The Exotic Neurotic Hotel- Part 1

I journaled the whole time I was “inside,” but I’m having a difficult time sharing my experiences. Pulling straight from my journal would be so chaotic. My thoughts were racing - still are - most of the time.  

I remember wondering, “How did I get here?”

There was one girl in the waiting area who was so talkative and cheerful I had to leave the room and pace the hallways. She ended up on my unit. Happiest depressed person I’ve ever met.  

Oy.

The rest of us sat there, freezing in the air conditioning, a blank look on our faces. It was as though we couldn’t fathom how we had landed ourselves in that place on a Tuesday night in late August. I had my arms wrapped around me, battling tears.

After intake interviews galore, I was finally taken to the unit, my personals (what little I’d brought) searched, a couple hours worth of annoyance and fear. 

What do they put you through on The Unit? A “body map.”  Nice way of saying “strip-search” without a cavity search. They diagram your scars, tats, piercings, whilst you stand there in nothing but your chonies.  

Welcome to The Unit.

I had nothing but my wallet and the clothes on my back that were, by now, two days old. It was smoke break shortly after I arrived, but I was out, so one of the techs put a plea out on my behalf, and that’s how I met J.  

J became my first lifeline - still is. We were glued at the hip. My roomie, a super-sweet girl, was leaving the next day, happy to show me the ropes, make sure I was okay. It was loud, it wasscary, and I had no idea how things worked. Maybe they told me the rules, but I didn’t remember.

I cried and whimpered and panicked my way through my first night on The Unit. Day Two wasn’t much better. The staff gave me my usual medication - at 9AM. I take them at night for a reason; I ended up sleeping much of the day.

J was still giving me smokes, while my husband was on his way back from Ohio. That night, he managed to drop off some clothes and smokes, which meant I felt better - I was no longer bumming them from J.

Wednesday was a blur.

Meals for those on Precautions (the suicidal folks) were served on the unit. Being allowed up to the Manor House for meals was a mini-graduation, one I’d manged by the third day.  

My medications had been completely changed so my mood swings were wild - I felt so out of control. But J, T, and R were there every step of the way - they’d been there before. There’s something wonderful about being surrounded by a group of people who speak your language. Much like the IF community, we have our own terms - most couldn’t be understood outside the psych ward.

I was lucky.  

My husband visited every day and, with the help of the social worker, we were given permission for my child to visit.

We took medication on command, ate on command, spoke on the phone at specific times, attended group on command. I felt a little Shawshank - I couldn’t seem to pee the first couple days unless I pretended someone had told me to. For ten days, I peed with a door open or a curtain for a door.

I don’t even know how many doctors, nurses, social workers I had to tell, “No, it WASN’T a suicide attempt.”  

I felt like saying, “Listen, I’m a smart cookie. If I’d really been trying, I’d have taken a lot more than Benadryl.”

The Likes: I really did like my psychiatrist and groups; many of which were music-related. Or an ice-breaker with heavier questions.

The Annoyances: no touching, only one smoke at smoke break only, no visiting in each other’s rooms - I swear I felt like a child.

But the routine? We counted on it. When things ran late, boy did we get pissed. It was the onething we could count on to get us through our days.

I picked up a coffee addiction, even though they only provided decaf. Let me tell you, decaf tea just wasn’t doing it for me, so I taught myself to drink coffee. Now, I’m HOOKED and can’t stop drinking it.

As the days went by, I gradually stabilized. It was then that I knew my time on The Unit was ending. 

It did.  

What I didn’t expect was how difficult it would be to maintain that stability once home, even with a plan in place.

And it was.