Bipolar Disorder and the Boy Next Door.

I'm not sure how old he is, but from the sound of it at this point, I would say he is most likely in his 20's. I have yet to meet or even see him. However, I do know this. He is just like me. He struggles with bipolar disorder. My new neighbor, the one with the barking dog that I have been so aggravated with, whose door I slid a note under asking him to please keep his dog under control, the one I just moved in next to almost 1 week ago, struggles with the same mental illness that I do.

At 4 a.m. yesterday morning I had yet to fall asleep after work. I was close, my eyes were closing on me, but they quickly popped back open at the sound of very loud retching, vomiting, and dry heaving coming through the thin wall that adjoins my room with the boy next door. I fairly made the first assumption that he'd been partying and was sick the morning after, given the fact I live right by a college university and I'd heard a lot of commotion in the hall and through the walls the night before. My assumption, however, was wrong. He was, and in fact still is, going through medication withdrawal. Lithium, to be specific. I can fully 100% empathize with the situation, in more ways than one, obviously. I struggle with bipolar disorder. I've also been on lithium; a very high dose, actually. It was the very first drug they tried me on for my own bipolar disorder, as apparently it's commonly a first line drug of defense against the disease and has been around for a very long time, with proven effectiveness in many people. It also has some of the nastiest side effects I've every experienced and most gut wrenching withdrawals states I've ever been put through. It's also what I used to try and take my own life in 2012, so therefore I have any extra dose of knowledge of what it feels like to have lithium toxicity, and then have to come down from it.

Today at about 1 p.m. I was either watching a movie or doing something or another online. I honestly cannot remember which, because the events that followed were so sudden and dramatic that I was shocked into reality far from whatever else I was concentrating on at the time. There was a sudden banging on my neighbors door and a loud male voice yelled HOUSEKEEPING! First of all, there are no male housekeepers here. Second of all, I'm so far from stupid and so close to street smart to know it was indeed not housekeeping at the door, and was, in fact, the police.. or as I endearingly call them, the po-po. This was truly my immediate thought and I was actually taken aback that my neighbor opened his door so quickly, because that meant he was either incredibly stupid, very naive, or was in no state of mind to even think about what just occurred. In retrospect, I'm sure it was the latter.

Of course, my first thought was crap, it's going down in the hallway. I had no idea just yet what on earth was going on, who all was in the hallway, or why I was suddenly standing up in the middle of my little room. I suddenly felt like jumping out of my third story window, even though I hadn't done anything. It was like fight or flight kicked in and it didn't even have anything to do with me. Done drugs or been arrested much? Me? Nah. *rolls eyes*

The tale slowly unraveled, starting with someone telling him if he didn't calm down, the paramedic was going to have to give him a shot. Ah, so it wasn't just the po-po, then. So, if the paramedics were here, it must be medical related. Well, I heard him puking and it's obviously an emergency. Next thought: He must have overdosed on something and someone finally decided to call 911. Wrong again.

As I listened to the conversations taking place not only in the hallway, but in my neighbors room, it turns out that his mother had called 911 because of some text messages he had sent her. He had run out of his lithium, couldn't afford to get it filled, felt like he was dying, so really just wanted to die. Suicidal ideation. Mother's worry. It all made sense now. Lithium is mainly used for treatment of bipolar disorder. The po-po stayed steady in trying to talk to him. He didn't want to go anywhere and said that he was fine. They told him his behavior said otherwise, that he was too upset and aggressive, and his speech was pressured and erratic. They called his mom on the phone, which I could obviously only hear one side of the conversation. They were going through the text messages on his phone. Then I heard one of the po-po call my neighbor's name in, which I will not post out of respect for his identification. The other po-po came back loud and clear with a 10-4 on ID stating he'd had injunction orders placed on him to stay away from certain people, and in return the po-po outside my door muttered that figures. I could feel the stigma building around me. It was crazy. It was like the air was becoming thicker by the second, and I didn't even have my door open.

