Ladies and gentlemen, it's story time!
Seriously, this is a story, and not just a real one, but one that I experienced only recently. So recent, in fact, that as of this post, it's not even 24 hours old. You see, I have Manic Depression, or, as it's better known as, Bipolar Type II. Go ahead, get the stereotypes out of your mind. Delete the 'crazy heifer' and 'psycho bitch' and anything else that you think when you first hear the term. I've seen several articles on this site detailing what Bipolar is but not necessarily what it's like, and yes, there is a clear difference. Allow me to elaborate.
The computer I am typing from now is a Toshiba Satellite. It's three years old and is quite literally, not figuratively, being held together by scotch tape. The 'e', 'a', 'r', and 'n' keys stick, and the left cursor key is completely missing. Battery life? Nearly non-existent. So what did I decide to do last week? You guessed it, I marched myself straight into Best Buy to find a new laptop.
I needed a new laptop, but I wanted to treat myself, as well. I'm currently on sick leave from job as a teacher because of manic episodes, and my boyfriend of one year ghosted me only a week before. The only thing keeping my bipolar brain together was knowing that I could at least continue typing my novel. It was something to keep me busy and it was something I was good at, but how can I complete the next Great American Novel with a laptop with keys that didn't work?
After being shown some random laptops, I settled on an Asus Q303, a brand I've never had before. I take it home and discover the computer didn't have the software on it to read internet certificates. No problem, right? I returned it and the manager put in an expedited order for it to be shipped to my apartment for free. All should be right with the world. Not. Less than 24 hours after receiving the laptop, it refused to turn on. Frustrated, but still somewhat in control, I called Geek Squad for assistance. They told me I had to go to the store and they couldn't help me over phone.
This is where the story begins to get ugly. I'm not exactly sure what I said to the representative over the phone, but it had several 'f' bombs in there. I could hear the words and feel them trickle down my lips, but no matter how many times I told myself to shut up, I just couldn't. I ended up hanging up in her face, snatching the laptop, and getting in my car.
The entire ride, I was punching my dashboard. I began pulling at my hair, banging my head on the steering wheel, and screaming curses to this store to the high heavens all while still driving the speed limit, using the proper turn signals, and braking when necessary.
Truthfully, I don't remember much of the drive there. When you have manic episodes similar to mine, you experience frequent 'blackouts'. There are so many times where I've had blackouts and literally lose my memory completely for hours, sometimes even days. I don't remember what I did, where I went, what I said, or what I experienced. This was no different.
Because I had a blackout, the next part picks up with me speaking to a manager. He was my height, about 5'3 or 5'4 with thick glasses and a wooden cane. He may have been in his early thirties. I didn't care at the time. I could only focus on being sold shit laptop. That's right, I yelled it to him. Shit. Laptop. I wanted him to effing fix it or give me all my effing god darn money back...and yes, that's an edit.
Everyone in that store stopped and stared. The lady checking out a customer's new T.V., the man walking with the manager, every customer service rep...Dead. Silence. And all attention was on me.
Shut up you moron I thought to myself. It's a freaking laptop, it's not the end of the world. Chill out.
"NO! SHUT UP!" I screamed aloud at myself, but the manager thought I was talking to him. I was answering my self conscious, but of course, no one knew that because they aren't witnesses to the conversation in my head. I began whispering softly to myself, "Call mommy, need mommy, go home go home go home" over and over again for at least 5 minutes.
The manager took my laptop and told me to wait in line. I called my mom and told he she was going to have to come get me or I was going to be arrested. Half of me was kidding, but the other half knew that I was only leaving that store with a new laptop, a refund, or in handcuffs. I couldn't think or process anything. Everyone looked the same. My head hurt. My heart raced. My skin felt like my goosebumps had goosebumps. But I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I just couldn't. I really wanted to and I wish everyone believed me.
The manager was staring at me as I continued yelling my feelings to my mom on the phone, who was over an hour away at work and couldn't come get me. I was scared. I wished I hadn't come. "STOP STARING AT ME, I'M ON THE PHONE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PHONE IS? IT'S RUDE TO STARE." I'm sure there were some curse words inserted in that statement, but I can't remember which ones or where they go.
You need to leave, just get the computer and leave. I yelled "NO!" out loud to myself, but both the manager and my mom thought I was talking to them. My mom told me to calm down and she told my dad to come my apartment. Still, that was going to take 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, back in the store, I started crying. I saw a tear hit my iPhone's case and bounce off in slow motion. Another fell. I brought my fingers up to my eyes and realized how puffy my face was. I was crying that entire time. I pulled my hood up to hide my messy hair and my face. I stared at the counter and continued muttering to myself, "Go home go home go home go home," while simultaneously calling my dad and hitting end before the phone began to rang.
Ten minutes pass. The manager tries to talk and I tell him to stop effing talking to me. You're being ridiculous, how are you going to tell this man to stop talking to you and he has your money and you laptop I think to myself. He kept telling me the store policies, something I already knew and something he has already told me several times. I was ready to go in on this manager.
The manager stares at me and tells me it will take 2 hours to transfer the hard drives.
I have a blackout. The next part of my memory is a mashup of cursing and crying in the store, throwing a fit in my car, and then clutching my many, many laptop receipts to my chest while sitting in my car, still whisper, "Go home go home go home go home go home." I sit in my car with the door open in the rain for 30 minutes before my dad finally pulls up next me. He goes to touch my shoulder and I scream, "NO! I WANT MY LAPTOP! NO! NOT MOVING! NO NO NO NO NO!"
He takes me to a restaurant, buys me a sandwich and lemonade before going to the store to get the laptop himself.
I was conscious the entire time, but not in control. I get a sharp pain on the left side of my brain every time I recall the scenes of yesterday. My chest still hurts. I cry. I curl myself up into a ball on my bed, look around and try to remember the last time I felt so ashamed. I can't do anything except mumble random words and sounds. "Go home...ma ma ma...nuuuh...call mommy..."
I share this story with you because I know so many others go through the same thing because they have some type of mental disorder and suffer in complete silence. It's no one else's problem but mine. The headaches, memory lapses, uncontrollable rage, fear, and depression rolled into the enigma that is my brain. But no one knows. No one cares. They just see a person making a public spectacle of themselves, but do not bother to wonder why. I'm only 26. The most depressing part of this story is that the only thing to bring me sweet relief is death, something that will most likely not happen until I am well into my 60's or 70's. I'm tired. I'm in a pain. And my story is only just beginning.
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