Where Are My Eyes If They're Not Forward?

28.

This story is approaching an end. It will likely end at 35 chapters. Thankyou for all of the support and love. I want to end while I can still make this good. I am in a very healthy place in life, and I find it hard to write about topics that are quite self destructive now. It served me as an outlet but is now hindering my healing. Writing Maya's mindset makes me feel like I am accessing a bad time in my life. Which is why I will end this sooner, so I can write a decent ending you all deserve, rather than drag it on for months. Thankyou once again! Let me know what you want to see or any thoughts. All my love!

Maya

The end of my psychiatric hold cannot come soon enough. White walls and beeping machines will flash in my head forever, I think. It's like my pupils have been dilated and my hearing heightened for all eternity. I feel like some kind of alien in the modern community. I think it lasted 48 hours, my time in hospital, but I'm not entirely sure. I was sedated most of the first 12 hours, and spent the following hours rotating through benzodiazepines, which don't make me feel very human at all, so it was hard to make sense of the analog clock on the wall on the ward.
I've been placed on a prescription for the benzodiazepines, alongside some anti depressants.

Carina said she fought to get me out of hospital. Which I find incredibly ironic, considering she's the one that dragged me there in the first place. She wouldn't have had to fight so hard if she never forced me into her car. My prescription, and Carina's are now locked in a safe in our kitchen that I am not allowed the password to. It used to be my gun holster, but I turned my personal gun into work. I don't think the solution to gun violence is me owning one. But nevertheless, I do wish my safe was occupied with something so I didn't lose all access to my own medication. I am not a child.
Carina said the conditions of my discharge are non-negotiable, and that if I do not adhere to them, then she will sign for me to go to the general psych ward, even though she expressed that the general ward isn't the best for long term treatment, more for crisis. I have to take my meds when they are given to me. Go to therapy with Diane. See a psychiatrist weekly. I have to complete a DBT course. And I'm signed off from work. I have a community crisis worker designated to me, whom I have to check in with daily. Personally, I think she's just checking I'm not abusing the benzos. I wouldn't. I am fine.

The night I came home from the hospital, I slept next to Carina. She is so full of guilt and anguish, but I cannot bare to look at it in her eyes when I know I caused it. So I sent her home. I've not seen her for three days, despite her incessant texts. Vic and Andy have had a lot of choice words about that.

"You've got to let her love you!" Andy says.

"I let her love me then she put me in hospital."

"Because you were going to kill your self!"

"I wasn't."

I roll over. I am back in my bed- my safe haven. I feel like all I ever do I nap, or watch TV. Andy says it doesn't matter how I spend my days as long as I'm not hurting myself.

"I'm not arguing this," Andy says, walking around my bed so she is face to face with me again. "Isn't there something in that DBT book about this? It isn't unhealthy to shut out your loved ones."

"She deserves it." I shrug.

"You're being incredibly vindictive Maya. This is not the girl I love."

Andy storms out my room, as Vic comes in with sugary tea and toast. I look at the hot drink and frown, but Vic refuses to let me know how much sugar is in my drink. She refuses to let my mind fixate on it.

"Drink up Mai." She says. "Andy will cool off."

Vic is great to have around. She's so different to me.