"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Monday, November 13, 2006
Mental Hospital Redux
mood Function: noun Etymology: Middle English, from Old English mOd; akin to Old High German muot mood 1 : a conscious state of mind or predominant emotion 2 : what, in me, is broken
Well, I'm back.
I didn't think I'd ever have to go back when I got out three and a half years ago, but sometimes these illnesses are bigger than we are. And sometimes the meds just quit working. When they do, you have to go in to get them right again.
I always meet people in there who are really special, even if they are in a lot of pain. Like the girl whose boyfriend had overdosed her on heroin, and she had almost died. She had resolved to completely change her life, go to rehab, and never see the boyfriend again. Good decision.
Then there was the girl who had tried to commit suicide when her boyfriend of four years had broken up with her. She was having a hard time dealing with it.
And another who was so clinically depressed that she could barely mutter a single word. My heart went out to her.
On the good side, several of the nurses from my first stay were still working on the unit, so there were familiar faces. These people are very dedicated; I couldn't imagine working with people that are manic or mildly delusional or depressed every day.
We had one guy that was always arguing with the nurses. Complaining that he wasn't feeling better. Complaining about the food. Complaining it was all "BS". But then one day uniformed policemen came in and led him out in handcuffs. He had been in the unit hiding from the police.
Two days later, I told a new patient about this. "Yeah, he's in jail for beating up my niece," he said. Small world.
So, after a week and a half of idly waiting for my new meds to work (which they have) I'm out. I'm not 100%, but I'm functional, and that's what counts.
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you. Rita Mae Brown
