Steenie’s Big Day Out: Day One at Inpatient Care

February 13, 2013 at 1:30 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , )

I woke up unsure about the time. The room is dark and I can hear voices in the hall as I stare at the ceiling blankly. I get up and brush my teeth for once. I put on a bra and deodorant. I don’t want the crazies to judge me.

I aimlessly walk into the main hall.  It still looks dark. I decide to get on the phone. I call my mom.
She says she can’t hear me. I refuse to yell into the receiver. It’s awkward enough talking in a cowded room let alone yelling to your mother about how your time in the loony bin is going. I ask her if she brought my phone with her to work like she promised. She didn’t. I ask if she could bring me some pants later, the ones I was wearing were covered in stains. She says she doesn’t have time. I’m trying to look upwards. Someone told me once that looking up is supposed to keep tears from falling and smearing your makeup. It’s no use.
My face can’t be buried into my hand any deeper. I rub my forehead a couple of times before I start pulling at my hair. MY fingernails embedded themselves so deeply into my palm, they leave red marks when I hang up the phone.
A nurse comes over to ask me if i’ m ok. I say i’m fine.
Another nurse wants to talk to me. We both agree that things are weird. She asks a million questions. We nod at each other and she walks me down to breakfast.

I have biscuits and gravy, eggs, and bacon. The nurse goes out of his way to get me hot sauce. This makes me feel better. I sit by myself. A silverhaired lady tells me to sit with her. I politely say no. I’m not here to make friends.
After breakfast we’re told to line up. I was expecting recess now. I wonder how dodgeball would play out here. We file quietly back into the common room.

The guy from last night keeps reintroducing himself. He interrupts people and is noisy. I jok that his name is Kenny Rogers. He doesn’t get the joke. I feel irritated and slow. I start getting anxious. I’m now the one interrupting people. Is this what they label impulsive behavior? I sit and psychoanalyse myself.

Sitting in a group, it’s weird listening to others. This is especially true with Kenny. He makes me uncomfortable.
He keeps talking how people take advantage of him, how he takes things personally, how he gets put down.

I don’t know how to sit here and be still. I have to keep writing.

I feel like there’s nothing much to say in my group session. I’m curt and impatient.

I move to the common room again. Kenny plops himself down between two patients while they’re having a conversation. Without pause, he starts grilling one of the women about her problems. She deals with him like a champ. I hope I don’t lose my temper and snap at him. I lack patience but I have to remind myself he’s sick. I need to learn patience.

I’m getting more anxious about my appearance. I don’t know what to o with myself.

Kenny asks the same girl if he could win a pageant. No one wants to say no. No one knows what will set him off. For fuck’s sake, he makes me uncomfortable. They talk to him about winning pageants until he switches to complaining about his name. I tell him that it’s better than mine.


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