Far away

Far away, in a country dubbed “River Dunes”, strange things happen. And when I say “strange” things, I absolutely mean bizarre stuff. To begin with, it’s a land that promotes itself as being entirely friendly and safe for everyone. I haven’t felt safe here for one millisecond. Secondly, only invited guests are allowed to enter. If you don’t have that pile of papers required to own you a spot there, you won’t be given permission to enter. Unfortunately, it’s not that difficult to get these papers. Try jumping off a 13-level building. As a guest, you’re entitled to have quite a comfy room: it has everything you need in order to relax – which is a good but not sufficient reason to be here. I’m actually in that land right now, but instead of sending you all a postcard, I decided to blog about it. I’m sure you’ll understand why, just read along. However, turning back to the room, it’s a bit weird that in the entire 15 m² – approximately – the only thing that can be moved is a chair. All the other furniture seems to be glued to the walls or the ground. The window opens approximately 5 centimetres at the upper side. I can’t even put my hand through to wave at the birds flying by. The view is spectacular, though, especially at night. I can see Leiden by night, the district around the railway station. I can also see the parking garage with its 13 levels. What’s more, in this room, the walls seem to be soft, a kind of soft wood. And it’s all very, very quiet… The lights are built in the ceiling and/or the wall, mostly up high. There are only three sockets, but these are far away from the bed, actually on the opposite side of the room, very unhandy if you ask me. What would be the reason for that, for there must me some reason? There is a mirror in the bathroom, but I bet it’s not made of real stuff that can be broken. The shower, then, is just some button and a small hole where the water pours out. The temperature of the water is also altered. Forget about taking a relaxing hot shower!

You can probably already guess what kind of land I’m talking about. Yes indeed, I’m writing about the closed ward of the Leiden psychiatric clinic and I’m doing this on purpose because I feel extremely frustrated. Today, the judge and my lawyer had a meeting, together with me and the doctors and nurses, and the judge reinforced my IBS, which means that I’ll have to reside the up-and-coming 3 weeks in room 127 on the closed ward, with no permission to leave the building, except when I’m stable again.

This week has been horrible. You may have read about it in my previous post. I’m still in shock about what happened at the police station. I don’t acknowledge writing about that yet because I don’t have access to the Internet right now, and I’m writing all this on my laptop. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what happened, but it put me in shock, gave me another trauma and lessened even more my confidence in the so-called caretakers. Today I got separated again. This was the third time in a week. Yesterday I was just lucky enough to have people who gave me some more credit, or maybe it was just me who could fight harder against the voices. Otherwise, that would have been number 4. Because that’s what happens, you see: I lose control, the voices take over, and I can’t do anything about it. And then the nurses take over…

It hurts so much, you know. I’m all black and blue all over my body. 26 bruises. Of course, it would be easier just to admit defeat and give in, but that’s something I just can’t do… My voices make me so much stronger than I normally am. Physically, that is. They take over from one moment to the other. I’ve already been sedated by injection four times this week, and I’ve only been here for 1 week. I’m scared, you know, scared to death, because the meds are not (yet) working. Every day I have to take extra tranquillizers to behave, so to say. I’m completely lost, especially when the tranquillizers, like today, don’t do their work properly. All evening I’ve tried to distract myself, but there they were, again and again… This will probably never stop…

It’s discouraging, you know, to feel so lost in space. I’m desperate that this will never end. Secretly I’d hoped to be released today, because I just want to go back to my normal life. But these insane voices destroy me, and the sadness that I’m now feeling is the result of having eaten a hot meal tonight. It’s their type of punishment…

Yes, I’m angry with certain people who work in this place, but I can’t say that in public because then they are going to separate me once again, to protect me from myself and from other people. Since when am I a ferocious animal? They all know it’s no good to keep people with borderline on a closed ward, they all know that I’ve got traumas from earlier separations, and still they do it. Why? What have I done wrong? They put me in a situation in which I feel threatened, and that’s why I react defensively in the first place, and in the second place I attack indeed, because survival of the fittest is clearly at stake here. And the yelling is just a natural reaction of frustration, of fear…

And the worst thing is, the voices are far from away. Right now they’re sending me images in which I’m going to be separated once again, all over again. That’s why I don’t dare go to sleep, afraid of the nightmares that will follow. I’d rather be dead, but I’m not allowed to say that either because then they’ll lock me up anyway. I’ve tried to find ways to hang myself, to cut myself, to escape and throw myself from that lovely 13-level building close by, but without any success. This situation is hopeless…

What more can I do to survive these three coming weeks, that is, if I want to survive those?