The Bloody Doors Off

It’s ridiculous to even consider trying to forget the first night, let alone the entire experience. I’m not going to come out of this any stronger by burying it. But you know how memories are: they come at you in fragments first, and not always in the proper order.

So I remember the green foam shoes. They had smiley faces.

After I was processed at registration, nurses quickly whisked me into a room with a window and a door. I wondered if it locked from the outside, but my friend Scott was there by my side, and he was able to step out and back in to take phone calls. A doctor came in and asked questions. I think I was proud that I didn’t hear voices, but like at the registration desk, I couldn’t stop crying. The weight was so hard on my chest, and there was a pressure mounting in the back of my head. That was a feeling I’d had many times before.

Then the doctor said they were going to move me to a different ward. But first, I had to give them my clothes. I could keep my underwear and socks, but not my shoes because they had laces. And so they gave me two dressing gowns (back to front, front to back), and those green, foam slippers.

I was escorted to the bathroom to provide a urine sample and change. Escorted by a security guard.

I never felt so small, so helpless. And those fucking smiley faces looking back at me. The colour reminded me of the pigs in Angry Birds. I wondered when someone would slingshot multiple birds at my feet to blow them up.

Just like my world was beginning to blow apart.

I kept the shoes after I was released, so I don’t forget.