Another Week

I made it through another week! Yeah missed my Wednesday meeting, bad, but did make it through! I have close to 4000 eggs for the Easter Egg Hunt. About 30 baskets and prizes. And one big stuffed Lamb for a Grand Prize. I am excited, but tired. So good night and I will write about it on Sunday. Hunny

Just A Monday

Compared to 3 weeks ago, tonight was BLISS! I love my parents, don't get me wrong, but I can not continue to ignore the fact that they are both drinking way too much and not getting out of the house. My sisters care, but face it they are 1000's of miles away. Brother thinks it is a joke and is too wrapped up in his own life to even get involved. He promised Sis2 that he would visit this weekend. Well I missed that, no he missed it! Tomorrow I plan on taking the time to write both of my parents a letter and let them know how I feel. I can't talk to them when they are sober and impossible when they have been drinking. Work is work. Not the best, but it hasn't been too bad lately. I won't let my guard down, but it has been better. Kids didn't do well with Report cards. Daughter pulled a fast one, but trying to hide the fact that report cards came out so she could go out. It worked, and now she has lost my respect and more trust. Tell her that, and she doesn't believe it. Then she asks to go out with Friends and I say no. I wonder why? Then I want her help with the Easter Egg Hunt this weekend. She says no. Here is the thing though, she can't compete right now at the meets because of her grades. Son needs to leave the Easter Egg Hunt stuff alone. It is taking over the Dining room and some of the living room. 4000 plastic eggs does that. I am looking forward to it. I will enjoy making everyone smile and being silly. Later Hunny

Been A Long Time

Just a short note, I haven't spent much time writing lately. Things get out of control in life, and then your forced to take control again. So here it is that I am taking control again. I refuse to be a parent to my parents! I repeat, I will not cover for them, remember your serentity prayer. More later. Hunny

Cutting My Wrist

Before I started keeping a journal at the Hospital, another incident happen. This one did not grant me a stay in the Special Care room, this one was 9 stitches, and the revoking of my ability to attend my Graduation from High School. Upon entering Harding I was told that it would be a strong possibility that I would be allowed a pass to go home and attend my graduation from High School. If you have been reading this blog you might remember mention of a picture of my boyfriend that had died in an motorcycle accident. It was in a small wallet frame with glass. I was allowed to keep it, later they would regret this. It was an average day at Harding, I can't even remember what set this episode off in my life. I became upset about something. Feeling no control in my life, I took a towel, removed the glass from the frame, and broke the glass. With the glass shard in my right hand I drew it across my left wrist. Deep enough to cut tendons in several fingers. Blood started flowing, and I snapped out of the trance I was in and screamed. I screamed and screamed. I had just cut my wrist in an apparent attempt to hurt myself, and I couldn't remember what led up to that moment. I just saw the blood. Nurses and physicians assistants came running. A towel was wrapped around my wrist and it was determined that I need more medical attention. I was taken to the local emergency room where I received stiches, and a splint. It tooks weeks of recovery for the tendons in my fingers to heal. It was the next day they informed me that "I would be too embarrassed by the cut, and splint on my wrist to attend my graduation". I was devastated. I had been holding on to that escape. I was praying for that. It was bad enough to miss the last half of my senior year, but my graduation? Things went down hill from there for awhile. I didn't care about my treatment. I didn't want to get better, I acted out more. I started the relationship with Steve that caused so much turmoil in my life. It took close to 2 months for me to get back on track with my treatment, to "play" the game. Today when I look down at my left wrist it will always be a reminder of what I missed, but also what I have accomplished. After all, I did make it out of Harding Hospital. I am 40 years old, been married 20 years, and have 2 healthy children. I still have that picture of Richard, somewhere, the frame long gone. The memories, still fresh. Later Hunny

