmm…I thought, this has potential. I sat down on the bottom of the stairs and began to contemplate how I would make enough noise to attract her attention without the entire neighborhood showing up. And then what if they call the cops. I don’t live here…so it would be hard to explain what I’m doing outside in a neighborhood not even remotely where I live at 11 o’clock at night.

I stood up and walked over to the bench on the other side of the street facing her building. I sat down, sighed and lifted my head toward the heavens in search of an answer. When I looked up I saw her standing in her living room. It was like getting to see an angel in its natural habitat. I was fascinated. I wanted a better view. So I climbed onto the play equipment behind the bench and angled my sitting position so that I was looking right into her window.

She was wearing orange shorts and a bright blue tank top. She had let her hair down and it was falling around her shoulders. I really wanna touch that hair. I watched her in her kitchen standing at the microwave. She stood there sawing from foot to foot, waiting for something. I couldn’t hear the microwave beep but I figured it must have because she pulled open the door and grabbed a bag of popcorn. I wanna eat popcorn with her. She walked toward me into her living room and settled on a sofa that was slightly out of view, but I could see a glimpse of that beautiful hair.

I lost track of time that night and it wasn’t until my mother called me that I realized I had been out to long.

Mom fussed at me the entire walk to the bus stop. She yelled about how irresponsible it is to be out so late at night, especially when I have class in the morning and she yelled about how I needed to pick up milk and how I should be there with her and how lonely she is…you get the point.

Its morning now and I’m sitting out here on this damp play equipment and I’m waiting for her to come out. I formulated a plan last night after I got home with the milk. I am going to wait here for her to come out and then I will walk up and stand next to her at the bus stop. Then I will strike up a conversation while we wait. Once I get a good conversation going I will sit next to her on the bus. By the time we get off together…wherever that stop may be…I will have her number and her name.

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Kristen

I turn the corner and I see her off in the distance standing there beside the bus stop waiting for me. Her wavy brown hair is blowing in a chilled fall breeze and her shoulders are drawn up tight as if she is waiting for something or someone to jump out at her. She is scanning the busy streets as if she is searching for a threat and I can’t help but wonder how exhausting it must be to be that tense all the time. As if she heard my thoughts she yawns, her mouth open wide and no attempt to stifle it or cover her mouth. She has never been one for manners but for some reason that has never bothered me. She turns to face me, gives me a tight smile and lifts her left hand in a sort of wave that doesn’t move but acknowledges my existence. The fake smile falls away and she returns to scanning the streets. The bus is due in 10 minutes and I know we will sit side by side, as usual, until we get to our neighborhood. I will walk her to her door and hover as long as I can, hoping something will be different this time and she will invite me in, but she won’t. She will give me that fake smile, thank me and let herself into her apartment. I will hear the click of the deadbolt being turned back and once more she will shut me out of her life. I’m so in love with her it hurts, but no matter how hard I try she won’t let me in.

“Hey,” I say, “How was your day?”

“Fine, I guess,” she says.

I sit down next to her on the bench to wait for the bus. I open my mouth to try and get more out of her but before I can speak her phone starts going off. She pulls it out and looks at the screen to see whose calling and whatever she sees makes her turn pale white. I notice her hand shaking and I know that whoever is calling, is not someone she wants to talk with.

“Hello,” she says.

I can hear a male voice coming from the speaker but I can’t understand what he is saying. She turns her back to me and listens to whoever is calling.

“No,” she says. “No, I will take care of it, I promise.”

I hear the male voice again, this time louder and I can tell that whoever it is, is angry. Hearing someone speaking that loudly to her and watching her shake makes me angry and I fight the urge to rip the phone away from her and tell whoever is speaking to fuck off.

“Please, no. Look, I’m sorry, just don’t…” she says and I can tell she’s starting to cry. “…don’t come here. I’m going to take care of it. It’s my fault and I am going to fix it, I promise.”

She is full on crying now and she has started rocking.

“No!” she pleads into the phone. “No, I’m not avoiding you, I promise. I just have a lot going on, but don’t worry about this. I’m going to handle it before the day is over.”

