Just spent the last three weeks at a behavioral hospital…
There was some disagreement at the home base over trivial things and ended up chillaxin’ at a psyche ward. This was the second time I was involuntarily checked in. At first or second thought, felt I was getting stabbed in the mental back by the enduring loved ones.
Luckily now, that wasn’t the case.
I was transferred to a shitty local behavioral hospital, and thankfully the doctor deemed me a complete nutjob and was upgraded to my new home at another behavioral hospital. This place was way better to the infinite. Better food, group sessions, tv (with access to a remote), showers, clean linen, snacks and drugs (oh yeah…).
Where I listened, learned, and experienced, compassion, sadness, happiness, joy, a sense of community with the unit I was assigned to. It was the first time I can express freely my feelings about stuff that occurred in the darkest parts of my past. Luckily, the people, listened and emphasized/sympathized and shared some of their plight and pains with dealing with things that the mind normally has a tougher time to cope with these issues at larger dosages.
There were various units, specializing in various issues. This included, or from what I heard and observed; detox, addiction, physical/mental abuse, and anything that is considered textbook psychological issues.
The unit I was assigned to was with folks dealing mainly with depression. Pretty much a mellow, calm, and relaxing unit in comparison to the other psyche wards. There was even a pregnant lady who was currently four months pregnant. Found out later she suffered physical abuse from her husband for five years. Didn’t know this until a few days before my discharge. Hopefully, she would be transferred to the best hospital that deals with maternity…
Anywhos, diagnosed with psychosis and a healthy dollop of insomonia. On the plus side, I can draw on SSI, foodstamps, and if all goes well, money cash on day labor type of work. If all goes well, dropkick the student loans out to the curb, sometime, within this lifetime, ha!
Now that I’m home, realized that the only crazy people are the ones who didn’t express the emotions, mannerisms, and all the stuff, blatantly. In proper society, people suffering and dealing with these mental conditions would normally be called a uh… um… “a basket case, nutjob, mental retardo, psycho, crazy, insane, etc.”
After returning home, thank the spiritual guide, support guide, and of course the ever head scratching, primary guide. I wondered and pondered what sort of um… mental conditions/expressions that everyday people may express. The ones who appear to live a ‘normal life,’ externally. Been thinking about this issue while hiking about five and half miles back to the home/sanctuary.
At first, was dropped off a few long city blocks to the shelter. Walked there, it was hot and the environment didn’t vibe right. Decided to walk to the building that deals with shelter placement. This was yesterday (Saturday) and it was a long walk. It was hot, sweaty and the whole entire street (about a few miles worth) was cordoned off and allowed the citizens to ride their bikes, walk, longboarded, run along the street, totally cool and festive.
What was even cooler (literally) that it started pouring after finding the shelter placement building. Soaking and strangly smelling like marijuana, decided to march back to the abode. Made it back, although the right leg seems to want to take the day off. Luckily the home folks didn’t seem mind AT ALL that I unexpectedly showed up at the doorstep.
And now successfully(?) completed this (unique) experience at home with the dog dozing off on the bed, yepper peppers! 🙂