Missing the Big Picture Read online

  Amid my change in mental health status, I decided to quit my job at the Gap and work for Friendly’s making ice creams and running the cash register. I left Gap for two reasons: first, retail business was slow after the holidays, and second, a lot of the preppy kids from my class had started working there and they made me feel uncomfortable. Of course, I now laugh at the fact that I actually wondered to myself, Why are all the preppy kids working at the Gap? When I started working at Friendly’s, I was working both Friday and Saturday nights, plus Sundays during the day, for a total of twenty-five hours a week. I also was taking four college courses.

  On one Monday during math class, the white presence struck again. Now I was feeling the sensation with a fourth person. Tyler, Carmine, and Eric weren’t in this math class. There were a lot of boys in this class, so it took me a while to figure out who it was, but I eventually thought it was a friend of my cousin Alex named Gabe. Alex used to talk about Gabe a lot, since they both worked together at the same supermarket. I would hear Gabe talk in class and knew who he was, but I had rarely ever talked to him before. The first time I heard his voice, I was unsure. The next time this occurred, Gabe came in late and the only open seat in the class was in front of me. It was soon after I had bought the Penthouse magazine, and I told the kid sitting next to me that I was going to let him borrow it. So, in my mind, I told Gabe, “You know I’m going to give him the Penthouse right now. You better look behind you.” It must have been a coincidence, but at that moment, Gabe turned around. “So this is really going on between us,” I told him in my mind.

  Still, it was about a week into this—whatever “this” was—and I hadn’t told anyone about the voices. I was trying to do my best to ignore them and push them out of my mind, but it was impossible. I dreaded going to school, and I would purposely stay up late so that I’d be tired for school—so tired that I wouldn’t concentrate on the voices. It didn’t work. By late March, I felt that I was communicating with Gabe during first period, Eric during second period and fifth period, and then Tyler during eighth and ninth periods.

  Third period I had sociology, which once again had only a few boys in the class. Shortly after hearing Gabe’s voice in math class, I began to feel that I was communicating with Zach, who actually had the same last name as Carmine’s girlfriend. I knew they weren’t brother and sister, but they were related somehow. Soon after that, in English class, I began to hear another voice, that of a junior named Henry. Henry and I had never talked before. All I knew was that he was friends with Carmine; I didn’t know how they knew each other.

  The only class periods that I didn’t hear somebody’s voice in were Spanish, sixth period, and lunch, seventh period. The last voice that entered my mind was Sam’s. This was different than the rest of the voices that I’d heard. Everybody else I would never talk to. Sam and I would talk occasionally, and I would see him when I worked at the Gap in Colonie Center. Ever since I made the move to Friendly’s, I didn’t see Sam as much. When I started hearing his voice in my mind, I hoped that he’d acknowledge that this was happening between the two of us and I would realize that I wasn’t a schizophrenic. The next day after I heard his voice, I said hi to Sam and he said hi back—then we stopped talking to each other.

  On Thursday, April 12, 2001, it was Holy Thursday, the last day before our spring recess. I was so happy to have a break from school; for the past three weeks, I’d been hearing voices in my mind and had only one class period in which I felt that somebody wasn’t reading my mind. Since I’d begun to hear the voices, I’d had trouble concentrating in school and never talked to anybody, except Randy during seventh-period lunch, which we spent in the library. This day was also my mother’s birthday, but I got up in the morning and didn’t even say happy birthday to her—I was that engrossed in what was happening in my mind. I remember hearing Tyler’s voice at the end of the day say, “I’m a good son. I would never forget my mother’s birthday.”

  I was able to spend my spring recess in peace; since up to that point I only heard the voices in school. I worked over the break at Friendly’s and spent some time hanging out with my cousins. I kept hoping that when I went back to school, everything would just be over. The funny thing was that for the past month, none of the boys that I felt I was communicating with were absent. On the other hand, I started making up excuses why I couldn’t go to school and was absent close to ten times in a three-month period. By spring break, Eric’s voice would tell me that everyone in school knew what I was thinking, and of course my thoughts were gay, and he was spreading gossip and lies about me. Eric always spread rumors about me, so it would make sense that his voice in my mind would tell me that as Eric did the same in real life. In my mind, and real life, Eric and Carmine did call me gay. I used the adolescent rumor mill to my advantage and said, “Carmine’s calling me gay, but he’s the one having anal sex.”