The bus is approaching now, and I stand up in front of her to kind of protect her from anyone staring at her when they get off the bus, she hates it when she catches someone looking at her.

“Ok…I’m sorry. I will fix this and then call you later tonight. Okay?” she says and I can hear her trying to catch her breath. “Ok, bye.”

She hangs up with him and stand up just as the bus opens its doors. People spill out onto the sidewalk and I immediately put myself as a barrier between her and them. I don’t want her to feel like anyone is watching her and I don’t want anyone to bump into her either. She hates it when people touch her, and I know that when she’s this worked up, it would feel even more horrific for her than it usually does.

I board the bus first and I can feel her behind me, closer than usual. I move into the back of the bus and sit right beside the window and she surprises me when she sits in the seat right beside me. Usually she puts her bags next to me and sits on the other side of her bags, but today she sits next to me and puts her bags on the other side.

“Thanks,” she says to her feet, once she has settled.

“No problem,” I say. “Wait, what are you thanking me for?” I ask feeling silly. It’s such a southern culture thing to respond to a thank you without even being aware of what you are being thanked for. I hate when people do that, and I’m honestly a little embarrassed by myself for not catching myself.

“Oh, am…for not running off on my when I was on the phone…I know that must have seemed a little dramatic.”

“No, not at all,” I say, shifting in my seat so that my body is turned toward her. “Sounded to me like whoever was talking to you is a jerk. If you need me to beat someone up for you I will.”

She laughs and glances up at me and I see her real smile and my heart swells a little.

“Very funny,” she says, bumping me with her shoulder.”

She touched me. I’m dumbfound, because she never touches me, in fact she goes to strange length not to touch me and now it feels like my heart will explode. Something is different today and now I have to know what. My curiosity about the phone call increases.

“Ha, you think I’m being funny do you?” I say, winking at her. “But the truth is I would take on the world for you.”

I can’t believe I said that. She’s quiet and I can’t blame her. I turn toward the window and place my heated cheek to the cool glass. I know that all of the blood in my body in in my face now and I really want to disappear more than anything right now.

“Um…wow,” she says, finally breaking the silence. “That’s um…well…flattering, I guess…thanks.”

“No problem,” I say to the bus window.

We ride in silence for a few minutes and I can feel her eyes on my back. I can’t believe I said that out loud. After what seems like an eternity I turn back to her and I pray silently that my face isn’t the color of a fire engine anymore.

“Is everything ok?” I ask.

She starts rocking again and picking at her nails. I haven’t seen her like this since the first day I say next to her on this bus. She looks as though she would tear her own skin off if she could. I feel a strong desire to put my hand on top of her hands and get her to stop. I don’t like watching her hurt herself and it pains me to see her hurting like this. I clench my hands and try and find the right words. I want to make her laugh again but I can’t come up with anything funny to say. Actually what I really want is to hold her, but I know that this would just be way too much so I push myself back toward the wall of the bus.

Finally I decide to go with touching her hands...mostly because I can’t come up with anything to say. I reach over and place my hand on top of her hands. Her hands are soft and warm, which surprises me. Most girls have cold hands, but hers are warm and I like it. Her hands still below mine and I finally get the courage to look at her. I look up into her eyes and see she’s crying. My heart breaks into a bunch of tiny pieces when I see the pain written on her face. She sobs and I cave. I shift myself in my seat and wrap my arms around her and pulls her against my chest and much to my surprise she doesn’t pull away.

“What’s going on?” I ask, squeezing her tight.

“I’m sorry,” she says and she starts pulling away.

“No,” I say and I pull her back. “Don’t apologize to me. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help. Whatever it is I can help, just tell me.”

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Crazy

I pushed my orange hard plastic chair into the corner of the day room. I want nothing to do with these people…nothing.

“David, would you please join us for group?” The fat blonde nurse is talking to me again…I wish she would get the point and leave me alone.

“No,” I say.

“Ok David. Just stay in the day room so we can keep an eye on you.”

An eye on me? I raise my eyebrows and look at her with my best screw you look. I drop down into the chair and shift my knees toward the wall, but I make sure I can keep an eye on the group. I may not want to be in group, but I am going to make sure I can see them…I will not let one of those crazy people sneak up on me.

