BP 110/80 – It seems to be pretty steady. I think it’s all the water I’m drinking.
They have asked to have a one on one with me so I’m waiting in the common area. I think I might be in trouble because I have been taking photos in my room of all the ways you can’t kill yourself so I think maybe they’ve found out and want to tell me off. Isn’t that like at work. They call you into the office unannounced because you said something wrong to someone. I’ve also been downloading a lot of TV, but I have my VPN on so they shouldn’t know.
TRIGGER ALERT: Here are some of the ways you cannot possibly hang yourself here – for those who prefer pictures to words.
There was a tonne of drama last night and I didn’t end up taking my meds until around midnight. But that was hardly the drama (but it didn’t help the tapping).
Anyway. Something set off an alarm. Well, I say “something”, but I reckon it was someone smoking in their room. I can’t be sure. But the nurses said it was someone having a hot shower. Anyway. A few people lost their shit and I wanted to just yell at them:
It’s just a fucking alarm. Nothing’s actually happening.
They say that one of the signs of being a sociopath is lacking empathy. In Suskind’s book Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (a book I loved until I hated it), another sign is when a baby does not have that scent. Maybe that’s why I like young puppies at 8 weeks. They still have that baby smell, of mother’s milk. But that’s got nothing to do with this, at least I don’t think so.
So back to the drama of the sirens. One of the things they tell you in therapy is that holding down your emotions is part of the problem (although they never say the word problem, naturally). So what about all the other things I hold down like:
Shut the fuck up you stupid cunt.
I want to say that to everyone who is having a *panic attack* during the sirens. Anyway.
By holding that down, am I also creating a “problem” (but not that word, nauturally)?
The guy next door who likes to sit at his desk in the dark with his door open, well he ends up having a major panic attack during the sirens, but it ends up being something a lot more major because the ambulance comes and takes him away. He’s holding his arm. Fuck, maybe he’s having a heart attack?
So I’m waiting for my one on one, maybe they’re going to tell me that I’m not fucked up enough and don’t deserve to take the place of someone with real problems. I often think about how I’m making it all up, that I’m a drama queen and a liar. Everyone tells me I’m a drama queen and a liar. Actually, I didn’t get enough attention as a child, so here I am.
Should I be honest with my feelings in my one-on-one or will they send me somewhere else, where the real crazies are? See, that’s the actual problem (yes, problem, *that* word). You’re told that you should allow some feelings, because they’re natural, but others have to be controlled. I mean, I can tell the difference between “are you alright there, mate?” and “fuck the fuck off you fucking prick”, but what about the in between? That grey area is hard to navigate. That’s the area where we live, but I feel like I live at the dark grey area.
So I start off today super mad. Madder. Not because I’m here. I love it here. There’s a lot more certainty here than I’ve had anywhere in a long time. I know when to wake up (they knock), when to take my meds (before 9am), what times the group sessions are (10:30, 12.30, 2pm), meals (8-9, 12-12.30, 5.30-6.30). It’s like being a baby, I suppose. They say you should give kids a routine. I never had one, but I do now, and I get it.
I go to my one on one. I shouldn’t have been worried. It was just routine blah. But I see a hula hoopin the room and get a little excited. I wonder if Marawa the Great is going to come to teach us to hula like she did that time at Lonely Planet.
The nurses – you get a day nurse, an afternoon nurse (I think) and a night nurse) – comes to see you several times during their shift to see if you want a chat. I do and it seems to make me madder. She asks so many questions. She especially wants to know if I feel safe or like I will self-harm. Seriously, how the fuck would I do that anyway? You’ve seen the photos.
I decide I’m not going to any group sessions today. Four days in and I’m already negative and my usual belligerent self about everything. I’m like the Macadonian – nothing’s going to work, it’s all bullshit.
But I’m in the common room and see that a lot of people are going and I change my mind. Maybe I’ll hear lots of voices (not in my head, real ones) and it might resonate.
The session is Understanding Emotions.
I understand I have three major emotions, AND THEY FUCKING RHYME!
Except my favourite emotions actually don’t rhyme because they are guilt and joy. I think I’ve only felt real joy when I’ve been high. Jeff will try to convince me otherwise, that I have had many moments of real, unadulterated joy, and his saying that will make me MAD, then I will feel GUILT. You see, emotions in action!
#2 Class – What to do with emotions
It’s with the same counseller – he’s good. I like him. He swears a little, wears skinny chinos and nice suede shoes.
However, I’m feeling like I should have taken some Valium today, especially before this class. I’m agitated and my legs are shaking like a 15 year-old boy. I’ve become that annoying person who shakes and taps in agitation. Was that always me? Or is this the new me? I remember Marty used to do this and it annoyed the fuck out of me.
I have been getting lovely messages on Facebook but I haven’t been responding. I don’t know what to say. This is my bulk response to you all (wait for it – if it doesn’t move, then click on it).
Tonight is the second night that I’ve asked Jeff not to visit. When I’ve been in hospital before, for sane stuff like getting my gall bladder removed, broken leg, I hated visitors because you have nothing to say. I have nothing good to say right now. Poor Jeff hates my negativity, and that’s pretty much all I have right now. So I’m saving him, actually. Others want to visit too, but I don’t want to pretend to be happy.
I spend most of the day listening to sad bastard music and working on my new website. It’s all about distraction, but I’m not sure this is what they have in mind when they talk about distraction – but I don’t do mindfulness. Anyway, I’m happily listening to sad bastard music in my little headphones surrounded by sad bastards.
Here’s my soundtrack today:
I don’t take Valium until 3.30pm today and that’s a big mistake.
I have no apetite but I’m drinking plenty of water.
I have some Savoy crackers for dinner with Jeff’s homemade feta. YUM. Also some birthday cake.
Have I said thank you, Jeff? For everything?
I don’t think I will hang out with the Sad Bastards in the common area tonight. I’m too agitated.
There’s something that made me totally laugh tonight. While we’re all worried about single use plastics, in here we’re using NOTHING BUT single use plastics (except our cups and plates). Single use plastics every time we take our meds in those little cups and those disposable plastic cups for our meds water because they don’t trust us to take them otherwise. Like, we can’t just walk away with our meds. We don’t need to open our mouths to prove we’ve taken them but we have to take them at the nurse’s window. Although, for some reason, they asked me to yesterday to open my mouth to show I’d swallowed my Valium.
Anyway, it feels good to laugh for a bit, even if it was a little schadenfreude.