The room was spinning, black and green, intermitant with shadows and points of light. As long as I layed there I would be ok. Just keep my eyes closed, because I don’t want to know what happening around me, or what I’ve done, or worse yet what is going to happen next. I can hear people shuffling about and there are bright lights. Someone is next to me doing something, they feel awful close, too close for comfort.
I just want to be left alone, and it feels like hands and people are crawling all over me. My head is cloudy, thoughts stream without cohesion. Even if I could form the words to make these people stop invading my personal space, mind ravedged mind would not let me. Like a tired drunk I keep slipping just below, just beneath the conscious.
I am vaguely aware of someone slapping my forearm, urging me to come into the room again, away from the greyness of the inbetween I’ve been lingering in. I can’t understand, the words sound diluted, but I know she is urging me to check myself into the psych ward.
“Can I sleep,” is my one request. I was not asked as a question, had I been more alert it would very well have been the demand I was screaming for inside my own mind. My husband is there, his girlfriend waiting in the waiting room. All I’ve done, and must now endure this. But I am numb.
I am put into my car, the psych ward is across town at the South Campus. The ground is wet, maybe it is the street light, I can’t tell. My head rolls languidly to the right, resting between the seat belt and the cool window. My head bounces between the stiffness of the seatbelt and the coolness of the damp window. I am positive it is early in the morning, but is still late in the night. Normally I’m drunk by now, but this is a monday so chances are I would have been home anyway, home with my dog. I feel drunk.
After passing out again, I am woken with a nurse and my husband standing in the open car door. Somehow I wobble inside, sign my life away, and take up residence in my new bed.
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/45936582@N00/8562962294″>UCH</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/”>(license)</a>