Another lady po-po comes out of the neighbor boys room laughing and speaking softly, or at least thinking she was, not realizing that even though I wasn't standing at the door like an eavesdropping fool, I could still hear every single word everyone was saying, and she was remarking, "did you see him?" "damn it stinks in there." "I'd f#&$ing go crazy if I was his mom, too." The urge to swing my door open and educate a few po-po's was almost overwhelming, but in the back of my mind somewhere I was still contemplating jumping out my window for unknown reasons, so I kept my hand off the door knob and my mouth shut.

Their absurd remarks continued; arguments ensued about criteria and this and that, why and why not they could or could not take him in. Could they Baker Act him? Was there enough proof to sustain he was a threat to himself? The lady po-po finally told him that he had the option of coming with the paramedics voluntarily and be in and out, just to get checked out and make sure he was okay, or they could take him and he'd be held for 72 hours, and that (get this) his dog would then be left in a hotel room for 3 days by itself and that would be his fault.

Way to go with the compassion combined with guilt trip, not, Orange County! WTH! Animal and human cruelty all balled into one giant cluster of stupidity. Magnificent display!

My neighbor boy insisted he was fine and was like, are you guys serious? Back and forth, back and forth. I heard some comment about the fact that the fire department was out there, as well, so apparently I had an entire squadron of badges in the hallway outside my door, and chances are 98% of them had no idea what they were doing, knew nothing about mental illness, and had no clue what steps to take other than to just threaten him with a 72-hour hold in Florida South or give him the option to go in. He wanted to know how he would get back, and his mother on the phone volunteered to pay for a cab for him to get back here to the hotel if he would just go in and get checked out. Ultimately, he decided to finally do this, after much more persuasion, and reluctantly left with the paramedics, officers, and everyone else who was in tow in on this fine eventful afternoon. Neighbor puppy went totally insane when the door shut, barking and whining up a storm, banging and scratching against the door like someone had just stolen his best friend, and for once it didn't bother me in the slightest. It made me sad.

Puppy quieted down relatively quickly, which I was grateful for, mainly for neighbor puppy's sake. Roughly, around 7 p.m., I heard neighbor dude return. It was a mixture of joy and extreme sadness at the same time. Joy, because I new that puppy would be okay; sadness, because no more than an hour and a half later I could hear him throwing up again. This loud, painful-sounding, gasping throwing up, that I know had to suck more than anything at that moment, and also meant one thing: He still didn't get his medication. Upset because I know what bipolar disorder feels like, and if he really is out of his medication and can't afford it, and he's going through withdrawals, and they let him go home like that, probably citing some judgment that he "wasn't a presentable threat to himself or society, hey here's a script, I hope you can get it filled because we don't have time for you," I know what hell he is in right now and they are only putting his life in immediate danger, in more than one way.

Welcome to the system of the United States of America, folks. Where they just don't give a crap which crack you fall through, as long as you are sure to fall through one of them so they don't have to worry about it. Welcome to the land of opportunity; the opportunity to be laughed at and treated like a criminal because you have a mental health disorder that you are unable to control, and the opportunity to have prescriptions written for you that are for just what you need to make you better, but you are SOL if you can't pay for them #becauseeffyouthatswhy.

I was relieved to hear another knock on his door at about 9:15 p.m. by hotel staff, who came up and said they had heard that he was in the hospital and just wanted to check and make sure neighbor puppy was okay if the boy next door was still away. Thank you, Crestwood, for restoring a little bit of faith in humanity after the horrible display of it earlier in the day.

I've heard him get sick a couple more times, gasping for air and crying out to God. I've considered putting another note under his door, this time not about the dog but to let him know that he isn't alone in his struggles. I decided against it, for now anyway, simply because I do not known him and I'm not ready to throw myself out there with my personal struggles to someone I know nothing else about and lives right next door to me. So, I will pray for him, instead. If the opportunity ever knocks, I will answer the door.