Wednesday, January 8, 2014

*sighs*

8/25/2002

interesting nightmares recently. none about anything that has actually happened though last night one involved a rather disturbing picture we'd seen earlier in the day. they make getting any real rest a chore.

had a run in with a black widow today. it was in the garage. oh joy. fortunately stephanie is not afraid of spiders (one of the only one of us who isn't deathly terrified) and stomped it. the funny part is that i wanted her to change our shoes before i'd chill out. it's one of the reasons we're still awake. have a feeling we'll be dreaming about spiders tonight.

sitting here rambling... sleepless and antsy. wishing that the voices spinning around in jumbled confusion would speak. wishing that the emotions pushing so hard to escape would find their voice and speak. wishing we could somehow take the truth we've begun to learn and the hope we've found and share it with those whose despair is growing like a cancer within.

trying so hard to hold onto all that is positive in the here and now so that the urge to curl in upon myself and give into the madness lurking beneath the surface cannot take control. there are those still trapped in the damn hospitals. we cannot reach them to let them know they are free, because they are still locked behind imaginary doors that have yet to open.

tried so hard yesterday to speak aloud to the one who's rage came out in seeing a picture of an attempted suicide. unlike others who might have come out to vent their emotion, she stayed inside, screaming behind the puke pink walls of a place that exists now only in memory.

Dominion was the first locked psychiatric hospital we were in. not the first place to deny the reality of our troubles, but the first that we held any hope in. the first place where hopes of being heard were truly shattered. in a locked seclusion room, the morning following being caught tearing at our arm with a pin in a bathroom, we tried to tell the doctor what it was like. losing time and wandering thru reality as if in a fog. being disconnected and disjointed with events flowing in and out like some psychedelic dream. it was not the first time we'd tried to explain this to him. he looked me in the eye and called me a liar. bullshit was his description of my account of the night before. he refused to believe "I" did not remember every detail of thought and action. he refused to believe this body could function independent of "my" will. he couldn't accept that all i knew was the shame and despair that had triggered it all. liar. full of shit liar. the professional opinion of a man making hundreds of dollars to help me. liar. he left that room with instructions to leave me there until i admitted that the self injury of the night before (not counting the scores of raw spots from fingernails that happened in the room that night).

it was days in that room. days of not one word spoken after the doctor left. no meal was eaten and each drink was poured into the pile of sheets i'd thrown in the corner.

once again, i couldn't bring myself to sleep even on the mattress they provided. i was barely worthy of the cold floor. at first they peeked in thru the tiny window every 15 minutes. that afternoon when my accomplice in the trouble the night before was released from the room next door, the checks became less and less frequent. the meals were brought. when the efforts to get an apology or any spoken word were unsuccessful, they would leave until the next mealtime. when the door was left unlocked and open (it was against regulation to have a nonviolent person in 'locked' for more than 24 hours) it would be shut as soon as the staff member was out of sight. it was days before someone had the presence of mind to ask if i needed to use the bathroom.

until that moment, no one had realized that not only had we not asked, we hadn't been taken. with nothing to drink and frequent crying, there had been no need. in this place of wounded souls where i had been sent to receive help, we'd become as invisible and valueless as everywhere else. when a nurse finally asked, i simply said no. she asked if i'd had anything to drink. i said no. she asked when was the last time i'd been taken to the restroom. i said never. well, that warranted immediate release.

asses were chewed behind closed doors, but the doctor, the one who had not even bothered to peek in the window after he left that first morning, had nothing to say. nothing except to tell me that he'd had enough of my bullshit and i was never to feed him a line about lost time and not remembering things ever again. so i didn't. another part of "me"... another part of this mind stayed locked in that room.

maybe one of us can find that nasty little room in it's hidden corner inside and let her know she doesn't have to lie to be released. that her imprisonment was unjust and a punishment meted out because of someone else's arrogance and stupid pride. it's time to find her and let her out of that pepto bismol pink Quiet Room, because the assholes who don't believe no longer have power over us. they no longer have voice. time to express and own the despair and rage that has been locked inside for all these years.

she deserves to be set free.

we all do.