Borderline Love

Chapter five

With my feet pulled up into bed, I had tucked myself like a burrito into the thin hospital blanket to make myself more cozy. I was just fixing to fall asleep when my new roommate decided to turn over on her mattress and start up a conversation.

"What's your name?" She was an slightly older lady with a pink bow that seemed both out of place and completely cute.

Hesitantly, I replied, ''Rose. And yours?''

" So what are you in here for miss Rose? Haven't seen you the day room before,'' she observed.

"My roommates called the hospital after a black out episode and they admitted me. I have been in my room since I got here. Too low and upset to socialize. What about you? What are you in here for?''

" Not my first rodeo, but I had a manic episode and flew off the handle at my daughter. I don't remember anything except talking to her about her new boyfriend. Who is a complete fucking dick. She said I threw a chair. I don't remember that.''

"Oops," I laughed gently, hoping to ease the tension. My confusion and curiosity next had me inquiring, "The doctor said something about manic being part of bipolar? Does that mean you're bipolar too?'' I paused for a moment. "I hope that wasn't too personal to ask."

"Yes, I am bipolar. So apparently us bipolarins tend to switch moods often or get irritable easy or hyper one second and depressed the next. I know. Sounds confusing right?"

"I was diagnosed about three years ago," I mused, "I guess I could see me that way.''

Our conversation went a for little bit longer. Talking about living situations and exs. I actually really enjoyed talking with her. It almost made me feel better. At the very least, it made dinner time come more quickly.

"Rose do you want to sit with me?" my elderly roomie invited.

"Sure,'' I remained hesitant.

The two of us strolled casually down to the dinner hall, which was this large open space with plastic table and chairs. It looked like something out of a middle school. After grabbing our trays, we sat down at one of the empty round tables. It was nice to feel part of something again, even if I did hate socializing. For the last couple of days, I'd felt lost. I definitely didn't feel like I was me, or as a matter of fact, I didn't feel like I was in my body at all. The meal wasn't too bad. Turkey and mashed potatoes alongside corn with milk to drink. Although the mashed potatoes were instant, I couldn't complain. Something about them reminded me of Sasha's cooking.
We sat there while munching and talked about our diagnosis and our home lives. I found out she had Dissociative Identity Disorder and Bipolar on top of the normal depression. When dinner was over, we were all sent to the social room. No one was allowed to go to their bedrooms. Still, I wasn't quite up for too much social interaction so I had gone straight to my room even after being directed to the social room.

"Of course they locked it!" I shouted in frustration. 

All I wanted to do was lay down and ignore the world. Couldn't they just let me rest? How could they expect forcing me into doing things to help? Following my mini outburst, I reluctantly made my way to the awkward social room where people were yelling and fighting over the TV.

Once we sat back in our tight nit corner, Kay explained to me that there was a patient going through a pretty rough time who kept finding ways to cut herself. She said the poor girl would have to be given a shot to calm her down. I felt bad for her. I could definitely relate. While I hadn't ever cut myself, I had held the knife to my thigh multiple nights. Just sitting there thinking about the act. Wondering if it would help. So many people did it, so it must do something, right?