Crazy Train ~ part 3 ~ Home…ish

I would ask total random strangers to look into my eyes and see the flecks. The flecks are magic, I would say. Um….No words.

Continued from Crazy Train ~ part 2 ~ Cuba and Crazy Train ~ part 1 ~ All Aboard!

My husband, Dean flew to Toronto to meet me and take me home to Nova Scotia.   He had arranged for his eldest sister from Newfoundland to come and stay with us for a couple of weeks to help out with Leo (again!) while I was sure to be in the hospital and Dean would be running back and forth watching out for me and bringing me what I wanted. Manic me was very demanding (unlike normal me). Ha ha.

The saddest thing about this whole story is that it could’ve been completely avoided if I had been fine with taking lithium. But, at that point in my journey, I was anti-meds and rather orthorexic.

However, be that as it may, in the hospital they put me on extremely strong medications: anti-psychotics, lithium, antibiotics for the bronchitis and a sleeping aid. I was a walking zombie.  I was extremely ill in the hospital and very upset to be on medication and to be tied down.

The nurses constantly told me to go to my room and get some sleep. But when one is manic all one wants to do is relate, express and connect to and with others. Even though I was a walking zombie, it was still very difficult for me to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time you see even a 20 minute shut eye felt like eight hours to me in this manic state. Also, as a manic person, medications have very little effect compared to what they would on a regular person.  One side-effect of the anti-psychotic drug was the feeling that my skin was crawling. It was one of the worst feelings I have ever encountered.

When the nurses wouldn’t pay attention to me I found ways to entertain myself.  I would walk past the nurses station window where a few nurses would be quietly working with their heads down and I would SLAM my hand against the glass.  The nurses would jump from fright as I quickly walked away snickering to myself.  I was sure they had no idea that it was me. One evening, I decided to pull the fire alarm. Obviously this was a serious infraction which, at the time, I didn’t understand.  The nurses scrambled to get all the patients out of the rooms, I giggled with my hand over my mouth, by the wall. I was then noticed, yelled at and put in solitary.

What  I did next seems unbelievable now that I have my sanity back. I truly believe they would never let me out of that room. A half hour may have a lapsed  when I realized two things: I had to use the bathroom, #2, and, I was very thirsty. Because I truly believed that they would not come back for me, and  I was firmly ensconced in cra-cra land, I went over to the corner of the room, squatted and pooped. Then I started to bang my cup on the door saying that I was dying of thirst. An idea emerged: I would have to drink my own urine in order to stay alive.

It was salty.

Next I started to sing at the top of my lungs and trust me, that little solitary room had great acoustics  (this is a Kris Kristofferson song that Willie Nelson sings so well) and quite apt at parts…

Take the ribbons from your hair, shake ’em lose and let ’em fall. Layin’ soft upon my skin, like the shadows on the wall.  Come and lay down by my side in the early morning light, all I’m taking is your time…help me make it through the night…(This is where I would seriously belt it out) Well, I don’t care whose right or wrong, and I don’t quite understand.  Let the devil take tomorrow, cause tonight I need a friend….it’s sad to be alone…help me make it through the night

I knew that whole song by heart because Mom used to play it over and over again when she and Dad were separated but living in the same house. I was in extreme discomfort in the solitary room. My thoughts where racing. My skin was crawling. My mind was blowing. There was no sleep in sight. I could not stay still. There wasn’t even a window to look out.  Psychosis is shitty. Truly.  When we used to visit Springwater Park just north of Barrie in the 70s and we would see the coyotes, the timber wolves, mountain lions and the bear pacing back and forth in their cages or simply sleeping their days away, well the pacing caged wild animal is exactly what I related to then.  I am crying now for the thoughtlessness of these park people to cage these beautiful animals so that they did nothing but pace all day.  Absolutely horrible humans we are.

Finally they let me out. I gladly went to my room. My next plan was to escape and run home.

I studied the delivery door to the locked psych ward. Suddenly, I saw my chance to escape into the February night and I was GONE. Hightailing it through the lobby with my ass hanging out of my johnny coat, with my SmartWool knee socks and Birkenstocks on out into the parking lot, down the concrete steps, turn right down the hill, turn left, through the intersection and starting up the hill. Suddenly I realized how cold I was and that my feet were freezing. Later I found out it was -20ยฐC. If I had gone the wrong way and landed in the snowbank, behind the hospital, I may never have been rescued from the cold.

As it was, two older ladies in a large sedan pulled up beside me as I made my way up the hill. Seeing how I was dressed and with my hospital wristband on, they asked me to get in the car with them for a ride. I must have thought that would be a good idea. Even through the haze of psychosis I knew that my safety was threatened. I ran into the parking lot of the Catholic Church (irony on that not lost on me) and they let me get in the car to get warm. Next they locked the doors and called the police who escorted me back to the psych ward  and back into solitary.

When Dean heard that I had escaped, in my condition, dressed in a tiny cotton johnny coat, he was furious at the hospital.

I was in for two weeks then out for week at which point I stopped taking the medications and became manic again.  So, I was back in for another two weeks.  It takes about two weeks for the lithium to take effect.  When I was home with my family and dog Lady, and I was out of my head in cra-cra land, I could swear that I knew what she was ‘saying’.  I would look at her and her ‘words’ would pop into my head.  Ooookay.

Mental illness is a real thing, not to be trifled with.  Professional help is necessary in most cases.  Trust me.

Lady Jane, 2 years old

14 thoughts on “Crazy Train ~ part 3 ~ Home…ish

  1. This is the most poignant and important story in your blog. I am glad you can look back on your manic period with both lucidity and humour.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Gord, I can usually laugh at the crazy things I did while manic/psychotic but, sometimes I just feel confused by it all and it can get me down. One of the most frustrating things about mental illness is having a little is known and understood. Most of the information is learned through experiences of folks like me. It is still quite an unknown science. Thankfully the stigma of mental illness is somewhat lifting these days as more and more people admit to having trouble with mental illness. A few years back I decided to just be completely truthful about it and, it has been quite liberating. I donโ€™t believe it is my fault. I believe I was born with a chemical imbalance that sometimes shows itself and sometimes does not. We are such complex creatures! One of the mysteries of my history of mental illness is that I did not have a single symptom until I was 33 years of age. Not even when I was in recruit term at Military College or under extreme stress and sleep deprivation in army training and exercises did I have a single symptom. So??? Why seven years after the most stressful time of my life, serving in the army? It would be nice if this mystery could be solved. It would be nice to not have to take medication if it is not needed. Thank you again for reading and for commenting. It means the world to me!
      So, I have now received many hours of therapy for the Military Sexual Trauma that I encountered in the Canadian Armed Forces. I am told that we compartmentalize trauma in order to survive something or get through something. Makes sense. To read about this, see the story aptly titled: A Can of Worms.


    1. Not sure if we just talked about this instead, Gord. Sorry, it’s only been 1.5 years. All I can say is Dean was pretty darn happy when I stopped reading peoples’ minds and stopped talking about what the dog was saying he wanted (more treats and many more walks). The “look into my eyes” schtick got old really quick too so when that stopped I saw some pearly whites flashing from Dean in my general direction. Big relief. Yes…
      Another aspect which is scary is that the more one goes psychotic, the more the danger that one will go psychotic — think one cookie, just one cookie turning into five. So, preventing it (with meds, sleep hygiene, good life style) and getting it under control asap is paramount.


    1. Thank you Different Shores. Yes, it’s been an interesting life, for the most part. I have noticed that the stigma surrounding mental illness is lessening of late. There is much more awareness these days, and compassion for those who suffer with it. Again, thank you.


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