I am resolving to exercise more and communicate better and continue to take better care of my health with improved boundaries. This has gotten entirely too complicated. I'm grateful to be in my home with a wonderful floor that is more friendly to my allergies. I have my elliptical and weights and my tennis racket still. Tomorrow, I'll focus on cleaning more.
Wednesday, July 2, 2025
Lessons
I think some lessons to be learned here are:
- Adverse medication reactions can and do happen in the real world
- Communication is important
- Medication can do strange things to the mind (Spravato, prazosin, Clozapine, mirapex, for example)
Love
Love recalls and returns
Love surrenders its wants to meet needs.
Love surrenders its wants to meet needs.
Love bubbles and burns
Love rejects greed.
Love has passion or it is not love
It has patience and forbearance.
It has repentance and humility.
Love is honest and forgiving.
Love looks forward and not past.
Love is open, yet restrained
It is reflective in absence
Love is wise and true
Because it is self-evident.
Love needs and requires no recognition
When unreturned, it is still love
When unrecognized, it is still love.
Love does not revert but only grows
Love transfers and ignites
When answered by hate,
it is the love that is remembered.
Dear Meghan,
Crosses are Red
Some scrubs are blue
Your faborite arachnid
Has some praise for you!
Spidey tinks di oppice is berry nice. My internist is pretty and smart! The ears reelly do peel bedder! Ebbentually, I'll need a full physical, so you may have to introduce me to your doctor friend. Spidey needs to stay out ob di hospitals. Letz keep werking on dat. Tell di staff I said Hi!
Fondly,
Spidey
To spin or not to spin, that is the question! Just as Hamlet pondered the meaning of life, Spidey dives into the whimsical world of spinning a web—of words, that is! Spinning a web can be as magical as it sounds, transforming jumbled thoughts into something beautiful.
While spinning can lead to wonderful creations, it's crucial not to overdo it! Spidey strives to keep it genuine and relatable. After all, nobody wants a web so tangled it gets lost in translation. So go ahead, embrace your inner spider (the creative kind!), and start spinning!
The mornings were all the same in Ronald I. Parkins Hospital...
Suddenly, she was back in the green tiled shower, the scalding water flowing, the steam in her eyes. She worked some shampoo into her hair as the heat embraced her, and soaked some of the lavender soap her mother brought for her into the wash cloth, patiently scrubbing her body clean. She was one of God’s flowers. He would provide her with the soil to nourish her, the rain to refresh her, and the light to replenish her. Her duty in return was to love Him and praise Him in everything she did. He gave her her eyes, so she opened them. He gave her her smile, so she shared it. Everything she had on this Earth was granted to her by the one true God, not for her to keep, but for her to give. And so she challenged her mind. And so she cared for her body. Even when she grieved, she reminded herself that God had a purpose in all this, even if she didn’t know it, or understand it.
They told her that she should not talk to Candy. That Candy was not real. But surely they said the same thing to Joan of Arc when she shared her visions. And what if Joan of Arc had listened? Her people would have suffered all the more. The day that priest explained to her why she suffered, she resolved never to grant the doctors power over her. She would give that only to God. She had, very honestly, little in this world to speak of. Her father couldn’t bear to see her; her brother was a stranger to her now. She had her mother, but though her mother tried she did not understand her. She could barely maintain a job. She had no money. This earth had little to offer her.
She shut off the water and toweled herself dry. She had no cherished possessions, she found little joy in trinkets, and thus she did not adorn herself and the only items she carried were the Rosary given to her and the word of God both in her mind and in the form of the Bible. She had little patience for earthly concerns. She was young but felt old. She was graced with energy but felt tired. Upon the sink she had the only tools she needed. She picked up her brush and slowly, firmly, roughly, ran it through her hair. She donned no earrings, applied no makeup, but carefully filed her nails just a touch and applied deodorant. She donned no perfume but applied some body powder with a clean, plain scent. She did all this carefully, a ritual that occurred daily and was one of two reasons she rose early (the other being that an early rise was what any disciplined God fearing man or woman should do). This was her time of the month, but she shunned the cheap pads that the hospital provided and put in place a more effective one (another delivery from her mother) as she pulled on her underwear.
