About That Last Trip To Walt Disney World...

December 6, 2022

(NOTE - This post has been posted before... Taken down... and reposted. If you think that you have seen it before, you might have.)

As I sit here, still going over all of the actions (and inaction) that got me here, as well as looking through all of my previous blog entries, I realize that I have written very little about the recent past. I am going to try and rectify this now.

Back in December of 2018, I realized that the attitude of my then employer had changed toward me. It changed at, of all things, a gag gift exchange at the company Holiday Party. I brought a lump of coal to be drawn as a gag gift (it was nicely dressed-up and boxed with a booklet as the Pet Rock had been decades earlier). When it was revealed at the party, it was seen as being cruel rather than funny. I felt the tension as soon as the person who chose it out of the pile opened it. To try and take the sting away, when it came time to "steal" gifts from one another, I took my gift back. I hoped that this would be the end of it (since I left with it).

It was not.

The following week I was chewed-out by my boss & boss' boss regarding how cruel and insensitive my gag gift had been. Even though I was the one who actually went home with it, I was still in big trouble.

In early July of 2019 my employer found what they thought was a good excuse to fire me and did so (even though the exact reason was something I had done dozens of times previously without any issue at all). I boxed up my meager belongings and left.

I started to rapidly cycle, Bipolar-wise, starting at that moment (even though I had been taking my meds up to that point). I stopped taking my meds. I didn't tell my Bride that I had lost my job (things at home weren't very good at that point anyway) . Instead, I decided to take one last trip to Walt Disney World with the intent of hugging Mickey one more time, walking down Main Street USA again, and ending my life.

During the week-plus that it took to "plan" this trip, I slept little, and started writing a diary of sorts. I continued this all the way through the trip until my intended "exit". I had intended to share some of those diary entries here, but after reading through them again they are WAY too "out there", and show very little coherence or connection to any type of reality. It hurts for me to even look at them. I cannot believe I wrote them.

I then made the mistake of leaving a "good-bye" message on Facebook (that IS NOT what this blog entry is by the way - I do want to continue living for as long as I might be able to). About five minutes later, the Orlando police arrived to take me away.

I spent the next ten days in a facility for people, like me, who have mental illness issues and have refused to take care of themselves. I convinced the doctor, finally, to let me out. I went back to Walt Disney World to get my stuff, and then returned to San Diego County.

Please note - I did not say "return home".

After I left for Walt Disney World that last time I never returned to the home I had known for so many years. My mind, moods, and sanity continued to bounce around as I bounced around from the back of my car to a series of cheap hotels. Sleeping a lot sometimes...getting no sleep at all other times...finding very few times when I was really able to focus on much of anything at all.

I did see my Bride one last time - for her to give me divorce papers. I was unable to deal with anything other than eating and sleeping by this point (I hadn't taken any Bipolar meds since leaving the facility in Orlando months earlier). I could never find a focused time when I could even open the envelope to read the papers. While I was bouncing up-and-down and moving from place-to-place continually, I lost them. I was too unfocused to reach out for a replacement copy.

I continued to circle the drain for the next couple of years - out on the streets sometimes, moving from cheap hotel to cheap hotel when I had money for them...never seeking any treatment or medication for my Bipolar (or any help at all, for that matter).

This is what you all see now - an empty husk of the person I used to be with nothing left to offer but some memories that I can sometimes hold on to long enough to write about them.

So why write about this?

Firstly, I just want those of you who may be affected by someone in your life who might be dealing with a mental health issue to try and be as accepting as you possibly can be. Whatever their behavior might be, they are not doing it to annoy, upset, or hurt you.

I know personally that I have had little grasp of my moods / reality many times, but it was / is still my responsibility to find the courage / clarity at some point to reach out for help. Sadly, it wasn't until other issues came up that I finally did reach out.

Other than that, I'm just pleased that there are any people who had to deal with my behavior out in this wonderful world that would actually read these posts. I now realize what a handful I was to try and deal with prior to my being diagnosed in 2000 (and although I did get "better" for many years afterward, things still weren't "perfect").

So, please just try and love one another...(and thanks for putting up with me!)...

I love sunsets (and this one is from the actual night of the infamous Holiday Party)