Inpatients

I got off the phone with you yesterday and lost it a little. A man stopped me to introduce himself. I remember nothing but the look on his face when he saw my tears- and that he’s from Washington.

My roommate, Danielle - a beautiful dentist from Maine - saw I was distraught when I entered our shared room with a floppy plastic bathroom door…

Did you know that you have to tell the Doctor about all of your traumas? It’s really fun to open Pandora’s Box for an hour only to walk away alone, open, bleeding from your brain into a campus yard to smoke a cigarette. I think those are the only moments worthy of a cigarette.

I think I’m having a positive time here and then I absolutely despise being here. I think I’m making headway and then I feel absolutely awful.

Danielle told the front desk to send a therapist to our room tonight.

Erin - 30’s round face, glasses - came in and stood at my door.
I was laying, propped up by my elbows on my stomach in my bra and a pair of biker shorts.

”You don’t have to stand there, you can come sit on my bed.” I cried.

She asked me what was wrong. I told her I felt like my life had crashed down. That I have to start from scratch, with children who are rightfully sad and angry about me being gone.

Then she said this,

”I can radio the entire staff, take you out to the edge of the track and you can scream as loudly as you’d like.”

”Really?” I laughed, wiping my nose. Imagining myself walking to the edge of the rocky track, screaming with coyotes howling around me was enough of an image to get me off my elbows and wipe my face.

“If I feel this shit tomorrow, I will go scream at the end of the track.”