Day Four:

December 22, 2019

8:00 AM

Since it’s a Saturday, they let us sleep in for an hour.

It’s giving an insomniac another hour of sleep.

The irony of that is that an insomniac has difficulty falling or staying asleep.

I still haven’t told anyone about my sleeping habits. Whenever the nurses check up on me, I act like I’m asleep. I don’t want them to know that I am awake. I don’t need medications. I am not crazy.

I am not crazy.

Someone’s going to notice that I looked like I got no sleep, I began thinking as I looked at myself in the mirror. I spat out the dull minty toothpaste into the sink then there was a tickle in the back of my head that ran down through my spine, thus making me shake my head.

I tidied up the area then I went into my room to make the bed.

Someone was sitting on the stool next to the shelf.

He looked up at me and smiled, “Hello, Lavender. I am here to take your vitals.”

“Okay.” I said, as I sat down on the bed.

He took my blood pressure and checked my heart rate, then started asking the questions.

“How are the suicidal thoughts?” he asked, beaming at me.

“8.”

“Do you have any plans on hurting yourself?”

I shook my head, “No.”

“Depression?”

“9.”

“Anxiety?”

“6.5.”

“Hallucinations?”

“6.”

“What are you experiencing?”

I shrugged, “Voices.”

“Is that it?” he asked, as he wrote it down.

“Yeah.”

“What are they telling you?”

I rolled forward my shoulders and my lips thinned, “Well… It’s like an information dump. They are like whispers, but sometimes can grow louder that turn into screams. They tell me all kinds of things, but mostly bad stuff like “hurt yourself”, “kill yourself”, “you aren’t worth it”, those type of sayings.”

“Do you listen to them or block them out or?”

“I…” my gaze found the floor, “Sometimes I have to.”

“Why is that?”

I looked up at him. His eyes were a warm brown, but something in them indicated a crack, something that pained him. My eyes grew wider. Was he suffering from something too?

“Because… Sometimes, they, um… Possess my body.”

His eyebrows were raised, “Explain.”

“They take over my body, sometimes, and they make me do things or say things that I will regret. They take control of my body, while I am forced to do whatever they want.” I began scratching my thigh, where I had a big self-harm scar, “It scares me.”

He wrote it down, then he looked at me, “Have they given you medication yet for this?”

I nodded, “Last night, they gave me medication.”

“Okay, how about anger or frustration?”

“3.”

“Mania?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “2.”

“How was your sleep last night?” he glanced into my eyes.

“I didn’t get much sleep.”

S**t. Why did I just tell him that?

“What kept you up?”

I really didn’t want to didn’t tell him. Should I lie? No. Am I going to? I don’t know. My gut tells me to tell him the truth, but the thoughts running through my head tell me that I should lie.

They are here to help, I thought, I might as well tell him the truth.

“Thoughts of my family, what is considered “normal”, if I am truly insane, and a bunch of other things.”

“You said you thought if you were insane, can you elaborate on what makes you think that you are insane?”

My mouth opened but no words came out. What was stopping me from communicating truthfully to people? Was it the crushing reality of life and all it holds that I came to realization when I was just a small child? Was it the fear of the unknown? Was it because I had refused to go into detail about anything and everything for so long that telling people about my problems felt foreign to me? Was it the voices and Him that told me- for what seemed like a lifetime- that no one cared or that I was crazy and different, and that different equals bad?

I felt blood escape from my face and hands, and my hands began to shake. The pins and needles pricked my eyes and I quickly rubbed them, to get rid of the feeling, to hide the tears that made me vulnerable.

But I’m alive, said my voice in my head, this is my chance to get better, to heal what has shattered me and kept me in the dark for ages. Speak now, or forever hold your peace, Lavender.

“I feel like I am different from other kids.” I say, placing my hands down on my lap, “I know different is supposed to be a good thing, but I feel like I am exiled from everyone. That I am insane and that if anybody knew that they would hurt me, or lock me up and throw away the key.” I paused, then chuckled, “I am insane because I hear and see things that aren’t there, or at least no one else can hear or see them. I am insane because for as long as I can remember, I had to grow up and be the protector of my little sister; because we didn’t have a good childhood. I had to fight and keep fighting even if I was wounded. I am insane because I am not like everyone else, yet I am able to empathize with them and support them. And when they try to help me, I refuse because I had no one to help me in the beginning, it’s like… Where were you when I needed you? I needed someone and you weren’t there. 

