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Tuesday

Good morning! I found the scale today. 124.5 lbs. Wohoo! A perfect weight to start with now that I’m going to start exercising. :)

I have an appointment with the midwife at 1 PM today. I’m planning to call the church before that to see if they can baptize Isidor in May.

I also need to find the papers about my divorce with my ex husband and send those papers to Chris.

Other things I need to do today include study driving, study American English, laundry, sit-ups, take pictures of the things I left on the kitchen table and sell them before my mom kills me for leaving all those things on her kitchen table, and start looking at that Visa application.

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Save me!

I’ve spent a week in this room, in this hospital. I’m surprised it took me a whole week before it started to be unbearable. This absolute lack of freedom, these blue blankets and colorful curtains, the red alarm buttons, the sound the bed makes if I sit down on it… It all reminds me of who I was and what my life was like not very long ago. I remember all those days I was waiting to be released from the hospital. I’ve pretended that it happened long ago but it was only a year ago I, with a lot of help, walked out from the hospital. I remember that it was a sunny day. Someone helped me to light a cigarette. I couldn’t do it with no help.
My heart is anxiously beating fast and hard like a drum when I remember wandering around the corridors, drugged and confused. I remember waking up after the electroshocks and how scared I was every time I woke up. I couldn’t remember who I was or why I was there. I remember being tied to the bed and moved to a different room. I remember waking up later, still tied to the bed. I remember Cisordinol injections, Valium, Lithium, Xanax, Abilify and all the other things they forced me to take if I didn’t want to stay in the hospital forever. I remember hiding pills under the tongue and hiding them in my socks as soon as they left the room.

I’ve never really talked about how important my freedom is to me and how much I suffer when I have to stay in the hospital. I know I’m here with Isidor this time, but It’s the same lack of freedom and the rooms look the same.

I don’t want to be alone here. I am so scared. I fear that my past will find me here and consume me. Talk to me! Say something! I don’t want to remember. I’m happy and strong now. Talk to me! I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to remember. I promised myself to stay out of hospitals but no one can do this for me. If Isidor ever needs hospital care again, his father will have to stay with him. I can’t do it. I’ve already spent a year of my life in hospital. It’s more than enough.

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RL

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Ralph Lauren might have good quality but functionality was obviously NOT something they thought about when they made this bodysuit. It has no zipper from the head to the legs. The only way to put it on is to open the legs and put the whole thing on that way. Isidor was NOT happy about that. I’ll sell it on eBay when I have time. Haha. The clothes from Lindex are a lot better. :)

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Incompetent?

A nurse came into the room:
“I need your mom’s phone number”
“Why?”
“You have an appointment tomorrow, with a counselor who can inform you about your rights here in Sweden, help you move to an apartment and have you signed up for support groups and meetings and…”

Why would I want an apartment? I’m only staying here for a few more months. It would probably take months to even get an apartment where I want to live and I want to live in my parents’ house. It first of all makes it easier for me to sell everything I have (I can’t bring it to America and my parents don’t have room for it).
And secondly, I am moving to America. I want my family to see me and Isidor as much as possible because they will see us less than once a year after I leave.
I also appreciate having some help with watching the baby when I shower or someone who can drive to the store. (I don’t have a drivers license).

And why does she think she has the right to call my mom? I am more than 18 years old. The fact that I live in one of the 7 rooms in my parents’ house does NOT make me legally incompetent.

But this is usually what happens with anyone who:
Is young (24 wasn’t “young” 10 years ago but everything under 30 is young today).
Doesn’t have a penis (a man would never be treated like this)
Has any diagnosis (it doesn’t really matter if it is autism or diabetes, any diagnosis makes you unable to do ANYTHING!)
Hasn’t done this a hundred times before
Has a different life than the average (this includes: anyone who doesn’t have or plan to have 2 kids, a Volvo, a German shepherd, an 8-4 job, an apartment or a house in the same city as they were born in, and no other hobbies than curtains and Tupperware)

I’m not angry. I have nothing else to do at 1 PM today anyway.