[Mudcat]

I have. Twice.

During my days of active addictions, I had some drug overdoses leading to ambulance rides to emergency. It was basically policy that they would put you in the Psych Ward for at least a few days after that.

Which may seem like I'm saying I was only there on a technicality and I wasn't batshit crazy in a traditional sense and therefore I didn't belong. But no, I'm not saying that at all. I was pretty psycho - the one time in particular. It may have been drug induced but something way above-and-beyond the usual scope of being high was going on. I don't know if I burst a blood vessel in my brain or what but there was a major personality break that happened for awhile there.

I can see quite a bit of humor in it looking back.



Anyone have any stories? Wanna hear some?

[pico]

you quit now? or you still doing it?

[Mudcat]

Drugs and alcohol? I quit years ago - except for the morning coffee.



I'll tell you what gave me the idea for this thread. Going about my normal travels, I saw Rocky Tattoos.

Rocky Tattoos was a fellow G-Warder at the time I was in. My best memory of Rocky Tattoos was the evening the tattoo of a woman on his arm started giving him instructions to give away all his jewelry.

I was watching TV in the rec room and every five minutes or so Rocky Tattoos would walk in and hand me an item. I’d toss it on the couch beside me. Then, after gravely consulting his forearm, he'd return and hand me something else. I'd flip it away without looking.

He had quite a bit of stuff - watch, bracelet, a couple of necklaces, multiple rings. The procedure lasted for awhile. But eventually there was nothing left for him to give up.

A short while later Rocky Tattoos came back looking for his stuff. I kinda pointed with my thumb to where it was.



It had been many years since I had seen Rocky Tattoos but when I rode past him on my bike, he was unmistakable. 5'1" guy with a head like a peanut and covered with tattoos.

He was waiting for a bus. Well, maybe I should just say he was standing in the vicinity of a bus stop.

Shouldn't make assumptions about what Rocky Tattoos was up to.

[JoshW]

I have been in many of them taking care of my parents who both dealt with mentally illness.

I don't know how those nurses handle it. The depressed patients would be easier; they sit around on their own. The manic ones would drive me "crazy". Always going, some demanding. Couldn't deal with it every day.

I figure among the high post number posters, we have to have a few manics. Helps to achieve high numbers when the mind is always racing and can focus on posting, posting, posting . . .

[Mudcat]

I'm sure you're right. There is not much doubt with the way some guys go.



I was very manic during my strange experience. Totally out of character. I was flamboyant and charming and out-going. So happy.

I remember leading sing-alongs on the out-of-tune piano they had there. People loved me. One woman said she wanted to introduce me to her daughter when we got out.

I was like, "Sure! Give her my number! I'll treat her like a Princess!"

I wonder if she actually did attempt the set-up. I can just imagine. "Okay mom, he sounds real nice. Where did you meet him?"



Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.



I was very unhappy in those days, during the worst of my addictions - and suddenly this weird drug reaction had me the happiest guy on 4 wheels. I remember thinking, "If I was given a choice between living 10 years like this and then dying, or living another 50+ years like I had been, I would definitely take the 10 years.

That was over 10 years ago.

[InTheHole]

and the video i said reminded me of you

[JoshW]

Originally Posted by mudcat

i remember leading sing-alongs on the out-of-tune piano they had there. People loved me. One woman said she wanted to introduce me to her daughter when we got out.

I was like, "sure! Give her my number! I'll treat her like a princess!"

i wonder if she actually did attempt the set-up. I can just imagine. "okay mom, he sounds real nice. Where did you meet him?"

lmao

[Bread]

I had to walk thru the psych ward occasionally at my last job. The very first time I went in, and I was a bit nervous, this bald lady with filed down teeth stepped in front of me and said "Don't look at us! We're scary!" I was traumatized.

Other than that, just a lot of people in diapers that were too big. Always an uneasy feeling walking through there.

[Mudcat]

My honest impression of my mental ward was that very few people seemed to have serious mental problems. Well, who am I to judge? Let me put it this way: very few people didn't carry on a completely normal conversation.

There was a lot of talk about, “the disease of anxiety.” People would get passes to leave the ward. They used them to practice going into convenience stores or getting on and off buses. Then they would come back to the ward and talk about how it went.

They were anxious and they hospitalized themselves for it.

Hmmm, sounds like I’m making some kind of accusation there. I guess I am. I suspect if these people were told, “Due to the great expense, socialized health care will no longer cover hospitalization for anxiousness,” these people would carry on. There are support groups out there - plain old shrinks - and let’s not forget drugs!

Maybe they’d find other ways to get attention. Maybe they would come to SBRforum and post things too stupid to be ignored.

Most likely they’d just live life feeling, you know, anxious. Like they do now.

[fiveteamer]

Did this thread start in the pz or was it moved here?

[Mudcat]

It started here.

[Mudcat]

I was so happy though. I had truly lost my mind.

I remember my first breakfast there. I was offering around my “extras.” I gave my jam to a horribly ugly woman who asked if I thought she was pretty. I said an emphatic yes. She said I’m handsome. Made me feel great. Didn't even matter that she was saying it to every ugly freak in the place.

I remember a bipolar named Monica accepting my coffee cream with such gratitude she said we’d be genetically bonded for life. Well, something like that.

Monica came and sang at the piano with me. She was actually quite good - by bughouse standards, at the very least. She knew a lot of the words to the songs I know from Les Miz - sometimes in the correct order. We did some Beatles.

In an unguarded moment, Bipolar Monica admitted that, like Eleanor Rigby, she has a face that she keeps in a jar by the door. We laughed.