Eric Walton – TEDx Talk TRANSCRIPT
First of all, I would like to thank TEDx for giving me this opportunity. No doubt, at least one of you out there has asked yourself some variation of this question: what can a 16-year-old possibly have to teach me about the world? I don’t blame you, by the way.
You’re right for asking that question. But to answer that question, I would like you to turn to the person next to you. That person next to you knows something that you don’t. That person next to you knows what it is like to be themselves. They know what it is like to have lived their lives.
And now you might ask yourself, “Why is it important to know what it’s like to be this 16-year-old spouting philosophical nonsense?” Allow me to give you some background information.
My name is Eric Walton. At the age of 13, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, after my mom wrote a slightly unimportant blog post that went viral on the Internet. In this blog post, which she titled, “I Am Adam Lanza’s mother,” she said that she was the mother of a child with a mental illness.
A few days later, I got the diagnosis. And I’m here today to explain just what that journey has been like. It all started on a stormy night when I was five. Except it was actually a kindergarten classroom.
Most kindergartners go in, they have fun, they draw with crayons or whatever else they do in kindergarten. My kindergarten class was a little bit different. There was an evacuation plan in place.
Normally, you have those for things like hurricanes or earthquakes. Our class had it for Hurricane Eric, a very, very small but destructive force that every other week would go into a violent rage and tear through the classroom.
The rest of the kids would be forced to leave, because I was kind of irrational, and wouldn’t. The teachers knew that something was off. My parents knew that something was off. Even I knew that something was off.
I’d been told that in kindergarten you’re supposed to make friends, but I was at kindergarten having everyone be afraid of me. So, they took me to see some doctors, and at first the doctors were just saying, “Oh, he’ll grow out of it, it’s just a phase.” “It won’t stay around.”
And for the next two years, there would be some variation of this kind of phrase. Then, I get to be the age of seven; and now, I haven’t grown out of it. Surprise, surprise.
So, now they take me to psychiatrists, you know, those doctors who were infamous for running inhumane experiments on hospital people in the 1950s. They don’t do that anymore, just FYI. These psychiatrists didn’t really know what was wrong with me either.
They threw different things around like oppositional defiant disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, ADHD, or maybe it’s the freaking autism spectrum. We don’t know.
So, we’re just going to diagnose you with something and stick you on some meds, and if it works, it works, if it doesn’t, we’ll stick you on other meds. The picture on your right is a picture of me at the age of seven, holding a butterfly.
My mom loves to use it. The picture on my right is a picture of me at the age of nine, holding a stuffed animal. The very first thing you might notice between these pictures is the weight difference. At nine, I’m fat. At seven, I’m not.
See, medications are great when they work, the rest of the time, they come with some horribly nasty side effects. Weight gain was the least of my problems. These glasses – nice souvenir from another such medication. I really look good in glasses, though, so I’m not complaining.