This room was where I spent most my time in the psychiatric ward, oh and caring for the fish, big fat trout in a tank.. It was really nice cause those speckle fellas reminded of hours spent staring into the creek watching them play in the stream, silly they are. By this time I had full privileges and many reslonsibilities though small like cleaning my room and gathering patients for talk group time. We’d just finished playing pictuonary, the best game ever when you have a few silly people like myself playing. We all laughed the loudest and felt safe together in a way, we all knew someone broke us and we didn’t chose this. Every afternoon after rounds and therapy time with our doctors I would make my way to the place I could escape.
with time i was a grey hair within the ward. I got to help patients like washing their clothes and bringing them food and drink. The young mother that moved into my room with me had been my roommate for a few weeks. Dear thing was catatonic most the day but here and there she would talk to me, such a lovely girl, I took care of her my heart hurt for her. Every day around this time her husband and mom would bring her newborn son into visit. So for privacy I would go create something. The art room was absolutely full of everything anyone could need to build anything, never did this country girl see such a sight, Awesome!! A young man had joined the ward a few weeks back he was in full mania and no one could seem to break it so he would be there awhile. This kid was funny as shit! He never stopped just wired and a comic. He would do anything to make even the sadest alert person smile even if a twitch. He played hacksy sack or built puzzles all the time he couldn’t sleep and the staff gave him projects, this kid was a anazing artist, everything he did was shockingly amazing. So being we two amigos had one diagnosis the same we totally hung out. Brad would come and visit on every lunch break and he enjoyed this kid so much, he just Shawn in here.
Everyday I just chose by interest and mood what I would do, paint, birdhouse? Clay? Possibilities endless. Mathew was his name only 16 but already on track for stability his mom and dad never missed visitation time. We had a cassette player in the art room and we were allowed to play music. Most days Mathew would play Simon and garfunckle and even now when I hear their songs I smell that room. We would sing and have a blast, highlight of the day of structured routine. The nurse would come and lock up all the rooms, music, tv, computer, art all of it except the rooms wing, kitchen and smoking area. Those who smoked smoked a pack a day in here. It became habit to make a coffe decaf yuck and smoke. Any bit of normalcy is the main goal. I could not sleep, most nights I paced the wing stumbling fighting those antipsychotics I had every 4 hours the bedtime pill was a horse pill and it only slowed me down. I saw Alison’s face everywhere my infatuation with her death only grew, in a way I was jealous as messed up as that’s sounds. When your told this is forever and the outlook for a healthy remotely normal life was gone, the thought of emotional torture and trauma to haunt Ya what would you do? I was going to be a whole new level of crazy,, shiver my whole life in agony. It’s a life changing moment you realizing it’s not mind over matter it’s fucking fact I’m defective. A burden to anyone that knows me. A burden, it all was worth nothing, should have died that day as a baby. Doctor should hsve just let this defect go before suffering. These thoughts like ink stains my record of self hate.
the night past and Dawn would rise on our walkout rooftop garden it was beautiful! I always watched the mourning dawn peek up this was the longest hour of the day. The sun laughed and I coukdnt hear it. Even skin sensation was gone. fans pressed again the cold windows breathe steaming the glass. This is forever!!
can I fight any longer? To be forever hiding and lively in action of family the weirdo in the community. No matter how much I run I know this very demon would always be behind the curtain. Forever running.