I am not entirely sure how I ended up here. I was walking down the street and the cop stopped me and asked if I was ok. I was terrified that he was going to shoot me. I know someone is going to kill me, but I just don’t know who it will be. Will it be a stranger? Will it be someone I know and trust? Whoever it is I am sure as hell gonna make sure I give them a run for their money.

I need to call Danna again. She has been worried about me for a while now. My beautiful wife and my perfect little girl are all alone in that little house with no one to protect them and I have to keep checking on her, because I know if I don’t someone is going to hurt them. I hope that whoever is looking for me isn’t going to show up at my house. If they do they might hurt Danna or Charlie, the very thought of it sends a wave of panic through my bad. I shiver and draw up.

“Ok everyone, on a scale from 1 to 10, I would like everyone to tell me how they are feeling this morning. Janna, we will start with you.” The stupid nurse has started group now and I can’t help my curiosity.

“Um…I guess I’m a 5. I don’t really feel one way or another today.” Janna is a slutty looking brunette, with fierce green eyes that tell me she wants me. I don’t want her though; all I can think about is Danna and my little Charlie.

“I wanna go next!” A dark haired buff looking guy, who I think is called Mark , is almost jumping out of his seat with his hand stretched as high as high as he can reach. “I’m a 10!” he says, rocking excitedly.

“That’s great, Mark, but it wasn’t your turn. It was Carrie’s turn,” The nurse doesn’t sound frustrated at all by his rudeness. She sounds completely calm and patient. I would smack him in the face if he did that to me. “Carrie, how are you feeling today?”

Carrie is rocking back and forth too, but it gives a whole different impression. She is twisting her hands in her lap and looks down at the floor.

“A two,” she says, her voice sounds close to tears and I feel empathetic toward her. I have been there; I know what it’s like to feel like a two all the time. Danna worries about me when I get like that, she thinks that I need to see a doctor about it, but I keep telling her I ain’t seeing a shrink.

“Thank you Carrie.” The nurse gives Carrie a small smile. “Mark, you have already gone, so we are gonna ask Sam, Sam how are you feeling today?” she squares her shoulder to Sam. He looks too young to be in this unit. They told me this was the adult unit.

“I’m a 5, like Janna,” he says looking the nurse directly in the eye. He holds her gaze for a moment and then looks out the window. I wonder what he’s thinking.

The nurse turns her body toward me and the little bit of tension that had left my body, while everyone’s attention was elsewhere, returns with a vengeance.

“David, how are you feeling today?” she asks?

I glare at her and give her the finger. She gives me a small smile and turns back to the group. “Thank you all for coming to group this morning. Please hang around in the dayroom, we will be going to breakfast shortly.” She rises up out of her seat and returns to the nurse’s station.

I watch them all get up and move around the room. Mark starts pacing and talking to himself. Everyone once in a while he punches his right hand into his left and curses. Janna and Sam move toward the cushy green chairs set against the other side of the room and sit down. The face one another and start chatting. I wish I knew what they were saying…they might be plotting against me. Carrie is still sitting on the couch in the center of the room, rocking and staring at the floor. There are two couches, a love seat and a TV that form a square, the TV is against a wall on a push cart, like the ones you see in elementary schools when they drag in a TV for movie day. Last night they hooked a Wii to it and encouraged everyone to play it. Mark was the only one and he played baseball. I watched him swinging his arms madly and it scared me to see how strong he is.

I can’t help but worry a little bit about Carrie, a two is pretty bad and I feel like I should go talk to her or something, offer her some encouraging words. As a minister, that is part of my job. The only thing is I haven’t been a very good minister the past two weeks. Charlie was born two weeks ago and ever since that day I have been terrified that something was going to happen to me and I wouldn’t be able to provide for my family anymore. I should have felt that unspeakable joy that most dads feel when their first child is born, but me, I just felt terrified. I don’t provide much for my family as a minister but we get by. I haven’t preached since that day and tomorrow in two days it will have been three weeks since I preached. I can’t help but feel like I’m letting my congregation down. They look to me to set an example, but to be honest I haven’t thought about them much lately, my only thought has been of saving my life and the lives of my darlings.

