Sanity
Around 1030pm a police officer arrived at my door - odd, since I'd spent the past week in relative bliss. His mild mannered disposition, reassuring, no doubt a capable negotiator. I went passively, at his request - to "see" a psychiatrist
It was the first time I'd encountered the queue to the emergency room at the state hospital - morbid faces, many wracked with fresh trauma, a dingy affair [my mother's chilling silence didn't help]. My second attempt to leave saw me past the guard post - I should have continued to walk confidently, away from that horrid place. 50 seconds of sprinting took the wind out of me, I had lost the guards and managed to hop the fence into an open field
As I lay, partially hidden by a large shrub - I cursed myself for not attempting the impressive tree 50 meters from me. Was initially walking through the open gate my mistake, or was I doomed from the outset? The lesson, essentially - when a family member asks you to see a psychiatrist, say, “yes, sure”. Your fate is already in their hands - while a fear of the enigma that is they, is to them, abnormal. My attempt to avoid being medicated rendered the constitutionally mandated 72hr observation period null and void - my work into deciphering consciousness, love, choice, the human condition [handed over without my consent] no doubt to my detriment
The medication, I should warn you, has a list of side effects somewhat akin to a recipe list - the sort one would endeavour if baking a cake for the devil. Sex stuff, naturally - intense recurring headaches, lack of energy/motivation, hair loss, weight gain, the list goes on. Of course the concoction was supposed to be mild, relative to the government subsidised alternative. I’m fine now - incase you were wondering
No cigarettes the first day, makes keeping your cool a bit of a challenge - I did, not that it mattered
Involuntary admittance meant they were under no obligation to read me my rights, nevermind tell me what the hell was going on. Even then, I was no fool - they wanted me to change, to become a “functional” member of society. What I may or may not have done, the conditions leading to my situation - were clearly of little to no importance
A bigger cell, routine medication, bathing at 5am and returning to sleep (lovely). The days - surreal, crushing, silent. We are six, a family, members come and go, we try get along - to you P, comrade
I was moved - plenty of space to roam, darkness, never the touch of the sun. One man shared my suffering, a quiet, mild mannered individual - his wife had put him there
I was glad to leave - any unexpected progress was a blessing. Sent a frantic message to the woman I loved - there was a chance she’d understand. Oh god, the temptation to run, had the drive been any longer..
I arrived, optimistic
A man with a pale eye, lurking in the night, introduces himself as the black lion, reveals me to be the white lion, his rival - of course I have spots, like a leopard. Some were prepared to spar with me as the evening set in - others watched. A nice doctor asks of me, “remember the pencil, remember the eraser”, she was pleased
I look up from my book - where are the guards? That seems to be the outside world, I can make a new life - while I still have my sanity. Away, away.. up the post - quiet you nitwits! Stick the landing - away! Light, light everywhere, fuck, skirt the windows, where are the people? Trees, grass, fence! Fuck! Skirt the buildings, windows, roads, fence! I stood on top of a water container, level with this formidable electric fence. It was possible, so possible.. dangerous, yes, possible.. likely - crazy. A feeble attempt to leave through the main entrance saw a man with profound muscle definition take after me. An enormous concrete room, my body forced into obscure, painful positions. I let my voice crack, he stopped. I was oddly feral upon my return - it occurred to me, should they know my torment, they might change their approach.. chains bind the enormous gate, what a noise I made that night
We progress to the next ward, featuring - an illicit cigarette trade, lucifer’s best friend, warm showers, the Gold lion, an asian guy balancing beneath a tree.. a tree, gangsters, an anti-gangster gangster, snoring, singing “I believe I can fly” with a giant, intense paranoia, the respect of the rasta, fear for the people I cared about..
The third - my own clothes, access to cigarettes, the grounds..
The ordeal spanned 3 months, I was released on the 20th of April. It seemed the medication was giving me tinnitus - with permission, I stopped taking it. The next few months were spent attending weekly meetings. Time progressed, the fear lingered, the problem remained, I tried desperately to escape, love - love took me back, or so it seems
I found it hilarious, tried my best to negotiate - perhaps my track record did me in.. those two, far too close for comfort - she listened, experienced moments of doubt, ah but the old man has many years left.. I see he's aged - not soon enough, besides, where else would he get his kicks. Of course I tried to escape again - I'm claustrophobic
Soon arrived, ready to play..
Was I a Russian spy? No, I had to be a Russian spy! I was there to get him out. A man staring at the n’th dimension, suffering. Don’t try, you’re not helping these people! A single cup of tea - strong, soothing, divine. He grabs another’s prized hot chips, shoves the packet into his face. My experience bode well for me, love did not - I was released on the 14th of February, seemingly duped into involuntary outpatient status by the review board I had called upon
My advice - be careful what you write down, understand a problem before you try to solve it, use your words (carefully) to inflict pain where necessary, choose your moments.. addictions to wealth, power, alcohol, corrupt this world - protect yourself, remain sceptical, keep moving -
I’ve spared you the less palatable details
I haven’t spoken about the many wonderful “patients” I’d met there
I was asked if I’d like to attend a “voluntary” what have you, for my last two weeks - 4hrs stringing beads, ie. putting beads on a string. If not, we were dismantling the colour packaging of sosatie sticks/toothpicks, to be re-package, faded, black and white - nevermind the extra cigarette. Get this though, my decision to fts..
"So you won’t be participating anymore?”
“No, thanks, I’d very much rather just lie here”
“.. So, that’s how we’re going to do this”
[I'm not sure if it was a question]
She goes on to tell my family - that, in her “professional” opinion, I'm not likely to hold down a job, probably incapable of tertiary study, that I should spend another 6 months in that god awful place
I read the mental health act - from what I gather, they could drill into my brain, without my consent, if it is considered a valid procedure..
Oh the veil - immense, expensive, cruel