Deep In The Dark
an excerpt

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Out Of The Psych Ward And Into The Light"

"It is only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up that we begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it were the only one we had."

-Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

My life now is totally different from the way it was two years ago. I have not been hospitalized in five and a half months, and am very proud of that. I live in an apartment by myself, with nobody watching me, feeding me, telling me to clean my room or giving me my medication. I have a job, and will be going back to school in the fall of 2008. I am able to transport myself all over the cities on the bus at a reduced price, and I do not rely on transportation companies. (I do not drive due to the side effects of some of my medications).

Like I said, I live on my own. My apartment is rented through Community Foundations via a subsidy program. I only pay one third of my income for an apartment that is worth at least three times as much as I pay for it. I live in the beautiful area of Como Park, which is also where I grew up. Shortly before I moved in, my apartment was renovated and so it looks quite nice (on the inside, that is, the building itself is a little scruffy looking). The building is a four-plex that looks like a house, so I have three neighbors, one of which I have not seen because he is new and just moved in. My other two neighbors are wonderful, and also very quiet. I live right next to a small, simply outfitted park and can hear the wonderfully uplifting sound of children laughing (and the not so wonderfully uplifting sound of children crying as they fall off the swings) during the day. That sound has brightened my day more than once before. In my apartment, I am able to live independently and freely. I used to dream of the day that I would be able to live alone... and now, that dream has become a reality, and that makes me very happy.

I have a job. I work in a very small bookstore; four people work there, including the owners and myself. It's a metaphysical bookstore, so we sell material of the pagan nature, which is perfect for me given the spiritual path I am on. I started there in February of 2007, and even though I do not make a ton of money, I love my job there. It is not very close to my home- it is a good 40 minutes away on the bus, and it requires two busses to get there, but the sometimes unpleasant ride is completely worth it. Everybody who works at the store is pagan, so I feel at home there and accepted. We have a bird, a ring necked turtledove named Buddy. He flies around the store when he is out of his cage, and is very friendly. He loves to be petted and enjoys flirting with the customers and pretty much anything that moves- or does not move. He makes a cooing sound almost all day long and it is so relaxing. It is a fun and really easy job, and I have met a lot of new and exciting open minded, pagan people there. The people I work with are awesome and I enjoy their company. My job gives me a chance to get out of the house, to make some extra money and to do some socializing that I would not otherwise do. It is highly fulfilling, and working there has been one of the biggest blessings in my life.

I spend a decent amount of time with my family. I spend several hours a week with them. My mother and father are still together, and I also have two younger sisters. One is 21 and one is 17. They have a dog (a basset hound- you know, the dogs with the long, floppy ears) named Sam, and two cats named Comet (white with patches of grey) and Sophie (an orange tabby). Sophie used to be my cat until I moved out. A painted turtle named Speedy and my sister's beta fish (I can't remember the name of it) complete the menagerie of animals.

I spend time with the few friends that I do have. Most of them are off in college, or have just finished college and are searching for jobs (or working full time already). Some of my friends are mentally ill like me and some are not. I met most of them in high school, like Megan and Emily, or in the hospital awhile back, like Scott and Allison. I do not have many friends, I lost touch with most of them after high school, but the ones I do have are close. Thanks to social networking sites like Facebook (www.facebook.com) and MySpace (www.myspace.com), I have some friends on the Internet from all over the United States that, while I do not know them in person, I consider to be friends nonetheless. Most, of course, are just acquaintances, just like many people you know in real life are acquaintances. I cherish my friends. When you do not have many true friends, you really appreciate the ones you do have.

