So, Who Wants a President That Has Faced Involuntary Psychiatric Care?
If you ever feel inclined to find dirt on me, I’ll make it easy for ya.
My wrongs and “wrongs” are well-documented without any payment gateways or barriers. No need to pay for a background check, unless you think I’m leaving anything out.
Joke would be on you, though.
(The background check version is much less entertaining than the self-chronicling, in my humbly pretentious opinion anyway.)
Why do I let it all hang out, anyway?
Simple. We are all human beings and we all fuck up.
Some of you ultra-private types out there amuse and bewilder me. The more spotless you appear, the more skeletons I assume are stinking up your closet.
Should the world really believe you have no problems just because you do not submit and reveal what you hide and conceal?
Anyway, I am writing this with a mini-golf pencil at a psychiatric facility called Stone Crest.
This is the first time I’ve been to one of these places that was not named after trees (Harbor Oaks, Pine Rest…).
Stone Crest. Like toothpaste with extra minerals, or a key to the back door in the first Resident Evil game.
By the time I leave Stone Crest, my stay will have been around three weeks.
That was a hard pill for me to swallow at first, oy vey.
Speaking of pills…
Yeah, I’ve got pills.
So, how did I get here, anyway?
Before getting to the answer, let’s wax nostalgic.
In September of 2014, I tried to get institutionalized but was turned away because I was not deemed a perilous enough threat to myself or others. Even though I told the doctor that I would probably kill myself if they didn’t let me in.
Now it is March of 2018, and I haven’t had any suicidal ideation or desire to hurt others, but I’ve been committed involuntarily.
How did this happen?
The following is an open letter to Mt. Hope Elementary School:
On March 14, I was walking down Mt. Hope, near where I grew up. I did not attend your school as a child, but would sometimes walk there with my parents and rock out on your playground equipment in my early years.
Of particularly enduring interest to me as an adult, is the skywalk that crosses Mt. Hope. It’s always been special to me, and I enjoy traversing it whenever I am in the neighborhood.
On March 14, I had no intention whatsoever of stepping onto your school property. I was simply going to cross the skywalk while Vlogging about some deep thoughts and feelings.
As I pulled my iPhone out en route to the skywalk, I heard a whole lot of commotion coming from the schoolyard due just north of me.
There was screaming that did not sound playful; it struck me more as fear, shock, and horror.
Because it is my desire to reduce fear, shock, and horror in this world, I instinctually moved towards the noise.
That is when I realized that the object of their terror was me.
My heart split into a billion pieces in that moment. That is not an exaggeration. I was devastated. The experience was highly traumatic for me. I realized firsthand the depths to which our society has been damaged by violence.
I tried to send signs of peace and love to the children, but they were already convinced of my malicious intentions.
As an empath, I nearly collapsed from dizziness and sadness, as the children yelled, “STRANGER DANGER!” and some adults directed them to the rear of the schoolyard.
Finally, I walked away from the school as quickly as I could.
Nearly in a state of shock, I made my way to the skywalk, where I removed my shirt. I was overheating and profusely sweating.
Being shirtless in 40 degree F weather is not unheard of for me. I study the work and habits of Tony Robbins, and other multi-millionaire servants to humanity, many of which emphasize the benefits of adapting our bodies and nervous systems to a wide spectrum of temperatures.
My decision to go shirtless would bite me in the butt shortly.
I ended up walking south, past the house I grew up in, and then to Scott’s Woods park.
That was where the police found me, shirtless and slightly disoriented.
I explained what happened and they took me to St. Lawrence hospital to have my vitals tested.
Little did I fathom that I’d spend the rest of my day bouncing from hospital to hospital until a bed opened up at Stone Crest, all the way in Detroit (I am from Lansing).
As of writing these words, I have been at Stone Crest for something like four days.
It could be much worse, but in many ways I have been stripped of many dignities and rights.
It is hard for me to understand or determine why I have been here at Stone Crest for so long. I did not and would not put any soul in danger.
I can safely assume, I believe, that one of your staff called 911 and significantly embellished the details of what happened.
I know that we live in intense, scary times. But I’d like you to try to understand how unfair this situation has been for me.
You are making a mistake by letting the media turn your teachers and students into uncaring automatons.
Please be aware of how your reactions may affect others in the future.
Perpetual love and respect,
Andrew L. Hicks
Now, please let me make the goal of these writings clear.
It is no secret that many aspects of “the system” are broken, inefficient, and largely ineffective.
As someone who was refused treatment when I needed it, and that has now been forced into treatment against my will, I have accumulated a specific myriad of complaints along the way.
My intention in pointing out the system’s flaws is anything but masturbatory. With the flaws in focus, we can work together to reinvent a system that transcends the occasional lunacy of our healthcare system when it goes haywire.
Life within Stone Crest can be extremely disheartening. As of the writing of this passage I have not been outside in over six days.