She went to the small chest of drawers beside the desk (upon which Candy had tossed her open journal) and pulled out a carefully folded sky-blue blouse and long black skirt. She was often mocked for dressing this way, for in the hospital people tended to be sloppy in their appearance, but she refused to even consider that. The blue reminded her of the sky, which reminded her of God, and the long black skirt served to deflect attention from her sexuality while also guarding against any of her monthly blood showing through. And together they looked both feminine and pretty, though obviously of cheap material and design. She wore a simple pair of sandals, keeping in mind that Jesus might have worn something similar. Again, no earrings, makeup, or other adornments. Not even gloss on her nails. She returned to the small bathroom mirror, tucked in her blouse, and double checked that every last hair and detail were in place.
She strode down the hall quickly, walking with purpose. It was still not yet 7, so the hall, while brightly lit, was empty. She walked past big thick oak doors on either side, which held neither knob nor lock. The brown carpet was well worn and the walls featureless. The only sound was that of her footsteps. And to her there was no sweeter sound.
The lobby area was vast, with a large open area surrounding a nurses station and alcoves on the sides. Phones rang occasionally, and a secretary would answer with a canned greeting. The ceiling stretched far above, and the entire front of the room was glass, with two sets of double glass doors in an airlock type arrangement, locked with key card access. A large, plain wooden desk sat between the sets of doors and in front of the nurses station. The nurses station itself did not have a glass divider or any locks. It was merely a square area with waist high wooden dividers. There were two doors on its rear wall, one leading to the medication room and the other to the staff room where the nurses and Mental Health Technicians were currently locked within. They were in the AM shift change meeting, with only one of two clerical workers out front. Back on either side of the station were locked doors leading to the Adolescent unit, as well as a small kitchen area to one side, with a door that opened into a small courtyard where some early morning smokers were already congregating. Alcoves on either side of the double glass doors contained on the near end a pool table and crafts area and on the far end a sitting area with a big screen tv, which was on and muted with no one watching. Lastly, directly opposite of the hallway Diamond was exiting was another hall with more patient rooms that dead ended with a locked door behind which stood the geriatric wing. Behind Diamond the hall ended in a small sitting area with another hall branching off towards the group rooms and the small gym, cafeteria, and (beyond another locked glass door)an admitting area. That, currently, composed the whole of Diamond’s world. Small, with every most every aspect carefully monitored and controlled. If one was determined, there were ways to cause trouble or breach security. It was not maximum security. But anyone who caused trouble here would quickly find themselves someplace worse, or simply out on the streets.
She made her way immediately to the craft table. There were colored pencils and crayons, but no serious art supplies, certainly nothing for someone as serious as Diamond. But she gathered pencils and paper and arranged them carefully before sitting down to contemplate her subject. As she sat she smoothed her skirt and blouse. She sat still for a moment, gathering her thoughts, then as inspiration struck she picked up a pencil and began laying out some lines and curves.
“I wish I could draw”
Diamond started. She hadn’t noticed anyone approach, but she looked up to see Amy gazing at her work. The slight girl had a wistful expression. She was sloppily dressed in a tshirt and tight jeans. Her watery eyes barely made contact before looking away, and her long stringy hair was pulled loosely back in a pony tail.
Diamond smiled politely. For Amy, wishing was a core part of life. Almost every time she spoke she was lamenting something and wishing it away. Diamond had known her only since she had been admitted 2 days ago, but found her to be honest, clueless, loyal, and incapable of keeping secrets. She was scared and she was overwhelmed by a society that demanded so much. Diamond could understand that, because she knew the demands placed on Amy as well as Amy did so much so that she could almost see a younger version of her in Amy, a version stressed with boys and grades and cliques and all the stupid struggles of teenage womanhood. Trying to be everything to everyone. Trying to be the dutiful and talented daughter, navigate cliques at school, not get hurt by boys that made no sense and could often be callous and unreliable, and make good grades all while navigating gender roles and stereotypes… she had been there.
There she sat, with her sad brown eyes and fine long brown hair, her chin resting on her folded hands propped up by her elbows.
