TUNGSTEN

I wouldn’t say I had a terrible childhood, or a bad childhood for that matter. I was always surrounded by a big family, had a lot of inspirations and big dreams, a great group of friends and had wonderful loving parents with a fulfilling childhood. The trauma I struggle with is an ‘I vs. I’  issue with my health battles. 

That breakdown was embarrassing, overwhelming, cathartic in a way; the beginning of a downward spiral. The depression had been building up for a few months. Each year in September, at the start of a new grade, I always went into the first day of school with a good attitude. It was more like “I’ll show you!” kind of attitude. I felt inspired, motivated, ready to finally overcome this ADHD thing and set myself up for success. A couple of months into the year that dream would begin to crumble. In the weeks to come after that breakdown in the nurse’s office I was carefully watched over by my teachers who had been made aware of what happened. We had about two more months left of school and part of me stopped caring but still tried to keep up the school work for my own dignity and most of the time I was just thinking about how I could've - and maybe even should’ve - left this place a long time ago. Why not? I mean, I had permission from my dad long before I was able to drop out. I stayed. When I started consistently doing better in school in attentiveness, happiness, and academics, I was eager to keep going. The truth was my grades were better within that last year as well, but it wasn’t enough for them. I never took my SATs. I never took my senior portrait. But I still had hopes to reach that last day and walk up on the platform in that cap and gown and that would be enough for me. Say what you will about the achievements but I worked so hard - the medications, the doctors appointments, the round-the-clock check in’s and documentation by them and my teachers, the extra classes, the assistance, the emotions and insecurities I developed because of growing up with ADHD, the list goes on. 

But I stayed. 

I still took my final exams and, as of writing this, I’ve never bothered to check on how I did on them. It didn’t matter anymore. The day after the exams summer vacation began.  I remember it was a cloudy day and I sat down with my mom to talk to her about my decision. There was a very strange vibe knowing this wasn’t actually a summer vacation anymore .. It was the start of adulthood. Talking to my mom was very different from talking to my dad. My mom was more practical while my dad was more carefree. Our conversation was very calm and, to my surprise, my mom was actually very supportive and understanding. As much of a relief that was, it didn’t really do much going forward. Even though it’s what I wanted and I knew, and still know, that it was the best decision, I had a lot of anxiety around it. It almost felt wrong in a way. Maybe I expected to feel free or something, but I felt lost. Everyone else was going off to college and left high school on a good note.

I went back to working at Adventureland which kept me busy but my mood was not like it was the previous season.  I took a new role which I definitely loved a lot more than working on the rides and I was still determined to feel important and successful. I always loved working at Adventureland and I always felt like it was a great job for a high school / college kid. They would market themselves out to NYC and sometimes we would get kids from out there to book a field trip at the park but for Long Island residents it was definitely the local hot spot for a gathering place. Employees grew up here, had their birthday parties here, or you would just hang out here when there was nothing else to do,  and when you became an employee you worked alongside some of your classmates. Siblings even worked together.

So,in 2007, I was working in the gift shop. There were two different stores; one on each end of the park. The main shop was an actual store like the food court and the other was a large outdoor gazebo-type stand - like a mini version of our store - divided by a wall and on the opposite side was the ‘Balloon Pop’ game. NOBODY wanted to work that gazebo. Everyone had a different reason to avoid getting sent to the gazebo - too hot, too crowded on that side, the balloon pop noises, claustrophobic, etc. I volunteered once and from that day on it became my store. Normally two people were supposed to be assigned to work the gazebo shop but I always took it on alone at will and would receive compliments from management, fellow employees who ‘could never’ and even customers who every now and then would put in a positive customer service review to my manager directly. I opened the gates every day, set up the displays, took inventory, cleaned the counters and dusted any merchandise, and enjoyed the outdoors. I got so comfortable there and good at my job that we all joked and said it was my store. I had no managers or supervisors in there, it was always just me manning the shop alone like an employee and supervisor rolled into one. I made decisions on whether someone authorized refunds, rearranged displays, during downtime I had meaningful conversations with parents, helped kids pick out the best candy, etc. I knew that place inside and out that there were days where it poured the previous night and just before pulling up the metal garage door-style gates I would kindly ask everyone to step away from the gazebo because I knew a bucket of water was about to pour out of those gutters once the gate reached the roof. I got to be a pro at timing the Balloon Pop game behind me: when customers were trying to ask me for service they would get a few words in and I'd pause them for a second,  they looked confused as I looked away and held up my finger “one second” and then POP! Wait for the echo off the painted metal beams of the ceiling, laugh as I shift my attention back to the customer who was completely startled and we both laughed “You knew that was coming, huh?” they asked .. “Oh yeah this goes off all day long, the hissing just gets louder and then I can't hear people anymore before it pops.” They didnt know how I put up with it but it didn't bother me. Some days I had to climb on the Balloon Pop game and hang up plastic inflatable balloons of various pop culture characters. 

