What is a hospitalization exactly?
Well... it's no official dictionary definition but my own deffynition is it's like describing a mental prison, almost hell, of sort. You're seriously not allowed togo very far without supervision. Everything is controlled. You can't be trusted with a razor blade or nail cutters. While there they feed you well but you suffer from extreme boredom and are almost gaurantfunkenteed to be surrounded by inactive, severely ill people. It feels like you're living in a time capsule to a decade ago. Basically put, you can't leave by your own will... and there's just very, very little to do.. besides play cards ofc(!)
independent psychiatric evaluation
"I thought I was God"
So begins the journey of my (Tyler's at the time) major mental "fuckups" that go back to mid 2014. It all started when I started smoking weed ... nearly everyday ... for at least a couple months on end. Later add onto that: Adderall. Together those drugs, while taking a toll on my body, made me feel nearly unstoppable mentally. I was playing video games at the highest level I could imagine as well as interacting on people's streams at an extreme degree (read: getting banned for having too much of an opinion). Well, eventually I decided to abuse my prescription aka began taking more than I should at a time and snorting the addy while smoking weed. This eventually led to a form of psychosis where I started to believe completely absurd things that in way were true like telepathy and else.
For example: I dragged my Dad into the room and kept telling him that he was God. Like actually God (not god) because I came from his sperm and I was alive and if I wasn't actually God then it only made sense that he was the God of my reality.
This later led to a true break in which I was actually legit afraid that the world was going to end shortly because of North Korea, specifically I thought they were going to nuke the east coast of the US that very next day.
I also (don't exactly recall) made suicidal threats to people (I believe to be my parents).
The abuse continued until when I couldn't sleep and was seeing 'colors' late at night to the point I woke up my parents and they felt I was in need of medical help so they called an 🚑ambulance albeit against my will. They decided to keep me for medical evaluation and from my parents doing they had me sent to New Hampshire Hospital (NHH) for roughly 3 days. There I met Angel then came back to my parent's place to continue on with my life.
"Get on my level"
After leaving the hospital I resumed pretty much the same life I had before then, but biggest change being that I was now quote unquote in the system. I moved my desk up into my room (which had quite thin walls) between my parent's and and sister's rooms. I began streaming more so than viewing other streams with the launch of my Loturian channel. I put foam on the door and the walls to best avoid noise however no matter where I went in the house I could be heard. I pushed to have myself be placed in the basement but it would be difficult, cold, and loud.
I eventually grew incredibly frustrated with the lack of viewers and the fact that my family members seem to lack perhaps the same amount of depth when it came to internet knowledge which brought upon the statement that my family, mostly my mom, was "not on the same level". This furthered to Tyler (yes I'm attempting to distance myself) feeling like the following was the best idea to go about doing...
One day Tyler noticed his mom kind of complaining out loud that she had to spend the day to clean up a particularly dirty house that day. So, in his mind he wanted to help her but what he thought was helpful was seen to later be malicious and evil. So what exactly did Tyler do? Wel ... .. he went ahead and spiked his mom's coffee with a pinch of his prescribed medication of 60mg of Vyvanse. He later observed her for visual indications that she was acting any bit different but found v.little to none. He concluded after prying at dinner that night that it made zero impact therefore was a failure in his mind.
That night, since he felt like failed, he took it even further. He stripped down in his bedroom and started playing with his butthole for his time. He felt that his butt was some sort of gateway that had to broken and that it would make his association to that day and that memory stronger (which imho has worked). He also jizzed over a bunch of his belongings such as one of his trophies and a picture of himself when he was younger. . .
It gets worse. Despite already spiking his mom's coffee he felt he had to, in his mind, make up for the lack of results. So, he grabbed a nicotine patch and cut a piece off to place on her dad's old cross necklace to (in HIS* mind) protect himself from God's judgment. He stood in his bedroom doors entrance that led to the upstairs hallway connecting all the bedrooms for what seemed like an eternity. I questioned for what seemed to be like hours at the very early hours of the morning whether I should follow up with what I was doing. And I did.
