Now its about 9:30. This room here is just like a regular hospital room, except the bathrooms are locked "until they get to know" me. My room is a standard hospital room except the towel racks are welded shut. The door handle is rounded so you can't hang anything by it. The windows have another window around them so you can't climb out. Shoes and shirts and sweathirts aren't allowed to have strings. (Though, oddly, my CPAP machine is allowed to have a power cord and my tongue still has its piercing!) The toilet has a tall metal tank that couldn't be opened; it flushes with a button. The shower head is rounded off. There's a big, red digital clock on the wall at night in our room. The door gets closed. The bathroom is still locked. My meds get delivered at various times. No med changes yet. I'm supposed to go to group soon. The bloody visions make me feel better somehow. They take away the horrible feeling from the Saphris. I have stopped wanting to scream and run. The feeling has been taken over by an odd calm of I'm-not-here.
I am wearing hospital pajamas. My only clothes pretty much. They took all my things after wanding me down. I do get visiters- longer hours today. My first thing to do after my computer time is some stretching/exercise. The windows are at least a foot thick; they've got every angle covered, it seems- literally. The trash cans are lined with paper bags. Eating breakfast, I was strangely quiet and slow. Nobody's talked to me except the staff. Not even the guy that guy a room a few hours before I did whom I saw in the ER.
Everything is moderated around here. I don't know what's on my list of things to do. I really do not like groups. Oh well. Part of me just wants to go home now. I've had sleep and breakfast and now I'd like to go home, please. The doors are locked and you might not even get out if there were a fire.
I haven't met anybody but I'm sure group will take care of that.
I am not sure how I got this way. Why I feel suicidal. They ask me if I want to die and I say no, but inside somewhere I do. Think of your kids, they say. Yes. That one thing. You see, its not matter of, "Think of Disney World! Don't you want to stay alive for Christmas? You're a talented photographer..." etc. The problem is that my mind can't think that way. The part of me that wants to jump off a balcony doens't necessarily want to die. I don't have a thought in my head that I want to die therefore I need to do x, y, and z. Something just makes me cry on top of being in a surreal place where dead seems normal. The thoughts and images just keep playing.
I have three days to figure this out. There isn't really an "or". Or, I have to follow-up with my psych doctor? I'm lost. I know where my bedroom is. I know where the lunch room is. I don't know what anybody else is doing. So for now, I'm still confused, but I feel well-rested and well-fed and hey those are big things.
The rabit has found the small door at the bottom of the hole. The mirror is strangely missing. She is given many tiny cakes to eat throughout the day. Lots of pretty colors. Many many colors. Dressed up, in that tiny place- the dark dank smell. Searching for the right pill to fit through that door.
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