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My time in crazyland - part II
 
 



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post #67
bio: kristen
perma-link
4/24/2005
21:50

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Dutch Ultimatum
The Ludditette
Friday Party #347
The Wizard of Uz
Taking One 4 the Team
Leap and the Net Will Appear

I fell in love and was committed on buddha's birthday (veselka?). This time Mark knew just what to do. My sister came up, got the court order and the cops came and took me away.

I was in the home for the standard two weeks. All life drained out of me. The highlights were meeting two fellow bipolars for the first time. One was brought in on my 3rd day when all crazy had been drugged/leached out of me. He was WIRED and talked to me of demons and wrestling with them. He also said that manic-depressives were historically the heros of ancient time as they would rescue the village with their energy and prophet-like visions. (this has since made me wonder about the fish oil connection... but that is a bipole advanced tangent).

This man later very vehemently called me a witch. I feared him. The other bipole was a teenage lesbian that became attached to me. I was polite and had boundaries. I tried to help her. She had been gang raped or maybe not. Many bipoles are delusional.

I had my own room this time.


There was also another elderly black lady who was so sweet. She would read her bible all the time. She was the first person I've met who hears voices. It was weird to hear her describe it in group. The voices told her she was worthless and should kill herself. The advice from the group leader was to talk back to them and tell them that she was worth life. She said she should tell us when she heard them and we would help her.

Upon leaving the place (it was always mixed with jealousy and group hope when one of us would leave), the male bipole told me I was not a witch and he was sorry. I told him I might be one and not to worry. I wished him luck and said I would always remember him.

One of the nurses said something to me as I was leaving that I often think about: she said jesus had good things for me and that I would help people and that she knew I had a big purpose to help.


I was also haunted by the black teenage girl who had a baby in her senior year of high school. She was an alcoholic and depressed. She was to go to college on a basketball scholarship. When I was talking to her on smoke break, I told her she was one of the smartest people I'd met and that basketball skill (she was what I had wanted to be: point guard) was something she hadn't lost. She was only 19. She told me that she had written a paper on harriet tubman that she was proud of. She sort of lighted up.

I am a saint. I am a sinner.

I am crazy.



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