Chapter One
"And...sign right here, and we should be good"
You could here the frantic scribble of pen on paper, showing my mother was almost as desperate to get out of here as I was.
Not.
Did I really want to leave? Of course not. Was I going to do something about it? Absolutely not. They would probably think that I was even crazier than they thought if I actually wanted to stay in a mental hospital.
"Feelings of hesitation are normal. You've been in a place for a month where you have no worry of someone hurting you or hurting yourself. It's normal to feel vulnerable going back into the real world and your old life," I remember my psychiatrist saying when I confided in him my fears to leave.
Oh, I'm sorry, so then this is the fake world? Gotta love psychology.
"Here's Elaina's meds and prescription list."
I heard the muted clunking of pills in a pill bottle, and the shuffle of the bottles being put into a paper bag.
"If you have any questions at all, night or day, call this number and you'll be patched through to the nurse's station here. And here's the time and date for her next counseling appointment."
"Ok, thank you so much." my mother said in her professional voice reserved for strangers and now, people-affiliated-with-my-daughter's-psychiatric-care.
"Elaina. Time to go. Come on."
I lifted my head from my arms and the table they were resting on, silently got up and shuffled to the door of the meeting room to where my mother and the nurse were standing. Another nurse came up with my bags and belongings. My mother took a glance at me, stopping when her gaze went past my wrists. She turned to look at the nurse.
"Ehm, nurse, could I speak with you a moment?"
My mother walked a far way's off with the admissions nurse, far enough so I couldn't hear them. I stood there waiting next to the nurse who had brought my bags, who had a look her eye as if to say, "You aren't officially released until you walk through those doors, sister, so I still gotta watch your every move. "
The hall was quiet, a rare entity. The rest of the girls were having their lunch in the common room. I could see them eating and chatting away through the hallway window, as if this was normal lunchtime at school in the cafeteria, not an adolescent psychiatric unit. My roommate Becky, a fun, hyperactive and extremely bipolar high school senior saw me and waved with a smile on her face.
My mom and the admitting nurse were still talking. I listened hard, trying to hear what they were saying.
"....are you sure about releasing her? I mean, just look at her. She looks so depressed that you'd think there was a zombie somewhere in her family tree. Are you sure?"
"Mrs. Williamson, I can assure you that she has been through all of the assessments given by her psychiatrist and therapist they deemed necessary. She just hasn't gotten that much sleep lately, even with her sedative we give her at night to help her sleep. She just lays there in bed and stares at the ceiling for hours as if she's watching a movie or having a deep internal conversation with herself.
What! They had noticed that?
"....So just have her take her meds and get enough sleep and get her to her appointments and limit her exposure to stress as much as possible, and you should be all good."
My mother still looked uneasy, but apparently the conversation was over, and she started walking my way.
"Come on, Lay-Lay, we're ready to go."
DON'T CALL ME THAT.
We headed toward the glass door, along with the admitting nurse. The nurse slid her ID card through the slot and the door opened. Then she pulled out her keys and unlocked the rusty gate right in front of its high tech counterpart.
FREEDOM.
I looked to my mother, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips slightly pursed as she glared in the general direction of the January sunlight.
Well, conditionally.
This was going to be a long car ride home.