10 Days – Part 2

He simply said, “Okay.”

While we waited for an appointment with a psychiatrist, we tried to return to normal, whatever that was. And today, I’m grateful God didn’t let that happen. Our “normal” had become something I never want to return to.

Our new normal now included Eric traveling to Virginia for his growing business and coming back to North Carolina to deliver pizza at night. Also, not ideal, but as much as it didn’t feel this way, we were on a path to a better normal.

My normal was promoting my fifth children’s book, Sebi the Colt, alongside a friend I had written it for—someone who had lost her daughter and grandson in a house fire the year before. Even in the midst of my personal chaos, God gave me the words and talent to create a book that honored two beautiful souls and helped others grieving their loss.

Promoting the book, and the social anxiety that came along with it, only made my fear of returning to full time work that much worse. But in hindsight, it gave me the confidence to boldly walk through the door when opportunity knocked. At one time, the thought of me going back to work felt about as doable as wanting to be intimate with my husband again—both impossible to imagine.

Ok back to pizzas. One night Eric’s good friend who he was delivering for called me after a shift concerned about his behavior. Eric was struggling with simple tasks. At one point, he got out of the car to hand a customer their pizza, and the car rolled down the driveway. I hope you are pausing to laugh here. He struggled with navigating from house to house. My husband, a highly esteemed tugboat captain couldn’t tell North from South, or East from West.

But he could tell you how to grow marijuana. 🙄

Who was I married to? Why did I stay? What was I doing? I digress.

As the weekend approached, Eric’s behavior started to shift. He began making strange comments again. When I told him that I thought we may need to talk to the doctor, he insisted he was fine. In fact he was great! To appease me he said he wanted to call Kate, our sister-in-law for a third party opinion on how great he was. Kate was his homey. She’s my homey. His biggest fan. Mine too. I get it. I want to call Kate right now. 🫶

Kate answered the Facetime call, and Eric immediately exclaimed his love for Jesus Christ his lord and savior. While this may have been his truth, it was not something you would hear him say out loud. She had never heard it. I had never heard it. I knew, and Kate knew, this wasn’t Eric, despite his known faith in God. And as much as I love God too, and as much as I wanted to tell others about Him, this wasn’t the way I wanted that to happen.

During the call, we all decided that Eric, Ethan, and me would head up to Virginia for the weekend to assess the situation that was Eric. Plus, I was scared.

I didn’t want to see his magnificent swan dive again. I was good on that.

When we walked in the door, it didn’t take long for everyone to see he was off. Not knowing what else to do, they packed him a bowl in hopes it would calm him down.

Back in the day, an occasional smoke was the norm. I’m pretty sure my little brother learned to smoke weed by hanging out with me and my friends. And if it wasn’t me, then we can blame our sister, Ashley—who, side note, went to high school with Eric and was well aware of the skeletons in his closet. And yes, she tried to warn me. And no, I didn’t listen.

You see, when I first met Eric, he didn’t smoke or drink. He had quit that lifestyle, again. Unfortunately, me, my friends, and my family dragged him right back in.

🚩

So Eric smoked. I no longer enjoyed it. Eric, in his special way of excess, made me loathe it. But right now, I was willing to try anything to prevent another hospital visit, so this time, I kept the weed Nazi caged.

But then—he was too calm. He sat there eerily silent, watching the rest of us laugh at one of our son’s favorite YouTubers—whose antics always made us hysterical.

Not a peep. Not even a giggle.

Hell, he can’t even be quiet in his sleep.

We didn’t know what realm he was in. Later he would tell me that he was having an out of body experience and was able to predict what we were all about to do and say.

Ok there buddy.

We headed home on Sunday to prepare for Ethan’s first day of the 5th grade. Monday morning getting out of the house was a challenge as Eric for some unknown reason decided to put a great deal of importance on Ethan finding a video game that was missing from its case. No one was playing video games. This was not important. Everyone who has ever had the pleasure of trying to get their child to school on time will agree that any extra non-essential tasks are not helpful.

But we made it out the door, and after dropping Ethan off at school, we went for a walk on the beach. During our walk, Eric hounded me with a barrage of questions, following up each one by stepping in front of me to stop me and ask, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

I don’t remember any of his questions. I’m sure they were along the same lines as eleven days prior; when he asked, “What happens when we are born?” 😳

Now I’m an extremely inquisitive person. But to this day, I have zero desire to Google this question.

After the beach, we returned home and tried to take care of some things around the house. He tried to water the plants but instead wanted to talk to them and stare at them in awe proclaiming their majesty. Oddly enough none of them were marijuana.

I asked two friends that live in the neighborhood to come over and see if they thought his behavior was concerning. I’m sure they felt they had won the lottery in that moment. But they came right over, and it didn’t take long before I was getting nods of affirmation. I hated the realization that he was potentially headed towards another episode, and I didn’t want to make the decision I knew I had to make alone. Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to.