Tyler took the nicotine patch, cross, and pajamas to his parent's bedroom and got himself ready to apply it her skin while she was sleeping. His goal? For the patch to actively affect him during her dream in the way it has affected him in the past... by causing very much technicolor, phantasmagorical, memorable dreams that were often lucid (reminder that I have never smoked a cigarette in my life). Upon entering she woke up and flipped over then quickly questioned what Tyler was doing -- he admitted to his plan then went back to bed.
The next day an absurd amount of guilt followed him after waking up. He had to tell his mom what he did before even trying to apply the patch. He brought her into her room and acting autistic about the situation saying the ACT bottle made him do it. She said she wanted him to go to the hospital and Tyler refused the request to go with, possibly because he knew that, once again, was "in the system" and that if he were to go the story would backfire* and he'd be forced to be put into the mental hospital psych ward at NHH once again. She decided to call the cops to which the ambulance came, put him into 4-point restraints, and brought him to the local hospital.
This time I stayed for roughly 8 days. I met some interesting people. Despite doing what I did I was allowed to stay on my medication however I was kicked out of the house and forced to live in a nearby town (where I later had a roommate named Josh)
"Trump this "
One day I (thought I) had a brilliant idea. I remember being at work at Canobie operating Over The Rainbow when my smartwatch alerted me via twatter that none other than Donald Trump was to run for the 2016 Presidential election. I had loved watching his various tv shows most notably The Apprentice. Not long after getting home I looked into it and I found out he was coming to near me have his first public appearance since life changing announcement the day before.
I didn't have long to "prepare". I typed up his entire speech by hand (boy was it long), I made a word cloud out it (the most common used word was people), I printed out pi, an emotion wheel, all the logical fallacies, and a few other less notable things. When the day came I packed my car much like how I did when trying to move-in with sodapoppin minus my computer/screens but plus a whole lot of nootropics.
What was my plan exactly? Well... I still am unsure what I realistically thought was going to happen. Maybe shake his hand and attempt to hand him papers he didn't want? Ultimately the idea was that I was going to join his 'team' and fly on his private jet around the country to speak from the perspective of a person born with the Internet age that could assist in creating memes for the world to appreciate. Yea. I deely* believed that then.. but knowing me should that be a surprise?
Well the obvious happened (if you can't see the pictures/video/articles to the side)... it didn't go all too well. I went with the intention to stream and get viewers so they could support me and help me if I were to get in any sort of trouble but there wasn't a solid enough connection to make it work. I also wore my foc.us headset thinking I'd present myself better because of it.
Turns out, I was one of maybe two other young audience members, of which there weren't even that many people for what I thought would have been a bigger deal. I got interviewed by the Boston Herald but they never posted my footage. I quickly, using my recollection, became so called manic and rambunctious in which I was yelling what I thought were appropriate things at to be discovered inappropriate times.
It didn't take long, as in before Trump appeared, that I was asked by some person dressed in pleb clothes to leave the room because he claimed I didn't have a ticket or sign in when I indeed had. That made me considerably irritable and just like that I was notably triggered. I left out of respect of the news coverage and social pressure but only the room in which the event was happening.
Because I wanted to get back in but physically was unable I resorted to lashing out at security staff and random people. Eventually I was putting my hands on people and taking local video of the ongoing confrontation. It didn't take terribly long for a circle of animals to appear around me, mostly in a silent observation manner. I continued and actually began to push to get back in but it was too late -- the police were on their way (WHICH BTW it amazed me how long it took for police to arrive when a potential President was in their city). I was grabbed by two incredibly unfit security guards and legitimately carried out the back door... but not without me using my chicken legs to grapple a sizable garbage can out with me. It's said I pulled someone's yellow Ty before I was completely held to the ground (overly so).
The popo finally arrived and I tried to explain what happened but I knew that nothing could be said in my state that would convince them to not arrest me. It's claimed I spat at the officer but since then all charges have been dropped. I was brought to the police station after the fact and stayed there for what seemed like an hour or so before my parents arrived to pick me up. I went home but not without feeling like that once again I failed myself (I cut my wrist in the waiting room, for the first time at that) but more importantly my parents.
