These entries are completely unedited (except for spelling and shorthand that anyone but me would understand), so don't judge my writing skills based on them.

Wednesday, January 15, 2003

I'm in the mental hospital.

I never thought I'd be writing those words, but here I am.

Started with a drop in mood yesterday. I should have stayed at Laurie's, but I just felt rotten and I wanted to go home.

When I got home, I started to change around the bedroom, moving the furniture around the other way. Diego got home about halfway through the process and we started to get angry and impatient with each other, and I became distressed. I decided to go to the 7-Eleven and get some soda, so I left the building.

The "just-gos" hit me then, and I was feeling like I needed to walk the 3-4 miles over to Laurie's house. I was crying by then, and I decided it would be nicer to take the T to Malden Station.

I bought a token, walked down the stairs, and lost it. I thought about jumping in front of the train, and waited for one to come by. Someone walked up to me, and asked "what time is it?" and I told him, just as a train went by. I got scared then, so I walked home.

When I got there, Diego noticed I'd been sniffling. He thought it was sinuses, but I completely broke down in front of him.

He told me to call Dr. S___, which I did. She told me to go to the emergency room immediately. Once there, we waited through evaluations for a number of hours, and it seemed like I was about to be released, but then they called Dr. S___, who wanted to get me to "a bed."

They sent me to Brookline, a hellhole of a facility, which is where I've been ever since.

Total number of evaluations I've had since coming here = 0. The "doctor" here has rushed me into medication, and hasn't wanted to discuss anything at all with me. My "social worker" was a little better, but I don't know how much pull she has with the staff here.

I want to go home. All I desperately want to do is go back home. Nothing at all makes me smile here. Nothing at all fills my heart, my soul, or my needs.

I really want to go home.

Wednesday, January 15, 2003 (Later)

I hate being here with every fiber of my being. I feel like I've been brought to a holding cell in a prison for the mentally disabled, and they don't have a key.

Diego is a mess. I did that to him, and it makes me feel absolutely awful. Laurie is a little better dealing with it, but then, she's been through this drill before.

I don't know if I'm going to tell Mom or anybody else about this. I don't think so, but I hope that I'd have the courage to tell this story if need be.

I want to go home. I miss home. I miss being able to be where I want to be, do what I want to do.

It's only 8pm. This is the longest day I've ever been through. I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow, when it might be just as long, with even less hope.

Please, God. I know I don't believe in you, but if you're there? Let me go home.

Thursday, January 16

Good morning! It's 7:30am. I'm already up, showered, teeth brushed and ready to go. I'm waiting for breakfast, which I'm sure will be an adventure.

A little calmer this morning about being here. I really do hope that they let me out today and preferably at an early hour. Diego is under the impression that Dr. S___ is advocating for my release to Dr. W___, who may defer to her.

It is my hope that I'm showing myself to be capable enough to keep going, with a support system behind me that wil be enough to keep me on the "path to wellness."

Dr. S___ has put me on Lithium, which I originally opposed, but now don't care about. It might do me some good; who knows? I took my first dose late last night, and I'll have another this morning. So far, no effects to report. Idon't feel any adverse or positive effects, though it's hard to tell, given where I was these past couple of days.

Mostly, I'm concentrating on acting "well," thinking "well" and displaying signs of being "well". I hope that will be enough for them to let me go.

Thursday, January 16 (Later)

I just spoke with M___, the social worker, about how I'm feeling right now. I'm feeling better than I have for a couple of days, and I told her so.

She kept wavering back and forth over what day I would be released, but I do hold onto the hope that I'll be able to get out today. I think that if I am firm, consistent, and upbeat, I stand a better chance of release.

She mentioned an outpatient program, which sounded like a condition of release, though she insisted it wasn't.

I don't like having my life being determined by other people. It's difficult to be in a place where everyone is so unhealthy. I don't know how it is supposed to help me, to be stuck doing nothing, surrounded by folks who are much less well than I am.

I still want to go home. I miss everyone terribly. I still don't understand what I'm doing here, but I'll hold out hope for today.

Thursday, January 16 (Later)

I have to make a plan for what I'll do if I don't get released today. It will be a big blow to my mood, but I have to face the possibility.