I push myself up and shuffle toward Carrie. She doesn’t look up at me, but I know she hears me coming. She really is beautiful, blonde hair, curvy figure with nice big breasts. Hey, I’m a minister, but I’m not dead…I know a beautiful creation of God when I see one. Even though she’s gorgeous, I feel no attraction toward her, there is only one love of my life and right now she is home alone trying to take care of Charlie. Guilt washes over me as I think of her trying to take care of our daughter all by herself. I should be there helping her, making sure she gets enough sleep and taking shifts watching over Charlie.

“Hi, I’m Pastor David,” I say stretching out my hand for her to shake. She glances up at me, but doesn’t take my hand; instead she rocks harder, as though my presence makes her anxious. I sit down beside her and try to think of something to say.

“Why are you sitting beside me?” It took me a second to realize she had asked me a question. In the few seconds that had passed since I sat down I had gotten caught up with checking to make sure no one was sneaking up on me.

“I just thought I would see if I could cheer you up a little bit,” I say smiling at her. She glances up at me for a millisecond and then looks back at the floor and resumes her rocking. “I’m sorry you feel like a two. If it means anything to ya, I have been there.” She doesn’t respond; she just keeps rocking. “Me and my wife just had our first child, her name is Charlie, she’s beautiful. Do you have any children?” She shakes her head. “Children are great. My and Danna have been trying for years now, and just when we thought it wasn’t meant to be, BAM, she was pregnant. We were so excited we went out and bought a crib that same day.” I see a tiny smile play around her lips. That makes me feel good and I lean back into the couch. “I’m worried about them. They are alone in my house, and I can’t help but be afraid that whoever is after me is gonna show up there and end up hurting them.”

“Someone’s after you?” she asks, turning her face up to me with a surprised look on her face. “Why would anyone be after you?”

“It’s persecution of a man of God…they want to hurt me because I worship the one true God,” I say, admitting this truth for the third time in the past 24 hours.

The first time was to the cop who found me hiding behind the dumpster on Airport Rd. He asked me what I was doing back there, so I told him. I told him that the end times are approaching and there is persecution against the children of God. I told him I am a minister and they are going to kill me. I said that I would happily die as a martyr, but my wife just had our first born child and I need to be around to usher them through the hard times that are approaching. He said he would take me somewhere safe but he took me here instead. He had a conversation with a suspicious looking woman behind a sliding glass window and then they took me to a room and asked a bunch of silly question. I explained the situation again and I told them that if this was a safe place they needed to bring my wife and baby here too. They said they couldn’t do that, they told me I would be safe here but that my wife and baby were in no danger and that they would be perfectly ok. They said she could come and see me, but my Charlie wouldn’t be able to come. I told them that I couldn’t stay here, that I needed to protect my wife and new born, but they said that I had to stay. I’m being held prisoner, just like Paul in the Bible. Everyone in here is being held prisoner.

I asked them where I was at and a somber looking lady in scrubs told me I was at Laurelwood. I felt sick. I told her Laurelwood was a mental hospital and that I wasn’t crazy, that I was just in danger. She said she understood, but that she thinks I should stay here a little while. She told me again that I was safe here. I asked if I had a choice and she said she was afraid not and then that was that. I gave up, I guess I am as safe here as I am anywhere else, but I sure hope that my congregation doesn’t find out I’m in the looneybin.

“Oh,” she says, and I see pity in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” I say. “And isn’t someone after you too, I mean isn’t that why you’re here?”

She looks back at the floor and starts twisting her hands again, her right sleeve slid up her arm a little bit and that’s when I saw that her wrist was wrapped in thick gauze. I shift my gaze to her other wrist and could see a little bit of white sticking.

“They got you didn’t they,” I say gesturing to her wrists.

She doesn’t look at me but I hear her say “No.”

“Then how did that happen?” I ask.

“I did it,” she whispers to the floor.

“Oh,” I say, and I don’t know what else to say so I tell her “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and keeps twisting her hands. She goes back to rocking as I lean back against the couch. I take a good look around, taking inventory of the room and where everyone is…I know I have to keep a close eye on everyone just in case this place isn’t as safe as all these nurses keeps telling me it is.

