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Authors: Lisa M. Cronkhite
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her thumb-nail. She looked strikingly similar to the old woman in my dream, and I couldn’t help but notice the heart-shaped liver spots on her hands and how her bones spread out like the spokes of the wheel―as in the dream. I remembered how much my parents liked playing the lotto.
I walked out and slipped into the car, holding my cigarette firmly between my fingers. As I lit up I watched the flame, slightly blue in tint, and thought of the girl again. I stared out the car window and no longer felt see-through anymore. Now I was clouded like the cigarette smoke itself.
I thought of the last time I spent at the hospital. It had been about a year and a half ago, in the summer, and I’d developed the same erratic behavior due to stress and anxiety about my financial issues. I was having difficulty with money problems from all the spending sprees and, again, I was off my meds.
That mid-July, Jeremy came home to a crazed mother. I was dancing in the yard, saying odd things like, “Shh, I’m talking to Grandma Marie.” She’d been dead for several years.
Marie was always there for me. After I mentioned I was conversing with her, Jeremy immediately got scared and called John at work. His dad raced to my place, knowing full well I was having a manic episode again.
I continued to prance around the yard, singing melodies of songs I heard back when I was a child. I was talking in rhyme and uttering off-the-wall comments to Jeremy. “Your eyes are the skies—the big blue skies. I die and die and die in those pretty blue eyes.”
Jeremy kept me contained in the yard, fearing I’d flee, which I’d done in the past. I went to swat at a bumble bee buzzing around the flower pots and then proceeded to pick the petals one-by-one, mumbling about wishes and dreams. He explained to me later that I had a look in my eyes like I was hollow, empty and someone else completely.
“Come on, you’re going in, Mom,” John said once he got there.
When we were married, he used to call me “Mom”, as I would call him “Dad”.
“Oh, please, Dad. Not now,” I told him, glaring out into the sky again.
John told me later that I seemed to come down to earth a little after seeing him enter the yard.
“If you don’t go willingly, I’ll call the police and have them take you away again, Mom.”
By then, I knew I was in deep trouble. John, dressed all in black from a meeting on a building project, was livid with me. He thought I’d been taking my meds and trusted me about it. He was blown away at what Jeremy had to witness.
I called him “Johnny Cash” that night. I didn’t think I was manic.
After waiting in E.R. for two hours, the nurses gave me a gown and sat me in a room. That’s when I knew I was staying. Although there are large parts of the event I don’t remember, like when I usually have an episode, I do remember having to sit there for what seemed like forever before they finally admitted me.
At that point, I was extremely upset and wanted out. I became vicious and wild, pacing frantically around the room like an animal in a zoo cage. They’d locked me in. Once the doctor entered the room, he ordered for me to be strapped down onto the bed. I fought hard against the team of security guards and nurses that swarmed me. In my file, it read that I was chanting over and over, “God, help me. God, help me.”
Two days later, I awoke in another room. This time it was the psychiatric unit, and I was in for a full week of observation.
* * * *
I couldn’t look at the hospital anymore, and after my third cigarette I started up the car and left the parking lot to go home. I felt so miserable at this point, drowning in my own sorrows.
Chapter Fourteen
It was now the middle of November with very little snow on the ground. It felt like freezing temperatures with the wind-chill factor, yet it was forty-five degrees outside. The waves along the lake sprayed up against the jagged rocks as the deciduous trees had already lost
I walked out and slipped into the car, holding my cigarette firmly between my fingers. As I lit up I watched the flame, slightly blue in tint, and thought of the girl again. I stared out the car window and no longer felt see-through anymore. Now I was clouded like the cigarette smoke itself.
I thought of the last time I spent at the hospital. It had been about a year and a half ago, in the summer, and I’d developed the same erratic behavior due to stress and anxiety about my financial issues. I was having difficulty with money problems from all the spending sprees and, again, I was off my meds.
That mid-July, Jeremy came home to a crazed mother. I was dancing in the yard, saying odd things like, “Shh, I’m talking to Grandma Marie.” She’d been dead for several years.
Marie was always there for me. After I mentioned I was conversing with her, Jeremy immediately got scared and called John at work. His dad raced to my place, knowing full well I was having a manic episode again.
I continued to prance around the yard, singing melodies of songs I heard back when I was a child. I was talking in rhyme and uttering off-the-wall comments to Jeremy. “Your eyes are the skies—the big blue skies. I die and die and die in those pretty blue eyes.”
Jeremy kept me contained in the yard, fearing I’d flee, which I’d done in the past. I went to swat at a bumble bee buzzing around the flower pots and then proceeded to pick the petals one-by-one, mumbling about wishes and dreams. He explained to me later that I had a look in my eyes like I was hollow, empty and someone else completely.
“Come on, you’re going in, Mom,” John said once he got there.
When we were married, he used to call me “Mom”, as I would call him “Dad”.
“Oh, please, Dad. Not now,” I told him, glaring out into the sky again.
John told me later that I seemed to come down to earth a little after seeing him enter the yard.
“If you don’t go willingly, I’ll call the police and have them take you away again, Mom.”
By then, I knew I was in deep trouble. John, dressed all in black from a meeting on a building project, was livid with me. He thought I’d been taking my meds and trusted me about it. He was blown away at what Jeremy had to witness.
I called him “Johnny Cash” that night. I didn’t think I was manic.
After waiting in E.R. for two hours, the nurses gave me a gown and sat me in a room. That’s when I knew I was staying. Although there are large parts of the event I don’t remember, like when I usually have an episode, I do remember having to sit there for what seemed like forever before they finally admitted me.
At that point, I was extremely upset and wanted out. I became vicious and wild, pacing frantically around the room like an animal in a zoo cage. They’d locked me in. Once the doctor entered the room, he ordered for me to be strapped down onto the bed. I fought hard against the team of security guards and nurses that swarmed me. In my file, it read that I was chanting over and over, “God, help me. God, help me.”
Two days later, I awoke in another room. This time it was the psychiatric unit, and I was in for a full week of observation.
* * * *
I couldn’t look at the hospital anymore, and after my third cigarette I started up the car and left the parking lot to go home. I felt so miserable at this point, drowning in my own sorrows.
Chapter Fourteen
It was now the middle of November with very little snow on the ground. It felt like freezing temperatures with the wind-chill factor, yet it was forty-five degrees outside. The waves along the lake sprayed up against the jagged rocks as the deciduous trees had already lost
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