That night I did what maybe I regret more than anything I've ever done in my life up until now. What I did to many would be considered unthinkable: I commited a form of a suicide ... .. yes, streaming career suicide. I streamed myself with the enormous amount of stuff I brought with me to the Trump event and laid upon it for the world to seen on Twitch and Beam (now mixer) as well as a couple other sites: naked.
Was I masturbating? no. However, if I remember correctly, I penetrated Chloe (my stuffed animal) and licked mustard off my penis (check the 1 page officially written overview at the very top): while streaming, on a bunch of Trump related stuff. I was, without question, banned from everyone of those platforms... presumably for life; although I was already perma'd on Twitch for the sodapoppin incident I think this just about made it a 0% chance to make it back on said site. I want to mention Beam allowed me back after asking for forgiveness after being there for a while they banned me again for having my shirt off (which is against their ToS).
That very next morning I woke up on the floor to someone knocking at my door. It was three police officers that wanted to take me in, once again, to the local hospital for evaluation. I explained to the person dedicated to speaking to finding out more as to what happened that previous day and night. She didn't like the sex with the stuffed animal part and how I talked about it. They once again came to the conclusion that I needed to be brought to NHH to be further seen by doctors to analyze me further and adjust my medication if need be.
This time I said for an entire month and this time they took me off my Vyvanse and Strattera and put me on Depakote. I was insanely unhappy with these 'plebs' and their inability to understand my actions and intentions. Once again I met some interesting people, some of which are in the relationships section (many are not). Upon release I gained a lot of much needed weight and learned of my love for playing cards. I wasn't able to go back to my previous living location because I was now being evicted for "spraying myself with pepper spray" and "flying a drone" both which seemed rather okay for someone to do, but whatever. I was of course forced to move locations but this time there was somewhat good news... I was now considered, by the government, to be "mentally disabled" as well as I was accepted on a housing
program which essentially made it so I could live without having to pay for my apartment and I'd receive a check every week... for in my mind because of just simply "trolling trump" ... but ofc there were previous incidents that brought the decision makers to that very nice conclusion.
"This is it for me... .. ."
Only a month passed that my fourth hospitalization visit came to be. I moved to a different town, more so a small city, where I lived basically in the corner room of a basement that was pretty much the definition of a small studio. I first attempted to land a semi-high paying job for my education level and was hired but first I had to pass a test... which I did not due to having smoked weed about a week and a half prior. I later actually landed a job at Best Buy that was just a few minutes from where I lived and worked there for about 3 days before having the following incident happen.
Before I get to that I wanted to leave a link for the MXE (a drug now which I believe is illegal in the USA) and the experience(s) relating to it.
Well, as you most likely have already read, I was taken off my ADHD medications most notably the Vyvanse. I felt that now I had less ability to concentrate and focus and because of it my gaming skills were suffering (I was no longer Diamond 1). I did what it took to see out it or something that's considered an equivalent to it on the Internet which turned out to be a grave mistake. I searched for Pemoline (a drug no longer on the market) and hoped to find it... and I thought I did but it was on what I refer to as the shallow web or basically you can google search and find it. To think it wasn't a scam (or in this case, a set up) is beyond me, but clearly I wanted it bad. So what do I do? I purchase some cheap-ass Bitcoin (2015) and went ahead and made said purchase.
Soon after I received an email saying that the cryptocurrency had been confiscated by the service I was using and that I was reported to the government for what I was trying to do. Rightfully so(?) I was scared shitless about the situation I now felt that I was in. I truly, truly, believed that the 'feds' were now on my case and that they were going to be there momentarily. And I wasn't wrong, a cop car showed up that night... but not for reason of attempting to make an illegal purchase but because I had (likely from tapering of my medications imo) been legit screaming in my apartment for a solid half hour.
When the police arrived and pressed the buzzer for my door I was still not done freaking out. By now I had ripped up grass outside while naked and had wrote a short msg on my mirror using my red hair dye. I thought I was done for, that I was going to jail or prison for what I tried to do. So what did I decide to do? Well something completely stupid of course.
