So, Friday morning, sitting early [and miserably attempting to wake up even earlier each time] on the couch, and writing to you.
I don't really know what to do guys, I guess I'll try.
So, I was hospitalised as you know, for eight days, which is remarkably short.
The psychologist thought about holding me there for at least three months [!].
I found there two ways for suicide, the obvious shoelaces [which, I was surprised that they weren't taken away!], and the rare and unconventional one, overdosing on baking soda, using the toothpaste they gave us. [I really wanted to read something and I found out that if you swallow or overuse you should go to the poison control centre, so, yeah!]
I was going to use the laces and making a noose and basically just deciding that my life have stopped their beautiful flowing, and now a shitty person got a shitty-ish life and that person can't handle it.
On the first day, which was Tuesday evening-night, I was crying when they told me that I was going to stay there.
But it was nothing like the cries I usually cry, that one was pure agony, and oh, I'm never going there again, I shall never lay another damn foot in that evil and horrific place.
I was welcomed by a nice girl named Mai, she told me that it's going to be alright and she told me what to expect.
Then, I walked into my room, I saw a couple of girls.
Eden, who came in the same day that I came, but just a couple of hours earlier, 13, came in because of suicidal thoughts that she has because of her depression, she has an odd pop-and-some-other-things music style, she plays Minecraft and her main social network is Twitter, she doesn't have friends at home, but she has friends from England, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait,
Meital, an odd girl who I barely talked to. [I don't know or really care why.]
Emily, or as I [over-]enjoy to call her, Emily-with-a-y [reading about a really good artist's book about asylums is not necessarily a good idea] is epic, ginger, odd, got there by attempting suicide, not her first hospitalisation, basically, awesomeness that from some reason, isn't a huge thing on tumblr.
Inbar, the fucking awesome ex-anorectic-who-still-goes-by-her-old-behaviour, a huge fan of poetry and enjoys writing some, have a kick-ass body [that she -sadly- hates, I find it gorgeous], an interesting taste in music [Rage Against the Machine], and probably the one you would never regret meeting.
On the two days to follow, I was crying on and off, getting in-and-out of panic attacks, which have drastically reduced after a girl named Hana taught me how to do breathing exercises.
And after they put me back in my room and out of the unit [a room with 24/7 supervision, a bit freaky] Emily gave me that really good inspirational speech, and I felt good enough to start reading a book.
I read Paper Towns, by John Green, and dear, it is brilliant,
From that moment and on I was good.
On the weekend, it was a bit strange.
We wear with a girl named Nur [pronounced noor] who came for the weekend, and Oriel, who got hospitalised for his fourth time because of a false-report.
I was a highly-functioning lady [yes, I do take pleasure in calling myself a "lady"] there.
Meaning, I was juggling between reading a beautiful book, to putting together the skies in the puzzle [basically, same colour in everything], to listening carefully to others, to playing chess, to learning how to play Dragons and Dungeons, reading the news [or as I call it, the only remaining piece of outer-world], to solving crosswords and riddles, basically being that odd girl who is a...
night.
I don't really know what to do guys, I guess I'll try.
So, I was hospitalised as you know, for eight days, which is remarkably short.
The psychologist thought about holding me there for at least three months [!].
I found there two ways for suicide, the obvious shoelaces [which, I was surprised that they weren't taken away!], and the rare and unconventional one, overdosing on baking soda, using the toothpaste they gave us. [I really wanted to read something and I found out that if you swallow or overuse you should go to the poison control centre, so, yeah!]
I was going to use the laces and making a noose and basically just deciding that my life have stopped their beautiful flowing, and now a shitty person got a shitty-ish life and that person can't handle it.
On the first day, which was Tuesday evening-night, I was crying when they told me that I was going to stay there.
But it was nothing like the cries I usually cry, that one was pure agony, and oh, I'm never going there again, I shall never lay another damn foot in that evil and horrific place.
I was welcomed by a nice girl named Mai, she told me that it's going to be alright and she told me what to expect.
Then, I walked into my room, I saw a couple of girls.
Eden, who came in the same day that I came, but just a couple of hours earlier, 13, came in because of suicidal thoughts that she has because of her depression, she has an odd pop-and-some-other-things music style, she plays Minecraft and her main social network is Twitter, she doesn't have friends at home, but she has friends from England, South Africa, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait,
Meital, an odd girl who I barely talked to. [I don't know or really care why.]
Emily, or as I [over-]enjoy to call her, Emily-with-a-y [reading about a really good artist's book about asylums is not necessarily a good idea] is epic, ginger, odd, got there by attempting suicide, not her first hospitalisation, basically, awesomeness that from some reason, isn't a huge thing on tumblr.
Inbar, the fucking awesome ex-anorectic-who-still-goes-by-her-old-behaviour, a huge fan of poetry and enjoys writing some, have a kick-ass body [that she -sadly- hates, I find it gorgeous], an interesting taste in music [Rage Against the Machine], and probably the one you would never regret meeting.
On the two days to follow, I was crying on and off, getting in-and-out of panic attacks, which have drastically reduced after a girl named Hana taught me how to do breathing exercises.
And after they put me back in my room and out of the unit [a room with 24/7 supervision, a bit freaky] Emily gave me that really good inspirational speech, and I felt good enough to start reading a book.
I read Paper Towns, by John Green, and dear, it is brilliant,
From that moment and on I was good.
On the weekend, it was a bit strange.
We wear with a girl named Nur [pronounced noor] who came for the weekend, and Oriel, who got hospitalised for his fourth time because of a false-report.
I was a highly-functioning lady [yes, I do take pleasure in calling myself a "lady"] there.
Meaning, I was juggling between reading a beautiful book, to putting together the skies in the puzzle [basically, same colour in everything], to listening carefully to others, to playing chess, to learning how to play Dragons and Dungeons, reading the news [or as I call it, the only remaining piece of outer-world], to solving crosswords and riddles, basically being that odd girl who is a...
night.
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