So I up and vanished, right? And y’all were all “hello?” and I didn’t respond, and I wasn’t on Twitter and I wasn’t on MamaPop and some of you said “Where in the name of pants did that girl get to?” and I STILL didn’t respond. I was gone in a flash. Poof. Gone. But now! Now I am back! And I am here to tell you the entire story, gruesome as it was. This might take a couple of posts, but let’s see how much I can cover right now.
I’ve been in the bin. The psych ward. Lockup. For a week. I just got out last night and holy shit, internet, YOU are looking GORGEOUS today, have I mentioned how much I missed you? I missed you so much. No internet, no phones, no nothing. Total lockdown. We weren’t even allowed on the grounds of the hospital. That’s right, I’ve been under complete lock and key since last Thursday. I never said I wasn’t dramatic.
There’s a whole backstory, but I owe some people face to face time to tell it, so we’ll skip the reasons I ended up in the ER on Thursday and got locked up. Let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. Not pretty at all. So fast forward! To the bin itself. Which was chock full of lovely people (remember, I make friends wherever I go) and we all huddled around the one television (I held the remote, elected President of the Television by…me) and watched the Oscars, and Idol, and Charlie Sheen lose his damn mind, and we all exclaimed with righteous outrage that it was a cruel universe that WE were in lockdown and HE was on television. A good time was had by all laughing about this dude, who is WAY crazier than any of US were.
I met wonderful people, you guys. People I’ll never forget. And a couple I won’t HAVE to forget, because the next stage of my therapy is intensive outpatient therapy which means I’ll be spending my mornings at group therapy for the foreseeable future, and so will Zombie Girl (names protected, natch) who I got very close to and got sprung yesterday too. We live 15 minutes from each other and are already planning to go to the movies together asap. When Hackey Sack gets out of the ‘hab, he will join us in outpatient therapy, and we will rejoice, for the three of us were quite naughty indeed, and became great friends.
But most of these people I will probably never see again (I don’t plan on EVER visiting the bin again) but they’ll stay in my heart. We were all just normal people who had a disease that can’t be seen, dudes. That’s all. We needed to have that disease stabilized, and then we were let out. It was really for the best that I was there, but oh my lordo am I happy to be home.
So yeah. I’m better. I have my meds straightened out and I’m feeling alive and good and way better than I have since before Christmas. It’s grand being out of lockup, and breathing real air, and going outside (and y’all know I’m not a big fan of going outside) but man oh man do I appreciate it now and I drove the CAR this morning to get cigarettes (no ciggies in the bin) and I opened all the windows and yelled along with the radio and even Rachael Ray isn’t annoying me at this very second on the teevee because there aren’t 15 people per television and no one is making me do macaroni art.
I love all of you and I’m so sorry if I worried any of you with my vanishing act. It was a pretty gruesome process but it had to happen for me to get the help and the support system that I so obviously need right now. I have loads of other stuff to tell, but I’ll leave it at this for now. I’m here, I’m safe, I’m home, I’m alive. And that, as Martha Stewart would say, is a very good thing.