“People try to fix me. But I don’t need fixing. I just want to be loved and given some patience because these voices in my head tell me I am no good. That whatever I do will be a waste of time or that I have to fight even if the fight is over. That everyone would be better off without me. I’m insane because I am not normal, I am not like other people. I’m insane because, as I said before, I am able to empathize with other people and help them through their crises but not mine. I see valid reasons for them, but not for me.” I pushed past his eyes so I could speak to his soul, “I realize that there are others who have it worse than me, but know there is hope. What I did to get into this place was not an option. People love you, people do care. And as a human being speaking to another human being, I wish you all the best in life and I hope that you live a good one.”

I stopped.

His eyes were red and his smile was ear to ear.

He sniffled, “You know, I needed that. Just know that something is keeping you here, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You aren’t insane, Lavender. You are a wise, strong, caring woman and the world needs you. Please, know that we are here to help you. We want you to do the best you can because we believe in you. You aren’t alone. There are people that care about you.” he got up and grabbed the machine, “You are going to get through this.”

He looked back at me before leaving the room.

Did I just make a grown man cry?

Yes, yes I did.

I stood up from the bed, grabbed the blanket’s edges, and started fixing the bed.

As I was straightening out the folds in the blanket, I could not stop thinking about what I said. It was like words vomited out of my mouth, and I had no control over it. But for what felt like the first time, I felt my shoulders relax and my chin lift up. I felt the pressure on my chest lift.

Was telling the truth and being open making this new shift, a new found feeling of hope?

Whatever it was, it made me feel better.

*       *       *

12:00 PM

“Hello, fellow humans.” I said, as I took a seat next to A. J., Owen, Courtney, and Nurse Jonathan. “How are you guys?”

Courtney smiled, “I am so happy! They told me I will get discharged tomorrow!”

“That’s great!” I nodded.

Owen smiled, “I am doing alright.”

Nurse Jonathan smiled, “I am fantastic, how are you?”

“I am content.” I noticed A. J. was picking at her food and not her usual chirpy self, so I asked, “Hey, A. J.? What’s wrong?”

She straightened her back and kept her concentration on the food in front of her, “They said I can’t go home on Christmas.”

“What? Why?”

Her foot tapped the ground quickly, making soft thumping noises throughout the dining area, “They said I ‘need more help’, so they’re sending me to a residential treatment.”

“Oh man, do you need an air hug?”

She nodded and faced me. We reached out like we were going to hug, but we didn’t touch each other.

“Thanks.” she said, her voice full of invisible weight.

“No problem.” I told her.

We all had a light chat but no one was laughing or smiling like we always do, because A. J. was the one to bring us up. She always made us smile. And it pulled at my heartstrings to see someone I cared about be drained of their happiness and hope.

It’s like how your family watched you fade away from them, the sudden thought manifested in my head. I shook my head. Don’t think about it, I thought, it is too sad to think about them.

When done with eating, I got up and gave my tray and spork to Nurse Mike, then turned down the hall to go to my room.

After the usual anxiety of whether or not to turn the knob two-six-eight two times, and doing it, I shuffle into the room and sit at the desk. Taking gulps of water from my water bottle, I opened my notebook and started to write.

“ Coping <3

Am I going insane? I don’t know

But here I am, my decision chose

Tug of guilt and fear burrow deep in my mind

Nothing in there is align

A warm wave of confidence and patience overcome me

I have to realize this is not the end of my story

But what if something goes wrong?

And I have to stay, prolonged?

What if I go down levels?

Will I no longer be stable?

What if I really am insane?

And what if it is for attention?

Little girl, this is why you’re here, to learn a lesson

You’re alive! You’re going to heal

You will learn to cope with all the bad feels

You are going to make a difference and have so much strength

You are the light

Even in the most darkest of nights

You’re the light and can change the world

Make it smile and twirl ”

I exhaled, as I dropped the pencil and laid my head on the table. Will I make a difference? Or am I being bullshitted into believing in something that isn’t even true? What if I am being lied to? What if there isn’t any help or any way of getting better when I get discharged? But what if they are telling the truth?