I gathered all of my nootropics and placed them in a trash bag. I was still naked. I then proceeded to run around the apartment complex naked in search for some mythical way of escaping. I didn't have to go all that far to find someone getting out of their car. I tried to convince him to drive me somewhere to escape but he refused so I "attempted" to fight him to take his keys (thank god I failed) but only managed to rip his shirt (which I later had to pay for plus some). I continued on after he ran in terror. I, saw someone's light on on the second floor of one of the apartment buildings. So what did I do now? Well yes, ofc, I'm 6'2" so I climbed up and found the balcony entrance was open. I went in and searched for car keys but I came to think that I was already surrounded and there was no way out so I had to come up with something. I needed to think harder... I thought.. so I opened my bag of goodies and started popping nearly all of them one by one. It didn't take long for me to feel sick to the point of puking, in which I did.
You have to be asking as of now? Who was in the apartment in wee hours of the morning with the light on? Was it empty? Was it a married couple? A pistol wielding gentleman? No. It was a nice middle-aged woman so I discovered. But before learning that I went ahead and barricaded the exits in fear that there was an active search party looking for me by now. I set my computer up to stream what I thought was going to be the end of my life but (luckily!) there was no wifi to connect to. My plan was to off myself screaming:
so my last remaining moments would be remembered in hopes my name more so the word would carry on in some sort of fashion. It didn't turn out that way, even though I had a knife. She woke up. I sat on her bed (again, naked and importantly without the knife in my hand) and tried to calm her down saying I was not going to hurt her. She attempted to make a phone call and I told her not to do so so she listened. I told her I wanted to die but I wanted her to feel comfortable getting blood on her hands meaning that I wanted to be shot while in the position of threatening her. She came out into the main living area and began the process of calming down, reminding me as often as she could that I was a privileged white male with a background of mental mishaps and that I wasn't going to go to jail or prison for entering in someone's apartment or attempting to GTA someone's car. I refused to believe her at first but after she
made me some toast and hot chocolate I realized my fate... I was going back to the hospital... and so I did... but not after she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. The police quickly arrived, knocked down my barricade, and found me in the back room with a knife in which I was quickly told to drop the weapon, which I don't remember doing, so I was tasered. The rest is rather obvious history: I was brought to the local hospital, then brought to NHH, then made to stay over 3 months. All charges were later dropped.
I once again met a number of interesting people of all will not be mentioned ever (well, at this time)... except a staff member named Kevin
"This better be my last time here..."
I wanted to go see Ice Poseidon so badly that I sincerely wanted to drive across the country, roughly 45 hours, to live with him. In order to do so I had to talk to my med provider, my case manager, and my Guardian to tell them that I wanted to do so so I could actually so and get the appropriate permissions. I, somewhat mistakenly, admitted to not taking my meds as perscribbered to my case manager when I was explaining that I wanted to go with the idea that she'd truly understand (I didn't sleep that previous day, to be fair). She didn't say no to the idea and nothing happened right away. I drove home and received a phone called saying "you must report to the local hospital or else the police will escort you." So I did. And after waiting a long time and being held for a day, I was brought to the mental prison a couple of minutes away from the building. I stayed there for a little over a few days until I was release with no real change.
"This better be my last time here..."
Me being me I decided to order another research chemical since I was not quite happy with how I was feeling overall at the time. Essentially I needed a boost... so I ordered what I thought would be best for me: a stimulant, that was also a dissociative. Sure enough a week or so later and about $100 worth of bitcoin down... it arrives. The first thing I do is bring it to a club I frequent in hopes that someone would join me on my first trip but the scale was not working so I gave up and left. I went on a search for a scale that could go to .001g but no headshop sold such a thing nor did any regular store (I later found out a perfect place locally to get one).
So, I went home and did exactly what you would think Deffy would do -- I eyeballed the amount of powder that would hopefully fuck me up just the right amount and went from there. Gosh. It didn't take much to notice that it was very potent in such a small dose, and I had quite a lot of it.