This time in the morning was something Diamond treasured. Usually she spent it alone, sketching. She looked down at the paper in front of her. She was trying to create an image of the Pieta by Michelangelo. She was better at drawing scenery then people, but found scenery to be somewhat dull. Frustrated, she pushed it aside. She could not sketch without total concentration.
Amy peered at the drawing, seeming not to notice the irritation.
“What’s that?”
“It’s nothing, I was just doodling.”
But Amy shook her head and grabbed the paper, staring at it for a moment.
“It looks like someone holding a dead body.”
Diamond’s eyes flashed. “It’s nothing of the sort.” She snatched the paper from the other girl’s hands.
“Jesus! Chill out. It’s just a drawing.”
“You shouldn’t say that!”
“Why? Oh right, you’re the little nun,aren’t you? That’s why you dress funny.”
Diamond could feel her anger rising, closed her eyes for a moment to whisper the words to herself “… and lead us not into temptation” as she often did when she felt the desire to desire to give in to anger.
But when she opened her eyes Amy was smirking and Diamond wanted to slap her. “It’s easy to mock things you don’t understand.” She said roughly.
Amy opened her mouth, but Diamond could see that whatever she had been about to say, she reconsidered it. She looked away and mumbled “I’m sorry.”
Diamond could tell this was at best a half hearted apology, but she was surprised to get even that. She took a deep breath.
Amy made eye contact again. “It’s just… everybody… a lot of people… everyone seems to love you!”
Diamond sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick or prank.
“No, really! They do! No one even notices me…”
Diamond wasn’t sure what to say. “Everyone loves me?” I set down my pencil, the drawing forgotten.
“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” Her tone was petulant.
Diamond glanced around the ward. It was still early and only a couple of patients were around. The nurses were still in the shift change meeting.
“Can’t say I have.” She wondered if the medication window was open for morning meds.
But Amy wasn’t done. “People always want to talk to you. They just ignore me. And half the guys have crushes on you… patients and staff. Surely you’ve seen them look at you?”
“That’s not really the kind of attention I’m looking for.”
“You know that’s not true.”
Diamond considered Amy’s words. She only knew a handful of the patients well. The staff, on the other hand, were all familiar to her. The male staff included Gus. He was a stocky man who was exceedingly polite and gentlemanly and very professional. Nick was a rather prickly gay man. Freddie was a hard charging, no nonsense man. Bruce was a friendly, casual person. Lastly, the nurse manager, Robert Price, was also friendly… and a little too casual. The only two she could see having an interest in her or really any of the patients were Bruce and Robert. But she thought it hard to believe that any would express interest in a patient. That kind of thing didn’t seem to happen around here. From what she could tell, the staff had a no tolerance policy on that.
“I don’t think the staff is interested in that kind of thing.”
Amy made a face. “And that Johnny Blake character? Or Charlie?”
Diamond laughed. Johnny was a quiet, mild mannered patient whose company Diamond appreciated. They seemed to have a lot in common, and spent a lot of time together, but it was hardly romantic. Charlie was a bit different. Charlie didn’t understand people, he was ADHD and socially graceless.
“Why would you mention Johnny? We’re obviously just friends.”
“Maybe in your mind. Trust me, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, is always near you. He’s got it for you.” Perhaps to prove her point she gestured to a nearby book case where Johnny was crouching with a book opened to the middle. It did seem odd that he was acting like he was trying to pick out a book but he chose to start in the middle of one. She could understand maybe looking at the beginning or end, but looking at the middle implied that he wasn’t actually looking.
“Johnny and I understand each other, that’s all. It’s a crazy schizo thing.” She tried not to sound bitter but could tell she failed.
Amy rolled her eyes. “Harry won’t stop looking at you-”
I snorted. “Because he’s a perverted pig who likes staring at women’s bodies.”
“He doesn’t stare at MY body.”
Diamond couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. “God’s plan for us goes far beyond the human flesh. Amy, I get it. You want attention, and that’s natural,but you can find infinitely more attention and acceptance in the arms of God then any man you’ll ever meet.”
“Charlie follows you around like a puppy dog…”
“Charlie follows whoever he is comfortable with. He doesn’t know you.”
