Down the rabbit hole

On my way to the asylum in the ambulance, I remember seeing street names. Each name I started to correlate with some kind of literal fantasy world. King Arthur, Camelot, Avalon. I don’t remember being taken out, I don’t remember being taken in. I remember waking up and walking out of my room the next morning, barely aware of my surroundings. I saw books, and was enamored with “The Wheel Of Time” by Robert Jordan. So of course I started reading it. I was obsessed, and talked about it often. I realized I was in scrubs, no draw strings, had none of my belongings. The residents were called for breakfast. Upon seeing the shared tables, I fixated on an older man with pure white hair. The thing is, he wasn’t that old. He looked like he was in his 50s. Yet he had longer hair, shocked pure white. He was reading. I sat down next to him and said plainly “you’re the white rabbit”. I think he smiled. I’m not sure. I wandered that day. I was lost. The nurse told me to take some pills, I said they didn’t look like the pills I was taking. I was confused. I started an argument. These weren’t for me, I wasn’t supposed to be taking them. Blackout one.

Dinner rolled around, and I was given a special drink and told I needed to drink them every day. It was Ensure, the milkshake, and I liked chocolate, so I drank it. I didn’t know at the time, but I was underweight and malnourished. At just under 5’9″, I weighed 125lbs. The staff watched me drink it to be sure I did. There was another girl there, who seemed to have made friends with some others. She also got this drink. I wasn’t really aware, but I guess she was skinny too. She took the drink and turned away to hide it. Someone distracted the man on staff and he looked away. Another resident drank it. They laughed. The man asked if she drank it. They could not hold back a smile, and innocently the girl said she did, presenting the empty bottle. The man took the bottle, and raised his voice in anger. He said firmly, grabbing everyone’s attention, looked everyone in the eyes: “If she does not drink this she will die.” then angrily threw the bottle away. She has an eating disorder, I thought to myself.

Each day, I became a bit more aware of my surroundings. The morning call was 6am, there were community showers with somewhat closed spaces. The showers were always very cold. One woman in particular was teased by others in the shower a lot for her appearence. The breakfast always had grits and eggs. I noticed everything was bolted to the floor. I noticed the windows were caged, like I saw when I was younger. But they were thicker bars. There was no bedding during the day at all. The day was filled with people getting pulled away for 1 on 1 evaluations. One of the first days I remember, the white rabbit had us gathered around a table. We had color materials. He treated us like children. In a way, a lot of us were. Naive, ignorant to our surroundings. Not always quite so self aware. He told us to draw a cat. He joked about the cheshire cat. I thought this a fun and easy task, I was good at drawing, and I knew what he was talking about. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to draw. There was a disconnect, my mind could not articulate to my body the image I wanted on the paper. My drawing was essentially, a childs. Maybe all of my art was always like this. I was confused and upset by this.

I can’t sleep

One night, I was woken up by some loud chatter from outside my room. I shared my room with two other people, and they seemed still asleep, but stirring. My door wasn’t closed all the way, and the lights were always on outside, since the staff came in to do checks. I stepped outside and saw the white rabbit, reading. I asked him why he wasn’t sleeping. “I can’t sleep” he replied, not looking up from his book. “That’s why I’m here.” he said sadly. I thought maybe he had been awakened by the same talking I heard from my room. I went up to the counter with the nurse and staff. I asked (and I remember quite vividly) “Could you please stop talking so loud? I can hear you from my room”. I wasn’t loud, I wasn’t particularly upset sounding. I wasn’t combative to my memory. It’s not like you can expect someone in a state asylum to have… manners? The nurse/staff woman replied “you’re having trouble sleeping?” in a loud voice. She sounded annoyed. I said “no I was sleeping and I heard you”. I don’t remember what she said after. She frightened me. She asked repeatedly – “do you want a shot? so you want a shot then”. Eventually, in fear, perhaps compliance, I obliged. I was walked to my room and injected with a substance in my rear. Blackout two.

