Runaway Train

Where the Sunbeams End: Chapter 16

Photo by Sawyer Bengtson on Unsplash

It’s after that beach trip when things started getting weird again. To tell you the truth, it wasn’t that things got weird, it was more that I got weird. 

At first, it was actually going swimmingly well. I returned from the beach renewed and rested. My prowess as a cart pusher did not go unnoticed. Soon I was spending more time at the helm of my own cash register. Speed is key when working through rush hour at Costco. Get the items scanned, all of them. Then be smooth with the transaction, which equates to understanding how to run the register. It’s certainly not the most difficult task to accomplish, but takes some getting used to. And there is a bit of pressure. After all, you’re the one handling the money. 

I was really killing it there for a while. But perhaps they started stretching me thin. I think it helps to know what you’re doing each day before you go to work, so that you can mentally prepare. That wasn’t always the case. I was trained as a cart pusher, gas station attendant, overnight stocker, cashier, and then at the tire center. It felt like I could do it all and I was making friends. I felt valued and I felt normal. I thought I’d put my mental illness in its place. But I was taking on more stress, and more hours. I started missing my days as just a cart boy. The simplicity, sunshine, and exercise was irreplaceable. 

I can search all I want for reasons or triggers that may have caused things to turn weird for me. But the reality is that I was unmedicated. Except for the marijuana. I still had a supply of medications that I was supposed to be taking regularly, but I hate taking pills. It’s strange, but I despise everything about it. Gagging down the pills is unpleasant enough, but what really gets me is the daily reminder that I’m bipolar. The reminder of the absurd places within my own mind, the reminder of the hospital visits, and the reminder of embarrassing moments, when I just wasn’t myself. I’d rather just get lost in the day, and forget about the whole thing. 

Eventually I started to medicate at work. Let’s be honest, I was just getting high. I do think that pot has medicinal benefits, and for a while I think it helped me with certain symptoms. But when you have a tendency to slip into psychosis, I’m not sure marijuana alone will prevent an episode. And some may argue that smoking pot can lead you into a psychotic break. 

I don’t think the pot smoking is the cause of my mental illness, it’s more complicated than that. But, I will admit that after I started sneaking to my car and puffing away on my lunch break, it got weird. It’s the paranoia that I started struggling with. I didn’t want anyone to know I was getting high and I was always sure that everyone could tell. It’s like I was pretending to be someone else, I was putting on a front. 

My mood was becoming increasingly more irritable. It felt like I had no time except for work and I was always surrounded by far too many people. It all came unraveled. In a way I started to feel as if I was too good for the madhouse that is Costco. 

“Just quit if you’re that unhappy,” Judith had said. 

My rational mind knew that the job was good and that I could even make a career of this. But my emotional mind balked at the idea, this was not the life I planned. I stopped going eventually. I knew I was drifting into the familiar realm of psychosis, and it showed at work. Strange conversations with co-workers, I wasn’t myself. I tried to work with my psychiatrist, explaining the best way I could that I was out there. But then I started missing those appointments along with work. 

I don’t remember a hospital visit this time, but everything still crumbled down around me. It was like I was tripping on magic mushrooms. Not exactly, but that’s the best way I can describe what my psychosis feels like. It’s like hallucinating, without any of the fun parts. It’s a bad trip, especially because it lasts too long. Sleep becomes difficult, which in turn only worsens your overall mood. I feel bad for the people in my life who have witnessed me go through these episodes. I’ve lost friends, ruined relationships, and caused chaos for my loved ones. These moments are also not great for your C.V. Employers generally don’t appreciate when employees go AWOL. I didn’t really quit, but I wasn’t able to communicate properly with Costco to explain that I was sick. How could I? I had yet to accept the fact that I was sick. Finally, there was nothing Costco could do for me, and they let me go. 

 Things at home were already strained. My slip out of reality only made things more difficult. Mom and Dad were in the middle of finalizing their divorce, which wasn’t exactly going smoothly. And don’t forget, I was a step parent. It’s difficult to be a parent when you can’t even take care of yourself. Sierra was a runaway train, she was growing up too fast. Sex and partying were now at the top of her priorities and we were struggling to keep up. 

