Psych Ward

I went back to the hospital. I couldn't deny that I was falling apart completely. I hadn't eaten in nearly a week and could no longer stomach water, let alone all of the medication I'm on. It was a good move. My weight was almost all the way back down to 100lbs. I stayed there for 10 days. The groups felt overall unhelpful and the staff members are really hit or miss whether or not they'll be nice or are clearly just there for a check. But eventually I felt safe. I made friends. We played with each other's hair and made origami. We laid down in the grass together and imagined the shape of clouds on a nice day. I hadn't felt that way in a long time. After some of us got out, we made a "unit 300" group chat to keep up with each other.

But of course, everything eventually goes back to shit eventually. I knew no matter when I was released that I was going to be evicted. I'm lucky they're giving me 60 days to move out because I'm tiny, as I mentioned, and live on the 3rd floor. I have no idea how I'll manage things like my desk, bookshelf, or dresser. I've been asking everyone I know who could possibly help. I have one single friend who may be able to help me, depending on his tight work schedule. No other friends, not even family will help me. Well, I've burnt my bridges, now I need to lie in them I guess.

Believe it or not, this story actually gets worse. I met someone at the hospital. We started talking and hanging out more and even started doing our own therapy sessions together between groups because we both agreed their program just wasn't enough. I got to know about him but....I wasn't able to teach him about me. Every time I tried I got interrupted, so I stopped trying. Eventually he would get angry and ask why I wouldn't tell him about myself or why I wasn't talking in general and...I guess it's easy for me to be intimidated into silence. I stayed at his house for 3-4 days after I got out of the hospital because at that point, Jena was still telling me not to come back (illegal, so they let up, now I'm "home"). I felt safe around him. He liked that I listened.

But then it was little things like I could not be on my phone around him (hello red flag). His extreme OCD made him take almost 12 hours to clean his already pretty clean room the first day I was there. He takes an hour or two to make and vaccum (yyyeah....what?) his bed each morning, making sure all of the edges are just so and tucked neatly.... I dealt with it. It's just a part of who he is and I respect that. But I very quickly had to learn how he liked everything because he commanded me to do nearly everything for him from the time he decided I needed to wake up until he suddenly would pass out at night. As an insomniac, I found it impossible to adjust to and after several days I feel as if I hadn't slept at all. I got yelled at for laying in bed "all day" (past 8-10am) because it wasn't fair to him that he has to wake up early to go pick up his methadone and I didn't, in his words. Like fuck me dude I wasn't the one who was a heroin addict no shit I don't get up for methadone... He would also yell at me for not correcting his driving when he would swerve all over the road either nodding out or not paying attention... Just things that were generally unfair or not my responsibility. And every time, I would have to apologize to him. Things very quickly went from lovebombing grand gestures to him straight up telling me that he hates me "a little" because he's schizophrenic and apparently would hear me say things a lot, even though I rarely spoke. I told him that one of my biggest triggers are bathroom related because my aunt used to watch me shower and yell at me for "doing it wrong" as an excuse to grab me, and he stood in the bathroom with me the entire time I took a shower.... He never made a direct pass at me that I know of, aside from flashing me and making me go through his nudes which I didn't ask for....maybe he was mad that I showed no interest.

Dropping me off today, he left about 4 hours early just to get me out of his room finally even though I wasn't allowed to come back here until 8 at the earliest. It seemed like he really wanted to get rid of me. He bummed money off of me for weed (for both of us, so fair enough, I spent about what I'd normally spend in store at street price) and gas for his car which I gave him for driving me around a lot lately. I would have felt guilty if I didn't. Maybe it was because I gave him what he wanted, but the last stop he could think of for the day was the park. It was a nice warm day. He had given my flannel back because he took back everything he gave to me, including the collar with a bell he strapped to my wrist the whole time. I felt a little freer. I swung on the swings for at least a half hour like a kid, letting the breeze toss my hair around. I wanted to be happy, then, but I couldn't. We got back into the car and he started going on again about how he wanted to just crash his car into something or get t-boned at an intersection. I'd be lying if I said I didn't pray for it to happen, too. He asked me if I still have his phone number. He helped me carry my stuff to the door. He wondered what it would look like if he cut into the muscles of his forearm again. He kissed me goodbye and when I said "be safe" he said "doubt it."

I have a feeling I'l never see him again.

There's a lot more I left out like how he seemed so different in the hospital, and when he smashed his head against the window and knocked himself out....I stayed with him through that. I actually handled myself better than the nurses did....I think if I weren't disabled I would make a good first responder.

What do I do now? I'm about to be homeless and can't afford to move my things into a storage unit. It's a race against my own failing mental health, because I think that after all of that I need to go back to the hospital. I'm afraid of being stuck out on the streets. At least at the hospital, I can be sure I'll get my medicine, food, a bed, and a shower. I'd do anything if it meant I could get out of here more quickly and get the help I need, but I just can't afford it. At least the weather is getting nicer. It's getting to be one of the better times of year to be homeless, but I'm still gonna fight like hell not to be.

Edit: passed out before I could post this...