The next morning, I woke up and my heart was pounding. I pulled off a patch on my arm. You see, I was still chain smoking before this, and knowing that, staff were putting patches on me. You’re not supposed to sleep with them though, and my body reacted poorly. I peeled it off. I was cold and shaky the rest of the day. I started to realize I was always cold. Each day, my mind became a bit less foggy. I was snapping back to reality. How did I dress myself, where were my clothes, how long have I been here? Where is here anyway? I sat next to the white rabbit. I asked him why he couldn’t sleep. He said he didn’t know, he said no one knew. I asked him if he took medication, he said it didn’t work. He said that his heart was failing. That he only managed to sleep in short bursts every two days. I remembered I couldn’t sleep. I remembered how I lost my mind. I wondered how this man didn’t see visions or hear demons. Maybe he did, and just ignored them. He was always calm and lucid.

Outdoors

I had to have been in this place for two weeks by now. For the first time, I was escorted out of the doors into a long hallway and lead to a room where they were going to do X-Rays. I remember some things being said about by lungs. The lady doing them was happy and nonchalant. She said the doctor will contact me if there are any issue but said “I’m sure you’re fine” and did a double wink to signal I was. The place was much bigger than I thought, but I realized the building was much older than I thought. I spoke to more doctors. I don’t know what they asked. I don’t know what I said. I do know, I was sad. At this point I wanted out. There was a community meeting every Friday and we were supposed to be let outside for walks. Unfortunately due to weather, we never were. The group talked about their stay and evaluating one another. I said I wanted to go. Everyone said they think I should stay at least another week. I cried. As much of a homebody as I was, I still went outside. I always walked with a cigarette. I missed it.

The staff went on break for a holiday, and was skeletal for the next 48 hours. A nice woman said she would bring BBQ ribs for everyone to eat. There was a very very old man that was in a wheel chair that was very excited about it. She brought the ribs, there was only two or so available for everyone, but it was a nice gesture. The next few days at lunch, he kept mumbling “not a rib on this plate”. He kept looping past days. I realized he was trapped there, some how. Another lady would panic in the corner a lot, say her father was coming. The white rabbit would say she would regress to a child in fear of him. The woman teased about her appearance was a substance abuser. The rest thought the world a circus.

Prison to prison

After a four week stay, I was released with mandatory outpatient treatment at a state location with a state assigned psychiatrist and had to see a therapist once per month. On the way home, it was raining. I was glad to be out, but was feeling more depressed than ever. I was a shell of myself, and my perspective was altered forever. I asked my father for a cigarette, he said he thought I quit smoking. I just replied with “no”, and lit up in the car and out the window. The world wasn’t the same, or maybe it was always this way and I was seeing it for the first time. I got home, and felt like I had nothing to come home to. I was in a state asylum for four weeks.

A few days after I got out, I was able to sleep and take warm showers. I was extremely tired. I wasn’t completely “aware” yet, suffering from brain fog. I got a call from the institution. They were following up about a case, they said someone reported I was abused by staff. They asked for names. They asked for times. I had a vague, foggy memory of the night I asked the nurse to stop talking. I said I couldn’t remember the names. I couldn’t recall any of it. The person on the phone said the white rabbit mentioned it. That he filed the report, and saw it happen. I couldn’t say anything. I simply didn’t remember. I don’t even remember his name.

A week later, I got a bill in the mail for the ambulance for $4,000. I went on to pay this bill monthly for two years in installments with no help from family. I wasn’t eligible for disability. I was out of a job. I struggled with those retail and bottom of the barrel jobs to pay for my car, to pay for this bill, to take care of my cat. I stopped smoking eventually, having found a support system online with estranged friends in a video game community. I had something to work for, to look forward to. I was sober, saved by strangers on the internet. It took six months for me to stabilize. I got a wonderful front desk job opportunity that was salary, I had my own insurance, I was keeping up with my mental health. I saved what I could, but I lived in my parents basement for years witnessing the substance abuse. I was saved, I was sober, and I thought myself happy. Yet I was plagued with fatigue, work was so tiring, and I was still not stable. Bouts of crying, withdrawal. After all, I cracked completely, I was a broken person, and there was a slow leak brewing.