  In my mind, I asked Eric why he was so mean to me when we were in school. He replied, “My friends idolize me; they would believe anything I said about you.” Regardless if this was real or not, Eric was David Koresh or Jim Jones to his friends. These were all masculine teenage boys, but they lacked enough confidence to think and act independently and to have healthier friendships with Eric. I remember once Eric actually injured Carmine in the hall when Eric ran up to him and said, “Give me a piggyback ride!” He then jumped on Carmine, hurting Carmine’s shoulder.

  I returned to school from spring recess on April 23. In first period, I noticed that Gabe was late. I was praying to God and hoping that Gabe would be absent and that the voices in my mind had ended. About ten minutes into the class, Gabe took his seat and I heard his voice in my mind say, “I’m back.” On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of that week, I spent every period except lunch feeling as if I was communicating with one of my classmates. Eric’s and Carmine’s voices were telling me that everybody in the school knew, and that was why all the other students were laughing at me. I did notice some other kids laugh at me. Once when I was in gym, this tough, rugged hip-hop-savvy senior kept making jokes and trying to get me to steal a base when we were playing softball. I said to myself in my mind, “How does Rob know who I am?” Eric replied, “Everybody at school knows who you are now.”

  On Wednesday, April 25, 2001, I went home from school and decided to relax on my couch. It was five o’clock when I began hearing Carmine’s voice. This was odd. I would hear Carmine’s voice every day in the hall but only when we were in the “range.” This time I wasn’t at school; I was at home. Now I felt like I was talking to Carmine through our minds when we were miles away from each other. Carmine told me that he was at work at a shoe store in Colonie. Eric worked at the same store, and Carmine said Eric would report to work at six. Before I knew it, at six o’clock, I felt like all three of us were communicating through our minds—Eric, Carmine, and myself. It just like three-way calling on the phone, but it was happening in my mind.

  That night I just took the voices in stride. I later went to the gym, and I remember Eric’s voice telling me to go into the locker room for some strange reason. Then when I was lifting weights, I heard Eric ask Carmine, “I could lift that. Couldn’t you do that, too?” That night I went back to sleep around ten. So for six hours during the day and about five hours during the night, I felt that I was having telepathic conversations with my classmates. It totally preoccupied my mind. When this was happening, I looked like I was daydreaming and I couldn’t focus on anything. It was affecting my school life, and now it was affecting me at home. I still didn’t tell anybody that this was going on.

  The next day, my mother woke me up since I had my physical for college. The first thing I remember hearing in my mind was Eric’s voice saying, “Luke, it’s 7:00 a.m. You should be getting ready for school.” I was ready and drove to my physician’s office, still hearing Eric’s and Carmine’s voices in my mind as I was driving. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office in a gown when I heard Eric’s voice say, “He’s going to feel your bal
ls and make you cough.”

  After my doctor’s appointment, I went home and tried to read a book but found that I couldn’t concentrate. That night, I had to work at Friendly’s. I had only been there a month and was still learning the job. It was very fast-paced, and I had to make all of the ice-cream orders. I managed to check people out at the register, make the ice-cream orders, and bus tables—all while hearing Eric’s and Carmine’s voices.

  Friendly’s offered me a break from the high school drama. Most of the seniors had part-time jobs where their friends worked, so some of the grocery stores and restaurants around the high school were saturated with seniors. My co-workers at Friendly’s were great. The only part of the job that I didn’t like was that some of the seniors hung out at the restaurant. Most girls in the senior class considered dinner at Friendly’s an upscale date. One time, my co-worker got into an argument with some of my classmates about not being able to eat off the children’s menu. Afterward, she reassured me by saying, “Those girls are natural-born bitches.” It was good for me to be in different atmosphere where those types of girls who fought about ordering off the children’s menu were seen as absurd, rather than funny.

