Written on the 6th and the 7th of December 2013. Only published later for reasons to be made clear in this and the following posts...
Friday, December 6th 2013. I have no clue
as to if and when I’m going to post this, but I do have the intention to. Only,
there’s one disadvantage, namely that this is the third consecutive day that
I’ve been in the isolation cell. At this moment, I’m enjoying half an hour of
freedom, which is something, because yesterday it was only a quarter of an
hour. Only… never before have I felt so sad, agitated and upset when it comes
to isolation. More than 36 hours… never before has this happened to me. They
don’t fixate me here in the Netherlands, but I can’t say it’s less bad than in
Belgium, for in Belgium 24 hours was the maximum, more or less.
I only have 13 minutes left, so this post won’t have
an end yet. The day before yesterday, I saw a great opportunity to escape from
the ward. So I did. Only… the youngest psychiatrist followed me and he was
capable to pin me down. More and more people came to help him, so they brought
me to the isolation room. The next morning, the psychiatrist came in and told
me they were going to use another approach starting from today – that was
yesterday. I would be locked up for longer periods of time, with only every two
hours a quarter of an hour of freedom in the room in front of the isolation
cell. If that went well – which it did – this would be extended to half an
hour, then to an hour and so forth. Of course, this is beyond reason. That’s
where the title comes from. Gotta go now. Back to my cell.
Same day, only now it’s 6.38 PM. I’m truly disappointed
in the nurses. They didn’t stick to their promises, while I have to do so.
Furthermore, although tomorrow a doctor will come and see me, (s)he won’t be
able to release me from the isolation room, which means practically that I’ll
be incarcerated for at least 5 days. This is so unrighteous and so inhumane!
Never before have I felt so desperate and helpless. I know I have issues when
it comes to behaviour, but this is not the right way! How can I make them realise
that? This approach leads only to more traumatic experiences, less trust in
psychiatrists and nurses and especially, it takes away the little self-esteem I
still had. It’s punishment, although they all say it’s not. Well, let’s swap
places and see who will come out of the isolation room crying and in shock!
I only have 17 minutes left, so let’s be quick. If
they want to drill me, it won’t work this way, not with the aid of this
approach. I’m just not that kind of person. Furthermore, they are destroying
every little piece of me, every single piece of self-esteem I still had. I’m on
the verge of crying now, but I’ll wait until I’m back in my cell, so that the
nurses can’t enjoy to see my tears. I’m actually asking myself why some of them
chose this job. Don’t understand me wrong, some of them do have talent, others
however are rather useless at it and are just enjoying the power they have. No
names will be given…
I don’t know how I’ll have to survive this weekend.
Being at a closed ward is bad, being in the isolation room is worse, but the
worst thing is being locked up without it having any effect whatsoever. What’s
more, my mom’s in a crisis, my dad doesn’t answer my text messages and my
sister ignores me completely. What about helping each other? I probably ask too
much.
Anyway, I’m getting really angry now, but I have to
go. Will be continued… -_-
Same day, 9.08 PM. I’m sitting in the practice room
again, writing about my frustrations because of me being locked up for the
third day in a row and with at least two more days to go. You can’t imagine how
restless I am, how frustrated I am, how I want to kill myself so nobody ever
has any problems with me anymore.
I’m sorry I ran away, doctor.
I’m sorry I don’t let myself catch that easily,
doctor.
I’m sorry nurses that I’m not easy to handle.
I’m sorry to you all that I don’t let myself put into
an isolation cell without fighting back. That’s all because of what happened in
Belgium and because of the voices.
So I’m sorry I fled from Belgium to the Netherlands.
I’m sorry I brought my psychological problems to the
Netherlands.
I’m sorry I cut myself earlier so I had psychological
problems.
I’m sorry I was depressed so I cut myself.
I’m sorry I was bullied by half the class at school so
that I got depressed.
I’m sorry I went to school so that people could bully
me.
I’m sorry I grew up so that I could go to school.
I’m sorry I was born so I could grow up.
I’m sorry I was born…
Saturday, December 7th. I feel more and
more depressed, this approach is just not working! Haven’t seen a doctor yet,
but that’ll probably be of no help. This is one of the first times that I’m lost
for words. I just don’t know what to write anymore, just how f*cking sad,
upset, scared, lost, humiliated, hurt and rejected I feel…
That psychiatrists can go insane is proven by their
actions now. I just don’t know what their goal is. I miss my birdie, I miss my
family, I miss my friends. I’ve been cut off from the outside world for four
days right now, and it just doesn’t feel right. But what can I say, what can I
do? Nothing, that’s right. I’m a prey to their methods and I can’t do anything.
I feel so helpless, so f*cking helpless. What have I done, dear God, to deserve
this? That the doctor is a nutcase is the plain truth. But what can I do about
it? Nothing, I’m afraid… Five minutes left to go to my cell again. I honestly
think this is worse than prison, for prisoners are at least allowed a book or a
television in their room. And I’m behaving so well, honestly…
Same day,8.40 PM. Although this isolation period won’t
be over today, I decided that I’m going to end this post today. Tomorrow there
is room and place for some other post, I have the entire night to think about a
title. It’s insane what’s happening now, although today, I was allowed three
hours of freedom. Not bad, is it? Still, it hurts, it hurts a lot and my heart
is bleeding. When this day ends, I will have been looked up for 76 hours and
counting. Furthermore, I have high hopes to be out of the isolation cell on
Monday, but as there is a meeting about me that same day, it could only end by
Tuesday or, who knows, maybe even later. It’s so unpredictable and I’m scared.
Trust in most of the nurses is lost, although they’re probably just doing their
job. Trust in the psychiatrists is completely gone, for it are they who should
have been locked up for such an elaborate piece of time. It’s not only the
humiliation, but especially the self-esteem that’s been hurt pretty badly. How
much time and work will it cost to go back to the time in which I felt pretty
confident of myself? For that time is over. I feel so small, so small, a tiny
block of Lego in an immense universe…
No comments:
Post a Comment