Mental Hospital Notebook

Today we were in group and one of the girls accused me of scratching my arms. The nerve of some people. I got so angry, that I started to scratch all the scabs and almost healed cuts open, right in front of everyone. The smell of blood filled the air and I didn't stop. I held my arms out for everyone to see, tears streaming down my face. The nurse didn't stop either – just observed me – before calling the attendants from the hospital floor to come get me.

Now I’m sitting here in the dark, straining to write. I’m not supposed to have anything with me because I could “find some way to harm myself”. Luckily the one attendant knows I need to at least have this to occupy myself with and snuck them to me. Hey, maybe my nurse will be happy I’m finally using the notebook like she wanted.


Gretta came to visit me again. We didn't talk much, but she brought me a letter from Eli and one from my mum. I didn't read them though. I couldn't bear to read what Eli had to say. I just want to be gone.


I’m back in my room with Nessa again. She’s quiet still. Scared. I wonder if she’s scared of me after my outburst a few days ago? At first I figured I’d be there for awhile, but seeing as this is my second time to Saint Ophelia, they’re probably tired of seeing my face in the hospital ward. I guess that’s good for me then.


If I do good for the next few weeks, they might let me out. It will only be fore a week though, to visit with everyone. When I come back, I’ll be here for two months. If I can do good over that period of time, they’ll let me check out. Although I suppose being 18 can stop them if I really wanted to. But I do want to get better…


Only 15 more days. I really can’t wait to leave. Wanting to see everyone is killing me. I know some of my friends have gotten on with their lives, but others are really worried and I hate that. I’m going to get better for them, so the time they are wasting won’t be for nothing.


I miss Eli. So, so much. I shouldn't have slashed my arms open. I shouldn't have picked up the knife. If I’d just called one of the girls, or gone out to do something, maybe that whole scene could have been avoided or at least delayed.

Whenever I think of him, I think of that night and the sadness. How could I hurt someone I love so badly? The whole thing makes me feel like a terrible person. How am I going to face him when they let me out of here for the week? Perhaps I could just hide out at home and not tell anyone I’m going to be there…


Nessa is actually really interesting. She’s a very talented artist, and did a nice portrait of me. I thought it was really sweet of her. Now it’s hanging in our room.


I’m starting to fill out more. My BMI isn't super low anymore, which the nurses think to be great. They even let me pick what I want to eat at meals now and don't force me to eat plates and plates of salad. I suppose that's because I've stopped refusing to eat certain foods and I'm sucking it up.


Since it’s Friday, some of us girls are watching movies all night in the activity room. Dirty Dancing is one of my favourite movies. Haven’t seen it in ages though.


Mondays are gross. All weekend I did art stuff with Nessa and her parents. The nurses permitted me to go with them upon their request. It was really nice. Fun to get out of here for a bit too.


One more week. One more week and I get to leave for a week. I wish I could just be 'better' so that I could leave. I don’t think I’ll ever be better though.

There will always be that chance that I could get angry and just start slashing again. There will always be that chance that I could get angry and take it to the next level.

What if there’s a next time and there isn't someone there to save me like Eli did? Then I could be dead. Maybe if the depression went away, I’d stop cutting. But the depression never goes away.


Counting down. Nessa introduced me to another girl she met during group, another cutter – Antonia. She’s really nice, but I have a feeling she won’t be around here much longer. Just something about the look in her eyes. She has the same look the others have before they 'leave'. Only, they aren't really leaving; they’re dying.


I was right about Antonia. In a way. She’s in the hospital ward for using some sort of ground down metal dish to cut herself. Lord only knows how she got it. Now they’re trying to figure out new ways to serve us food without giving us any chance to harm ourselves. Over the top I think.


Maybe when I visit home I can start redoing my room. I’m going to have to move back in eventually. I mean, yeah, six months here can turn into way longer than that, but I’m hoping not.

I can at least fake that I’m okay.


Three more days.


Two more days. I really have nothing to say anymore. I feel so empty. Just when I was thinking I might get better, the empty feeling came back. Oh.


Group was bad today… But I was right about Antonia. She’s no longer here. Can I just sleep now until the morning, then I’ll be home? I just want to see everyone so badly…

---

“I’m so glad to see you,” Eli’s voice was just as I remembered it, smooth and inviting. “How are you feeling?”

Yet another question therapy had made me have a distaste for. Sometimes I wondered if anyone really wanted to know how I was feeling, or if it was just the customary thing to do. “I’m feeling very well, actually. I just want to get better so I can come home and everyone will stop worrying about me.”

He wrapped his arms around me and everything that had made me feel the least bit upset was gone. It was always like that with him around – happiness. It was when he wasn't around that it became a problem. Maybe I should be learning how to not get so attached to people. “I’m really glad to have some time to spend with you guys.”

“We made reservations at Starlight Serenade. I know how much you love French food,” my mum kissed me on the top of my head, and we all headed to the car. It was a really sweet arrival back home.

Once we were at the restaurant it felt just like old times – times where I was happy and didn't have the blade on my mind. I guess some things would never change now though. I’d become something I never thought I would in the past two years. But it would get better soon. It would all get better and be over.

---

Evalyn was found dead in her room the next morning. The word 'help' scratched into her chest, her arms slashed back open. It was only going to be her second day on a break from the mental institution.

Next to her they found a photo album with pictures from the school functions she participated in, as well as her family times.