  On Thursday night, I kept wondering what was going to happen the next day at school. Would I hear Eric’s and Carmine’s voices all during the day as well? Or would I just hear the other boys in my class that I’d been hearing for over a month now?

  The next day, I woke up again to Eric’s and Carmine’s voices. By the time I got through homeroom and into my math class, not only was I hearing Eric’s voice, but also Carmine’s and Gabe’s, as well. It was like the four of us were having a conversation, but it wasn’t in person. The same thing happened during all my class periods when the other boys were there. Eric actually got upset at Sam when Sam said he didn’t believe any of the rumors that Eric was spreading. At the end of the day, during AP Chemistry, Tyler said, “You guys should be nice to each other. You have to live with each other, and Luke, don’t kill yourself.”

  It was that Friday that I had actually started thinking about killing myself. The voices were too unbearable to live with. When I finished AP Chemistry, I went to Spanish to make up an exam I had missed during one of my absences. When I accidently wrote on my paper me toca la, the teacher told me that me toca la translated as “I touch myself.” I could hear Carmine and Eric laughing in my mind. As I drove home, I noticed that Eric was in a car a few feet in front of me, and I could see that he was smoking. Eric didn’t have his own car, and he didn’t need one. Plenty of people were available to give him a ride. When I noticed that Eric was smoking, I could hear his voice inside of my mind. “Of course I still smoke. I started in eighth grade, and you better let us out.” We were both in cars waiting to get out of the school parking lot.

  When I got home that Friday from school, I sat on the couch and began seriously thinking about how I was going to end my life. I had a plan: I was simply going to drive my 1994 Chevy Cavalier into the garage, close the door, and go to sleep. Then I would never have to hear another voice in my mind, and I could be free of all the torment that I was going through—going to school every day with this happening, not being able to live a healthy life. I could sense that both Eric’s and Carmine’s voices were scared, and Carmine actually said to Eric, “If he kills himself, the joke is over and I am never going to talk to you again.” After some contemplation, I decided not to do it and went to work at Friendly’s as scheduled. It wasn’t that I had decided not to ever do it; I just put the idea on hold. Plus, I think I knew my work needed me for that shift that Friday night. When I got home from work, I kept praying to God that my mind would be clear and that I would never hear the voices again.

  On Saturday, my mother decided to take me out for breakfast. I knew that she was worried, as it seemed like I was always staring into space. She asked me what was wrong, but I didn’t tell her anything. I just said that I was having some trouble in school and didn’t want to talk about it. On Saturday, the voices continued. Eric told me that he was eating at McDonald’s with Carmine and Evan and Dustin, their two friends from Saint John’s. Eric’s voice kept telling me, “Tell me something that would make me believe that I’m reading your mind.” In reply, I told Eric to tell Dustin and Evan that the young brother at Saint John’s, Brother Raymond, used to watch South Park. Eric told me that Dustin and Evan still didn’t believe him.

  On Sunday, I woke up again—not to an alarm clock, but to Eric’s and Carmine’s voices. My mother and I went to church together, and when my mother encouraged me to pass the church bulletin, she told me to pay attention because she knew I was distracted. I finally told my mom that when we got home from church, I needed to talk to her. She could never imagine what I was going to tell her.

  I gave my mom a hug, and the two of us sat on the couch together. I told her that I started hearing Carmine’s voice in January, and then in March other voices joined in, until the conversations in my mind had lately been occurring nonstop. My mother listened in silence, her eyes growing bigger in disbelief. When I was finished, she told me, “Well, at least you can’t get in trouble for talking.” Then she told me that people can’t read my minds, that telepathic communication has never occurred, and that I should see a psychologist. I agreed to see a psychologist, but I argued that the voices were real and that the whole school knew this had been going on. She tried to reassure me that this couldn’t be so, but I didn’t believe her. I even told her that my cousin knew, and she got angrier with me and said that was impossible.