I am happier, and I try to not take advantage of the gifts I have been given by so many people. I would not trade the life I have now for anything I ever had in the past several years. I would not call it incredible or fascinating, but my current life is so much more fulfilling. With a job, friends, family, my own apartment and even school in the near future, I actually have what can even be considered a life... and, to me, that is the biggest accomplishment of my existence... well, so far.
Chapter One

“She’s not the kind of girl
Who likes to tell the world
About the way she feels about herself.”
-Garbage

Anna Chloe Bailey was not your average girl. Adopted from India, with flowing black hair that reached the middle of her back, coffee-with-cream colored skin and deep mahogany eyes, her appearance was striking. An early high school graduate and a junior in college, being schooled at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities in the College of Liberal Arts honors program, Anna was highly intelligent. She had gotten a full ride to the U of MN, which is why she chose that school above more the more prestigious universities that she could have easily be accepted to. Anna was majoring in psychology. Aiming to enter medical school and become an adult psychiatrist, she had high goals and expectations for herself. She had not yet left home to explore the world, and had a 12-week old female ginger tabby kitten named Samantha or Sam for short.
Anna came from a closely-knit family that loved her very much. Her sister Jessica, also an early high school graduate and Anna’s biological sister (they were adopted together from an orphanage), was 19 years old, attended Julliard University and was an elite piano and violin player. Her non-biological brother Austin, who was 15 years old and had Asperger’s Syndrome, was home-schooled and the equivalent of a freshman in high school. Her mother, Emily, was a stay-at-home mom while her father, Nathan, was a psychiatrist over at the University of Minnesota Medical Center Fairview. Emily had gotten her degree in secondary education and her teaching certificate in college. She chose to stay home and home-school Austin, as he had difficulty managing the typical school environment and demands.
Anna had a healthy relationship with her family. Her parents were loving, understanding and kind, but did not spoil her in the least despite having plenty of money. Jessica, bright and cheerful, always had an encouraging word or two to say to her when Anna was having a bad day… or week… or year. Austin, quiet and introverted, spent most of his free time on his computer but loved to play Monopoly and Scrabble with Anna. The siblings rarely fought, especially now that they were all older and more mature than when, say, they were six years old. Anna loved her family, and they loved her. Their support got her through the most difficult periods of her life.
Anna loved the ocean, but since she lived in Minnesota, she did not get to go there too terribly often. She found that the deep blue of the water was extremely calming to her, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore hypnotic. Anna’s family had inherited a cottage on the ocean in Hawaii from her grandfather, and visited it maybe once each winter break when Jessica was home from school. The cottage was medium sized and made out of cream-colored stucco, with a brown tiled roof. The inside was simply and tastefully decorated with art done by Emily (who was also a freelance artist), Anna, Jessica and Austin, as well as a few prints by Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso. The pale green walls were accented by white curtains and neutral-colored, comfortable furniture. The cat always accompanied the family on vacation. She was often found curled up on the red-and-blue patterned area rug in the center of the living room. The scent of the brilliantly colored hibiscus flowers that grew on the side of the house filled the air.
Anna, inspired by the water, would sit on the beach for hours and write poetry or short stories, draw, or just watch the magnificent Hawaiian sunset. When she swam, immersed in the invigorating water and surrounded by sea life, she would forget her troubles and become one with the ocean. Anna looked forward to these vacations all year long, as she loved the quaint cottage by the sea with all her heart. It was, after all, her only real refuge from the inner storms that plagued her.
Anna’s life, however, had been far from the flowery fairy tale that it seemed to be on the outside. She struggled with Borderline Personality Disorder and depression, had an eating disorder that she had been in recovery from for two years, and was on numerous medications to keep her as stable as possible. Anna had been in therapy for nine years. She would struggle daily just to keep moving forward and handle the constant stress of her accelerated studies.

