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you won't find it here. :D This is about my battle with insanity and my last day as a crazy person.
It was June 3rd, 2003. It was my little niece's first birthday party and I wanted to die. My folks had a big party planned and as relatives and friends started showing up I retreated to the basement, turned on the TV, and curled up on the couch. I didn't want anyone to see me because they could see my thoughts just by glancing at my face. So, I hid from everyone and stared blankly at a baseball game. I had no idea what was happening in the game even though I was staring right at it.
My body and mind had slowed down to a snail's pace. I guess I was actually catatonic. I was defeated, emasculated, raped, and cast aside. I thought I had just been everyone's toy, and now that I was broken nobody wanted to play with me anymore and was going to throw me away. I had been living in a world of delusion, but the barrier between me and reality had broken down. Now I could see as they did, but I had no way of being like them or participating in life in any way.
I stayed down in the basement staring blankly at the TV until the party was over. In my incredibly incapacitated state I thought there might be one more chance for me. I went upstairs and got on the computer and looked for doctors who treated victims of mind control. Amazingly, I found one. He was out in Colorado, though. I sat there for a little bit pondering what I might do. My brother-in-law came into the house and confirmed my worst fear. They no longer had to be able to see me to know what was going through my head, because he and my mother made the comment that I was being stupid for trying to get some kind of help for myself. They knew what I was doing and thinking even though I was in a different room.
I sat there a little bit more. My step-dad had a gun. A .357 that he kept by his bed that he wanted to protect the house. I was contemplating my best course of action. Pack a bag and head out to Colorado or go for my step-dad's gun and just end it all. For some reason, I chose to go in the living room and speak to my mom.
I entered the room and sat down, knowing that she could see right into me and didn't care about me at all. The room took on a hyper-real quality to it. It looked like everything had an extra gravity to it and there was a message to be discerned from each piece of furniture, the carpet, and the lamps. My mom asked me if I was alright. She was faking concern, though, and I started to giggle. She seemed like a terrible actor to me and it struck me as funny to see her hypocrisy and feined concern. I then stopped laughing long enough to tell her that I wanted to blow my head off. Then I started laughing again.
Mom thought it would be a good idea to take me to the hospital. I didn't know why she was carrying on this charade. We all knew what was really going on.
They stuck me in a little room in the emergency room after I told the admitting nurse that I wanted to commit suicide. If you guys want to get some attention fast at the hospital, just tell them you want to kill yourself and maybe that you'd like to hurt other people as well. They'll see to you right quick.
The little room had bare, white walls and a bed was the only furniture there. There was a vary large security guard posted outside of my room. Despite his intimidating appearance he treated me with kindness. A nurse then came into the room and swapped my clothes for a hospital gown. He took the clothes away and came back to check my vitals and take blood and urine samples. I then laid on the bed a waited for a little while.
Then a woman came into the room. I thought she might be a janitor, but she claimed to be a doctor. She brought a chair into the room and sat down next to my bed and asked me questions while the security guard watched. I thought that she really was a janitor, though, and that there were hidden cameras in the room. This little charade was being played out to the whole hospital and into the patients' rooms on their TV sets. Everyone was getting a good laugh on me.
I kept seeing this little boy walk back and forth by my door. He would pause to look in and smile at me as he passed by. It struck me as strange that such a young child would be walking around in the emergency room and as the doctor questioned me I lost track of what she was saying.
It was determined that I had stopped taking my meds 4 months ago. The janitor/doctor left the room and a little while later a nurse came in with a few pills and some water and told me the doctor wanted me to take them. I complied. What did I have to lose? I noticed that one of the pills was the alleged anti-psychotic that I had been taking. I did not recognized the other pills. Whatever they were they knocked me out not much longer after I took them.
I opened my eyes and I stared at a nurse behind a desk. She smiled at me. I then looked to the foot of my gurney and there was a paramedic there. His eyes looked alien to me. They were entirely blue with no whites to them. I looked up over my head and there was another paramedic there. His eyes were the same way, except they were brown. Being totally freaked out at this point, I jumped up off the gurney, not paying attention to the fact that all I had one was my underwear and a hospital gown. When my feet hit the ground my knees buckled and I almost fell over. But I grabbed the gurney in time to right myself. I looked at the paramedics again and their eyes were normal.
Then I realized that I wasn't in the emergency room anymore. I was in a lock-down psychiatric unit. I wasn't even at the same hospital. Those paramedics came to the emergency room, loaded me up in an ambulance, and transported me to a different hospital and into lock-down, and I didn't remember any of it.
It was in the middle of the night and despite my slumber I was still exhausted. But I could see a little glimmer of reality. A nurse asked me a bunch of questions and then escorted me to a room that I would be sharing with another patient. An older woman came into the room. I don't know what her position was there at the hospital. She wasn't dressed like a nurse. She wanted me to give her my word that I would not hurt anyone on the ward. She spoke with confidence and authority to me and I assured her that I wouldn't hurt anyone. I never saw her again in my stay there.
I recovered from my psychosis very quickly thanks to a doctor who really knew what he was doing and also took the time to listen to me. As I recovered I started to see the staff on the ward as angelic. I was very impressed by them. So much so that I wanted to get into the mental health field myself despite being a patient.
I've been symptom-free since then, almost 6 years. I've had a couple of little bumps in the road, but nothing I haven't been able to work out myself. I continue to take psychiatric medication and I always will unless by some miracle they come up with a cure for schizoaffective disorder.
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