There is an emergency exit at the rear of one of the building’s corridors. When I put my nose up to the corner of the door and sniff, I can actually taste some fresh air. I shared this revelation with a couple fellow patients.
At first they did not want to taste fresh air, was it was deemed a cruel tease. After a few test breaths at the corner of the door, however, we all agreed we’d found a sublime treasure.
Humans are made to live outside. Or at least to have access to outside.
Being inside for six days is a form of hell, and the hell gets worse when I take into account that I will not go outside until I am discharged.
And when will that be?
No one has even yet to estimate.
The average stay here is 7–10 days.
My doctor here, Dr. Roberts, only visits this floor once per day, somewhere between 9–11 PM.
My Seroquel kicks in around 9:30, often nullifying my chance to speak with my doctor.
When I do meet with Dr. Roberts, our visits are short and mostly meaningless. He has not attempted to diagnose me, yet my drug cocktail grows stronger each day.
Dr. Roberts shakes my hand like we’re best friends. Even leans in for the hug.
Then he proceeds to ignore, patronize, and condescend me, puts me on more pills, and then vanished into the ether, leaving me with no real answers or sense of progression.
Doesn’t he understand that the slightest sense of progression could make all the difference in the world in a place like this?
In my nearly seven days here, I have had two unseemly outbursts.
The first outburst earned me what the inmates and I refer to as the “booty dart.” They overpower you. Drop your pants. Jab a syringe into your ass. Pump it into you. It’s supposed to straightaway knock you out.
I was so high on adrenaline and vitriol, that the booty dart didn’t have any distinguishable affect on me for several minutes. They left me on the booty dart table for my “cool down” nap, but I immediately got up and followed them into the main hall.
I could see the fear of God on Dr. Roberts’ face. He did not know me then, and still doesn’t know me well enough almost a week later, to know that I am a pacifist through and through, would never attack a person, and that my pacifism extends so far that I am starting a no-kill pest control business.
If I were my own antithesis, I could have smashed his face in.
Instead, I resorted to a one-liner in which I imagined I sounded like Bruce Campbell: “Is that all you’ve got?”
The second outburst was directed at my mother and best friend who came to visit on March 20th, my birthday.
We got into a fight about DXM.
For the past seventeen years, I have been preachin’ the gospel of dextromethorphan (the active ingredient of cough medicine), as a chemical that can revolutionize healthcare, accelerate human evolution, and save the world from itself.
Let’s just say that my mom doesn’t see things that way.
Mom has a tendency to blame DXM on many of my problems and our family woes. I have seen this same trend happening in many of my friends’ families too.
Many of us have experienced something on DXM that simply cannot be fathomed or accepted by our Baby Boomer parents.
I’ve written at great lengths about DXM, and will continue to do so.
For further reading (on both pros and cons of DXM), please refer to the following links:
- Meaning of life (a reason for the pain)
- Self-absorbed psychonaut
- Balancing the poles
- Ending the war on drugs
Of course, my mom’s perception of my DXM use would barely mean a damn if I did not live with her.
I turned 37 yesterday…
I need to have my own life and be free to make my own choices, and I need to let my mom have a life that she’s comfortable with too.
Alas, for now we’re locked in a stalemate.
I am not physically, or even mentally addicted to DXM.
I have a very cause and effect relationship with the chemical.
Its dissociative properties have allowed me to cure my own depression and bi-polar disorder, by taking DXM just one to two times per month.
DXM is also an “idea drug” which empowers its user to host a deluge of world-improving ideas and epiphanies.
On the grandest level, DXM is an evolution-accelerator that promotes harmony and Oneness with all things.
But some people can’t get past seeing using DXM as merely “overdosing on cough medicine.”
The stigma is immense.
Big Pharma and people like Dr. Roberts reinforce the stigma and clump DXM use in with illicit behavior.
Dr. Roberts went to med school and has special letters after his name, and Big Pharma uses their seemingly infinite financial resources to bolster their own credibility in the public perception.
So why would my mom listen to me?
She wouldn’t. That’s been established.
But that doesn’t make me wrong, and I am never, ever backing down on this, because this is important.
I have seen the future, and it is so much better than the past.
In the future, Big Pharma as we know it is history, transformed beyond recognition.
In the future, people like Dr. Roberts either evolve, or are delegated to empty quackdom.
The future is indeed all about evolution. That’s what we’re here for…
As it stands, Ketamine (a dissociative that is similar to DXM in many ways) is a clinical option throughout the U.S. to treat depression and other mental disorders.
MDMA will be normalized for clinical treatment for depression by 2022.
California is working on legalizing psilocybin mushrooms.
Medical marijuana is practically ubiquitous across the United States, and Federal decriminalization is only a matter of time.
LSD is back in the fray for research into curing mood disorders.
DMT and Ayahuasca are making way to legal status for the purpose of spiritual and personal development.
Big Pharma as we know it today has a vested interest in the hindrance and obstruction of these trends.
Well, money, of course.
