Finding Ourselves

Day 3 - Post Dinnertime

It’ll be 72 hours by the time I wake up tomorrow, but the doctors still tell me they don’t feel sure letting me out yet. Something about not having come to a firm diagnosis yet. I can apply for self-release, but it’d just take another 48 hours to go through, plus it’s the weekend. I’m having regrets about agreeing to “admit myself,” but the school seemed like they’d force me anyway.

My parents are still around, which is nice, I guess. My dad still doesn’t know how to talk to me, but it’s cool he’s trying even though the ward definitely creeps him out. If anything, this experience has brought me closer to my mother. I keep waiting to be disappointed when she says she hopes the doctors can cure me of my other “issues,” but she hasn’t yet. So maybe she’s coming around.

They’re leaving for their hotel soon, which means I’ll be bored again. I’m still the youngest one here by almost 15 years. Everyone’s either keeping to themselves or too zonked out to hold a conversation. Well, Stacy and Laverne are ok, but I can only take their gossip about their lives on the outside for so long. We get it, your husbands drove you insane because you let them convince you to be stay-at-home mothers instead of allowing you to pursue your careers. I mean, it can’t be that hard to pick yourself up at 50, can it? God, I hope not.

Day 4 - Lunchtime

Malcolm had a breakthrough in Group today. Well, maybe it was more of a freakout; he did pick up and slam a chair on the ground and then lunge at Dr. Strubert, but he was pretty emotionless before then. Now he’s in what I would call solitary confinement for the rest of the day, so I’ll have the room to myself tonight.

Lunch today is a turkey sandwich with a peach cup and cold soup. They serve me two more pills with names I don’t care to pronounce right. I’m not looking forward to these actually kicking in. I just want my iPod back.

Day 4 - Post Dinnertime

My parents didn’t show up tonight. They had to drive back up to Pittsburgh because they have work tomorrow. I thought they would have made an appearance in the AM, but I guess visiting hours are a small window. I hope they’re okay.

I wasn’t as bored tonight as I’ve been the last few days, though. A new kid was admitted a little after lunch: Jeremy. He’s around my age, maybe even actually my age. The only thing is that he’s a total zombie. His mother said he overdosed two nights ago and hasn’t been totally right since he woke up. I wanted to ask what he took too much of, but I wouldn’t have recognized the name anyway.

Well, a brain-dead friend’s better than no friend. His mother said he liked puzzles, so I pulled out a 100-piecer I had my eye on for a while. His five o’clock shadow gave his pale face some character when he smirked at the picture on the box: Finn and Jake riding Lady Rainicorn. I asked him if he liked the show; he nodded. I guessed he’d be mute, but then he read my name tag aloud. I covered it and corrected him with the name I’m testing out this month: Natalie. Jeremy and his mother squinted at me, but he understood before his mother did. He placed his hand on mind when I reached for a corner piece, even at his turtle’s pace. I looked into his dead green eyes and I could tell he was alright with me.

I don’t know why I corrected them. I still haven’t told the other patients to call me Natalie. Maybe it’s because I panicked when the first guy greeted me as Dick when I was given my gowns, or when the doctors introduced me by my birth name without asking me what I wanted to be referred as. Which I don’t understand, because my name has so many nicknames, you’d figure every professional would check with you first. But I was still out of it, lost in a depressed fog, completely checked out and submissive. Maybe Jeremy can help me reintroduce myself when he gets better, if he remembers any of this. At the very least, I can help him until he does. I need a friend in here, and his stringy brown hair is kind of cute when it covers his face.