Psyche logo

Tales of a Lost Girl

Consequences

By Sandra YvettePublished 5 years ago 16 min read
Like

I don’t belong here. I’m not like them. I thought to myself as I disconnected my eyes from my bed buddy who continued talking. I couldn’t completely make out what she was doing in her bed across from mine with how dimly lit our vacant room was. Mid-conversation, I realized she kept bringing her hand up, would lick her fingers, and then dropped her hand back down underneath an old jading blanket with the words FREMONT HOSPITAL MENTAL INSTITUTE imprinted on it. I figured it would be best if I pretended to doze off, then to try and make friends. My bed buddy’s name was Rose. She was twelve-years-young and talked about how her parents had left her at the mental institute while they went on a cruise. She modeled for a living. Some days she spoke with a British accent, as she talked about her extravagant lifestyle. When a staff member would address her, though, the hood in her came out. We were bed buddies at Fremont Hospital.

The previous year I had moved from my hometown, Fresno, to live with my grandparents in Hayward. I was a problem child. From sneaking out late at night. To coming home drunk off my ass. To throwing parties while my mom was at work. I moved in with my grandparents under one condition; I would enroll and attend a weekly program for drugs and alcohol through Kaiser Permanente. I relapsed from my six-month sobriety streak in May of 2009. Fremont Hospital was the third and last mental institute I was transferred to before a bed would be available for me at Thunder Road in Oakland. I was placed on a 51/50 hold two days prior to my graduation. I had missed my own high school graduation being at these institutes. I got drunk with a friend in celebration of us graduating.

Who names a rehab center Thunder Road? Why would Kaiser be contracted with anything named, Thunder Road, in the middle of Oakland? Nonsense. All my thoughts, complete nonsense. I must have been crazy. I wonder who knows where I am? Will Marcus forget me? Of course he will! He’s gorgeous!! I shouldn’t have gotten so drunk at the park. Then I wouldn’t be in this situation. How the hell do you drink so much liquor that you become a “danger to yourself”?! Stupid pre-celebration for a graduation I didn’t even attend to! I can’t believe my mother’s putting me through this. I could’ve graduated early finishing off those stupid packets for credits, instead of being stuck in this shit hole next to little ole crazy. But noooooo, my mother wanted me to walk the stage. All that arguing about me walking when in the end, I’M NOT EVEN WALKING?! Ugh! Why in the hell did I even enroll for Chabot college and attend the orientation and picked my classes out for a semester I clearly won’t be there for? How long will I be here for?! The longer it takes for a bed to become available, the longer I’ll be here!! I might as well act fucking crazy too!! What if I spend my 18th birthday in rehab? Hell no! I’ll sign myself out if that’s the case! Once I’m 18 they can’t tell me nothing!

“Are you sleeping?” Asked my model bed buddy Rose. “Damn, I must be fucking boring! Well, GOODNIGHT! SLEEP TIGHT! DON’T GO AWOL AFTER DAYLIGHT!”

I remained still and silent pretending to be asleep. Almost, as if a bear was sniffing my body to see if I would move. It was a trap!

“Rose, please go to bed. It is extremely late and there is no need for yelling.” I could hear a gentle soothing voice say, as they entered our room. It was one of the night time staff members.

“It wasn’t me. I must’ve been sleep talking”

The voice remained as silent as I did, although I wanted to laugh more than anything.

“Right. Goodnight Rose. No more okay.” The voice said before exiting.

I find it funny that I didn’t know what the term AWOL meant before I went to a mental institute. It seemed that I spent most of my teen years AWOL. I had abandoned my duties as a teen, only to realize there is no escape, except death. I was there physically for a lot, mentally gone. Memories were made and evaporated before they could even turn into fog. I just didn’t want to feel. I didn’t know how to deal with anything. I wasn’t very accepting to change, and a lot had changed my teen years. I wasn’t prepared, but then again whoever is with life taking so many crazy turns?

That night, I dreamed about my mom. It was more of a memory really. One of the many chances she had given me.

“Let me see your Myspace page.” My mother calmly asked as she entered my bedroom and stood at the foot of my bed. I looked up from my homework I was surprisingly attending to. It was almost the end of my Junior year.

“What was that?”

“No te hagas Sandra! Quiero ver tu pagina AHORA MISMO! Do not act dumb! Let me see your profile NOW!”

“For what?” I asked, trying to buy myself time. I didn’t know what to expect. My mother probably had no clue either what she was really asking to see. Who could’ve told her something? I thought to myself as I sat up in bed, unwilling to look her straight in the eyes.

“Sandy. Please. Show me your Myspace. This is the last time I ask you.” She had calmed down again.

This was our way of communicating. Trying to remain calm knowing we were both prone to another roller coaster ride of emotions. We never knew what to expect out of one another. Just like when I was kicked out of school my sophomore year for being under the influence of drugs. My mother never expected that out of me. Or how I got mad one day because she wanted to spend some “quality time” and I purposely hit the back of my head hard against the wall out of frustration. My mother had asked if I was okay. I couldn’t help but laugh at how motherly she was being that day. I love her for her inconsistency.