“Everyone line up for breakfast,” says the blonde nurse. Everyone in the room starts lining up facing the only exit out of the room. A few people that didn’t show up to group shuffle forward to get in line. I watch everyone line up and then go get in the back of the line so I can keep a check on everyone. This dark haired man in scrubs stands behind me and I jerk around to look at him.

“It’s ok David,” he says holding up his hands, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He has a kind face and I let some of the tension leave my body. I give him a small nod, but I turn myself at an angle so I can see him and the group.

Breakfast passed pretty uneventful. I didn’t eat much, I picked at my food mostly. The food I did eat wasn’t too bad. Honestly I was kind of impressed with the selection: eggs, bacon, cereal, oatmeal and an option of a fruit bowl. But for the most part I was keeping an eye out on everyone.

“David?” the nurse from the back of the line is back, “I’m Trey, I’ve been asked to take you to see the doctor; will you walk with me?”

“Doctor, why do I need to see a doctor?” I ask.

“Everyone here has to see a doctor, it’s just standard procedure. I think you will like him, his name is Dr. Collins. He is a very kind man and I promise he won’t hurt you.”

I look at Trey for a moment. He seems honest enough and he’s the first person I’ve met in this place that doesn’t seem like an immediate threat.

“Ok,” I say and stand up to follow him.

He puts a code into the only exit and holds the door open for me to walk through. He walks halfway down and long hall and turns right onto a shorter hall. I stride along behind him, turning my head back and forth just to make sure we aren’t being followed. He stops at a door on the right at the end of the short hall and knocks.

“Come in,” says a deep voice.

We walk in an a middle aged white man with salt and pepper hair stands up and walks around a desk and extends his hand to me.

“I’m Dr. Collins, and you must be Mr. Mitchell.”

He waits patiently for me to shake his hand but I don’t move. There is no way in heaven or hell I’m shaking this man’s hand. He’s freaking huge! There is no way he’s shorter than six and a half feet and he looks strong too. I feel frozen in place, panic courses through every part of me and I take a step back on reflex.

“Are you good?” Trey asks, looking at the doctor.

“Yes,” he says, “We will be fine won’t we Mr. Mitchell?”

I open my mouth the protest but I can’t get a word out. I turn and look at Trey and beg him with my eyes not to leave me alone in here with this man. Trey smiles and squeezes my shoulder and leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

“Why don’t we take a seat?” Dr. Collins says.

I can’t move. I just stand there staring at him. He gives me a small smile and sits down in a big, green cushy chair across from a small matching sofa. I notice he has a notepad and a pen. He leans forward slightly in his chair as if he’s waiting for me to do something.

“I would tell you that I’m not going to hurt you, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe me,” he says, “I would really like it if you would have a seat and let me prove to you that I mean no harm.”

I finally find my legs and take the few steps to the couch to sit down.

“Thank you Mr. Mitchell. May I call you David, or do you prefer Mr. Mitchell?” he asks.

“David is fine,” I mumble. I am taking quick shallow breathes and I feel myself shaking. I do not feel like a man at all right now. The idea of how pathetic I am makes my stomach clench.

“Ok David, I would like to ask you some questions, would that be ok?”

I nod. I have a bad feeling about this, and I clench my fists tight pushing my arms tightly to my legs.

He started asking me about what was going on in my life right now, so I told him about Charlie and how excited I was to finally have a daughter. We had been trying for years and when we had finally given up was w finally when Danna and I finally conceived. He asked about my mood and I told him I felt great…except for the fact that someone was after me. He nodded and took interest in that. He asked who I thought was after me and I told him that I wasn’t sure, but I knew they were coming and I needed to protect Danna and Charlie. He asked why I thought someone was after me, so I told him about the end times and the persecution of Christians. I begin to relax a little, it seemed he believed me well enough and so far no one else had looked like they believed me.

“Have you ever felt depressed?” he asks.

“I guess by definition yes, but I have had times that I felt that way for years…it always passes and then I feel normal, sometimes even better than normal, but everyone is sad sometimes and everyone can be really happy sometimes too.”

 “How are you sleeping?” he asks.

