April 30, 2013
I’m thinking I’m kind of ready to be done with this place. It’s been about a week since I’ve been here. I’ve been withdrawing for a week and a half since I first went into the hospital two Friday nights ago. Most of the withdrawals are gone, but I still have some shit. Like every now and then I get really twitchy and fidgety which makes me agitated. My skin is really itchy at times too. It’s the strangest itchiness ever. It’s profoundly itchy right at the most surface layer of my skin, which seems easy to get to, but it’s impossible. It’s like there’s a false layer. Other times it feels really deep as if there’s no hope I can reach it. I have hand tremors which I hate because I feel like an old man the way my hand shakes. Sometimes they’re really bad and I need both hands to bring a glass of water to my mouth so it doesn’t spill. I sweat a lot and I get frequent headaches. Sometimes I have pains in my stomach like my insides are twisting around into knots. I don’t have the shits anymore which is good, but there’s some other weird stuff. Mostly I’m angry. Everything pisses me off. I’m kind of sick of being here but I guess it’s better for the world that they have me locked up because I’m fucking furious and I would just go out there and kick random ass. Not a good way to be a member of society.
Anyway, the withdrawals are the main reason why I haven’t written in my notebook/journal. It sucks to hold a pen when my hand tremors so much. And basically I’m too edgy to write. I’m annoyed by things I might write about, annoyed at the idea of transferring all that I put in this notebook into my real journal. I’m just irritated by trivial things. I want to punch people, innocent people. Mostly I want to punch the other patients here. They all irk me except for two guys. The apple hoarder amuses me and is like one of the best things about this place. I just like hearing him talk, I don’t even know what he’s saying though because I don’t listen, but he doesn’t expect me to respond like I’m participating in the conversation. Every now and then he goes, “right?” And I nod and he’s content with that. When I’m relatively calm, I say “I hear ya.” But that’s the most I talk here. He’s kind of the only thing that calms me, he and the other guy.
The other guy is this 60 year old black guy who reminds me of a Blues singer. Kind of reminds me of B. B. King. In my head I pretend he is B. B. King. We don’t talk much but we just kind of sit around and watch the other people. He’ll look at me and gesture towards someone, and we nod. We kind of know what each other’s thinking. He has a grounding presence. I don’t know his name. I don’t know anyone’s names because when I was supposed to learn them I didn’t listen. I couldn’t have absorbed information anyway.
There’s one woman who pisses me off more than anyone. She pisses me off so much, it pisses me off how much she pisses me off. Why that makes sense is because I’m aggravated by how insensitive I am to what she’s going through. She’s one of those whiners. You just want to say suck it up and move on. She goes on and on and on and fucking on about her shit. The thing is that it should be ok, this is the place for her to do it, this is supposed to be a safe environment free of judgment, but it drives me nuts. So this causes some internal conflict with me.
I’m typically a sensitive person and I care when someone else is suffering. I think it’s just my nerves are all messed up and so it’s just a part of my withdrawal but I don’t have any interest whatsoever at this time about anyone else’s shit and I’m sick of listening to it in group. It bothers me especially because she goes on about her sexual abuse as a child. So yeah, I should be more sensitive about that, but I just want to tell her to shut the fuck up. Maybe because she doesn’t just talk about it in group therapy, she talks about it in the NA and the AA meetings, and she talks about it in the common room with another woman who comforts her. It definitely intensifies my anger, I want her to shut up so much. Finally, yesterday I did.
We were in group and she was talking about it, and I shouted, “shut the fuck up already! guaranteed every person in this room has been sexually assaulted in some way!” Then a few people were shaking their heads like, ‘nope, not me’ but I think they’re full of shit. Then she has the balls to say, “ok, since you’re so sure of that, why don’t you tell us your story, let’s open up the door for the others.” And I wanted to punch her fucking face in, which is another conflict for me because I’ve never wanted to hit a woman like that and I never would but the urge disturbed me. I said to the counselor, “you know this is not a subject that we should go on and on about, there needs to be a separate group for victims of sex abuse, there’s other shit we can be talking about here,” which is probably the most words I’ve said at once since the beginning when I was being sedated and I was chill enough to flirt with the nurses.
The counselor said, “what bothers you so much about it Grimm?”
And there it was turned on me. I’m just so angry all the time. Everything pisses me off, I hate fucking feeling this way. I just want to throw back a bottle of whiskey and feel it burning through my veins. I don’t miss the burning from the acid reflux but that doesn’t mean anything right now. I want to be drunk, I want to be in another world, I don’t want to be here anymore.
So everyone was looking at me, I was like, “what’s any of this have to do with me, stop fucking looking at me.” The counselor started and said, “Grimm,” but I stood and cut her off and I pointed at that whiney woman and said “fuck you” and then to the counselor “fuck you” and then to the room “fuck all of you” and I left the room. I went in the common room, grabbed a chair and started smashing it against the wall. That felt really good. What didn’t feel good was when they came in and brought me down into a restraint and kept me in it for ten minutes until I was fucking crying. Yeah that’s dignifying. Nice job. So now I’ve decided to not say anything at all to anyone. I’m not going to say another word while I’m here. So maybe I’ll be writing more, I don’t know, maybe less. Maybe I’ll just get sucked into an emotional black hole and my words will all implode themselves into nonexistence and I’ll never speak again for the rest of my life. Yeah, I’m quite a catch for Emma, she’s a smart girl for wanting nothing to do with me.
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