School was about to let out so our friends left to go pick up Ethan. I didn’t want him to see his father this way. Not again.

Eric tried to cut the grass, but the task, just like watering the plants was beyond him. Someone else had invaded my husband’s body. It was so strange to see the man I had known for 14 years become someone completely different. I didn’t know how to handle him, but I had to figure out how I was going to convince him he needed help.

While Eric was “fixing” the lawnmower I broke down and called my mother. Sobbing into the phone I told her that I couldn’t do it. She knew what I meant and told me my father was on his way. I didn’t know how I was going to convince Eric that he needed to go to Virginia with my father. I knew he needed psychiatric care, and he wasn’t going to get that where we lived.

He decided he wanted to take a swim and asked me to join him. So I slowly slid into the water to join my husband on the lily pad float and pretended everything was kosher.

No sooner had my toes hit the water, I noticed someone walking through our garage towards the backyard. I quickly climbed up onto the dock and went to see who it was. It was a sheriff.

As strangely as Eric’s behavior was, he was calm. I was afraid when he saw the sheriff this could change things. I was surprised they were there, and quickly directed the officer back to the front of the house where she told me my brother had called them. I explained to her what was happening, and soon after EMS arrived. At this point, Eric was out of the water and had walked up front. Clearly, he wasn’t happy. He didn’t want to go back to the ER. And with his mental state as it was, I’m not sure what exactly this was going to translate to in his realm. I was able to convince him to let them check his vitals which were all fine. The sheriff explained to me that they couldn’t make him do anything unless he posed a threat to himself or me. Then they left.

I told him my father was on the way and that he was acting strangely again and he needed to go to the hospital in Virginia. Growing up with his father’s mental health struggles, he knew exactly what that meant and that added fuel to the fire. His manic state started to increase and when my father pulled up Eric scurried to the driveway faster than I had ever seen him move before. My father could barely get out of the car before Eric was in his face. I watched from the window as he placed his hands on my father’s chest while maniacally gesturing. My father calm as always, playing along, letting Eric get it out. I stood inside the house sobbing aloud “I’m sorry Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

Eventually they came inside and together we convinced Eric that he had to go to Virginia. But first Eric tried to convince my father to take a bong hit. Seeing my father with a bong in his hand was something I never thought I would see. Ever.

Somehow we made our way to the car. Eric’s mania was increasing. While in our bathroom, waiting for him to decide if he wanted to take a shower, he stood on the edge of the tub and proclaimed he was a ninja and jumped towards me. He then pushed by me and ran out of the house, still only in his swim trunks.

The only way I could get him in the car was by promising we would stop and see Ethan on the way out. I rode with them to the local ice cream shop where he was helping out with his friend, and mother. I will forever be grateful for the friends like these who helped me with Ethan this day and the days that followed. Without judgment, they rallied around me and Ethan.

I can only imagine how unsettling it must have been for Ethan and everyone at the shop, watching Eric dash around completely unhinged. Thankfully, the place wasn’t crowded, and the visit was brief.

The two-hour drive to Virginia felt anything but short, with Eric FaceTiming both me and Ethan nonstop—jumping between the front and back seat, hanging up, and immediately calling back. At one point, he insisted he had to use the restroom. My father, knowing full well what was at stake, pulled over, fearing it might be the last time he saw his son-in-law.

Ethan and I headed home, praying that my father and Eric would make it safely to their destination—wherever that even was. That drive must have felt like an eternity, and I’m sure my father would agree. I had no idea what the plan was, only that I needed to stay behind, take care of Ethan, and give him some sense of normalcy and comfort.

^{Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. —PSALM 73:23}

Meanwhile, up in Virginia, my family anxiously awaited their arrival—my parents, my sister, my brother, and Kate, all bracing for what was coming without really knowing what that would look like. Everything from this point forward was in their hands. I wasn’t there. I stayed back in North Carolina with Ethan, praying for peace and safety while the people I love had to step in and do what I couldn’t. Later, I’d hear the details—how Eric crawled through the house on his hands and knees, carrying on full conversations with people who weren’t there. And how my brother had to make the call to have him arrested. A decision he would hate himself for, despite how necessary it was. He told me later that watching Eric get handcuffed and driven away felt like betrayal—like he was turning in a friend, not helping one. But I know now, and I pray he does too, that it was one of the most loving things he could have done. Love doesn’t always look like comfort. Sometimes it looks like courage.

Thankfully, Eric saw the whole thing as a game. Still dressed in nothing but his swim trunks, he willingly placed his hands on the hood of the police car, playing along. The game continued inside the car when he somehow managed to maneuver his handcuffs from behind his back to the front. One of the officers, clearly impressed, even complimented him on his dexterity as they made their way to Virginia Beach Psychiatric.