“Well, to be honest I don’t really need to sleep nor do I want to. If I close my eyes then I am vulnerable and someone could sneak up on me…I have to stay vigilant,” I say.

“I understand,” he says.

He asks a bunch of ridiculous questions too, like if I am seeing or hearing things other people say aren’t real. I laugh and tell him I’m not crazy. He nods and scribbles on his notepad.

“Well David, I think we need to talk about the possibility that you might have bipolar disorder,” he says.

“What?” I say, thinking I must have misunderstood. “I don’t have bipolar disorder. I’m not crazy.”

“David you aren’t crazy at all, but I do think that you are having some difficulties…would you disagree?”

“My difficulty is that someone is going to kill me.”

“David, no one is after you, no one is going to kill you. I am certain of this. You see bipolar disorder means you have significant mood swings that have an impact on your life. These times when you have been sad on and off for years, did these occurrences make life difficult?

“I guess so. I mean I have trouble preaching when I get like that, and Danna always worries about me.”

“Do these mood swings worry you?”

“I guess so…I mean I need to do my job and I feel terrible and like I shouldn’t be preaching in the first place…like no one needs to hear what I have to say if I can’t even get out of the bed.”

“Does Danna have anything to say about when you get really happy?”

“Well…kinda…she complains that I talk too much and she gets irritated with me because she can’t understand me, she tells me to slow down and take a breath. But I have preached some of my best sermons when I’m like that and she recognizes my genius at those times.”

“David, you are describing bipolar disorder exactly. When people with bipolar disorder are manic they don’t need a lot of sleep, if any and they can be very creative and energetic. People that are in this kind of mood often times talk very fast, their thoughts race, they participate in risky behavior like reckless spending and some of them can have a very strong sex drive. Sometimes people who become manic they have symptoms such as paranoia, in which they believe someone is following them or out to hurt them. Does any of this sound familiar?”

I seem to have lost my voice again. He just described some of the best times of my life exactly. Danna and I got in a huge argument one time when I bought a Porsche. I took out a loan and used all of our savings to do it. Now that I think about it, that was definitely reckless spending and we ended up selling it, but we are still paying that loan back. And our sex life is amazing when I’m like that. It’s like I can’t get enough of her. I look up at Dr. Collins; he’s leaning forward watching me patiently as a mull this over. I put my head in my hands, I suddenly don’t feel too good, maybe I am crazy.

“Are you ok, David” he asks, startling me.

I suddenly realize I’m shaking and I glance around the room to make sure no one is hiding in the corner waiting to jump out at me, and then I realize what I’m doing. I look back at him for a second and then look at my hands. This can’t be real…I can’t be crazy. What about Danna and Charlie, I can’t be crazy and raise my daughter. What kind of father would I be? What if I lost it and hurt her? I feel moisture in my eyes and there is a lump in my throat.

“I’m crazy,” I whisper to the floor.

“No David, you are not crazy. Having a mental illness does not mean you’re crazy. In fact I think you are an incredible intelligent man and a loving husband and father.”

“What about Danna and Charlie, how do I go home and tell them this. How do I raise my daughter like this…I don’t want to hurt her of Danna…if I got this bipolar disorder, I have to be a danger to them.”

“David, I don’t believe for a second that you would hurt your wife or new born. I think you care greatly about them; you lit up like a Christmas tree when I asked you about them. And I think your wife will understand. From what you have told me she has been concerned about your wellbeing for years now. With that in mind I think she will be relieved that we now know what’s going on with you. And the even better news is that this is a manageable illness. There are medications that can help keep you level. I think if you let me help you we can get this under control and you can live a relatively normal life.”

“Medications? What kind of medications?”

“I would like to start you on a mood stabilizer. The most common one is lithium; however the level of lithium in your body has to be closely monitored, so you would have to periodically get your blood checked to make sure your level isn’t too high.”

“I hate needles,” I say. “Is that the only option? Can’t we try something else?”