Chapter Two

“Anna?” the therapist called to the waiting room full of people. Anna, 15 years old and extremely nervous, stood up and followed the therapist to her office. She stared at the floor the whole time, and paid particular attention to the therapist’s bright red, strappy high heeled shoes. They certainly were not your classic therapist shoes. She had arrived for the appointment an hour early and had been sitting in the waiting room, trembling, for what seemed like forever.
Anna sat down on the plush, maroon loveseat next to the therapist’s desk, which was covered with important looking papers and books. There was a brown couch across from her, and the walls were painted a cream color, with blue trim. Grey carpet covered the floor. None of the furniture matched in the room. The therapist, in her black skirt and blue long-sleeved shirt, sat in her chair and turned to face Anna. She cleared her throat, smoothed her long brown hair, and addressed Anna.
“My name is Dr. Sarah Coleman, and I will be your therapist. You can call me Sarah. I chiefly practice Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, or DBT. Just to give you an idea of my credentials, I got my PhD in psychology from Georgetown University and have been practicing for five years in this location. I went through 40 hours of intensive DBT training and attend a consultation group regularly.” Anna could see the multiple framed, official-looking diplomas on the walls. “You,” Sarah continued, “will be joining a skills training group as well as doing individual therapy with me. That is standard DBT practice. We will be meeting weekly and you will go to the skills group every week as well.” Anna felt like she was being commanded by a drill sergeant, but that feeling passed as soon as Sarah smiled at her, rather compassionately, with her brilliant white teeth. She obviously had Lumineers put on, professional whitening, or something similar to that. It was rather distracting.
Sarah sat back in her chair; having had been leaning forward a little bit. “Now,” she announced, “tell me why you are here.” Anna said, softly, “My doctor thought I should come here, and my parents thought so too.” “Try again,” Sarah said. “Tell me why you are really here.” Anna stared blankly at the wall, trying to think of what to say next. “I guess I am here because I need help with many things, and this DBT thing is supposed to help me help myself.” She had merely repeated her doctor’s words. “Right,” Sarah agreed. “It is. You will learn new, healthy coping skills. We will work on reducing and eventually eliminating behaviors that are damaging and even dangerous, known as “target behaviors”, such as your eating disorder behaviors and self-harm.” Anna nodded. “It is in the group,” Sarah continued, “that you will learn these skills. Individual therapy is where the processing and additional hard work takes place. Outside of this office is where you will practice the skills.”
Anna shifted in her chair. She was uncomfortable and her anxiety level was high. She looked at her watch, and only twenty minutes had gone by since the beginning of the appointment. Forty more minutes to go. All she wanted to do was go home and take a nap.
Sarah stopped talking for a minute. “How do you feel about all this, about coming here?” she asked Anna. “I feel bad,” Anna replied in a near whisper. “I do not know what “bad” means,” Sarah said. “Please elaborate.” “Well,” Anna continued, “I feel lots of anxiety right now, and even though I know I need to be here, I still wish that it was not so necessary. I am a senior in high school now. I have lots to do with my studies.” Sarah nodded. “I can understand that,” she said.
The therapy session continued with Sarah confirming Anna’s doctor’s diagnoses of Borderline Personality Disorder, depression and anorexia with an extensive series of yes or no questions and a few open-ended questions as well. When the hour was up, Anna stood up. “It is, um, time to go,” she noted. “Oh yes,” Sarah remarked, “it is.” Sarah stood up and extended her hand for Anna to shake it, so Anna did. “I look forward to working with you,” said Sarah with a smile. Anna forced a nervous smile back. “Yep,” she said. “Bye.” Anna walked out the door, made an appointment for the next week, and motioned to her mother, who was in the waiting room ready to pick Anna up was reading an outdated gardening magazine. “I’m ready,” Anna said. “Let’s go home.” Anna’s mom drove them home, and Anna took that nap she had been longing for the entire session with Sarah.

