2: The Second Day

So, my second day locked in here. Locked being the key word apparently. Every bathroom here in the “Open Ward” was locked after I had woken up this morning, with only one of them actually being occupied. Annoying, but it happens here apparently.
I can barely remember any of the dream I had last night. Which is odd for me as I usually can recall most details of my dreams. What I can remember though is, hugging A---- and kissing him square on the lips. I know he would probably flinch away as per usual, but I just want to feel his lips on mine for even a second.
One of the techs that works the ward advised me to ask the Doctor (if I get to finally meet them today) about media privileges. Meaning, I would be eligible to use a computer that has internet access. Facebook! I can tell people that I’m not dead. Isn’t that the iron of it all? Check and see if A---- made that page asking for donations to possibly help us out with rent this month. I’m still worried sick about the prospect of possible eviction.
I’m sure that no one is going to be surprised when I tell them where I am, especially not M-----. She knows that this has been a long time coming. I honestly should have done this in high school when mom and I had had a huge blow out. Blah, blah. It’s happening now, that is what’s important. That, and finding a bathroom that is unlocked, considering the keys seem to be MIA. I had real caffeinated coffee this morning. Sweet nectar. I nursed that thing as long as I could. By my own snobby standards, it was nothing but muddy water. But, when it comes to beggars-can’t-be-choosers standards, it was practically liquid gold.
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I was asked what kind of music I liked to listen to by a tech helping set up group therapy. My knee jerk answer was Metal. But that isn’t what is playing in my head right now. All that is ringing between my ears right now is one of my favorite artists who focuses most of her work around topics of mental illness and insane asylums. It seems fitting enough to be my own personal anthem for my stay.
Group therapy is about to start, and I am required to attend at minimum one session a day while I am here.
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Today was interesting, if I were to describe it honestly. Group therapy ended up being a literal drum circle. It was really neat, but not in my genre in the slightest. It was supposed to teach us some form of stress management through music. All I could think was, “please teach me something I don’t know.” It ended up being productive and they did manage to get me to play a drum, so it wasn’t all that bad really.
During lunch I had a couple visitors. It was A---- and his new “friend”, whose name I actually care to try to remember, but it escapes me for the moment. I wasn’t thrilled at first to be put in a room with a stranger at this sensitive junction of my life (who would be excited?), but there was a strange sense of calm that radiated off of him. It was rather nice, and I came to enjoy his company over the half an hour we had together. I even brought myself to give him a hug s they were about to leave. At the same time, that was more of a “Thank you” for making sure A---- wasn’t losing his mind with stress. It really means something to me that someone else is willing to be there for him when I cannot be.
I was told by A---- that my mother really ripped into him about helping me more with the bills instead of constantly job hopping. If that is what I can even bring myself to call it. HE managed to scrape and borrow enough to pay our bills for the next month so I can take some time to relax and recover from this endeavor, and it sounds like he’s possibly found a job that he can stick with for a while. Too bad it took me snapping to a dangerous degree for him to realize his anxiety isn’t as bad as he thought, comparatively.
I think that my new drug is starting to show positive progress (generic Zoloft). Already my whisper has begun to quiet, and I feel like I can block out my anxious thoughts a little bit better.
Maybe this is the start of something good.