We talk a while longer. He tells me about several different medications that have been proven to work well as mood stabilizers. He said if I was against Lithium that we could try another mood stabilizer but if we go that route he would like to put me on an antipsychotic to try and get the paranoia under control and better manage my manic episode. I am in a daze as he talks. I try and listen but the longer I sit there the more anxious I get. In the end he decides to put me on Lamitrogen and Abilify. He said Abilify can also have good results with depression so it may also help out with the depressive espisode. I don’t really say anything to him as we walk back to the unit. I have been pretty quiet for the past, however long it’s been. I nodded and say yes and no when it was appropriate but outside of that I haven’t really spoken. I feel like my world has crashed down around me, and for the love of God I still feel like someone is following me and even though I try and tell myself it’s just in my head I can’t help but look behind us as we walk. Fear grips my heart as he opens the door to the unit.

“I will see you tomorrow, ok David?” he says.

“Ok.”

The past two days have passed in a blur; I finally slept last night, first time in about a week, and I am finally able to eat a little, but I still can’t shake the feeling that someone is after me. I keep telling myself it’s just in my head but I can’t quit believe myself. Dr. Collins says it can take a while for the medications to work and the effects would come on subtly. I asked how long I would have to stay here and he said maybe in another week we would see how I was doing and perhaps talk about going home.

I’ve been seeing a counselor here, she’s nice but I don’t trust her. I feel stupid sitting in her office and trying to talk about my life to her. She has talked to me about setting a routine for my life. Things like scheduling sleep, exercise and work. She says that if I get a routine and stick to it that it can go a long way in managed my illness.

I’m slowly adjusting to the idea of bipolar disorder being a part of my life. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s easy…honestly when I really think about it, it’s kind of devastating. I don’t know how I am going to face my congregation knowing I’m like this. How many times have I preached that mental illness is not a real illness? How many times have I stood behind my pulpit and told the members of my church that prayer and patience is the solution to depression and mental illness. I feel like such a hypocrite. I’ve been thinking about quitting and calling dad up to see if he can get me a job in his construction company.

Danna is finally coming to see me today. She had to find someone to watch Charlie, seeing as she can’t bring Charlie in here, and it has taken a while to find someone we trust to do it. I asked her not to tell anyone where I am. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m locked up in this place. Everyone knows what Laurelwood is and if they find out I’m here then I will never be able to face my congregation again, that is if I do decide to keep preaching.

I miss my girls a lot. I really wanna see them both, but I guess getting to see Danna will have to be enough for now.

Trey comes to get me when it’s time to go see Danna. I have kind of taken a liking to him. He’s a Christian and takes the time to ask me how I’m feeling and he really listens to me. He has a wife and two little girls. He tells me stories about taking them to the park and seeing them play in the mud. I laugh as I picture two little girls running up to him covered in mud. Talking to Trey makes me feel normal, which is something I haven’t felt since my first conversation with Dr. Collins.

Danna is sitting in at a little table in the center of the cafeteria. There are a few other patients around talking to their visitors but I only have eyes for her. She has her red hair pinned up in a bun and there are little fly away pieces falling around her face. She smiles when our eyes meet and I feel my heart pick up pace. She stands up and moves around to the other side of the table, stretching out her arms to hug me. I want to run to her, but I don’t want to alarm anyone, so I take fast long strides toward her. I wrap my arms around her, kiss her hair and rest my head next to her. I don’t ever want to let her go.

She pulls back and looks up at me. Her eyes are brimmed with tears and I feel my heart break.

“Baby, please don’t cry,” I say, my voice cracks as I fight back my own tears. “I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.”

“No…no, don’t apologize, I’m just so happy your ok. I was so scared that you were hurt when you didn’t come home. I love you so much, I could bear the thought of you lying in a ditch somewhere,” she says, wiping her eyes.

I run my hands down her arms to her waist. She still has her baby weight, which honestly makes her even sexier to me.

“I love you too,” I say. I give her a small smile and gesture to the table, “let’s have a seat.”

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Who am I, and What do I Stand for?

