From time-to-time I will publish photo essays, or my poetry, and of my life on this curios planet, Earth. Time on Terra is precious and it is a mark of dignity to record it as much as possible for others to read, or in this case see and read.
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Pale and Frightened; the return home
My stay in the hospital was to adjust my medication and to stabilize me, plus in the US they didn't keep you past the time the court has sentenced you, or how long my insurance will cover my stay. I was released from the hospital. It was a simple opening of the door and you're in the lobby. If only we knew how close my release from our ward was, but to us it was a twisted maze of locked doors to get where we were. Oh well, I was out. I was checked out by the clerks and there was my wife waiting for me, and she was as pale as titanium white paint fresh on my palette. She was frightened by the neighborhood and of me. She knew she had sentenced me to a week in a high security mental institution during the Holiday season. I could had easily made it through that week, she could had waited, the psychologist didn't recommend it, and she knew she manipulated the whole thing just to get me out of the house so she could have a peaceful Christmas. Now, I am thankful she did. I needed help, but it didn't need to be on the holidays. She came alone. As we drove out of the neighborhood, it looked peaceful, but there was not a soul on the streets, no cars, nothing. She said as we drive out. "I'm so sorry. I thought they'd put you in the university's mental ward, and not cart you down here." I didn't answer and we didn't talk on the two hour drive home. It was January 4th, 2006. She put me in the downstairs master bedroom and there I stayed, sixty feet away from her, and we only met at meals, and we were estranged in our own home, but I was relaxed. I returned to my painting and I returned to chat on a TBI site to chat with other survivors, but I was extremely paranoid and I was still manic.
My wife suggested I could go to this mental health outpatient group her daughter found while working for them as a temp; so I went, and it saved me, and moved me out of the marriage. My wife was extremely jealous, why I don't know, perhaps she became over protective of me as a TBI sufferer, or she was just troubled. One of my case workers I saw notated, "Wife is extremely jealous." The case worker is female and my wife wasn't going to let her visit me without her present. The caseworker complained to her, "How am I going to do my job if you won't let me visit him." My wife replied, "You can bring a male co-worker with you.. that is the only way I will allow it." My wife was nuts with jealousy or she was gaslighting me, one or the other. From that point on, I moved further away from her emotionally. She kicked me out of the house for two weeks, and I lived in a motel downtown. During the stay I was at the bar when a beautiful young woman sat next to me, and asked, "You're that artist, aren't you?" I replied yes and asked how she knew me, and she'd replied she'd seen me at my art show in a mall. By this time I was actually drinking. I was not going anywhere, so what the fuck?
On the bus to the outpatient classes I felt an aura, but it passed and I got in line to check in. I walked up with my backpack, started to register, and the next thing I know I was on the floor when I had a major seizure, and people were gathered around me trying to help out. I've had an atonic seizure, or a drop seizure where you lose all muscle tone and you collapse. You're not out long, but it took longer than usual for me to recover. I was taken to the ER and given Valiums intravenously. With an atonic seizure, you may not have a postnatal period or an onslaught of sleepiness, so you're ready to go. My wife doesn't know where I was staying during this two week period and I like it that way, but she wants to drive me to the motel. I refused and took off on foot to where the classes were held, a good three miles from where we were, and the temperature was reaching 100 F. I didn't get far when I realized I wasn't going to make it. I needed to be in an anger management class or I'd lose all my credit and have to take it over again; it's a class I've volunteered for. I decided to take a lunch break and head for the hospital cafeteria when I saw the behavioral health bus zoom by. I pulled out my smart phone, dialed the bus driver, and he did a U-turn in four lanes of traffic to come and pick me up. I was on the long route, and it seems forever before we got to headquarters, and I was twenty minutes late to class. I barged into the class and told the teacher I'd had a seizure and hoped for the best, and got credit.