When people are empowered to be the vanguards of their own health, then the companies who profit from keeping people sick face massive losses.
Fact: We can cure cancer. Right now.
Fact: We can cure depression. Right now.
Fact: Big Pharma wants you to think I’m full of crap. Right now.
Fact: Big Pharma can suck my sack. Right now.
Big Pharma is non-sustainable as it stands, because evolution is going to obliterate the greed on which it stands.
How much longer can we justify corporate greed over human wellness?
Now, look. If people like my ma go to their graves thinking that DXM is the devil, then that’s their prerogative.
Even if the whole world changes around my mom, I will defend her right to see things how she sees ‘em.
But as for me, I need to move on.
I need to do my part to make a world that works for everyone.
Even a world that works for the folks behind Big Pharma…
The HICKS/YOU 2020 future is one where no one gets left behind. No one. Not ever.
And how do we build that future?
While I do not have all the answers yet, I do have absolute faith in our ability to invent the answers together.
That’s what it’s all about. Togetherness.
We are all vital. We are all affected.
It’s called hicks/YOU, because it is YOUR time to shine and build the future that YOU have always dreamed of.
In the future we’re making, everyone wins. Always.
But for now, I am institutionalized.
And when I get out of here, I am going to be living with someone who thinks my favorite way of maintaining stability is evil and vile.
Getting to a point of self-sufficiency is imperative.
For my own sake. And it’s almost funny thinking that someone who lives with and relies on their parents as much as I do, wants to run for POTUS.
There is nothing particularly typical about my journey.
And I get closer to not only self-sufficiency, but total wealth and abundance, all the time.
My entrepreneurial endeavors are cutting-edge and promising.
As of March of 2018, the HICKS/YOU 2020 campaign is hopefully on the crux of major funding that will allow us to buy a mobile office and travel the states, connect with communities, do speeches and outreach events, and help populations in need, including people and non-human animals facing homelessness, abuse, neglect, and marginalization.
As soon as it is feasible, I will be visiting West Africa to assist in some community development endeavors. This is pertinent to my US Presidential campaign because I refuse to see the world in terms of divisive borders.
People facing unspeakable abuse anywhere in this world, are my brothers and sisters, mothers and daddys, sons and daughters.
For updates on HICKS/YOU 2020’s West African endeavors, please request to join the Facebook group, God Bless Gambia.
One of the utmost imperatives of HICKS/YOU 2020 in 2018 is to establish the World Peace Party, which will run the Andrew L. Hicks presidential candidacy.
The World Peace Party’s importance extend entirely beyond me, as does my candidacy itself.
The WPP is about creating a viable alternative to the Left and Right, without actually competing with the Left and Right.
The WPP serves as a bridge, not a wall. It will connect the Left and Right, while also extending outwards to peacefully and profoundly network with the entire world.
To validate the World Peace Party, we’ll need volunteers to hit the pavement with pens and clipboards all across the United States.
I will be recruiting volunteers from sea to shining sea during the HICKS/YOU 2020 speeches, outreach events, and rescue operations.
If you want to get involved early, just respond with a comment or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org and ask for a volunteer application.
Now. Let’s say I beat all the odds and become the next President of the United States.
My presidency will most likely look differently than anything that’s come before it.
The precise framework is still in the invention stage, but imagine a triangular team of presidents. Imagine in the next election and beyond, the public votes in one from the Left, one from the Right, and one from the World Peace Party to mediate between the extremes.
Should we also elect leaders from the Libertarian Party, Green Party, etc.?
Who knows. Maybe.
Personally, I think the World Peace Party will fulfill those parties missions more capably than those parties are able to themselves, but ultimately WPP is about uncompromising fairness and inclusion for all.
Please remember, you are just as much a part of this candidacy as I am. Your feedback is cherished and desired at all times.
Together, we will combine our ideas, thoughts, feelings, and desires, to turn our beloved Planet Earth into a resplendent Utopia.
I believe in my heart of hearts and soul of souls that the world is ready for this. That’s why I am here, and why I will not back down.
We are evolving in real-time.
Isn’t that exciting?
I think it is epically exciting.
So, Who Wants a President That Has Faced Involuntary Psychiatric Care?
I hope it’s obvious by now that my involuntary psychiatric care is not a symptom of any particularly grueling weakness or wrongdoing on my part.
This actually works out rather well, since there’s some Psych Ward segments in my upcoming book, Reversion. Maybe this is the Universe’s way of hooking me up with some grade-A book research.
My analytical mind is always doing its thing. Always analyzin’.
Ever looking for a way to improve the system. Sometimes it takes a deep dive into the system’s bowels to figure out exactly what’s wrong and what to do about it.
One of my goals as President it to make sure that nobody ever has to put up with the same amount of bullshit I have when it comes to mental health care.
We’ll get there.
The effort is worth it.
Our lives our worth it.
Everything is worth it.
Carry on, beautiful people.
Originally published at Andrew L. Hicks.