The People Behind My Eyes

So I did my short stint in the loony bin and came on home a few days later. I got out of the psychiatric house for the mentally unstable at noon with the intentions of coming home for a few hours then go right back out to see my therapist at 3:15PM. When I got home I found that I have a new roommate. To my surprise Barney Fife Jr. moved in. For those of you who don’t know BF Jr this isn’t a terrible thing. He’s clean, he’s quiet, helpful and all that stuff, what is more, he’s adorable. That’s an understatement. He’s ab- delicious. The man is built like a … yeah, one of those houses and he will hardly ever be here. Seems he’s going through a divorce and this was his last resort. If I had a choice between ab-delicious and The Family of Doom I’d choose Beauty over Doom any day. So BF Jr will be here for a few months. I can’t complain a bit about that. Well, I mean, I could. I could ask him why he didn’t bring along his super fine friends……..

So, back to the loony bin stay…. it went well. I had a shock by the nurse which was a bittersweet revelation. She looked at my feet and hands and said, “Who tortured you?” I about fell over. I wasn’t expecting that at all. That may have been the only uncomfortable situation while locked away from the functionally insane. The reason it was bittersweet is because while it shocked me it was also validating.

I realized something while I was locked up, I wasn’t getting much sleep at all at home, not just because of depression and grief but because I’m not use to sleeping alone. I’m sleeping alone now and that is so hard, which is why I’m still up at 6:30AM. While in psychiatric incarceration I slept like a baby, so much so that my roommate required ear plugs. I offered no apologies. She said it was okay because she did 22 months in prison and was use to noise. She said the only thing that would cause an issue would be for me to come over on her side of the room. Nothing to worry about there I said. (I swear I’m not making this up.)

Okay so, I got out, came home to Mr. Delicious, went to therapy, came home again to witness The Six Pack King mowing the lawn with no shirt on. I figured I was in Melrose Place or something watching the pool boy from the window. Who needs depression meds when you’ve got a sweaty muscle guy in your yard? Evidently I do. I left shortly after the show of skin to go see Chi who gave me a very long and helpful hug. We did something I said I wanted to do for a long time. I’ve wanted to sit a potential partner down and have them fill out a questionnaire. There was no paper work but we pretty much interviewed one another. Do you have Bipolar disorder, do you have Borderline Personality Disorder issues that will interfere with a relationship, do you drink, do you take drugs including but not limited to pot and pills, what’s the longest relationship you’ve ever been in, how many states have you lived in, are you a drifter, on and on and on. The funny thing is, she started the interview and I went right along with it asking her questions of a similar nature. So far she has 2 strikes. One strike is that she has a little dog which is how she got her nickname and the second is she likes me. Why? Why on earth would she be interested in me? Please don’t attempt to answer that question. I forgot to ask her if she’s a multiple. I may be a multiple but I personally can’t date another multiple. It’s done all the time and works for some (that’s my damage control statement) but I will not ever again date another multiple. Anyway, long story short, she’s sweet, doesn’t drink or take drugs, holds down a job, doesn’t drift around and likes me. What’s wrong with her? I really need to know that.

Okay so, Wednesday afternoon the phone rang and it was my therapist’s office.  It seems Dr. D had a death in the family and wasn’t able to see me that day.  As a matter of fact I won’t see him again until the 15th of September.  I have one appointment with my psychiatrist on the 8th and that’s it. Idle hands aren’t good so I plan to leave the house daily and do something … anything to stay busy until he returns.

That’s all for now,
Joan of Arc