I feel like I'm performing for these people. Whenever anyone asks how I'm doing, they tend to do so as if they're looking for me to exhibit some sort of problem or to react in a bad manner.

Last night, two people were added to my room. Both appear to be psychotic. Both are unwashed, with unruly, greasy hair and both seem to have been wearing the same clothes for days on end. It smells in here, and it's almost impossible to sleep.

I want to be back in my own bed with Diego, curled up watching a movie or reading. (Anything but this Ian Banks book, which seems to have a tinge of hopelessness to it...I may have to burn it once I get home.)

I want to call home, but it's not late enough in the day yet. I may try to speak with Dr. S___ today, though I don't want to appear desparate.

Thursday, January 16 (Later)

Thurday, January 16 (Later)

Group, GROUP, GROUP... Spent from 11am03pm in one form of group therapy or another.

Right now, they're finishing up with Art therapy. I actually like this time, because everyone is active with something, and I can do word puzzles on my own. It's a little bit of quiet among the chaos.

Group downstairs was surprisingly helpful. It wasn't that they said anything that I didn't already know, it's more that I was able to articulate things a little bit more, participate in a group setting, and get my mind off the fact that I'm still locked up.

Tomorrow (knock wood), I'll be discharged into something called the Triangle Program, a group for gay men. When I called Diego to tell him about it, he asked, "What does being gay have to do with your condition?" He sounded really jealous. I guess he has a valid point, but I'm willing to play along as long as it gets me out of here.

Thursday, January 16, 2003 (Later)

It's an interesting lesson, being held somewhere. It's not like being in the hospital. Then, I was always aware of the fact that I could discharge myself at any time, but here, it's very different. I can't leave until they let me, and I have no control over what they think is best for me.

I wonder at the healthiness of a place like this. Everyone seems to feed off the problems of everyone else. All we do is sit, and I'm trying to make that sitting time more productive than just staring at the walls.

Becoming an active participant in all of this is a difficult step. I sometimes feel like if I spend any time doing the therapy, I'll sink deeper into the morass of my own thoughts. But maybe these folks know what they're talking about.

Maybe.

Then again, it may just be something I need to do. Just get through it and move onto the new.

Thursday, January 16 (Later)
Art Therapy

Thursday, January 16 (Later)

Right now, Mohammed is teaching me how to play dominoes. I seem to have the knack for it, but like a lot of things, I may have some "beginner's luck."

Diego will show upin an hour an a half or so... I can't wait to see him.

I can't wait for this night to be over, so that I can be discharged and get on with things. I am looking forward to tomorrow in a way that I've never looked forward to a tomorrow before.

It's like waiting for parole; it really is. I don't trust that I'm going to be allowed to leave. When you don't hold the keys, it's amazing how quickly your thoughts turn to your captors.

It's good for me. It's good for me. All I have to do is repeat it.

It's good for me.

Friday, January 17, 2003

Discharge day. At least, that's what they've been telling me. Like I've said before, it's very difficult to trust in anything when someone else holds the keys.

I'm waiting for Dr. W___ to come to the unit, so that I can have my paperwork filled out, call Diego and get home. I thoroughly miss home.

It's the waiting that's so difficult. I don't know what to do with myself right now, because everything I need to do is on the outside. I need to see Diego. I need to get back to work. I NEED TO BE HOME!!!

Keeping a positive outlook has been my goal throughout this. I feel as though I've achieved it for the most part. Afew moments of utter despair now and then (the first night was the worst), but doing better as time goes on.

Note: I was simply going to transpose this without comment, but I have to say that this next bit is the most difficult to look at again.

Diego and I talked for a long while during his visit here last night. He's very angry with me for what I was thinking of doing, and I can't say that I blame him. I understand where he's coming from; though at times he can be pretty unforgiving of my illness.

You never miss home as much as when you don't have access to it. You never feel so alone as when you're in a situation where you feel trapped. Isolation may just be a state of mind, but I have a hard time remembering that. I'll be out of here soon (*fingers crossed*), and will be able to concentrate more on the more positive aspects of my life.

So...looking forward. I have to fix up the apartment. I have birthday presents to buy, and a party to attend. I have college interviews to think about. There's a lot going on soon to hope for, and I'm going to take the risk and be hopeful.

Today is brand new. I'm choosing to be thankful for it.

Entries from this time period end.