Sierra had a difficult and unstructured upbringing. For one, her father Tony had died when she was only a baby. I don’t know what I would have done without my parents. She lived with her father’s family when she was younger, before eventually living with Judith. Judith admits she wasn’t always there in the ways she wished she could have been. A lot of the parenting came from Judith’s Mom and Dad, Sierra’s grandparents. 

We tried to bring Sierra to live with us in Clarke County, but she wasn’t ready for the country life. 

“It’s like the hills have eyes out here!” She exclaimed. 

Judith’s parent’s house was in Bealeton, Virginia. Not exactly the mecca of civilization. But, they did live in a neighborhood. Our country road, with its rolling hills and cow pastures was too far away from where she wanted to be. 

But we tried. 

I thought my sister Abby and Sierra made good friends. Sierra was a few years older, but Abby seemed to ground Sierra a bit, reminding her that it’s okay to be a kid. 

Sierra may still take some convincing, but we had high hopes that Clarke County would be good for her. 

It was her second night with us when Ray’s friend Tyler burst through the door. 

“Sierra’s gone!” He shouted. 

He had his skateboard in one hand, and was out of breath. 

We shuffled down the hall towards Abby’s room and slowly pushed the door open. Abby stirred for a brief moment, but Sierra remained unmoved. I could see her foot poking out of the bottom of the bed cover, her head facing away from us. 

“She’s right there,” I whispered to Tyler as we closed the door. 

“Pete, I’m sorry man. I saw her!”

“What, you been drinking man?” I asked.

“No, it’s not like that. I was skating over here from Ben’s house, and I saw her in a truck pulled over on the road out there. The guy was rolling a blunt and Sierra was in the passenger seat. I swear it was her. I ran over and tried to stop them, but they sped off when I grabbed the truck.” 

I couldn’t help but smile. 

“Well, Sierra is back there man. I wonder who the hell you ran up on though? You probably scared the shit outta em,” I said with a chuckle. 

“I swear it was her, Pete.” 

Well it was. The next morning, after Sierra hadn’t come out, we realized we’d been duped. We pulled the covers back and there was a full sized head with hair, pillows, and a stuffed sock made to look like a foot dangling past the covers. I don’t know what you even call that head, I guess it was for practicing your braiding or something. There was a flicker of pride for my step daughter. I was impressed that she had gone to such lengths to fool us. For me it was that stuffed sock, I swear she was there. 

But the reality was that she was gone. It escalated into a full on Amber Alert. She was a missing child. It was a few days, but she eventually ended up back at Judith’s parents place. She had bested us for sure and solidified the fact that we had lost control. 

She went on living with her grandparents. We thought maybe it was unfair anyways, to ask her to leave her school and friends for us. She was running the show unfortunately. 

She called Judith late one night. She wanted us to come bail her out. She was at a hotel party that the cops had broken up. So we both hopped in the car and made our way to the hotel. I wasn’t happy, but you want your kids to be able to call you when they fuck up. Don’t you? 

We pulled up to the scene and the cop released Sierra to us. Then she started going on about needing to go back to the hotel room for her book bag. 

“All my school stuff is in there, I have to go get it!” 

I wasn’t buying it. 

“Well, I’ll go in and get it then, Sierra. You’re not going back in there.” I explained. 

She wasn’t happy with that. As I opened the door to the car and climbed out, she cold cocked me right across the jaw. Maybe you haven’t been punched recently, but I had to fight back the physical urge to retaliate. It’s a strange sensation. Everything in your body is saying let’s go! I didn’t hit her, but the adrenaline was flowing and I just needed to get away. So I walked. 

“You figure it out,” I called back to Judith. 

I sat on a bench near a back entrance to the hotel, puffing on a cigarette, when Judith pulled up in the car. Sierra was nowhere to be seen. 

“Come on! Let’s go home.” Judith called through the window. 

I shook my head and tried to imagine where this runaway train would take us next.