navasota behavioral health unit
this place seems so foreign to me, like maybe i'm dreaming it all or something. no shoes, they took them away because of the shoelaces; funny mirrors that aren't made of glass so that when you look in them your image is all distorted. being constantly watched 24/7. none of the doors lock except the ones that leave the unit -- trapped, in other words. no music, nothing to write with unless i ask. and i don't ask; i'm afraid to speak. silent for so long that i begin to question my ability to say anything at all. early to bed and early to rise because i've got nothing else to do, doped up on so much medicine that i can neither think nor see straight. i'm the only young person here. david, a recovering alcoholic, who makes me laugh even though i don't feel like smiling. lots of grandma-aged ladies who fuss over me and tell me i'm pretty. but i don't feel pretty.a room almost empty except for the bed and some shelves. counting the flowers in the wallpaper -- 48 big pink ones -- out of boredom, laying on the bed that first night i was here and crying out of fear and loneliness. my tongue going numb because of the meds, numb till i can't speak and then till i can't even keep it in my mouth, as though it has a will of its own. sleepless nights and nightmares. listless days long and lingering, more medicine, raining and cold outside but i have no knowledge of the weather -- not enough windows. i haven't been outside in a week. and the time i did get to go out: tiny purple flowers blowing in the wind on this one sunny day. the feeling of choking on a stone and then feeling my fingernails scraping against stone and my toes turning to rocks; it feels so real that it's painful. urges to sleep all day but attempts to fight it. trying to count my blessings late at night, but to be honest God seems so far from this place. i want out more than anything else.
choosing what i want for dinner; the food's ok. my mum brought balloons and the nurse took them away from me because of the ribbons, which i could strangle myself with. john comes to visit and brings books for me to read, packs of gum and dr. peppers and fries from McDonalds, his arms and his voice. he brushes my hair when i'm too tired and doesn't mind that i fall asleep while talking to him. bingo during group sessions and bingo with my family, coloring pictures and weaving baskets during occupational therapy (arts-and-crafts in other words). having my vitals checked countless times a day. being threatened with an IV if i dont start eating. counting the hours till discharge. reading magazines, the same ones all over when i finish them. falling behind in school and trying to catch up. learning that you can love people here but you have to keep your distance because everyone has to climb out alone, and they'll pull you back down without even trying if you let them. slippers on everyone; it's funny. exercise group in the mornings; that's funny too. some people have more sanity than others. the awkward embarassment of having to be checked over by a nurse while wearing one of those funny open-backed hospital gowns. wearing a short-sleeved shirt and not minding so much. my cuts are healing. hairy armpits and legs, scruffy faces on the men (no razors here). watching sermons on TV on sundays, but the preachers have good things to say. having to pour cans of soda into cups because aluminum cans are too sharp. antipsychotics and antidepressants. people crying loudly and i can hear it from my room at night. Village People during exercise group. mum brings my blanket from home. there's a puppy outside and i miss my daisy. we color a picture of a rose and have to write down four good things about a rose. shots in my "hip" meaning in other words my bum. zyprexa and geodon and so many other meds that i can't say the names of. they have restraints here. always cold, especially my hands and feet. i have to ask to use my toiletries and the first day i was so shy that i woudn't do it; i sat in my room until a nurse came and asked if i needed something. breathing exercises. therapists who make me silently angry when they laugh at me. my window in my room looks out on a brick wall. but at least i have a window. and so much more than can be put into words.
it's enough to make anyone go crazy.