Reviews Requested- Contains upsetting material - Stepping back into crazy
So as some of you may recall a few years ago I wrote a piece about my experience of being in an adolescent psychiatric unit and subsequently a piece about earlier in my life, and what led up to that admission. I have decided to write a piece now about my two more recent admissions and generally have a scoot over my life as I've experienced it. If no one is interested that is absolutely fine and I'll stop posting it, but as there was interest last time around thought I'd see if anyone wanted to read this. Do be aware of some self harm, sexual abuse, suicide and possibly eating disorder and so on triggers as well. As before I will post the story in small instalments as and when I write.
Ramble over, enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: Am referring to shades of grey in terms of sanity, not the more famous 50 shades we've been hearing so much about ;-p
The beginning of the end:
The day begins much like any other. I awaken, stretching, feeling each muscle gradually tense…then relax. I reach out lazily to ruffle Polly's (my dog) sleepy head. I feel a small, involuntary smile as she yawns widely and unashamedly, eyeing my intrusion into her slumber with ambivalence. I laze contentedly upon soft pillows and downy mattress for a while, staring into space, fussing Polly sporadically as I flip on the computer, wait for the light to shimmer from the screen and press play, activating the DVD drive and falling once again into fantasy. However nervous self doubt is beginning to worm it's way into my mind, niggling at me, making the warm familiar atmosphere overcast.
With the press of a button I pause the fantasy world mid-speech and turn my attention to a website, to some a mere internet phenomenon but to me a lifeline which has helped keep me afloat for nigh on 7 years. I click once and then again and immediately messages full of warmth and encouragement fill my screen. I pause for a moment, still taken aback, after all these years, that this wonderful collection of people, battered and bruised as they may be, are still willing to give me support, at a time when all I can feel at best is numb self loathing. They are offering me support for the journey that I am about to undertake. A journey, reluctant at best, back into the world of the insane, the many shades of grey which the mind so helpfully provides. A world in so many dizzying shades of grey. One I believed, naively perhaps, that I would never visit again. And yet somehow now I was packing my bags, putting my pride in my pocket and leaving this comfortable colourful and yet black and white world of sanity behind and stepping back into crazy. Back into the grey.
My parents buzzed around me, compassion pouring from every ounce of their being, sacrificing their own pain to help me with mine. We finally sat, waiting, hovering on the edge of our seats, waiting, waiting for the call to come. It finally came. There was a bed. I was moving back into the house of mirrors. My second 'madhouse'.
Last edited by Buttons. : 01-08-2012 at 08:05 PM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
I love your writing! Glad you are sharing again. *feels slightly stalkerish*
It's strange because your story seems to stick with me, the one you posted before, and it's sort of like when you read a good book, you forget about it for a while, and then you are reminded of it again, and yes...
Sorry if this makes you feel like you have a stalker, I lurk sometimes, and I guess, the way you write is really inspiring and you have a real talent. can't wait to read more. :)
*retreats back to lurking*
~Beauty without intellence, is a materpiece painted on a napkin.~
Everything was packed in order and we set off, the perfect nuclear family, shattered by the warhead of mental instability and an un-ignorable past. We stepped into the car, through the vortex into a world of greys and creams and bleached whites. Into perfect imperfection.
The journey was quiet, peaceful even, if it weren't for the elephant in the car, constantly reminding us of where we were heading. Every now and then my mum's hand reached back to hold mine, warm, soft, reassuring, despite her own fear. Finally the car turned gently into the road that would lead to the new heart of our family drama.
Last edited by Buttons. : 09-11-2012 at 08:43 PM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
Arriving at the hospital my parents and I stepped out of the car. I lit a cigarette instantly, focussing hard on the fiery glow, unsure of when I would next be able to satisfy the addiction. In paradox I also breathed the fresh air deep into my lungs, unsure of when I would next be experiencing this sense of freedom. Of basic liberty. Of choice over where to stand, which way to go, what to eat, when to sleep.
Slowly we made our way up the path towards the unit, falsely jovial. We arrived and buzzed to be let in. Once inside we huddled together on chairs in a warm but clinical waiting room, holding hand in hand, a three link chain, the three musketeers. My mind wandered back to 6 years previously, skipping the intervening years of wellness and relative normality to my first stay in a psychiatric unit, at the age of 14. How we all sat in a narrow corridor in a similar manner to the present, waiting as though for an executioner to deliver the final blow.
Pulling myself with a strong tug back to the present however, I tried to harness the knowledge of how different this situation was. Yes I was ill, but I was an adult now and as a family unit we couldn't have been stronger. I squeezed both my parents hands. They squeezed back, reassuring, as we sat in purgatory.