“You’ve only been here a day!”
Diamond shrugged. “You’re a first timer, huh? He and I are frequent fliers.” She reached out and took Amy’s hand. “Trust me, you don’t want to become that familiar with this place.”
But Amy shook her head. “God can’t hold me in His arms at night, He can’t solve my problems.”
“In God all things are possible.”
“Then why are you here?”
Diamond shoved Amy’s hand away and stood. “I gotta get my meds. I’ll see ya later.”
Amy gave a shrug as Diamond walked away.
Diamond couldn’t help but think about Amy’s words as she joined the line at the medication window. Amy was wrong to say what she did. She shouldn’t question the will of God. God does everything for a reason, even when we can’t understand. Diamond knew this. She would have to discuss it with Father Bart.
There were several reasons she hated taking her medication. There were the obvious reasons, like the side effects or the hassle. But deep down inside she simply hated the reminder that to the world, she was sick. There was something about her, something intrinsic, that was wrong. She wondered if Joan of Arc ever felt that way, or what Joan would have said if people had told her she had schizophrenia. She would not have faltered in her faith in God. Diamond was certain of that.
Emma was dispensing this morning and she greeted Diamond as she always did, with energy, enthusiasm, and a big smile, all of which Diamond found fake and mildly irritating. Emma handed her a little paper cup with a couple of little pills in it. There would be many more if the doctor had his way, and she would have to fight that battle again today. She sighed and swallowed the pills, a small surrender that she committed twice a day now.
She turned away from the med window and almost ran into someone. He was tall, probably 6’3”, with a shadow of a beard, disorganized hair, a sloppy grin, and some of the most gentle eyes I had ever seen.
“Charlie, I didn’t see you there.”
“Morning Sarah Belle!” He blurted, and eying her nervously. As often, he was standing just a little too close, and his hands fidgeted by his sides. He had been calling her Sarah Belle almost since he’d met her and was the only person she allowed to call her that. Behind him, in the corner, Diamond could see Candy leaning against the wall, grinning. She did that a lot, suddenly showing up at random moments, almost always amused by something. She would laugh just to irritate Diamond sometimes.
“You haven’t noticed?” A woman’s voice whispered in her ear.
She looked around. Charlie was talking, but she was listening for the whisper.
“Noticed what?” she asked no one in particular.
Charlie looked worried. Morning vitals were being taken and there were a lot of people nearby. A number of them were looking at her funny. Candy’s smile was gone.
“I thought she was being a teenager.” A male voice replied.
“No, I knew that this was more then that, I just didn’t know it was this bad. What are we going to do with her?”
“I wish I knew.” The chagrin in his voice was palpable.
She had to get out of here. The voices weren’t real, and she refused to stand here and make a scene. She could not allow others to see her illness this way. She would not play the freak show, even here amongst people that understood. To her it was still unacceptable.
She turned on Charlie. “Don’t call me that, and don’t stand so close to me.”
She regretted the edge to her voice, but she would deal with that later. She brushed past him and stalked back down the hallway towards her room. She would deal with this the same way she always did: in private, and in prayer. As she passed Amy, she said sharply “I’ll pray for you.”
Conscious
All around me loud and fast the raging demons' voices echo
Confidence in shards and shatters and little of victory to know.
Patiently waiting for the chance to stake my name in fables
in the arena of the elders where legends are claimed by the abled.
With trepidation, I seek God's counsel in the lonely hour of my trial
In tribulation, I set forth to run for the denial of my descending doom
I wonder where these stored past passions can finally enjoin me
And all of the lectures of previous days will echo and return to warn me
Dear Leaves,
It's been a while. I hope everything is going well at the center. Sorry about the whole mess with the termination. I really appreciate what you and Gryps did for me. I know it was rough. I'll never forget those days. They changed the way I looked at the world. Molly is doing a good job. No worries here beyond the day to day. I feel more in control of my destiny, though emotional regulation and people skills are still a work in progress. I really admire the work you did. It took a lot of courage. I struggled so intensely, but we were strong together. I kept you safe from the darkness. It was hard. But I held it back as best I could.
Yours,
Ashes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)