I grabbed my phone and proceeded to log myself in. All I could do was tell her the truth she was obviously dying to hear. The truth that the drugs and money I posted pictures with, were in fact not mine. That I was living a double life, dating someone who brought me into the world she tried to keep me from. The reality, that she no longer knew me, though she saw me every waking day of her life.

Seconds after handing her my phone, she sat down close to me. I held my breath, bring my knee in close to my chest. I tried keeping my head up, but my shame and embarrassment wouldn’t allow me to. I’m not sure how long we sat there in silence. It felt like hours until she finally spoke and looked my way.

“Do you need help?” Her voice was breaking. Her eyes watered. “Do..Do you have a problem, Sandy? I just don’t know what to do anymore. Is this the thanks I get after throwing you, your quince?”

I lowered my head and remained silent.

“Answer me.”

I kept my head lowered and mumbled, “I don’t need help mom. I know how it looks and I’m sorry, but you know it’s not mine…”

“Why would you post something like that?!”

“I don’t know…”

“What if you were still on probation?! What if someone at school shows the principal?! You don’t exactly have a good standing record Sandy!”

“I wouldn’t be stuck in high school if you let me finish all my credits off at the continuation school.”

“You’re still with that?! Sandy, everything I do is for good reason! One day you will thank me!”

I looked up at her hoping our eyes wouldn’t meet. It was inevitable. That gaze I expected wasn’t there though. She looked more hurt than mad. She didn’t even try to lay a hand on me. Instead, she got up and walked away after our eyes met as if she couldn’t stand to even look at me. I was unbearable. I don’t blame her. All I was good at was messing things up. I had messed up at school, messed up at home, even messed up my own mother.

I can’t believe she didn’t slap me this time. Is this argument over? Why didn’t she hit me? I thought she would have beat my ass this time. Give me a real good slapping I’ll actually feel. Not like last time when I came home drunk in the morning. Even she knew I was so messed up I didn’t feel it. But her stare then and now… they’re different. She almost looks, scared. My thoughts made no sense, and neither did my world. I don’t know where it went, from bad to worse. All I knew was that I wasn’t looking to make it any better. I held on to whatever hate was in me. Even though most days my goal was to feel nothing at all.

Even though it was only a dream, it was also my reality. I think a part of me felt guilt. We can be so vulnerable as we sleep.

“Sandra Del-delga-dillio, you have a visitor.” Said one of the staff members at Fremont Hospital the next morning.

“Who is it?”

“I think older sister, maybe au…”

“She’s my mother.” I rolled my eyes as I got up from the table. It was what they called “Quiet Time”. Basically, all the crazies had their medication dispensed to them. I wasn’t on any medication, so I had a choice to wait in the dining area or game room with all the other none pill takers. If you knew you had meds that had to be taken, your bed buddy most likely didn’t. This was their strategy to avoid any exchanges of medication and to ensure they were taken. During quiet time the crazies were barricaded for two hours after taking their medicine but had the luxury of not having to interact with anyone and got to eat their breakfast alone.

I made my way towards the visiting area. Although, I dragged my feet and seemed bothered by the world, I couldn’t wait to see the marvelous woman who had given me life. Being in a mental institute just makes you freaking crazy. You begin to almost mold into everything around you. Too bad my bed buddy wasn’t an actual model with an extravagant life where her parents would drop her off at a mental institute daycare for the weekend. I may have molded into something better then.

“Hi, mi Shashi!” my mother embraced me.

“Mami! I didn’t think I’d see you until the weekend!”

“I know, but I had to take some time off work to get things packed for you and give you the good news.”

“You built a time-machine?!”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” she smiled as she reached for my nose as if to play a game of “Got your nose” with me, “they’ll have a bed ready for you Wednesday at Thunder Road. I already packed your clothes and I’ll be staying with my mom until then.”

“What did you pack for me? Wait, is it an all-girl rehab? Some guy from Thunder Road is here now, but I didn’t ask him about it. I just know he came from there.”

“How do you know these things? Weirdo. Anyways, yes, it is a rehab for both boys and girls but you guys are separated. I went to the facility today and got a tour. You’ll be kept in a room for your first 3 days. It’s in case you need to detox, but they know you’re here so….”

“So why would I have to stay in a room to detox? Don’t they know I’ve been sober since I left the Kaiser in Hayward?”

“That’s their policy Sandy. Believe me I would rather you not have to go through that, but it’s part of their program. They won’t make an exception. Just be thankful it’s only 90 days and you’ll be there by Wednesday morning.”

“Does that mean I get to leave today? Are you signing me out?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. I know you. I can’t risk…”

“What do you think I’m going to do?! RUN AWAY?! KILL MYSELF?! I’m not crazy like everyone here!! I could….”

“Sandy please! I KNOW YOU! You’re going to look for your friends to get high or whatever. That’s the only reason you want to get out of here. I’m doing this for your own good.”

I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t sign me out knowing a bed was finally available in only two days. “Do you have my cell phone with you?” I asked as I crossed my arms.

“I do. Why?”