Soon we were invited to follow a female staff member, my personal belongings held tight in our arms as we followed her through one locked door and then another. Once we arrived on the ward the woman respectfully requested with a not so disguised directive that I hand my belongings into the office to be searched before they were returned to me.
My stomach squirmed but having hardened myself to this possibility I did not object, also handing over my lighters as jovially as possible. I managed to rescue my phone from these proceedings and followed the woman into the ward, reassured to have my connection to the rest of humanity resting lightly in my pocket.
My parents and I, as previously discussed, parted ways fairly shortly after this, with warm embraces and promises of visits and contact by phone when I was ready.
Once they were gone a female staff member introduced herself and gave me a whistle stop tour of the unit. She then led me into a room which I was told was the female lounge but which for the moment would be where herself and the doctor present would conduct my admission.
Presently the doctor arrived, a pleasant woman with a warm Lithuanian accent. Although they probed and prodded I felt strangely comfortable and calmed by the proceedings, having carried them out frequently as a student psychiatric nurse the questions and forms were so familiar that it was almost soothing, although once again I felt a sharp jab at my pride at being on the receiving end of these questions.
After the interview I was taken for the physical part of the initial assessment. Again I found the blood pressure and other standard tests almost soothing because I understood the data gained and the equipment was so familiar. Then the doctor requested to see my previous self harm wounds.
Uncomfortably, with help from the two members of staff I unravelled the bandages, for the first time feeling naked and raw, despite the fact that they were in reality only viewing my limbs. The doctor examined and redressed my wounds, commenting on when stitches and steri strips would have to be removed and suchlike.
I felt frozen, like my very soul had been lain bear on that table, despite their compassion and respect for my dignity. Self harm has always been to me, and I believe always be, a very private, primal concept and something it takes a lot of courage to share with others.
Due to my usual high blood pressure and tachychardia (abnormally fast heart rate) the doctor, like most others, wished to listen to my heart. Although I had no objection to this, because of passed abuse I was still very sensitive to removing or adjusting clothing and the doctor despite being pleasant was unclear as to what I had to adjust/remove.
I became irrationally frightened and began to shake, to my mind I was vulnerable, in a strange place with strangers who I was still unsure whether I could trust. Now I was unsure of what this woman wanted me to expose, my learning difficulties in the areas of processing information exacerbating the situation. Thankfully the nurse in the room came to my rescue. Sensing my distress she explained slowly and simply what exactly I needed to do. The examination proceeded with no further problems.
Last edited by Buttons. : 16-10-2012 at 06:02 AM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
Shortly afterwards I was lead down what seemed like a baffling array of corridors until I reached 'my' room which I would be sharing with another patient. Reaching my bed I collapsed onto it, utterly exhausted. Before I did so I asked pleadingly of the staff member who had shown me the ropes if while my bags were being searched she could bring me one of my books.
Words are and have always been my lifeline. She smiled warmly and agreed, materialising minutes later with a book in her hand. Handing it to me she withdrew, leaving my to acclimatise to my new surroundings. After scanning my room, taking in everything, from the view from the window to the pattern of the bed curtains I attempted to lose myself in my book. I gave up periodically out of frustration as the words refused to draw me in as they usually would. Every small sound outside my room made me jump out of my skin.
After a short while I heard the door to the room open. Peering round the curtain dividing the beds of myself and my roommate I saw a girl with a round friendly face enter the room. Spotting me she smiled warmly as she searched for something amongst her belongings. I smiled nervously back before opening my mouth to speak. 'Hi I'm Katy,' I began.
'Sarah,' she provided, 'So how are you settling in?'
'It's a bit nerve wracking,' I admitted.
'Oh I know,' empathised Sarah, 'When I first arrived here I just hid in here and cried! Have you been out into the lounge or anything at all yet?' I shook my head.
'Only stuck my head in when the staff showed me around.'
'Well I'm just going there myself for a read, do you want to come with and I'll give you the real tour and introduce you to everyone?' Sarah offered, gathering up her book.
I considered, unsure whether in my fragile state I could cope with introductions just yet. 'Come on, it's better than hiding in here,' Sarah encouraged. 'Plus you'll get a tick on your obs chart and the more ticks you get, the sooner they think about letting you out!'
'Ticks?' I repeated enquiringly.
