My first night I was nervous but I found people I could get
along with. The next day I wanted to sleep late but I had to get blood drawn. I
went back to bed only to be awakened by a loud woman telling my roommate and me
it was time for breakfast. I grabbed want looked to be the fixings for a “Make
your own” breakfast sandwich. I was not given any meat because it was pork and
I have an allergy. It was so damn bad that I wanted to hurl. But there was
yogurt and fruit.
As I munched on my apple, which would be my main source of
sustenance, an odd woman came up and said she could not see me. Now this is
time for a back story. The night of my
arrival and once semi-settled I had to ask the nurses’ station a question, I
was directed there for some odd reason, it could have been for that MRI or EKG.
All I remember is that it was a test it and it had letters and I was told to
ask for it. A man walked out of the station and I said excuse me, he looked my
way then went back in. I looked to the man next to me and asked, “Can you see
me?” he replied, “Oh Yeah I can see you.” He was visiting a patient who would
turn out to be the funniest story I have had the pleasure of hearing. Later when I went to watch TV in the
activities room the guy who I shall call Mike made a joke about wind coming in
but not seeing the source. He then explained to me and everyone present that it
was his father who I asked about my sudden invisibility.
So back to breakfast, this was about the third time I heard
the joke and all I could do was smile and rush through the apple. Each time she
would see me it was followed up with, “That’s just to funny.” She was quick to
recognize my cool awesomeness, I assumed she was not all gone or all bad but I
was going to get to know this person a lot better than I maybe would like to. I began going to groups and but when the
co-occurring recovery groups were taking place I had nothing to do. So I found
a book at the nurses’ station and my roommate gave me a book. Both thick, both
written for adults who ENJOY reading. I
tried to read but soon found that I wanted to sit and try to write. I sat for
about an hour on Wednesday just getting to know my roommate and that’s when the
question was asked, “So why are you here?” without hesitation I retorted,
“Attempted Suicide.” We went back and forth until he got the whole story and I
used gender neutrals when referring to my ex and he soon got the picture. He
was still shocked that I would even think about it.
Many people asked the question of what lead to my 302 and
they all gave the shocked look to my answer. I was determined to make the best
of this situation. I hated depression and I did not want to deal with it any
more. If I could not kill myself then I had to take advantage of government
programs that make it so that such people as me would not want to do what I had
planned.
I smiled at everyone and talked to all the nurses and staff
and my case worker was the best. She found it easy to relate to me and listened.
I found her to be the easiest person to talk to. She really seemed like she
wanted to understand ME not the why’s or how’s but how I felt and what I
thought and how she could help me, unlike my doctors on the other hand.
So there was my Therapist and there was my psychologist. My
psychologist refused to make eye contact and spoke softly, this was such a
shock to me that after he gave his sepal about who he was and blab bla bla I
blurted out, “What?” To prevent myself
from laughing. He however was a good looking man, his demeanor was just a turnoff,
so I could see why there was no ring. After maybe five minutes if not less I
was sent on my way. I did not get much done in the way of groups on Wednesday
because every time I got into something I was called into another short meeting
where they either picked my brain, got a statement about why I was there or to
poke me for some other physical reason.
One guy (a nurse practitioner) gave me a physical and asked if I had
enough at breakfast, I wanted to say, “As much as I could stand,” but I simply
said plenty. He then said it sounded like I didn’t eat enough, and he was
right.
My therapist, I like to refer to as the Happy Lumberjack. He
wore plaid, a tie and jeans, and it was all well-coordinated, eh hmm. He had a
soft and pleasant speaking voice and all I could do to keep from laughing was
smile and node. He would open with, “How are you feeling today? What do you want to talk about, what would YOU
like to discuss. “He was so fucking cute with his Mister Rogers voice I had to
think about weather I wanted to huge him or deck him.
In my first meeting we discussed MeTo. I was devastated when
I checked my voice mail and did not hear from him. I was so hurt I was doing
everything in my power not to think or talk about it. I could not understand
how you can tell someone you love them more than anything and that they will
have your heart forever and when they tell you they are going to kill
themselves you do nothing. I let it all go on my lumber jack therapist. He
helped me to realize that surprising how I feel towards someone is not good. It
is ok to want to punch someone in the face and relish in the thought. You have
to keep it in thought, accept how you feel, deal with it in thought and then
move one. I felt so much better that, that night I dreamt about kicking MeTo’s
ass, I relished in the dream, woke up and let it go.
Night time was the worse; there was nothing to do so I took
a shower. My Mother could not get clothes to me until Thursday and my sister
was going to bring them. I checked my voice mail and still nothing from MeTo or
my so called “Best” friends. Bombshell had called me and was clearly worried so
I got her number from my mother and left her a voicemail telling her I was ok and
getting help. I also got the number for a friend of mine from jersey, only to
find out that you could not make out of state calls, so I could not reach out
to MeTo even if I wanted to.
I woke up Thursday in full swing of things I had set a
reputation and found out who the cool kids were; I survived high school once I
could do it again. There were your cliques, there were the cool kids, suicides
and drug over doses, the cheerleaders – attempted suicides who thought ALL
people are fucked up so they try to be friends with everyone, the want to be
cool kids – people with more than one issue but are in such denial they are
hard to help, the loners the anger issues
and really mentally damaged, and the staff. I was always a cool kid and
it was not long before the cool kids started talking to me and about me in
positive ways.
There was mike, he was in because he mixed his medications
up and started seeing aliens. Dirk my roommate who OD’d on heroin by accident.
Troy who simply pissed off the wrong people with the right connections and
Samantha a heavyset girl who was in for an OD but was so funny and strong you
ONLY wanted to be her friend or you simply hopped she didn’t notice you. I kind
of stunk with them most of Thursday until I met Anastasia. She was quiet and I
went to sit next to her and we started talking and formed our own little
twosome until later that day I met Stacy. She was only an inch shorter than me.
I had noticed her before but she was quiet and had a distant look on her face.
But she opened up to us and just like in high school I had my own little
clique. We talked and giggled at the fact that while most people were way older
than us everything you need to survive in a place like this you learned in high
school. We all went to the same groups together; watched TV together and
eventually started taking smoke breaks together. ALL the original cool kids were discharged on
Friday and so it was my group and the cheerleaders.
The night before the woman who kept the invisibility joke
going pushed me to the limit and I had to curse her out. She stopped talking to
me for two days; ah I wish it had lasted longer.
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