My Note From Feb. 15

Mother doesn’t want a dog.  She’s making a mistake.  Because, more than a dog, I think she will not want this snake.

– Judith Viorst, “Mother Doesn’t Want a Dog”

When I was put in solitary confinement for two days last week, it was a truly horrifying experience.  My first night there I was forced to take a bunch of medications.  They made me nauseas at first, then I slept.  The weird dreams I have had since starting these medications were there, but I still slept a long time.  The only markers of time I had were the three visits a day to bring meals and the window to show if it was day or night.  On Friday morning, my first morning there, I decided I wouldn’t eat, drink or take my medications.  These were the only things I felt I had any control over, or at least thought I might and I wanted to test it.  On Saturday evening I agreed to take liquids and medications after they let me out of confinement.  I didn’t eat solid food again until Monday evening.  
Friday night was a long night in confinement.  I barely slept because the medications were the only things helping me sleep and I had refused them.  I mostly just paced and thought.  Most of my thoughts were about my son and paternal grandmother.  I decided that night that I would kill myself the first chance I had when I could be sure not to be stopped.  If I succeeded, I would be reunited with grandma and eventually, James.  I cried a lot that night, but by the end of the night they were tears of joy at the thought of being with the two people I love so much and that loved me.  My suffering would be over forever and that would be great.

PS – Today my breaks were extended to four breaks of 15 minutes each.  I also got my boots back, but still no clothes, just hospital pajamas.


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