'Oh yeah, you don't know about the tick system do you?' laughed Sarah. 'The staff think we don't know about it but we do. Basically each time they come and check on you (I'm assuming you'll be on fifteen minute observations at the moment?)' I nodded 'They put a tick or a cross next to your name and make a note of what you're doing later. How many ticks or crosses you have helps determine obs levels, privileges, when you get to leave, all the stuff like that. For example if you just stay in your room and don't socialise, you get a cross, because you're not 'engaging'. That's how I got caught out in the first few days' she shared, winking conspiratorially. 'Apparently reading in the lounge instead of your room is 'socialising' even if you aren't talking to anybody.' Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. ' So yeah you do activities, you're engaging. Opt out, not engaging. Get up in the morning, engaging. Stay in bed, not engaging. Attend meals…well you get the point.' I nodded. 'So you going to come for the tour? Do you smoke? The next cigarette break is in about half an hour.'
'I guess so, and yes I do, I'm absolutely gasping!' I said, with feeling. Grabbing my book I clambered off my bed and followed her out into the corridor.
Sarah then proceeded to take me round the unit, providing helpful details that the staff had neglected to mention. 'These toilets are usually locked, but it's worth asking a staff member to unlock it for you, as the unlocked one by the lounge is one the guys use, and some of them don't aim well.' Noted. 'Ladies lounge. Mostly we use the shared lounge but the boys tend to have control over the TV remote, so if you particularly want to watch anything, here's the best place to come. This is the office, you want any of your stuff, or want to borrow the hair drier or straighteners or anything, this is is the place to come. Don't be afraid to knock loudly, sometimes they fein deafness if they're busy.' And so the tour went on until we arrived in the main shared lounge. 'Right so this is the main lounge, we have our meals in here and most people hang out here during the day. Me and some of the less crazy people have a bit of a book club, we all tend to sit together and read. Technically socialising, so tick, but don't actually have to interact much, win for us.'
She lead me over to a couple of sofas in the corner, where a man in shorts and a T-shirt with a friendly face was sat perusing a magazine. 'Hey Peter, this is Katy, she just got admitted today,' offered Sarah, by way of an introduction. Peter put down the magazine and smiled at me, offering his hand to shake. 'Hi Katy, welcome!' I smiled and shook the offered hand. 'Nice to meet you.' Sarah flopped onto the sofa adjacent to Peter's and opened her book. Following her lead I sat down next to Peter, opened my own and began to scan the page, although most of my attention was focused on taking in the lounge and sizing up the other patients, trying to figure out who looked friendly, who didn't, who seemed likely to be sociable and who it was best to leave alone.
Eventually I heard a staff member call loudly 'Cigarette time everybody!' and I leapt up as though burned. I quickly joined the queue at the patio doors which seemingly led to the smoking area, fumbling for my cigarettes as I did so. Once outside I waited patiently for a staff member to light my cigarette for me then withdrew, inhaling deeply and gratefully. Leaning back against the wall I sighed. Despite Sarah and Peter's friendliness, my parents' support and the staff's reassurances, it had been a very, very long day.
Last edited by Buttons. : 28-10-2012 at 04:30 PM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
That evening things took a turn for the worse. The overwhelming grief I felt for the life that I'd left behind was unbearable. Every thought I had seemed to have teamed together and turned against me so that I was never free for an instant of reminders of my failed attempt to cope at university, the distress I had caused those around me and how deep my sense of failure ran.
Carefully and quietly I felt for the slip of metal, cool against my fingers, feeling the razor sharp edge nestled in it's concealment. I glanced around me. No one was there. Breathing sharp and shalllow breaths I took myself to one of the locked bathrooms, slightly out of the way, slightly less likely to be noticed, hoping against hope that someone would have forgotten to lock the door.
As I arrived at the door another patient was just leaving, and my roommate was also waiting to use the bathroom. I managed to fob her off to a degree and persuaded her to go in first, so that once she left there would be no one outside the door waiting for me to reemerge.
I waiting second after achingly slow second, until my room mate left. I slipped into the bathroom and quietly shut and locked the door. Gathered my wits about me I covered the floor around me with paper towels-hopefully although still messy, slightly less of a pain for whoever cleaned up after me if I managed to succeed in tempting death.
Taking some slow, steadying breaths, I sliced down until bead after bead of blood ran ruby red down my wrists, until the streams became rivers. Still, I had not reached my main goal of finding a vein or artery and letting life slip away, despite the fact that I was still losing a fair amount of blood, making my brain foggy.
I pressed the tool down, the thin blue lines that ran on the inside of my wrist seeming to be a road map to my final destination. Pressing the blade down, I began to carve deeper, and deeper. Then I heard a voice from outside the door. 'Katy are you in there?' I remained silent. Despite being an 15 minute observations I had actually been left alone closer to half an hour and hoped that if I simply didn't answer that she would leave me be. No such luck.