Chapter Three

She fell asleep right away, and dreamed. In her dream, she was an invisible fairy princess sitting on a cloud looking down at the world below that was ruled by humans. It took place in the future. Anna, or “Laena” in the dream, was all decked out in fairy-wear. Her pale pink, lacy (but not overly so) dress shimmered in the sun, the pink interwoven with glittery threads representing hope and promise. Blue slippers and a tiara completed the outfit. Her iridescent wand lay across her lap.
The world below was going through the previously doubted apocalypse. The sun, blood red, was so hot that it fried people alive. Those left alive were being plagued by clouds of angry locusts and wasps. Infectious disease was rampant. There was no more green left on the earth and all the oceans and lakes had dried up in the blistering heat. Buildings crumbled and homes were set afire and looted by vandals. From above, the entire planet was black with the clouds of insects and smoke from the bombs and fires So many people were screaming that the noise could be heard even from that far above the planet. The world smelled of smoke and burning flesh.
Laena sat on the last white, fluffy cloud and pondered the fate of the humans. Did they deserve their world’s torture-filled end? Did they not? The fairy folk had all but disappeared, which was directly due to the humans no longer believing in them… science had consumed their minds instead of magic. Alas, the fairy-filled times of the Celts had long passed. She watched one human spontaneously combust and burn to death, screaming in a horrific amount of pain. She watched one be attacked by flesh-eating locusts and eaten alive, unable to scream because his tongue had been eaten first. Death filled the earth, and Laena closed her eyes to shield herself from the horrors below, knowing that her own death would be coming soon. Some time passed, and finally the last human died. With nobody left to believe in her, Laena burst into yellow flames and faded away, leaving nothing but a pile of ash, which was quickly swept away by the wind.
Anna all of a sudden woke up, drenched in sweat and screaming. It woke her mother up, who came running into the room. Anna was out of bed by then, and Emily embraced her. “Everything is okay, baby,” Emily said in a soothing voice. “It was just a dream.” “But it was so real…” Anna whimpered. “No buts,” Emily said. “Now you go back to bed and have sweet dreams.” Anna, feeling like she was six years old, was tucked into bed by her mother. Afraid to sleep, she grabbed her laptop and played Solitaire until it was time to get ready to go to school in the morning.
Chapter Three

Anna’s psychiatrist, Dr. Laura Hamilton, finished looking over Anna’s chart (which was quite extensive indeed) and sighed. Anna, for months, had not been doing well, and had been progressively getting worse. She was deeply depressed. Anna was going to have an appointment that day, and Dr. Hamilton feared for the worst: that Anna had regressed further with her mental health. Anna was at a breaking point, having been stretched as far as her mind and body could go. She was being torn apart from the inside out and could not take it much longer.
“Anna, come on in,” Dr. Hamilton called. Anna sat up from her chair and followed the doctor into the office. She sat down in the plush brown chair across from the doctor’s desk and took a deep breath. Dr. Hamilton went straight to the point and did not beat around the bush at all. “Anything better?” she asked. Anna shook her head grimly. “Anything worse?” the doctor asked. Anna nodded, and responded, “I just want to die. There is no hope for me… all I do is get worse.” “Are you safe to be at home?” Dr. Hamilton asked gently. Anna said no. “You feel like you are going to seriously hurt yourself then.” Anna paused, pondered the possible consequences of her answer, and then affirmed the doctor’s query and answered truthfully. “I think,” Dr. Hamilton said slowly, “you need to be in the hospital. I will call and make all the arrangements for you to get a bed at the University of Minnesota Medical Center Fairview. You will be seeing me as your doctor for however long you are there. Go to the emergency room and give them my number here at the office. They will then bring you up to whatever unit is open.”
The appointment was over. Anna stood up and exited the room. She walked down the hall, numb, and then burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. She was terrified, having never been to the hospital before, and thus she did not know what to expect. She called her friend Haley, who had been hospitalized many times:

Haley: Hello?
Anna: I have to go to the hospital, like, right now. I do not know what to do. Please help me.
Haley: It is going to be okay… just calm down.
Anna: How can I calm down when my doctor just announced that she is going to lock me away?!
Haley: Like I said, Anna, it is going to be okay. You will not be in there forever.
Anna: Just come visit me, okay? I’ll call you when I get there.
Haley: Okay, sure. Of course I will! Make sure to not wear strings. Bye.
*hangs up the phone*