I shook my head. Too many what-ifs.

I placed my elbows on the desk and laid my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair. My thoughts were pulled back to A. J.’s sad face. I wish I could help, but all I could do was wish her the best and hope she will be able to get through her struggles.

I’m sounding just like my dad.

Ah, if only he were here. He would beat these kids with tough love and really lecture them about “being tough and handling s**t.” If there was one way to describe my dad, it would be: he gives orders, not suggestions. I miss him. I miss my mom. I miss my siblings, and my family and friends.

I miss the feeling of having someone have my back, someone I can trust with my life. I know I have my family to lean on, I have supporting friends, heck, I even have the staff and kids here that are here to protect me from myself. But it will never be what I had with Corey.

Corey… His birthday was on the 12th of December. It was a stressor that was part of the reason why I tried to take my life. He meant everything to me, other than my little sister.

Corey…

I love him with all my heart and soul.

Have you ever had a group of people that were supposed to protect you and uphold the law be the very people to pull the trigger and kill the one person that meant the universe to you?

I have.

Whenever I see a police officer, I feel my hands start to get clammy and the muscles start to tingle. I can feel ice harden in my veins, and my airways collapse on itself. Every muscle in my body is tight and immobilized. Ever since that tragic day in October, I had a paralyzing fear of police.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and laid my head on the desk.

My last thought before drifting into sleep was: what would he have thought or felt- if he was still alive- that I would have tried to end my life?

But then again, it was because of his death that sent me into The Void.

*       *       *

1:00 PM

“Alright, everyone!” called Nurse Jonathan, as he sat down at the head of the circle. “You know the rules when it comes to Process Group, I would hate to have to send you to your room or lower your level, so let’s behave.”

“Where’s Makenzie?” I asked Owen.

“She was discharged the night you went to the break room.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Courtney, how are you?” started Nurse Jonathan.

“I am feeling sad.”

“What has made you sad?”

She lifted her shoulders then dropped them, “Regret.” she heaved a sigh, “Christmas is getting close and I won’t be spending it with my family. Christmas is an important holiday to us, and being here makes me feel like I have ripped their hearts out and stomped on them.” Courtney closed her eyes tightly, when she opened them a tear slid down her cheek.

I turned my gaze to the ground. Courtney described how I was feeling.

“Will you be seeing your family for Christmas, during visiting hours?” questioned Nurse Jonathan.

“Yeah, I will. But it won’t be the same because I won’t be seeing my whole family. Nothing can take back what I did to put myself here. I just want to be with them, hug them, tell them and show them how sorry I am for leaving them sad this Christmas.” her head lowered, “I just want to hug my little sister and brothers. They mean the world to me.”

“How is family therapy going?”

“Not so great. My dad, ugh, my dad… He comes into the room smelling of weed and lots of cologne, dressed up in suits and stuff because he thinks he’s “the alpha” and “in charge”. He wants to appear like he has it all together but it is because of him I started using drugs. My dad thinks he had nothing to do with it, but it was he that introduced me to it!” she shook her head and scoffed, “And then my step-mother, very nice woman but she is completely on my dad’s side. Don’t get me wrong, I care about both of them, it’s just… Hard to love them. They pick me, out of all the kids, to blame for everything. Broken vase, me. Made a mess, me. Ran out of weed, my fault. Any small mistake they do, my fault. It pisses me off so much.”

“But is family therapy improving then it was when you got here?”

Courtney moved her head, side to side, “Ehh, I guess? I am just afraid that when I get out of here, it is going to continue and I will start using again.”

“How is the new medication? Are you noticing any new changes?”

“I have noticed that I don’t get angry as often, and the night meds help me fall asleep, so that’s a plus.”

“That’s good! And just so you know guys, before I forget” he looked at the group, “we will be taking half a day off on the 24th, and on Christmas day we will be taking the whole day off. Rules still apply, and visiting hours will be all day. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to talk to me.

