The patient behind me, kept yelling at me to get out of his way. I stood there. Groggy. I stumbled out of his way and back to my room. My roommate had kept me awake all night, screaming in her sleep. Yelling for god to take her. Lady, if there is a god, he sure wouldn’t listen out for us, I thought to myself.
I needed to shower. I needed to get the guilt and dispair off of me. I went into the bathroom and looked into the “mirror” they had on the wall. It was just a metal plate. It kind of reminded me of my grandmothers old silverware platters. Rusted and chipped, I wiped off the metal, trying to see my reflection. I stepped into the little 3×3 shower and of course, cold water again. Using the little hotel size bottles of soap to wash myself unlike the rest of the souls here. Dirty and disheveled, roaming about.
I get out of the shower and sit on my bed. How is she still sleeping? I wondered. Then a nurse comes by and tells me the psychiatrist is ready to see me. Great, I muttered. She introduced herself as Dr. Mitchell. I said my hellos. She asked how my first night went. Terrible! I exclaimed. My roommate kept me up all night, screaming. She looked at me, puzzled. Roommate? She asked gently. Yes, my roommate! She wouldn’t stop screaming. She looked at me, concerned. You don’t have a roommate. H-have you ever experienced auditory or visual hallucinations? She asked bluntly…
flowers sprout and bloom
petals reaching for the sky
kissing the sunshine
It’s 0545 and the nurse knocks on the door. It’s time for meds, she said abruptly. I was tired and achey from sleeping on a two-inch foam mattress on top of a solid wooden frame, bolted to the floor for my “safety”. I slipped my feet onto the cold, concrete floor and put my shoes on and shuffled down the hallway to the medication window.
My shoes kept flopping up and down since they took my laces. The walls were drab and filled with scuff marks. The windows were three-inches thick and had metal wiring strung through it. It did however, have a very scenic view of the parking lot.
Empty and barren with faded lines. Filled with the loneliness of people never coming to visit. It’s lonely here. Crowded but lonely. Which is the worst kind of lonely.
She put these colorful round and oblong pills into a tiny white medication cup and shoved them through the hole in the window. She poured water in a cup from an old rusted sink. I put the pills in my mouth, took a swig of water.
Mmm. I can taste the chlorine and possible lead on my tongue. Dissolving the pills before I can even swallow them, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Let me see under your tongue, sweetie, she asked condescendingly. I lifted my tongue. She yelled next! before I could even put my tongue back in my mouth.
there was never enough
alcohol to keep your cold heart
warm in a place as empty as this home
I’ve been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by Abbey. Thank you so much! Go ahead and give her blog a visit and a follow. Her poetry is a work of art. Thank you again for the nomination, it means the most to me.
VERSATILE BLOGGER AWARD RULES:
1. Thank the blogger who nominated you and share their link.
2. Nominate other blogs who you have recently discovered or follow lately.
3. Inform them of their nominations.
4. Reveal 7 facts about yourself that your readers may not know.
MY NOMINEES ARE:
SEVEN FACTS ABOUT MYSELF THAT YOU MAY NOT KNOW:
- I reference honey a lot in my posts, but I actually hate the taste.
- I’ve only been writing for a few months.
- I’ve broken both of my feet.
- I work in mental health.
- My favorite flowers are sunflowers.
- If I could eat cereal everyday, I would.
- I have two fur cat children, Jack and Charlotte.
- Thank you again to Abbey for my nomination. ❤️
That day felt different than all of the rest. Even the wind seemed to blow differently. The taste of honey on my tongue was no longer pleasing. Something wasn’t right and that something was me.
The day I met my anxiety wasn’t my idea of how first dates should go. I was seventeen. I had such feelings I had never felt before. No these weren’t butterflies…these were piranhas tearing out my insides. Waves of panic and angst rushed over me. I didn’t know how to handle them and to be honest, I still don’t, but that’s not the point.
I was always the shy kid in my later teens. Never outgoing, afraid to speak if front of the class, type. But this day brought my fears to an all time high. I didn’t know what anxiety was. I could barely solve for x, let alone even begin to try and understand my mental health.
I remember sitting in the bathroom stall at school, crying, shaking, and thinking I was on my death bed. There it was, my first anxiety attack. I broke the seal, I cut the ribbon, I was now open for business.
If there is anything I learned from that day is to not cry in a high school bathroom because people will think you’re pregnant.
One symptom of bipolar disorder is racing thoughts. Here is my interpretation of how this symptom effects me.
It’s like an angry swarm of bees inside of my head. Constantly moving and creating noise. The thoughts jump in and out like a slide show. One after another after another. Over and over again. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t let up, it just keeps cycling. On repeat. Usually none of them are good thoughts. Most of the time the thoughts are completely unrelated to each other. I jump tangentially from one to another. It’s almost as if there is a loss of control. But what if I told you, I was never in control in the first place?
Depression crawls down my spine, plucking my spinal cord like a guitar string. Caressing every vertebrae with his venomous fingers, infecting everything he touches. He holds me closely and whispers love songs in my ear. I try to get away but his tenacious grip is interwoven with my bones, hung on him like barbed-wire. Except the barbed-wire is embedded in my flesh and I’m standing alone.
My legs are growing weaker now, and I’m not sure how much longer I can carry around this burden. Thoughts of hopelessness are drowning me and I forgot how to swim.
My body feels numb, yet I can feel everything all at once. The waves wash over me, pulling me under. My mind is starving for oxygen, yet lusting after love but I’m so content with being lonely.
“What’s it like to have suicidal thoughts?”
They don’t really ask how your day is, they just assume. So sometimes they show up unannounced, like an old friend from out of town, which in turn, makes it harder to cope. They come and go. They really just linger. Sometimes I pay them attention, but other times I just leave them out in the cold. Other times they bother me. They’ll pick and poke and get under my skin. It will feel like fire running through my veins. Like my skin is a melting popsicle on a hot summer’s day. But sometimes, they’re my only friends.