July 15, 1983

July 15, 1983 A lot has happened this month that I haven't bothered to write about for 3 weeks. I been letting things build up inside of me. Last night I did something stupid. I spent the night in Special Care (this was a room with a cot, with no metal, a mattress, and a quilt for a blanket) because I started hitting the window and was upset. I was determined to break the glass. I am such a stupid impulsive girl. (I was 18 when I wrote this) I broke up with Steve last night and it hurt. When I came downstairs I saw him talking to Jan. I wanted someone to talk to, but there was no one. When Stoney came into the room I asked her if she would come sit with me. Then something snapped. I didn't want to hurt myself, I just wanted to get rid of my anger. Now I am on a medication to keep me on an even keel or calm me down. I don't want to be on it, but I would say anything to get out of special care. Also I would do anything not to go back in there. I have to learn to find a release. I have been placed on regular again, have to work back up to U.A. again. Starting all over. (there were different levels at the hospital, regular when you got there, U.A being un-attended to and from activities, grounds being allowed to be out on the grounds un-attended, there there was towns, which of course allowed you to leave the campus). Now that I am out I am going out of Special Care, where there are people I'm trying to accept their feeling towards me. I feel them looking at me like I've got a contagious disease. Stoney said I should stay in Special Care, because I haven't seemed to learn. I have learned! Just I've got to work harder on my goals. I don't want anymore of this, I've been here 4 months and I want to be out by October. Steve made me realize that in the past I thought everything would be okay if I had a boyfriend. Well that doesn't work to well does it? I still have deep feelings for Steve and that is what makes it hard seeing him on a daily basis. It won't be easy, but I won't talk to him. I will act like he not at the hospital. I went to ceramics today. It was hard to admit that I was on regular again. Being escorted to my activities after gaining so much, was embarrassing. Nobody talks to me, at activities or on the unit anymore. I've stopped attending SEED Group, we have a new member, and I don't want to have to introduce myself. I got a letter from Mom today, she told me to keep up the good work. A little late for that, I will have to write her tomorrow and explain what happened. One good thing from last night, before any of the above happened, I got to talk to my Grandma & Grandpa. It was really nice talking to them, also funny.................................................................... As I look back and remember that night, I was a frighten young girl, not able to deal with her feelings. I had been rejected by a young man that I had given my love too at the hospital. He was older. Steve was there because he had issue with drugs, and not dealing with his feelings. He was tall, dark and handsome. The typical bad boy. I fell hook, line and sinker. What it got me was a night of screaming. I pounded my clenched fist against that glass screaming over and over again. Funny all these years later I can remember how dark it looked on the outside of the glass, like a reflection of my heart at the time. I think Stoney ratted me out and the nurses and physician assistants (remember they were all ex body builders) came running. They restrained me and moved me to Special Care. This room was small. Stark, and everything you expect in a Hospital for the mentally insane. As I wrote in this entry, I would do anything to get out of that room, not realizing that it would be my home again during my stay at Harding. To this day, when I get really upset, I prefer to go to a dark room. A closet or the bathroom works best. Must be part of what is left from Harding, learns to calm down and deal in the dark.

A journal entry from June 27, 1983

Dear Hunny, You can do whatever you need to do to get well, but, you don't need to run and hide. You don't need impulsiveness or men for attention. Dam girl, give it to yourself. If you need a pat on the back your arm can reach, and it is not being conceited. If you need attention take a hot bath, do a face mask, or change your hair style. With the impulsiveness to hurt yourself to rid your anger or for attention, cool it by a shower, or sing your lungs out into a pillow. Don't pity yourself, because that is being conceited. When you start, say to yourself "Dam fool stop!, Where does it get you?". If you don't like yourself now, do something you like yourself at. Don't get discouraged if it doesn't work. Try another one. When you need arms to hold you and words to solace you; read letters from home. You can do it girl. Hell it has been done before by people a lot worse then you. You've got insight as to what is going on with you. Use the cliche' "Practice what you preach" It is very true. Also don't do what would hurt you! Something inside you has faith and loves you! I wrote that entry in 1983, at that time I had been in Harding Hospital for close to 3 months. Life had been tough, but I often go back and ready this entry to remind me that I have faced much worse then a day at work with shitty co-workers. If nothing else I am a survivor. More another day, Later Hunny

First Night at Harding

Well another week has started. It began with most male bloggers blogging about how the two female NFL Cheerleaders were arrested after they were found to be having sex in the bathroom at a club in Florida. Everyman's wet dream. I think every man I have met has had a fantasy of watching two woman get it on. Now a certain part of me, My evil twin, thinks this is very funny and would be making jokes, like wish I was next in line and such, but instead, I only mention it here, and to my hubby who of course smiled. Now I haven't mentioned Harding Hospital in several entries, so I will go back tonight. It was my first day. My parents and I were walking to towards the cottage with the nurse. I reached into my bag that I was carrying and showed her a picture of Richard, in a cheap "glass" frame. Asking her "Is it alright to keep this?" Her reply was yes, little did I know that would play such a crucial role latter on. My first impression of Westover was quaint, until I got inside. When you entered, to the right was the nurses station. It was a low counter about 5 feet or more long, where a nurse would sit on one side. Under the windows was a bunch of locked drawers. This was where patients blow dryer, curling iron, electric razors and anything deemed dangerous would be kept, and only signed out to the patient as needed. To the left was a circular stairwell to the 2nd floor, and a sitting area. Patients rooms were to the left men, and to the right women. Bathrooms were to the right. Some of the rooms were big with nice big widows. My first room was medium sized with a wardrobes to hold our clothes that made the room seem small. There was a big window that had bars on it reminding you that you couldn't get out. My first roommate was named Stoney. She was there because she had tried to kill herself after her boyfriend had broken up with her. She regretted it, the moment she realized she had survived. Stoney was a little bit slow, and felt she didn't belong there. None of us belonged there. Stoney would write poetry, and her parents would come visit her. Her parents had her late in life, and she was all they had, they couldn't understand how she could have hurt herself. Whenever they visited, they would tell me about finding her and their reaction. I did not want this information, and although Stoney and I shared this, we did not get along, and I was grateful when Stoney signed herself out of the hospital and I got a new roommate. The thing that stands out the most in my mind about my first night at Harding was as the sun set that night I wanted to go outside, I put my coat on, walked to the door only to be told that I was not allowed to go outside. That is when the reality of where I was set in. That I was no longer allowed to come and go as I pleased that I was locked inside. I pounded the door in frustration, crying out and causing a big scene. Only to be escorted to my room and told that is not how we behave here. Life at Harding had begun.