'Katy can you open the door please?'
'Just give me a minute,' I called, trying desperately to stay calm. I fought hard to figure out a way out of the situation, if only to clear up and try another time but the blood loss and stress had taken it's toll and each time I tried to rise I collapsed back onto the floor. 'Katy, I'm sorry but I need to see you every fifteen minutes, and you've been in that bathroom a long time. I'm going to have to unlock the door.'
I shook my head, trying to clear it, but only caused myself another wave of dizziness and disorientation. Hearing the click of the lock I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the cool bathroom wall, wishing myself far, far away
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
I love your writing! Glad you are sharing again. *feels slightly stalkerish*
It's strange because your story seems to stick with me, the one you posted before, and it's sort of like when you read a good book, you forget about it for a while, and then you are reminded of it again, and yes...
Sorry if this makes you feel like you have a stalker, I lurk sometimes, and I guess, the way you write is really inspiring and you have a real talent. can't wait to read more. :)
*retreats back to lurking*
ditto all this =]
i havent been on this forum for months but just came back on and was excited to read your writing again, its as moving as it always was
The nurse entered the room, saw the large pools of blood and my tattered skin and yelled in shock 'Oh Jesus! I need some help in here!' Rushing forward she adopted a kneeling position in front of me, trying to reach for my wrists to see the full extent of the damage. I resisted her, pulling my arms again and again from her grip, desperate not to receive any sort of help.
Soon she was joined by other staff members, and between herself and another nurse they managed to wrap towels around my resisting arms. I was beside myself with confusion and the hatred of unwanted touch and fought hard to free my arms, watching as the blood gradually coloured the towels crimson. Another nurse, a male, was calling an ambulance. I shook my head violently. That was too much. I could not, would not go in an ambulance. Let them go to someone who wanted their help.
The first nurse held tight to my arm but her eyes were kind and sympathetic. 'Please let me die,' I whimpered in her direction, the words somewhat slurred under the physical and emotional stress. 'I didn't manage to do it deep enough yet ' she shook her head kindly,
'I'm sorry but we can't do that love. But things will get better. When you get back from the hospital we'll have a good chat, okay?' I shook my head yet again, although her calm tone of voice did go a little way to calming me. The calm was short lived however as another crushing wave of awareness of my failure to even leave life properly came crashing down. As I struggled against the tide, I also found myself struggling against the people gripping grimly onto my arms.
Still keeping a tight hold of me, eventually they dragged me upright and I found myself frog marched to the front of the building, where the ambulance would arrive. I was barely fighting now, exhaustion beginning to take over. Once we were sat on the chairs, although I tried half heartedly to pull away, I was painfully aware of the futility of trying.
Soon we saw the bright yellow ambulance arrive outside, and the sight seemed to act as a stimulant to me, as panic began to pump once more through my veins. I fought in earnest once again, and the ambulance crew looked slightly unnerved. One of them gently unwound the towels one by one to have a look at wounds while another went to the bathroom to see how much blood I had lost.
The remaining paramedic was a young female, friendly and gentle as she wrapped temporary dressings around my wrists. Her partner returned, asking if I seemed to have hit anything like a vein or artery and the paramedic shook her head but added 'Not for want of trying though,'.
'Yes I can see that from the bathroom,' he sighed. 'Shall we be getting in the ambulance then?'
'No!' I objected making a more forceful attempt to run for it. Luckily the female paramedic was able to help the two nurses keep me in my seat.
'One of you is coming with her right?" directed the male paramedic to the two nurses.
'No we can't, she's not under a Section.'
'Well what do we do if she makes a run for it?'
'You'll have to call the police and get them to 136 her.' Although I was hazily dipping in and out of the conversation, these words reawakened my fear. A 136. The police power to Section me and remove me to a place of safety such as back to the hospital. Something that might well destroy any chance I had of returning to my course, if I survived long enough to inter collate (rejoin at the same point the following year).
For the first time I fought my urge to fight them. I allowed myself to be escorted into the ambulance, although trying once to run out of pure instinctual fear. The paramedics and a nurse pushed me back down into my seat. 'We can still restrain you without the police you know,' said the male paramedic warningly. I glared at him through my fear. I have never responded well to threats.
The female paramedic seemed to realise that a different tack was needed, and once it was just her and myself in the back of the ambulance she spoke slowly and calmly to me, helping me to regain some level of fragile control. we talked about both of our experiences studying to work for the NHS. The focus on something so important to me and relatively unrelated to my situation helped me to remain relatively calm for the rest of the journey. A lull between storms.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
