I wasn’t just going to the mental hospital, I was going to the back ward of the mental hospital. It was decided that my behavior would be too upsetting to the other mental patients so I was placed in solitary confinement. If I though the stabilization house was bad, this was much worse. At least in stabilization I could talk to the staff and the other residents who were there with me. At least there were occasional scrabble games and walks outside. Here there was nothing. I was confined in one room all day and the only times anyone at the mental hospital interacted with me was when they gave me my meals.
Suffice it to say, I was completely and utterly miserable. If only I was as crazy as everyone thought I was. Actual psychosis would have been almost welcome at this point. I would have given anything to escape the horrifying reality of being all alone in the back ward of a mental hospital.I felt as though I had hit rock bottom and would never be able to recover. I had been deemed unfit to fraternize with other mental patients. It didn’t seem like there was any hope for someone like that.
When I talked to my mother on the phone she told me I had been kicked out of Innercept because they had decided my behavior was too upsetting to the other residents. She had been looking around for another mental health facility to put me in and had tried to get me in to McLean mental hospital. I was familiar with McLean because I had read/seen Girl Interrupted (If only real life mental illness were as glamorous as Winona Ryder and Angelina Jolie made it seem.) McLean wouldn’t take me though. They said they had no place to put me. My behavior meant that I could not be put in the main ward with the general population but they couldn’t put me in the ward for the psychotic patients either because my reality testing was perfect.
“I want to die!” I cried in to the phone.
“No, honey bunny, you don’t want to die. You want to get better.”
“I can’t get better. I want to be euthanized!”
Euthanasia did seem pretty appealing at that point. If only that guy who brought me my trays of food would also bring me a syringe that would put me to sleep forever. If only he could inject it in to my arm so that I could be enveloped by a blissful fog that would permanently release me from my physical and emotional prisons, from this hell on earth, from this world of intense, unrelenting psychological suffering.
One of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced, one of the worst feelings in the world, the kind of feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy was that feeling I got every morning when I woke up in the back ward of that mental hospital. It was a feeling of horror, a feeling of unreality as I had to acknowledge over and over again that this was not all a bad dream. This was my truth, this was my life, this was what I had done to myself.
Eventually my mom called me to tell me that she was flying down to Idaho to get me. She had been told that if she brought me to an emergency room in New York she could probably get me admitted to a psychiatric hospital called Payne-Whitney.
Before my mother arrived at the mental hospital Marlene came to pay me a visit. The first thing she said to me was “So, you’re in the back ward of a mental hospital…” The last thing she said to me was “So, when I call your mom a year from now is she going to tell me you’ve been permanently locked up in a mental hospital?” I got the impression Marlene wouldn’t be all that surprised or devastated if that ended up being the case.
When my mother arrived at the mental hospital Marlene informed her that Innercept would be sending her a bill for the mattress I’d destroyed with my vomiting and diarrhea. And with that I was off on the next leg of my adventures in mental illness.