“I need some numbers added to my calling list. I need to let my friends know what’s going on and when I’ll be out.”

“Sandy, no! The one’s who are really your friends will still be here waiting. You’ve gotten texts and calls….”

“Have you been going through my phone? SERIOUSLY?!”

“You think you deserve some sort of privacy?” She laughed.

“Who has called me? Have you replied, answered, told my friends anything?”

“If you’re asking about Marcus, yes he knows. Kathy too.”

“Can you put Marcus’ number on my calling list or at least Kathy?”

My mother paused for a moment. As if trying to read my thoughts and know what exactly I wanted to speak to Marcus about so badly. She wasn’t too fond of him. She was never too fond of anyone I had introduced to her. Maybe I just had a terrible taste. He was different though. Although, I did get shit faced with him the day the paramedics took me in for alcohol poisoning, I found comfort in him. The way a child finds comfort in a blanket. He was appealing to eye. Had his own sense of style. A humble and old soul, but he was probably just as lost as I was.

“I can’t do that Sandy, I’m sorry.”

I got up and began to walk towards the door leading back to the crazies.

“Really?” My mother stood up. “I am doing what I think is best for you! Why do you not see that? You think he cares about you Sandy? He made you drink 3 different liquors! You could’ve died!”

“He didn’t MAKE me do anything I didn’t want to do! We were celebrating and guess what? I’m not dead! Have you even tasted your bottles of Potter’s vodka, mom? The ones you hid in the cabinets after the twin’s baptism?”

“Yes, Sandy. I know you finished them at your 17th birthday party you threw while I was at work! You filled them up with water! Francisco told me!”

I smiled at her because of how oblivious she was about everything. I shook my head as I dove back into the madness I didn’t belong to but had become familiar with. The madness that would make me forget about my own. I made my way to the game room.

“Is everything okay?” asked Trevor, the staff member that completely butchered my last name.

I glared at him, then looked away. I didn’t want to talk. Not to him. Not to them.

I can’t believe Francisco lied to her. Maybe he didn’t know the truth either, but still. He’s a real piece of shit for assuming we finished those on my birthday. Should I have told her? How would my mom feel if I had told her the truth? That I finished those bottles in a course of 4 months before my birthday? That my water bottle I took to school every day my Junior year, was actually vodka filled? She would probably only feel worse. I can’t tell her that. She already feels as if she failed. I can’t.

“Hey, you cool?”

I felt an arm on my shoulder. Doesn’t this guy ever just mind his own? “I’m okay Trevor, thanks for asking.” I didn’t look his way.

He sat on the coffee table attached to the blue pleather seat I sat upon. “Did you get in a fight with your mom? I heard she had good news for you.”

I laughed, “Good news? Good news would be to not be here, but no, I’m staying here until Wednesday just like I was here for my high school graduation.”

“I heard Thunder Road has a bed for you! That’s good! You know we got someone from their program in here right? Maybe you can try to make a friend?”

What do you not understand? There is no good news here Trevor. Go spread your positivity for another crazy, not this one. “Aren’t you like not supposed to give me that type of information? Isn’t it like patient confidentiality or something?”

“Shoot, you’re right. My bad. I was just trying to see why you’re so upset after your visit. Usually you smile more after you see your mom. She added a number to your calling list by the way. I’m not sure if you knew?”

“Whose number is it?”

“That I do not know. Want to call it?”

“We’re not allowed to make calls before 3pm.”

“I’m giving you a choice Sandra. I’m not just here to look good. I’m here to make sure you guys are doing good. Maybe you could use someone to talk to? Obviously, not me.”

Maybe he’s a mind reader? “Okay, I would like that.” I got up and followed him to the hall that led to the rooms of the barricaded crazies. There were 6 phones up against the walls, 3 on each side with enough space for some privacy during our calling hours. I was dying with anxiety to know who my mom had put on my phone list. Whoever it was, they would help deliver my message to Marcus. As much as I tried to remain hopeful that it would be his number my mother had given, my mind knew better.

Trevor dialed the number for me from a folded piece a paper he took out from his jean pocket. He handed me the phone and walked away to give me some privacy but stayed near to keep a watchful eye.

“Hello?” I heard a familiar voice answer.

“Dani?”

“Hey! Your mom told me you might call, but I didn’t expect to hear from you this early.”

It was my cousin. She was more like a sister. I used my time wisely knowing I was only given half of our regular calling time. She would deliver my message to Marcus and provide him with an anticipated release date of August 26th. Two weeks before that date would be my 18th birthday.

Days later it was time to head to Thunder Road. I knew I was leaving to only be imprisoned behind new walls with a new set of rules, but I smiled anyway.

“Will you miss me?” asked a teary Rose.

I held her. I knew she was lost. Can’t say she was as lost as I, but I held her tightly knowing I may never see her again. My smile slowly faded. I realized there was nothing I could do for her just like there was nothing that could have fixed me then.

“Please be good Rosie. I will miss you tons.” I knew it was time for a new beginning.

recovery
Like

About the Creator

Sandra Yvette

I write for my own personal healing, hoping it may touch a soul.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.