OP/ED: Depressed mode
By Nik Green
With the devastatingly horrific accounts of John Fulton’s murder becoming public, I find myself taking a moment to look at depression and the varying degrees of severity manic depressives (technically bi-polar affective disorder) experience. “What do you know?” you ask. Well, let me tell you before you embarrass yourself in the forum below. Though undoubtedly nowhere near the realm that Kimberley Noyes reached, I am certainly familiar with manic depression and it has taken a long time to realize and manage it. The fact that most folks will offer up a pat on the back and a “cheer up” was, for me, not helpful in the slightest. To brush off the dark cloud above I finally realized, at damn near 30, that those little “perks” had been more the problem than the cure. Various medications also have not been anywhere near the cure with the exception of one. Another barrier in the realization process was my reluctance to accept that something quite simply wasn’t firing right. “Yeah we can see that,” say my readers. One local doctor put it so simply that I changed my mind on the spot and agreed with him. “If you were diabetic would you avoid me because you don’t think you need insulin?” Obviously I said “No,” and he replied with a “Well, then,” and continued to help me drastically from that moment on. Years of stubbornness eradicated in a sentence. If only all ailments were fixed so easily. Various medications found me unable to lasso the creative and somewhat dark side that I would sometimes need. (See: EVERY COLUMN I’VE EVER WRITTEN). Another manic depressive friend (we hang out in groups apparently) of mine found the same side effect, in that her creativity went out the window, something she was not willing to leverage. I find a healthy mix is my personal way of choice. My bass guitar playing puts this in perspective for me wonderfully as I find I need to be mellow enough to think through the upcoming notes, while also being able to channel some inner dark in order to create and improvise. The “glass is half empty,” state that accompanies depression is plainly a far cry from the extreme lows that Noyes found herself at, but I really do wonder what kind of hole Noyes fell through within the mental health system. At the same time no doctor in the world could foresee such a senseless and psychotically motivated act, but one would think it should take signs far less dramatic and horrific before she was placed in a facility to receive the help she needed.
With the last moments of Fulton’s life been made public we all cringe at the thought of what happened.
I choose to temper those thoughts by backing up a few hours more that day where John was doing something every young boy loves. Opening a new video game.
Having been around since the inception of video games and still being just as much of a kid as I was at 12, I can tell you without uncertainty he was in a great place one last time before the incident we all now picture took place. He’s up there playing that game somewhere and that is what I choose to see every time I look at his picture.