On days I stayed late I loved watching the park lights turn on from the rides as the sun set, that pink streak in the blue sky and dark orange sun,  and the sound of the rides, the smell of the food from the food court and snack stands drifting throughout the park during peak hours. I loved everything about it. Some nights at closing we would close up the shop early and I would go help park the bumper cars which was my favorite thing to do .. I loved the feeling of driving as a person who couldn't drive. That year we started hosting a summer concert series and the stage was set up next to the main gift shop. I remember one night we had this one artist perform who had a hit single on the radio at the time. As we were prepping for the event, I wanted to stay and volunteer at the concert seeing as I thought it would be fun to see it and work with my friends at the same time. My supervisor insisted on assigning me to the gazebo shop - where I always was. I knew it was with good intention - she wanted to give me a break and since that side of the park would be “dead” for the night there was nothing to it. But I wanted to do something different this time and work alongside my team at the concert. I made myself a baggie of candy and sat on my stool completely bored and sad  at the register hearing muffled music  from the other side of the park. Looking back I know it was a nice gesture to give me the night off basically without having to lose money but I think I got so good at staying busy and feeling important that I wanted to be rewarded by being included. 

Summer came and went. Most employees went back to start the new year of high school while others went back to college. I spent my weekdays remaining at the park mostly in the gazebo or filling in on the rides as we kept one half of the park open during school hours. My last day was the last week of October. The weather became gloomy and things started to get quiet. All this free time started to hit me that I had nothing to do and nowhere to go most of the time.

If you’re wondering why I titled the essay “Hostage Situation” .. now that I wasn’t in school anymore I was no longer required to be medicated. At some point in my first year or second year of being on medication, I started to feel sick a lot - couldn't eat, felt insecure, etc. and I’d get really upset about how it made me feel. My parents gave in and let me stop taking it for a bit until my school threatened to take them to court and said I couldn’t come to school without it. I was off the medication for a while now, and I quickly became unable to cope with this. Some people will argue that “withdrawal” for ADHD medication isn't real .. but it is in a way… maybe not like a deathbed addiction but your brain does become used to it. I was now 18, fresh out of high school, and living without support and medication for the first time in 8 years during the experimental age of mental health, medication, and therapy … and completely unprepared on how to cope. 

So here I was carrying along in this same world with new eyes and trauma unraveling. I started noticing my emotions for the first time that developed over the summer. It felt like I was in a fog. Most of the time I was hyper but in a paranoid way, then I was hyper in a grandiose way. I had more episodes of breakdowns to myself late at night with my music on highest volume. I started to drink and smoke weed around this time to self-medicate and sometimes I would drink on the streets of New York City. As dark as things were, sometimes I got a major adrenaline boost out of it and replaced my medication. I was coming out of two years of finally finding success with my medication, I was on top of the world, and now I was back to the bottom. The saddest part was that I didn’t know who I was. I kept wondering where my life was heading. Hader had several box office hits and was busier than ever and I was sharing that “success” I had with my website with someone else who started one and I was offended because this felt like “my thing” as selfish as that sounds but it was an ADHD trauma response of sorts. I was also afraid Hader was going to be too busy for me now, he wouldn’t need me anymore and everything would be different. 

The longest I’ve ever stayed awake, my personal record, is 3 days. It’s not something to brag about though. It occurred during my darkest days. I was downright manic and the experience was polar opposite of where I was at just two years prior when I was in a similar position but in a different state of mind; happy. During the happy periodI would stay awake until four in the morning on a school night, needing to be up by 6:30 at the latest. All my lights would be on. I was already dressed … or sometimes still dressed ... right down to my shoes. I’d be engrossed in various activities fulfilling my youth and replacing grief with excitement, savoring any positivity. After school I’d nap until dinner when my mother would walk in the door from work. 

“Kel, are you OK? …Kel? … Kelly!” 

I woke up.

“What are you doing?” she’d ask worryingly. 

“Making time go faster!” I would eagerly respond, preparing for the weekend in the city.

But in 2007 I had a lot of fears keeping me awake. I wanted to stop time. I wanted to turn off life itself. Sleep wasn’t much of an enemy, but my biggest problem was that life was moving fast and it was becoming unfamiliar to me and I just couldn’t hang onto it. So I spent those waking hours trying to salvage time and be proactive but all I did was worry about it, worry about who I’ve been and who, or what, I was becoming. 

