copafeelia

Here's the first journal entry I wrote (a week ago today actually) when I was locked up in the psychiatric ward at Southwest Hospital -- a completely separate facility. My tone is still hopeful you'll notice. That will change soon enough. I'm keeping this on file to remind myself to pretend to act okay when I'm not okay to prevent being sent to a place like this again.

8-17-04 10 (Part One)
It's strange staying in a room that has sealed windows - so I won't escape. I don't really know what to do with myself at this point. It seems that many people are still asleep but its hard to tell. Best as I can guess there are a little over a dozen people checked in to this facillity.

I got a cup of coffee in the dayroom - probably decaf - which will probably just make me want to smoke. Everyone here smokes. I can't decide if I've chose a good or bad time to quit. It's occured to me to ask DeAnne to bring me some.

There are clearly varying degrees of crazy here and that makes me uncomfortable.

I spent about 8 hours in the emergency room last night waiting to be admitted. My briefing when I got here was -- brief. I haven't been given any of my meds yet. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing but I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to attend "group" like a thousand times a day.

I haven't spoke to a doctor yet and I don't know what to expect when I do. New meds? The kind that kill my sex drive? I hadn't considered this until just now. Fuck.

There's a young-ish girl here who was in the emergency room at the same time as me yesterday. She'd been there 18 hours(!) She's pregnant with her second kid and she's here to detox. She seems nice but extremely troubled.

There's an old man with a can that is very friendly -- too friendly -- and the first time he walked past me he reeked of shit. That must have been a temporary condition though because he was getting coffee when I was and I didn't notice it -- of course I was keeping a safe distance and breathing out of my mouth. He said he likes to watch the sun come up in the dayroom but when he said it he made it sound like a lie.

Currently there's a young woman on the phone angrily trying to get discharged. She keeps saying she's being held here against her will. She's worried they'll shoot her up with all kinds of drugs, to paraphrase. I feel bad for her because she seems quite fucked up.

I guess its time for breakfast and considering I had one baloney sandwich in the ER yesterday (gag) I suppose I had better eat something though I have a bad feeling about this. Note to self: New book title? Baloney Sandwich in the ER.