I was joking the other day with a friend about being locked up for my own safety. Now, I don't need to be locked away; I don't really even want to be locked away. But there are times when it sounds might appealing.
During my first marriage of eleven months, I have a great big memory hole. I remember less than two weeks, and over a week of that was spent in the psych eval ward. It was a lovely pleasant time. We did crafts and were fed lots of fruit, and a staff of nurses saw to our every need. Group Therapy was a fun period where I got to know more about my new friends. I loved it. They discharged me after 10 days, and I was sad.
But sometimes, I do get tired of being responsible for myself, my selves. What if I could let Rubi rage and fume and yell and scream freely? What if Sam could run unchecked and say anything she wanted? What if Kiara could have temper tantrums and not have to answer to the big girls?
You know what happens in the mental wards? They give you drugs to keep you all the time loopy and compliant. And your decisions are made for you - your schedule is set, your menu is set, even your bedtime is set. Sometimes I want the padded walls and someone else making the decisions for me. I get tired of fighting to maintain control. I get tired of being a responsible adult who has to suffer the consequences of not only my decisions and actions, but those of everyone else in my head.
What if the drugs silenced the crowd and made me singular and quiet? Would I mourn? Would I sleep like I'd never slept before? Would they miss me?
I can 'hear' Sam's influence in my writing on this one, so I'm giving her credit in the title. I don't really want to lose you, Sam. It's just a 'what-if' daydream...
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