Isolation

The two men closed the door behind me and my eyes began to hurt as they adjusted to the dim light that I was now surrounded by. I had agreed to become a test subject not for the money, although as a forth year university student who lives off of grilled cheese and Kraft dinner, I really needed it. I did it to prove to myself that I was strong. Not just physically but mentally as well. I believed that I could overcome the fear that was presented to the individual in the isolation room, but I was proved wrong.

After my eyes adjusted, I found a spot in the far corner of the room and sat down. I closed my eyes and began to relax my mind so that I could ignore the double-sided mirror that was hanging on the wall across from me. I had to fight to keep concentrated off the fact I was being watched from behind it. I looked directly above me and I noticed the panic buzzer. The two men had told me that all I had to do was push the buzzer and the test would be over. My goal was to stay in at least six hours. If I did, the money would pay my rent for half a year. I had rehearsed this over and over again in my head. If I could keep myself relaxed for a long enough period of time, I could overcome any tension that I may experience while I was in this room.

After a few minutes, my mind began to wander around and eventually focused on my previous day's events. Slowly my thoughts began to rewind through my past days, weeks, and months. None were particularly interesting. A trip to the mall with my youngest cousin a few months ago or the day almost a year ago that I helped my mom paint our living room, those kinds of things.

My mind continued jumping around until it focused on a list of the happiest moments I had experienced in my life, which must have been buried deep in my subconscious. I could not help but smile at these memories as I let them cover me with the happiness they contained. The day my parents surprised me with a puppy, or when my friend asked me to be the best man at his wedding, and the day that I graduated high school, just to name a few. With all of these happy memories surrounding me, I began to believe that I may have actually been mentally strong enough to overcome this handicap that had plagued hundreds before me. I embraced these warm memories like a lifeline to protect me from the darkness and loneliness that I was experiencing in this room.

I focused my mind on the memories of my dog. Her and I playing catch in the yard, or going for walks. The day that she jumped into a skunk den and was sprayed so badly that the house smelled for weeks. The day that she fell down the stairs. The day that we buried her. I did not understand what was going on by that point. My mind was bringing up suppressed memories that I would have liked to keep suppressed. I frantically searched for the place in my mind that would bring me back to the happy memories that I had experienced just moments ago. If I found that place, I could discard these unpleasant memories and let the happy ones engulf my mind. My search ended in vain.

The clenched myself back as the terrible memories continued. Having to stand knee deep in a hole that I had just dug so I could bury my dog and best friend in. The day in fifth grade where I came to school with glasses and the other kids teased me. How I had to hide in the bathroom to get away from them. The day when I was four that I accidentally lost sight of my parents at the annual city fair. That day I felt so alone even though I was surrounded by hundreds of other happy people. Eventually a groundskeeper found me crying and made an announcement over the fairgrounds that a little boy had been found. I was sucked too far into the spell of the isolation room to even pull the happiness out of that memory. The feeling of relief that I had at the time when my parents came to get me was drowned by the pulsing sensation that had overcome me during that critical point in my childhood. I longed to feel the happiness in that memory. The feeling of relief when I saw my parents with tears streaming down their faces. The warmth that I felt when they promised that they would never lose me again. But none of that joy resurfaced. My mind spun with feelings of terror, loneliness... isolation.

The next thing I remember was being brought out of the isolation room by the two men who had first led me in there. I was later told that I had been screaming and punching the panic buzzer so hard that I had cracked the protective covering. It turns out that I had stayed in the room for almost two hours which is actually very good considering the average time spent in the room is about one hour. As I sat in the interrogation room with my warm cup of coffee and a blanket draped over my shoulders one of the people in charge of the experiment began asking me questions about my experiences in the room. I could see some of my friends peeking through the door every once in a while, just to check if I was alright. I could feel the heat radiating from my shoulders all the way to my fingertips. Normally the warmth given off through these items would have had a calming effect in this room, but none of that mattered anymore. Not what had just happened to me or even what I had just been told. I was now exposed to light, to freedom, to company.