Updated: Dec 25, 2020
I don’t know the story of the Lady of Shallot.
To me, this is the feeling John William Waterhouse’s painting evokes within me this evening…..
I feel like I'm drifting into a bog on a bit of a gloomy day. It’s meant to be a beautiful day trip, I can tell by how stocked the canoe appears. Still, I feel alone in my adventure. I still don't know if my telepathic connection with Darryn is real.
I’m back in the psychiatric hospital. I came in on Saturday night. I’ve finally been released onto the main psych ward, out of PIC (Psychiatric Intensive Care). Seeing I typically work from home anyway, I can’t say I’m hating a bed that angles…..🤔
Then I hear Imaginary Darryn (as I call him):
…“No, Amy you may not buy a hospital bed as your new home work station. 🤨”
Having my laptop and internet access is a HUGE bonus too compared to being in psychiatric lock down. P.S. Hospital staff have been informed that I’m blogging about my experiences here.
I’m not sure why I’m at the hospital. Aside from experiencing telepathy with the man I yearn to meet again, I am continuing with my claim that psychiatric Pharmaceutical medications are poisoning me (which is identified as psychiatric paranoia, by the way). I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here in hospital.
The house psychiatrist wants to increase the mood-stabilizer again (and has) due to a fear that a depression might return (‘will’ — according to her, although I’ve been depression and mania free for over three years WHILE removing meds). She’s also put me on a low dose of an anti-psychotic, the same one I was on when I was 17. This particular drug gave me muscle spasms so bad my legs would turn to jelly, making me collapse wherever I was. Once I had to drag myself home on my elbows from Vic High as my legs gave out when I was headed home from school that afternoon.
I had 5 days in PIC. For the first two I once again refused to take what would have been a lethal dose of pharma. Refusing to take your meds willingly — whatever the reason — means that security is called and patients are moved to an Isolation Chamber, held down, and given forced injection(s).
I learned quickly if I want to get out of the hospital, I need to take my meds willingly, which has led to hospital staff being in touch with Dr. Gunn. Just to clarify — Dr. Gunn and hospital psychiatrists are not poisoning me. In the 1950s doctors prescribed menthol cigarettes for sore throats. They didn’t know then what they know now. Thank you Dr. Gunn for working so diligently with the hospital, while on your Winter Holidays, so I know that I can take the prescribed meds safely until I can get home and remove them with your aid. I trust you Dr. Gunn. 🙏
Thank you for respecting my autonomy.
I’ve come to the hard realization that I’m brain damaged. Many, myself included, have been developmentally stunted from drugs of all types — illegal and pharma. I am fortunate. I started escaping the streets drugs quickly. …The alcohol however, not quick enough.
I learned recently that there’s a whole city: Victoria, B.C., Canada that is aware of me: Amy Frank the Artist and yet I remember so few of you. I’m sure I’ve had plenty of amazingly deep conversations with strangers from my drug/drinking years alone, not to mention through my art and advocacy. I don’t remember the conversations or the people and that saddens me. That’s due to the brain injury from the meds (both doc and self ‘prescribed’). I’m happy to hear that I’ve made an impact on the community around me. 😃
I’m having a hard time typing because I’m so off and on doped from the slow-release anti-psychotics I took this morning. The worst part is I know me. I know if I was at home, off the meds/drugs, I’d be clearer in my mind and feeling much better because of it.
I have spent over a full year in detox.
…Being afraid to cry in public because a person doesn’t want drugs forced on their ‘emotional instability’ will and does kill people.
…Listening heals. Let people cry without trying to fix them.
We Need Each Other.
All of us.
The weak immune.
We started the war on germs. We need bacteria to survive.
IF there were a vote of all the people who were highly compromised by COVID19, to sit safely in isolation or die with your flesh connected to the hands of those you love, what would you choose?
I know my 93 year old Grannie Violet Frank would choose the hug. ❤️