“Anyways, can anyone relate to anything Courtney said?”

I and a couple others raised our hands.

“Yes, Lavender, how do you relate?”

“I feel the same about this Christmas. Christmas means a lot of different things for everyone but the one thing everyone can agree on, I hope, is that Christmas is a time to be with family.”

“What does Christmas mean to you, Lavender?” interrupted Nurse Jonathan.

I stared intensely at him. What did Christmas mean to me?

“For me: Christmas is the one time out of the year where your family sits around the tree, opening gifts that they thought you would like, and enjoying each other’s company. Christmas is small, frozen crystals raining down from the sky while we sit inside and watch, while sipping hot chocolate. Christmas is laughing and talking about what happened during the year that made us happy and grateful. Christmas is when everyone, not just my family, joins in hands and celebrates the end of the year and moves forward together towards the new year that is around the corner. Christmas is… Christmas is...” I looked at the group, their faces gloomy but their eyes full of life.

Was I capable of having this light in me too?

I smiled, gently, as if to reassure them, “Christmas is about family. It is the time of year where we laugh about the good times and move forward together from the bad times.” I chuckled, playing with my shirt, “But I’m the one to talk. Look at me. I am here instead of being with my family. I was so blinded by the lies and walls I built that I thought hurting myself was the only way my family could be happy, or accomplish anything. Because I think I am a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” says A. J., looking up from her fidgeting hands.

“Heh, thanks. But it’s easier said than done. I relate to what Courtney said about Christmas being around the corner and having feelings of regret.”

Nurse Jonathan nodded, “Thanks for sharing, Lavender.” Then moved on to the next person that raised their hand.

I bit my tongue. Dare I say that I do have feelings of regret yet I still have thoughts of harming myself. Dare I say that I miss my family but I still follow the voices and wish I was dead. Do I dare say that yes, Christmas is for family, but I would still leave them behind?

“Thank you for sharing, Justin.” Nurse Jonathan turned to Owen, “Owen, how do you relate?”

Owen leaned back in his seat more, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms, “I did drugs. Still crave them, to this day. But I relate to what Courtney said about her parents blaming her for everything. My family, even siblings, blame me for every little thing that happens in their lives; even if I had nothing to do with it.” he paused, “It makes me so mad at them. Sure, I have gotten into trouble with the law several times, but each event was peer pressure. I had a knife against my back, one of those times.”

My hand jerked when he said that. A knife? I wasn’t ever held against my will, at least to my knowledge. I could not imagine what it would be like.

“You’re making it all up in your head,” whispered the voices.

“You like to complain about everything in your life, do you?”

“Stupid.”

“Can’t even die properly, are you going to complain about that too?”

I shook my head, mumbling, “Go away.”

Owen went on, “My so-called “friends” made me feel like I was worthless. They say they were joking but they would continue to go on and on and on, even if the day was over. They would humiliate me, every chance they’d get. I don’t know why I stuck around them, but it’s because of them that I’m here. Then again, it is my fault too. I wanted to numb all the pain that I held inside, so I took as many drugs as I could. Now, here I am.

“But this isn’t the first time I have been to a psychiatric ward.” he said, “I have had hallucinations before I did drugs. Angry hallucinations. I am afraid for when I go home.”

“Why would that be, Owen?” asked Nurse Jonathan.

“I am afraid I might try to… You know… Do it again.”

“Do you have your safety plan filled out? You can’t leave here, without it being filled out.”

The safety plan sheets were papers they gave you to fill out about how you can stay safe when you leave the facility. I was a bit skeptical when I received the papers, but they make sense. Even though I haven’t even made a mark on mine.

“Yes, it is filled out. But I feel like it will be ignored. My parents ignored and made fun of the last one, so what’s the point of showing them this one?”

“It is required.” says Nurse Jonathan.

Owen glared at the ground. I knew he wanted to glare daggers at Nurse Jonathan, but if he showed an “attitude” then he will be called out on it. Suddenly, his stare softened, it became more melancholy. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong?” Nurse Jonathan leans forward a bit.

“Nothing. Just… I am done speaking.”

“Okay, umm, Lavender.” his eyes looked into mine, “How are you?”