We were talking in class tonight about how we have to know who we are as a professional when we start our career as counselors. We discussed how it is during our education that we will begin to develop this. Well this got me thinking about who I am as a person. Do I really know me? Do I know what I stand for and what I value? Who is Randi as a person? Because I think that if I’m going to know who I am as a professional counselor I have to know who I am as a person first. So I am coming up with a list. This is just the beginning. I know that the list will grow as I grow. Because growing never stops. The day you quit growing is the day your heart stops beating…the day you draw your last breath. So this is the beginning:

I am a daughter of God. First and foremost I will serve God. Where He leads, I will follow. I will stand firmly in His presence and I will never stop looking to Him. I will never stop trying to get closer to Him. I may not come in the “normal” Christian packaging, but it is to God that I answer and it is His voice that I listen to. I may curse. I may have tattoos. I may listen to “secular” music. I may get a little road rage and give someone on the highway the finger. But I love God more than anything and I willingly give my life to Him every day.

Secondly, I am a future counselor. God called me to minister to His broken hearted, rejected, beaten, forgotten, mentally ill and lonely children. He called me to do this through becoming a professional counselor. No matter how hard it gets I will not give up. God has given me an open heart. I am able to sit alongside of people who are in direct conflict with my values and beliefs and love on them without judgment. I have a wise mind. I love to learn and look at every interaction as an opportunity to learn something new and because of this I have a vast knowledge of many situations that other people my age know nothing of. But I don’t know enough…and I want to know more…so I am always looking for ways to learn. I am creative. I don’t mind trying new things if there is research to prove that it is a viable option. I am a leader…whether I like it or not. People look to me for answers and sometimes I don’t know them...but sometimes not knowing is the best thing for someone. I stand for equality in society. I stand for justice for the wounded and downtrodden. Above all I stand for the love of Christ, who gave His life for us! He reigns above it all and I stand for His values and morals! But I know God called me to do be a counselor, and I will push toward this goal with everything inside of me.

Next, I am a writer. This one is new to me, but it is something that I have come to accept. I believe that one day God will call me to write a book of some sort. I do not know what that will be, but for now I am focused on my education and this blog. I stand for freedom of expression and I will never quit writing. I think back to times in my life and I believe that writing truly saved my life. I think back to last summer when I started this blog and how big a step it was to publish things that were so personal to me. And there are times were I still am shocked that I share some of the things I share. But I know that I am doing God’s work.

These things are just a few of the things that define who I am at this time in my life. I am sure that the list will grow and change as time passes, but for now this is it.

So who are you? What defines you as a person? What do you stand for? Do you know? If not, you should really think about, because if we don’t know who we are and what we stand for, how will we be able to make decisions about the important things in life? One thing is for sure, you are a child of The Most High King!

Love, Randi

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No One Will Rescue Me

No one will rescue me. There’s a voice inside of me that keeps whispering it to my soul, and the pain just deepens with each stab of those words. Ever since Monday during therapy, I have heard these words being repeated inside of me. My therapist and I were talking about an incident in class a week or so ago, were I had a flashback in response to something that was said during class discussion. I had been frustrated prior to the flashback because I felt like the instructor kept talking over me, and my therapist was saying that perhaps the fact that I was already emotional made me more susceptible to the trigger. I disagreed because I felt like the trigger was so unexpected and sharp that I would have had a flashback no matter what. But in my attempt to disagree with my therapist I tried to talk about what the instructor had said. This didn’t go well. I honestly can’t even type up here about it, but sitting there in the safety of my therapist’s office I time traveled and it was bad. In that moment of terror I completely lost myself to the past and whimpered for help. “Help me. Please, help me.” I could hear my therapist trying to get me to focus on the present and I eventually managed to do so and came back to the moment. But ever since then there has been an ache inside of me. It’s like I realized that no one did rescue me, no one ever will and I just have to live with that. And it hurts

.

So I distract myself with Netflix and Amazon Prime. I read my textbooks and watch YouTube. I surf Pinterest and scroll the newsfeed on Facebook. Anything to draw attention away from that dull pain in my chest. I will keep moving forward. That’s all I can do at this point. I try not to dwell on it…dwelling on the past won’t change it. But I think a part of me broke in the flashback. I think the pain went a little deeper than the usual and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not really sure there is anything that can be done about it. I think only time will ease this pain. And so I’ll wait, I’ll let time pass and I’ll ignore the pain…I’m good at that after all,

Love, Randi

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