Make sure to not wear strings? That was kind of random, or so it seemed. Anna brushed it aside. She called her mother to come pick her up from the appointment. She was not crying anymore. She did not need to tell her mom what had happened because Dr. Hamilton did that for her. The doctor had called Emily shortly after the appointment was over with. “I am so sorry,” Emily said when Anna sat down in the front seat. “I suppose it really is for the best, though, Anna. The extra help will do you some good.” “Yeah, I suppose…” Anna grumbled. The truth is, Anna was not angry. She was sad, and anger was just an easier feeling to deal with and express.
Anna got home and began to pack a bag. She took her time as she was not very eager at all to go to the hospital. She picked out a few pairs of summer pajamas, including her favorite bright blue pajama bottoms with a sun pattern on them and a matching tank top. Wearing your favorite pajamas in the hospital is essential to maintaining some kind of sanity (well, whatever amount of sanity is left, that is) while in the hospital because it keeps a link open to the real world outside of the four walls that encompass you. It is a material reminder of The Old World, of the world you thought you used to know before you became part of the psych ward entourage.
She threw in her bathroom essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash, shampoo, hairbrush, face scrub, deodorant and her nylon loofah. Personal care products in the hospital are luxury items. Yes, they have hospital issued shampoo, deodorant and soap (and baby powder, but most people do not use that), but all of it was not of very high quality and the items that were supposed to foam up like the shampoo and body wash did not foam very well in general. If you have your own personal care items, you are really doing well in the eyes of others. Not mental-health wise, just comfort wise. And comfort is the ultimate luxury in the hospital. Most people are stuck wearing scrubs and hospital socks because not enough people care about them (or even know they are in the hospital) to bring them such luxury items.
She packed the rest of her bag and changed into jeans and a tee shirt, because she could wear both of those clothing items in the hospital. Tennis shoes were not an option, as they have strings, so she put on slippers instead. They were blue fuzzy slippers, the kind that you just slid your feet into… hence, I suppose, the name “slippers”. They were so soft they felt like gossamer, but they were not even close to gossamer or even silk. They were made of cheap nylon from China. But they were so comfortable… so, so comfortable. Anna loved her slippers very much and wore them all the time. Naturally, she felt she needed to bring them into the hospital, which was a very good call on her part because, little did she know, the hospital would usually kept the units cool, not the toasty warm that Anna preferred, because they wanted to save money on the heating bills. Her feet would have been chilly in just socks, so the slippers were indeed a very good idea. They would keep her feet warm and they, like the clothes and bath products, were a highly coveted luxury.
Anna went in the refrigerator and grabbed a few cans of diet Coke and diet orange Sunkist, her favorites. She figured that since the opening was sharp, she could not drink out of the cans (because she could theoretically use the cans to hurt herself), but she also figured that they could be poured into cups or something like that when she was there. She was right in this assumption. She put the cans of soda in her suitcase.
Anna’s mom Emily drove her to the hospital and went into the Emergency Room with her. Anna had never been hospitalized for psychiatric reasons before and was really quite scared. She went up to the admitting nurse and announced who she was and her doctor’s name. “Never heard of you,” the nurse said. “Sit down like the rest of the people here and I will call your name when I’m ready to see you.” “But Dr. Hamilton said she would call,” Emily said firmly, and the nurse responded, “She did not call. Please sit down and do not cause a scene.” “I was not going to,” Emily muttered under her breath, and took a seat next to Anna, who was sitting next an old, grey haired man whose arm was in a sling. According to his work uniform that he was wearing, his name was Bill.
After twenty minutes or so (which is pretty quick for the Emergency Room), Anna’s name was called. She went into the small plastic cubicle to be interviewed by the nurse. “What seems to be the problem?” the nurse asked in a stressed out, tired, not too overly kind voice. “I am here because I am not safe,” Anna said. “I cannot be left alone at home, and Dr. Hamilton- the one that works here- sent me to this hospital for treatment. She said she would take care of me.” Anna was embarrassed to even had to have come to the Emergency Room in the first place, and avoided eye contact as a result. She stared at what she nurse was writing on her pad of paper: ‘Patient is suicidal. Patient is not able to be at home by herself due to these intense suicidal feelings. Admitting nurse recommends inpatient stay.’ Anna’s stomach flip-flopped. She had been hoping that she would be turned away and sent home, the nurse having said that she did not need help, but that did not look like it would be the case now. She felt like she was going to throw up for a second, and then the nausea subsided just as quickly as it came.
She was sent into the next phase of admittance, where her brown cloth belt, ruby post earrings and large silver hoop earrings were taken from her and put in a bag. “Sorry,” the nurse said, “but you cannot have anything sharp or any string-like material over six inches long. You know, to keep you from hurting yourself with those items or hanging yourself with the string or belt.” “Oh. Okay,” Anna said willingly. She had never self-injured before, but she figured the rules applied to everybody, not just the especially vulnerable.
She sat there for three hours while a security guard watched her. She read outdated travel magazines and even more outdated Redbook magazines. Geez, how many articles on breast implants can there possibly be in those magazines? She heard this song on the radio that the security guard had playing next to him on the desk:

