Been about a year since I was locked away with my fellow mentally ill people for a few days...

[hunter]

9. Thank you.

I always feel like I'm dancing about my own issues here in this group, partly because I'm able to feign some measure of sanity up until the point I crash and burn entirely and somebody has to scrape me up off the street.

Shoes? Who needs shoes? I am Superman. Pay no attention to those bloody feet. (Self truth, there have been days in my life I need to feel something beyond voices and night terrors, even if it hurts bloody bad. Because hurt is real. The voices and night terrors are not.)

I even posted on DU a few times in the midst of my crisis, reasonable posts I believe, until they sent me to the locked ward, no internet allowed, no cell phones allowed, all phone calls in and out directed through the nursing station, some of them denied. More than three days of that.

Locked up we didn't even have any control over the single television in the community room. (Our rooms had no televisions, but they did have cameras. There wasn't any privacy in the toilets or showers either, no locks on the doors, and if you were too quiet for a few minutes somebody would immediately be pounding on the door asking if you were okay, and opening the door if you chose to remain mute. Big burly nurses, the sort who have seen EVERYTHING. Hey, I'm just taking a crap here...)

But partly it's a matter of pride too, and an effort to maintain some small measure of DU anonymity, maybe not so much for myself, but for those who have suffered me.

Haven't had any voices of dead people in my head for a year, or any night terrors, but this anniversary is hitting me a little harder than I think it ought to.