The First Delusion (The Grow-Up Moment)

This is going to sound crazy. Because it is crazy. And you can't reassure me that I'm not crazy, I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. This is crazy.

And yet... I have tell this story. I have to put it out there. Because part of me is still hoping that somewhere out there... somebody's going to get it.

It was March 14th, 2015, I was twenty-three. I had not slept in over 48 hours and it would be another three days and a trip to the ER before I would be able to. Wicked bad insomnia.

All night long for two days in a row, I'd been mulling over everything I'd been through, everything I hoped the future would hold, and everything I needed to do to become the woman I wanted to be.

So it happened, this Saturday in March, that I was pacing the empty office of the storage lot where I worked, walking around in circles with my finger pressed up against my lips, and all of my thoughts centered in on how much I'd changed.

Then, it was like I recognized my own thought pattern. As if it belonged to a SCRIPT that I had repeatedly read, seen, and heard a hundred dozen times across all media platforms. As if I'd been told, repeatedly, though I never how or why, that this happened to everyone and one day it would happen to me too. At the exact moment these pieces clicked into place in my mind, the end of the script came to me as a complete compulsion. I couldn't not think it. It struck my brain like lightning, and I felt this internal explosion of sensation through my skull.

OH MY GOD.

I thought, I somehow kneeeeew with a certainty that defies logic, that I was experiencing some sort of universal puberty of the mind. A coming of age for the soul. That every song, book, show, and movie was secretly about this. This was the true dividing line between childhood and adulthood and the world was forever split between the ones it had happened to and the ones who still waited in ignorance. I knew, by instinct, that it was called the Grow-Up Moment.

Which... what kind of cutesy teeny-bopper glitter was that naming committee drinking?

Then, it was like everything in my life snapped into sudden focus. I could see the reason for my depression and my years of loneliness and I had this profound, deep reassurance that everything happens for a reason. And my first thought was that this moment, this universal experience of mankind, was undeniable proof of God. And that thought immediately brought tears to my eyes. For all the faith I try to have, I still needed that proof. And having that tangible proof right in the palm of my hand, that was incredible.

But then, it... twisted.

It was like the thoughts wandered back in a circle. If this was some sort of universal human experience, then why didn't everyone believe? Who were the enlightened ones and who were the ignorant ones? All of a sudden that comforting sense of being held in the arms of a loving author turned dark. Now I was a puppet on strings being royally screwed with.

My brain and the universe turned into an echo chamber. My manager, emerging from his apartment by the office, realized there was something seriously wrong with me. My reaction time was broken. I kept repeating that I hadn't slept for forty-eight hours. He told me to go lie down.

I lay on the couch in their dark apartment and told myself that I just needed to go home and Google this. Google would find me someone who could explain this to me.

So when I went home, I googled "Grow-Up Moment."

I found some New York Times articles on moments when you realize your child is grown. I found BuzzFeed doing its usual fear of adulting with "29 Terrifying Moments that Make You Feel Way Too Grown-Up." I got a whole lot of nothing. Nada. Zilch. I tried "the revelation," and "the oh-my-god moment," and "the-everything-that-happened-made-me-who-I-am-today-moment." Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

My stunning coming-of-age of the soul, did not exist.

But that didn't make any sense, I remembered seeing reddit threads where people talked about this. I remembered a Sims writer I'd been following mentioning that it had only recently happened to her. I remembered  walking in on Kristine crying hysterically in Mom’s arms and when I asked what was wrong, Mom could only say, “She just feels very grown-up right now."

I remembered stories that talked about this moment in metaphor. But then I couldn't recall a title. Or an author. So... that must mean I'm wrong. There's no such thing as the Grow-Up Moment. I've gone two days without sleep and I'm starting to really lose it.

It was an ER visit and a heavy dose of Klonopin before I was able to sleep. I passed out for six hours and woke up feeling a whole heck of a lot better.

But... this moment still haunted me.

I dreamed about it. I mused over it in my mind. I found myself thinking about it at odd hours of the day. And then, months later, alone in my new apartment one sleepless night in the early morning, sort of poking at it in my conscious…

Fireworks exploded through my brain and I bolted upright in bed.

OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod!!!

I flew out of the sheets and scribbled through my journal. I googled more…. still nothing! But I just knew it had happened to Mom. She’d been trying to tell me about it my whole life. I had to talk to her! I left the apartment and drove all the way to Dallas, arriving there around six in the morning.

Mom was stunned to see me, but she happily sat down and talked with me. But the more I talked, the more I realized she didn’t actually have any idea what I was going on about, even though she was trying to be supportive.

As I drove home, I thought to myself… well maybe it hasn’t actually happened to Mom yet. But it must have happened to Kristine! I remembered she’d said something to the tune of all fiction being a metaphor for puberty.

I sent her a text message.

“Okay, so if I told you that I had a sudden moment of clarity, would you know what I was talking about? Like if I said, ‘grow-up moment,’ would you know what that meant?

“Like ‘everything makes sense’"

“YES! But then it doesn’t! Let me call you.”

I call her. I go off on a long tirade, describing what I was feeling… what I was thinking. At first I think, she gets it! She says, “Yeah.” and “Ok.” and “I think I understand.” And with every response I realize… no. She doesn’t get it.

It must be a delusion then. It’s not real. I try to push it away and continue on with life. Maybe I’m having a bad reaction to my medication. I’ll need to talk to Dr. Goyal.

It keeps happening. Every weekend, when I’m alone and in bed… the fireworks will go off. I’ll get up and pace. My mind will race in a thousand directions and I won’t be able to think.

It’s hang on or let go and if you hang on then you can live forever. If you let go you die. If you find the person, the one person, in the world who can understand this then you are soulmates.

Then, one May night in 2016, I try to sleep and the thunder outside rattles my mind and I know the storm outside is calling to me.

There's a prince and a princess and a stairway to their happy ending but someone stole the happy ending and it was a ring and the ring was all the Earth and everything in my life had led right to this moment and I needed to hang on and turn around because that's why the ending didn't match the beginning and all of the stars are souls and if somehow I can name them all then I can save them but I can't save them, I can't save any of them and... and...

And that was the first psychotic break from reality. The first one that took over at least. It seems there were these little warning signs before it happened. It must have been a delusion all along. It couldn’t be real after all the clutter and mismatched images that bombarded me during the episode.

There was a moment, after the second break from reality, where I was lying in bed and it happened. Just for a few seconds. It felt more like the first time, cleaner. And right then it was like a gear slipped in my head and I could remember.

I… remembered another reality.

I remembered a place where this was a doorway I had to repeatedly pass through. I remembered a place, a life before my life, where this marked every transition during my existence. I remembered being older, wearing a face more like my mother’s, and walking in a circle with my finger pressed up against my lips thinking OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod.

And now I live in fear. I live in fear that one day this world, this reality that I somehow believe I remember despite all evidence that denies it, will hunt me down and destroy the real world. I fear that at the end of my life, I will pass through that final gateway and find this monster waiting for me.

I know it doesn't match. It doesn't match with my Christian worldview. It doesn't match with the experiences of other people. It doesn't even match with the rest of the bizarre plotlines and images that bombard me during my psychotic breaks with reality.

But I'm still waiting anyway. I'm waiting for someone to say, "I GET IT. It happened to me."

And I have a horrible sinking feeling that even if it never happens again for as long as I live, it's gonna haunt me the rest of my life.