agony week ·
29 January 08

So I’, back from hell after my stint in a cesspool of vile and disgusting peasantry. The psyche broke my trust, and therefore I am going to be careful from now on what I show her, or the new guy who’s taking over my case as a key worker. Basically the current shrink is leaving to pursue other goals in another field I think, and so she has has to off load the case (me) to someone else.

I’ve only had one experience with an Occupational Therapist, and I detested the girl and everything she embodied and represented. I would have gutted her innards it a plastic spoon if the inclination occurred. But I didn’t, and that was probably a bad decision as I should have done and saved the next person from her babbling mumblings of incoherent dog shite.

So as luck and fate would have it, they have gone ahead and passed on my case to a fucking Occupational Therapist. Is there some fucked up cosmic joke that I was not let in on. I even expressed my reluctance to accept this bullshit, but I was told that I had a good key working in David. David is his name, if you didn’t guess already. It’s not a pet name I have for him, that would be “fucking cunt”. Or not really. I haven’t actually given the poor guy a chance yet but he did say he will see if he can get me a new shrink and help me move out sooner rather than later.

Ok, so as to not sound all off-handish and ungrateful I said fine, I will go along with the plan. He visited me twice while I was in the Crisis House. Let me give you a little background on what a Crisis House is.

If you are mentally ill and suffer from an incident whereby you are a danger to yourself or are a danger to others you can be voluntarily submit yourself for a psyche evaluation of sorts and to be admitted into a hospital, or alternatively, a Crisis House. Now a Crisis House is a halfway house between being at home and being at hospital. You get your own room, you share the house with three others (or depending on how many more rooms there there are, in my case a total of four) and you are assigned a set of targets that need to be achieved before you can be released again.

Now remember, I said this was voluntary. Well, it fucking well isn’t. I said no to Crisis House, and then I said no to hospital. I didn’t see myself as a danger either to myself or to those around me. Sure I felt the need and the impulse to hurt people, but that’s just a daily fact of life for me and for others like me. I did not get given a choice, I was not being asked where I wanted to go. I was being TOLD where I would go. Given the choice of my bad experience with hospital the previous time, I decided to opt for the lesser evil, and believe me, it is an evil. So Crisis House is where I ended up.

So here’s the set up,. You haver four mentally unstable patients all under different levels of mental unrest, all with different medications and and requirements, all living under one roof and being managed by two key works, but often just by one. Now these peopel aren’t that bad really, they’re relatively harmless but you wouldn’t want to give them a sharp knife,. Incidentally in my attempts to harm myself and others around me I noticed they only had butter knifes so there was nothing you could cut your wrists with ir stab someone with. You could with a butter knife, but it would take a fucking load of force to do it. You might has well try smashing a skull in with a plastic spoon.

In any case, I have finally been released due to doing all the right things that were asked of me. I took my medication no time, every time time with a thank you. I ate food even when I didn’t feel like eating. I slept most of the time. Oh and they increased my medication here and decreased/eliminated it there. In a way it was a good experience because it cleansed my soul of all the bad deeds I wanted to do, so now I have clean slate for bad deeds. I’m just kidding. I don’t want to go back there, or hospital. I followed the rules and by following the rules I was a certified zombie.

I could barely talk to my friend on the phone because the medication made me so damn retarded that I couldn’t do anything about it. It was making me think slower, rather than sharper. I could stand the fucking noise the other patients were making, thye were all nut jobs in their own quirky ways. One was HIV I think and got abandoned by her family who wanted shot of her. Another walked around with electro-shock afro hair, and another monkey just behaved like a slob. O was the most normal one out of all of them. They made so much fucking noise I resorted to listening to my headphones at night with Regina Spektor, Tori Amos, Chris Clark, AFX/AphexTwin/Richard D James, Autechre, Hypnoskull, Converter, Sigur Ros amongst others that kept my sanity together for me.

So, how was your week?