Mental Health ...

I just watched a great movie called the Soloist. If you haven't seen it yet I give it two thumbs up.

But it got me to thinking about 2/3 thirds through the movie about My life and how I could relate to the Los Angeles Times writer in the movie. Dealing with an individual that wasn't all there mentally and what I have gone through in that regard.

Steve came to mind, but there have been others. I got to live right next to Steve. He was always taking meds for his illness. I'd wouldn't want to think what he would have been like if not for those meds, But I'm not sure they had the mix quite right back then. I knew Steve long Time ago. The stories I could tell and may just cover some of them.

I will Never forget one year near Halloween. Probably 2 weeks before the 31st of October, Steve came over to my house. It was probably about 50 yards from his front door to my front door, if even that. Steve cam knocking, well, his way of knocking. He'd come to the front door and stand. We , the wife and I, usually had the front window curtains open, and Steve had to walk by the window to get to the front door. If I didn't see him walk by, well ... Anyway, this day I saw him walk by and then stop by the door as he would do.

I wanted to show him my new Mask I had gotten for Halloween, so I let him in. He sat down and didn't say anything, as was usually the way it went with him. I had to start the conversation.

Me: How ya doing, Steve?

Steve: Ok.

Me: So whats new?

Steve: Nuttin.

Steve was a great Talker. Not. Unless he had had his coffee. Oh My gawd. The it was the complete reverse. I think the caffeine did something to his meds. because you literally couldn't hardly get him to be quiet. But this day he wasn't talkative.

Me: I got a new mask for Halloween. Hang on, I want to show it to you.

I went into the next room and got the mask and put it on. It was a great hairy latex creation that fully covered my head. It had a great open mouth with sharp latex teeth and a large red tongue and I had add some paint to the teeth and added some red to the pointy ends of the teeth to make it look like blood. I thought it looked awesome.

So I walked into the living room with this thing on. I was going to let out a loud growl, but thought better of it. Good Thing. Steve had gotten up out of the chair and was facing the large window facing to the west, by the front door. I just stood there, just inside the living room, and waited for him to turn around.

He finally turned and saw my mask, and he freaked out on me. He let out this blood curdling scream and stared shaking and fell into the chair where he had been sitting and covered his face with his arms. He let out another scream. Instantly, I took off the mask, threw it into the room where it had been and tried to comfort him. He was shaking something fierce.

Some ten minutes later I finally got him to uncover his face. He looked at me and wanted to know where the monster went. I explained to him again and again about the mask, that it wasn't real, that it had been me.

Once he calmed down, he got up and walked out the front door with out saying a word. I followed him to our gate and he yelled at me not to follow him, to stay away.

We never spoke of the mask again. Steve had to of been in his late 20's. I spoke to him the very next day and everything was cool, just like he hadn't freaked out or anything. I lived Next to Steve for about another 2 years.