  I had no choice but to go to school on Monday. Once again, I was talking telepathically to three or four people in all of my classes. I was so behind on my schoolwork, and I just wanted to get out of high school as fast as I could. That Monday night, I went out with my mother, Anthony, his mother, and his children to celebrate his mother’s eighty-sixth birthday. Also in attendance were Eric’s and Carmine’s voices in my head. Once everyone was eating his or her meal, my mother took me aside and said, “You’re not really here, are you?” Even though I could hear everybody laughing and joking, I was paying little attention to about the conversation; the voices of Eric and Carmine occluded my mind.

  The next day—Tuesday, May 1—I woke up again to the voices. I got up and told my mother that I just couldn’t go back to school. I wasn’t even focused in my classes; I was always somewhere else in my mind and hardly learning anything to begin with. My mother agreed. We talked about seeing a psychiatrist, and after I finished showering, I quickly opened the telephone book, and found the number for Capital District Psychiatric Center (CDPC). I was soon talking to a psychiatric nurse. I was very considerate, respectful, and calm as I began explaining what had been happening in my mind since January. The woman was sincere and listened attentively to all my concerns. At the end of the conversation, I was hoping that she would believe me. The nurse responded, “Well, I’m sure that this is all real to you, but that can’t happen,” and she encouraged me to come to the psych center. I called my mother at work and told her that I wanted to go to the CDPC. My mother had a meeting, and I knew she was scared and nervous for me when she decided to leave work early. As we were walking into the building, we saw a man walking outside, smoking a cigarette, and yelling, “Why do you hate all of the Jews, God?”

  I was expecting the unit at the psychiatric center to help me, but the receptionist told me that since I wasn’t actively homicidal or suicidal, I would just need counseling. I did lie when they asked if I was suicidal. I already had a plan mapped out, but I couldn’t tell my mother that I wanted to kill myself. So, I went home and my mother and I tried to find a psychiatrist that was covered under our insurance. My mother recognized the name of Dr. Roberts, the same psychiatrist that my grandmother had been seeing for years. My mother called him, briefly described what had been happening, and said that I was convinced I was talking telepathically to my peers every day at school. Dr. Roberts said that I needed to be seen immediately, and I made an appointment for F
riday morning.

  After my mother hung up the phone, she began to cry—the first time I ever saw her do so. My mother was always the source of strength in my family. Before my grandfather’s death, she and my grandfather would joke about the time my cousins called my grandfather because my uncle, their father, had too much to drink and had started hitting them. My mother drove with my grandfather to my uncle’s house. As soon as my uncle opened the door, my mother started beating him up until my grandfather restrained her. When she was growing up, my uncle would tell me that when he was playing baseball with his friends, everybody would yell, “Move in!” when it was his turn to bat. When it was my mother’s turn, all of the boys her age would yell, “Move back!” So I was shocked to see my mother cry and knew that she couldn’t handle what was going on. She wanted to make things better, but for weeks now I had been consumed with the voices in my mind and it had affected everything—school, my grades, my job, my social life—everything. Seeing her cry ended my suicidal thoughts. My mother cried and told me, “please don’t leave me.” No matter how much I wanted to end my life, I realized I could never put my mother through that.

  That night I went to Friendly’s and served ice cream. On Wednesday, May 2, Eric’s and Carmine’s voices were still with me when I awoke—for the seventh day in a row. My mother told me that I had to go to school and that June was only a month away. I knew she was right, as much as I didn’t want her to be. I was pleased when Sam and Gabe were absent. During those classes, I still heard both Eric’s and Carmine’s voices; they were always in my mind. During the middle of AP Chemistry, I heard Tyler’s voice say, “I think they left us.” It was only Tyler’s voice that I heard. I didn’t eat anything the entire day. After class was over, I went home to get some money, and then I went to McDonald’s since I had used my lunch money to pay one of my fellow students to do an upcoming math project. During the drive home, I never heard Eric’s or Carmine’s voice. When I got in the house, I called my mother and asked her to say a prayer that the voices were gone, since it had been about forty-five minutes since I had heard one.