Earlier in the year, Hader messaged me the next day after an SNL taping. He apologized for being tired and not being very social because of it. I was worried I was pressuring him and in some ways I did get mad when I wouldn’t hear from him because I couldn’t take anymore grief .. this environment was my escape and I couldn’t lose it. I was afraid of change. He prefaced the email with a ‘bits of business’ subject line and later in the email told me we needed to have a chat with his management who loved and supported the site but had concerns over the branding aspect of the name and how people would get confused that it was ‘official’ so they sent him to tell me that. I remember a year prior when the site initially launched in his first season it was practically an overnight success. There was no social media, it was just plain old fashioned word of mouth. Hader smoked at the time and would come out to have a break and say hi to all of us and stop by again on his way to the car after he clocked out of rehearsals. He would hang out for so long that his wife would call him to ask if he was ok. There were days people would come up to us and talk about the site, ask both of us for pictures, he would point me out to people who talked about it to him and didn’t realize I was there. Other days he would tell me people are coming up to him in coffee shops and record stores and talk to him about the site. We built a Q&A chat room where he would answer fans questions when he could and we built other interactive features he would participate in. I remember I got seated in a rare section of the SNL studio for dress rehearsal and I heard my name being called from the row in front of me a few feet over. I went to see what they wanted and they told me they were Hader’s dad and sister. Hader SR told me how proud my dad would be of me which means he told them about what I was dealing with. It was really nice to feel so loved and cared about by something I loved and cared about, someone who changed my life in this way at this historic place I’d loved for so long. I thought I could hide this depression thing really well, no one really knew how badly I was struggling. I had so many distractions to keep me busy and I always got a high from being at SNL. Sometimes doing this for Hader did feel like a job, though .. and with trying to graduate school in the Spring and trying to push away the grief that was setting in about my dad the year before, I didn’t want to let anyone down. I felt important … something I didn’t feel back home when I lost my opportunities to thrive and find positive reinforcement due to my ADHD. No one could take that away from me here. 

At the time, the Writers Guild of America strike was happening. Practically everything was on hiatus and so was Saturday Night Live and I was also out of school now. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Both of these things occurred at the exact same time and it was so quiet and I had never felt more lost in my entire life. It’s funny how I wanted time to go faster, then wanted to stop time once these changes brewed up some depression and now I got what I wanted and life turned off but really came to a scary, screeching halt. 

Throughout my childhood I always had problems and bouts of insecurity but I was able to do something about it, come up with things to help define myself and fill those gaps, or had people to help me along. I always found ways to keep myself busy or tried to make life exciting. Say what you will about school - everyone is eager to graduate and leave that bullshit in the past once and for all, right? But maybe that’s what I liked about school. The person most likely to drop out is the one who actually enjoys the routine and socialization that comes with school. As I think back to those years now as a young adult and being single, it’s probably what I miss most about grade school, how easy it was to just hang out and form relationships and not realize the time. I was eager to leave school too when they told me I wasn’t graduating. A teacher had overheard that my plan was to skip out on returning in the fall and I told her I wouldn’t be able to come back without the classmates I grew up with. 

Now I’m laying on my couch in the dark, coincidentally without them, thinking about my future. 

Everyone experiences depression for different reasons and depression itself affects people differently. But if there was one way to describe how I felt I think it’s similar to the dead of winter. I think it’s because that’s when it was at its worst and how it left such a distinct feeling: Fresh out of high school, no obligations, a frigid January when the holidays are over and it’s just too quiet, I go for a walk at the break of dawn when the sky is purple and orangey-pink and the snowy icy landscape ahead of me is captured in a Tungsten filter, I can smell fireplaces as I tread along the suburban wooded area. My experience with depression is like being stuck in that wintertime daylight-to-nighttime transition. 

So, yes, I have stayed awake for three days. Then I managed to stay in bed for an entire weekend without getting up (except to use the restroom, obviously .. if bad enough). I laid there in the dark with only the brightness of the TV. Mind you, they were completely unrelated and happened at different times. My inability to care for myself was growing, I was truly lost. Some might call it “cabin fever” - but I knew it was much more than that.

I started to think about it more. I started to torture myself with negativity. 

My dad’s death. 

All my failures instead of successes. 

My popularity. 

My personality. 

My relationships. 

My beef with certain people which I ended up digging into and read them all day long, all night, and developed a growing sense of self-hatred that grew into being suicidal. I started self harming (which is often described as doing it for the purpose of being alive) but for me it was to beat myself up. I started losing my hair, more weight, I couldn’t really wake up whether I slept or not. 

The days went on but it was like time never changed; stuck in Tungsten. 

My boyfriend and I would try to spend every weekend together. But that winter was tough for our relationship so we still managed to keep our love afloat by being penpals in the meantime; Ichat and emails and texts. I loved him, he was my best friend but I couldn’t always show it or tell him. I started to question our relationship. I started to question myself most of all. I worried about myself - whether I needed help and whether I wanted him to be there for me or not.