“That is an excellent question I don’t know the answer to.”

“You have to answer, Lavender. How are you?”

I tapped my foot on the ground.

One, two.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

One, two.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

“Umm… I am exhausted.”

“What made you exhausted?”

Taking a deep breath, I listed, “Sleep, hallucinations, nightmares, confusion, the feelings of hopelessness, regret, anger, and fear, and endless existential crises.”

He was silent, then asked, “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Shrugging, I responded, “Maybe six hours. It’s not much but it is still some sleep.”

He nodded, writing that in his notes, “Are you on any medications?”

“Abilify and melatonin.”

“How are they working for you?”

“I just started melatonin the night before, and the Abilify yesterday. I haven’t noticed sudden changes.”

“Okay. Are the hallucinations severe?”

I shrugged, “Define severe.”

“Like…” He sat back in his seat, kicking his foot over his knee, “Aggressive or violent. What do you hear or see?”

Something knocked.

I turned around to look out the window. He was standing there. His smile was wide and his eyes glimmered, like an arrow, ready and aimed at me.

I turned back to Nurse Jonathan. Should I tell him?

“No!” screamed the voices.

“They will only worsen it for you!”
“Don’t! No!”

“They will hurt you!”

“They are here to help,” said a soothing voice that boomed over the other voices, “tell them.”

They are here to help…

“I see him.”

“Who is he?”

I looked back at the figure that stood on the other side of the window.

“He’s my dad.” I paused, “My biological father. He killed himself when I was five. Now he haunts me.”

“Is he aggressive in any way?” questioned Nurse Jonathan.

“Oh, yes.” I turned back to Nurse Jonathan, my eyes somber, “He torments me.”

“How?”

“Makes me relive events that traumatized me, makes me feel worthless, makes me do things I don’t want to do, makes me feel like there is no one that cares about me and that everyone and everything will hurt me, he can take over and control my body and I am forced to sit back and watch.” I looked at my shirt that was intertwined with my fingers, “He has nothing good to say or do. And he can make me panic and not breathe. That’s always the funnest.” I say, sarcastically.

“Anything else he does?”

“No. And I hear voices, I failed to mention.”

He tilted his head, “What do the voices say?”

“Like my dad, they tell me no one cares, no one loves me, anything to bring me down, to make me scared, overthink things, the usual. They are one voice after another. The main voice I hear sounds like a male. A man with a deep voice. The rest is hard to determine. They are usually whispers but sometimes they can sound like someone is literally right next to you talking, or they can scream. I hate it when they scream, it makes me scared.”

“Which is the one that you experience more often?”

“The voices.”

He wrote that down, “What made you happy today?”

“I made one of the nurses happy,” I chuckled, “at least I think so.”

“How?”

“Well,” I smiled, “I told him that he is loved and cared about and that I wish him the best in life and hope he lives a good one.”

Nurse Jonathan grinned, “Really? I bet that did make him happy, but I hope you know that you are too.”

The corner of my mouth lifted, “Yeah, I know.”

Did I know? I am not sure. I know I am but I don’t feel like I am loved and cared about.

“Anything else you would like to talk about?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, thank you for sharing, Lavender.”

I inclined my head to him.

“A. J.,” he turned his attention to her, “how are you?”

I gazed out the window at my dad’s face. Fury burned in his eyes and his frown touched his jawline.

Take that, I thought.

Then he smiled, which then turned into laughter. He pointed at me, then made a circle motion with his finger while pointing at his head.

Fear tightened in my ribs.

I did the right thing, I was taking a step towards getting the help I need, I reminded myself.

A sliver of hope grew in my heart.

At that moment, I knew I was done. Done with giving in to the voices, to the fear and panic my dad had planted in me, and to giving up.

I clenched my fists. If this is the battle I must fight, then why should I give up now? I was given a second chance. I am still here. Breathing. Alive. Fighting…

I inhaled deeply and gave my attention to A. J.

I was not going to let them win.

Reviews

[Lackadaisical Lenny]

It's really funny how much empathy I have for you and some of the ways your brain works. it's difficult. it's confusing and hard and you are absolutely capturing it with your writing. Keep it up!