When I was a young kid, my parents often called me “manic,” and at times “bipolar.” I am pretty sure I was the only kid in the 3rd grade who described themselves as having hyper activity disorder. I would like to think that my parents’ casual references to psychiatric conditions when referring to me were all in good fun, but it also does give you a little insight into how they felt about my behavior.
But maybe I was intense, and occasionally annoying. I can believe it. And now that I have a child of my own, I know how it can feel at times as if your offspring is your own worst enemy. That are they are living in your house for the sole purpose to punish you for past misdeeds. So I have empathy for my mom and dad and how they may have fantasized about removing my voice box. You know… just a simple operation to take out my larynx… nothing drastic.
So I guess I can understand what happened Thanksgiving Day circa 1989… although I am not sure if it was legal.
Here is what happened. My mom was trying to cook dinner, my brother was busy doing what 12-year old boys do, and my dad was in his study working. So I guess I was in the kitchen, irritating the shit out of my mom with my demands. I was also slightly under the weather, so my mom had an idea. It think it was partly motivated in her wanting me to feel better, and also partly inspired by her wanting me to get the fuck away from her.
She gave me an Excedrin PM… at 10 in the morning.
Now I don’t know if you have ever head Excedrin PM…. But that shit is not fucking around.
So what happened you may ask? I feel asleep. And slept all day until my brother woke me up at 7 in the evening to eat dinner.
When I tried to go to bed that night, I couldn’t fall asleep. Why you might wonder? Ohhhh… because my mom gave me a sleeping pill and I slept all day that is why!!! So I did what any normal kid would do. I took another.
And that was the beginning of my 8-month journey of being addicted to sleeping pills.
(I guess I did have a pretty wild look in my eyes)