“I'm sittin' on a citadel
Contemplating life
Making a point to waste my time
I'm walking on clouds
Of white

What if I fall
What if I don't
What if I never make it home
What if I bleed
What if I break
And I find that I can't take
The city below the citadel
Holding my own hand?
Sittin' alone

And I'm breakin' on the balcony
Breakin' window panes
I'm killing the pain of broken hearts
I'm walkin' on clouds
I'm walkin' on stars

What if I fall
What if I don't
What if I never make it home
What if I bleed
What if I break
And I find that I can't take
The city below the citadel
Holding my own hand?

Holdin' on to something
That's keepin'me from jumpin'
So afraid to go in alone
Holding up this fortress
With imaginary forces
Longing for a life down below

What if I fall
What if I don't
What if I never make it home
What if I bleed
What if I break
And I find that I can't take
The city below the citadel
Holding my own hand?

The city below the citadel
Holding my own hand?

The city below the citadel
Holding mine.”

She recognized it immediately. It was “Citadel” by Anna Nalick, one of her favorite songs. The lyrics, “holding onto something that’s keeping me from jumping, I’m so afraid to go in alone…” really resonated with her for some reason. Perhaps it was the blatant connotation of somebody contemplating suicide. It was rather ironic, then, that she was hearing that song while in the emergency room waiting to be admitted to a psychiatric unit for being suicidal. What a coincidence. Or was it? No, it was a coincidence. That was all. It was too weird to not be one.
Anna waited another two hours, and was bored stiff. There were only so many magazines she could read, and so listening to the security guard’s radio got rather dull after awhile. She ate dinner, and because she had forgotten to mention that she was a vegetarian, she had to get her tray re-ordered. Thankfully, the nurse dealing with her was patient and kind, so it was not a big deal. Her original tray was baked chicken, mashed potatoes, broccoli (and, oh, hospital broccoli is simply horrendous) iced tea. She had them substitute a veggie burger for the baked chicken and a salad with Italian dressing for the broccoli. Her new tray took an hour to get up to her. She had been waiting, in the emergency room, a total of six and a half hours. She would have to wait three more before going up to the unit. She learned, later, that this was a not too terribly uncommon occurrence.
Apparently, she had to wait for a bed to open up; all the other beds were full, and somebody was going home that night on one of the units. “God, what is taking so long?” she thought. “I sure did come at a bad time.” What she did not know is that, thanks to Dr Hamilton calling, a bed on a unit was reserved just for her, and her waiting several hours was a lot better than being turned away due to completely full beds. She would later be grateful for this, but for now, she was just irritated and tired. She lay down and took a nap, which did not last very long because the person in the room next to hers began screaming at the sight of an IV needle. Those needles are not very small, after all. Still, though. Screaming? That is a bit much. Perhaps the person is afraid of needles. They must be. They have to be… but back to the story.
Finally, after nine and a half hours, she was taken up to the unit and brought immediately to her room. It was painted a dull white color and did not have any pictures on the walls. She was given a pair of pale blue, rough, uncomfortable standard scrubs to wear during the strip search. What? Strip search, you say? “This is standard procedure for admitting a new patient,” the nurse admitting her said. Anna took off all her clothes, including her underwear and bra, and put on the scrubs. She handed her clothes and under-things to the nurse and the nurse searched the clothing items and pockets for any contraband. Anna was then patted down while in the scrubs to make sure she did not have anything strapped to her thigh or anything like that. She was given all of her clothes back after the strip search was over because they were all safe to wear on the unit.
Anna, when the search was done, felt highly violated and, well, naked, even though she was in her clothes again. She had never had to strip for anybody before. She understood, though, that the strip search was simply procedure, and she supposed some people really did strap weapons to their thighs before going into the hospital. That way, she supposed they could off themselves in the bathroom or some other private place like the shower had they not been patted down during the search.