Hospital joy and misery

Sometimes at heart I feel institutionalized, meant to live in institutions. That life is partially ingrained in me deep down. Whether the circumstances are good or bad, it is my comfort zone. The second I'm admitted anywhere have a flock of patient friends and there are staff who come in to chat and catch up. There are people who like me and seem to care. There are also adversaries and power issues that play out and I am constantly repeating and fighting. This cycle feels inescapable at times. It feels to be at my core.

I feel like an emergency, a walking crisis stitched up strangling on my words. Strapped down screaming. I am always snatching failure from the jaws of victory, perpetual patient wandering the halls hidden in hospital clothes.

I was told early on I would either die or live out my life in a state hospital. When I got to a state hospital it seemed fulfilled. It still seems wrong that I forced my way out of there, lying and battling and flying under the radar, coaching my boyfriend in what to say to the doctors and social workers. The old woman crying out as I got to the door, "It's not fair! Why does she get to leave! I've been here longer!" My escape makes me feel guilty and dishonest. The real me deep down would still be at Tewksbury State and would be okay with that. I keep walking through revolving doors still.



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