I don't really know where to start with this post, but I guess a good place to start is to let y'all know I'm okay - genuinely, I am alright! Although it's been a whirlwind few weeks and my memory of certain parts is hazy,but I now feel content and calm. Being in hospital with 17 other people you don't know isn't always easy (imagine halls/big brother but with everyone dealing with a lotta lotta issues) but I'm fortunate enough to have met some extraordinary people here. When I was first admitted to the ward I was incredibly confused, and quickly tried to carve an order of semblance into my chaotic life. I lined up my make-up on the mottled green bathroom side in the order in which I would apply it to my face, as opposed to delving into my make-up bag like a lucky dip. I drank untold amounts of builders tea, which I don't even like! Somewhat more embarrassingly I also instagrammed the shit of my weird life. As the lucid moments passed I was left with the sometimes devastating remnants of a psychotic episode. Each time this occurs in my life it is although the world I have become a part of is destroyed (hence the blog title, taken from 'Curve of The Earth' - Mystery Jets new album which is BEAUTIFUL) and I have to piece a new one back together from the shattered remains of the last, with improvements and alterations.
I read somewhere that predictability is the cousin of death. My life had become mildly mundane, but I loved it. I had time during my commute to read and message friends, my job bought me enormous joy and at the end of the day I'd swim or see friends. This,it seems, was not quite good enough for my wild head. This is my third initial hospital admission - lucky number eh! I know what I'm leaving behind this time, and what I'll be taking with me. I'm often guilty of trying to make things 'nice', cuter and more appealing in general. No more. I'll still be using my panda highlighters on a regular basis but trying to make you look like a better human isn't my responsibility anymore. I've done some horrible, nasty, spiteful things - and I'm fine with that, I can live with myself. I done them for a reason. I cannot take them back, nor would I want to. I am not afraid of the darkness I embody, I like this intrinsic element of life and the way I still surprise myself by not always being pleasant and kind. In no way am I saying I'm going to become a foul person and start joyriding in my grandma's car, but I won't be trying so hard to make excuses for you being a bit of a !@#$%^&* person anymore.
I met a kind man this admission. He was younger, and cute, and has an alliterated name so I knew immediately he was brilliant. He calmed me down, made me tea (more tea!) spoke his secrets to me and stroked my hair as I read. He saw my worst and at no point was afraid of my mania, my incoherent ramblings and erratic energy. He didn't look away. He enveloped it and soothed me, and for that I will never forget HH.
It was the briefest of moments in which our worlds collided, however he made me feel truly safe. One particularly frustrating day I was running up and down the corridor (12 bedrooms, it's a fair length for laps) and he stepped out of his bedroom into the line of fire. 'MOVE!!' I hollered at him, laughing. He grinned and held his arms open and I quite literally ran and jumped into them, Ryan Gosling Rachel McAdams Notebook style! He was a slight thing but he caught me like it was the easiest thing he had ever done. He kissed my cheek and told me he would always catch me - what a cutie right?! This incredibly short, sweet encounter (he got kicked out after about a week of me knowing him) taught me a great deal, making me realise what I need in my life and what I need to let go of. By nature I'm a fairly nostalgic person, however I think it's been slowly damaging me constantly looking to the past. I've been harboring a love that's dead, and I think I'm finally over it.
That story is one of many I've collated this admission. One morning, just after coming out of my episode I rose early, before sunrise and made a tea (MORE TEA!). I stood at the meshed patio door to the bleakest courtyard I've ever seen, pressed my forehead against the cool metal and cried. The tallest girl I've ever met, a fellow patient, came and stood next to me. I whispered, more to myself than her, 'how am I ever going to get out of here?' The simple beauty of her answer will stay with me forever - 'Hope' she replied, 'your password is Hope.' That moment of clarity is made even more precious by the fact that she didn't speak to me again for a week or so. Her words struck me and I remembered the importance of possibilities, and the hope for the unknown being exciting rather than terrifying.
After that morning things became easier. I sleep late now, read poems, drink Vanilla Redbush (tea I actually like) with my friend and enjoy the nothingness of being here. Whatever becomes of my life, whether I'm in a dead end retail job, a relationship that isn't quite right or, worse case scenario, am detained under the Mental Health Act, I will not cease being wildly optimistic - it's just not in my nature.
Peace, Love and Vanilla Redbush to y'all, thanks for reading! xxx
