Dorothea Dix
Those words could be the Title of a movie. Like Amityville.
I don't talk about the facilities I was placed in a lot. Nobody particularly enjoys those stories. So they've sunk deep into my mind, often festering with Pain that I've buried too far down to notice.
I'm not completely sure why I want to tell you about this girl. But I do.
I don't know what year it was, but I do remember I was there over Christmas. Yes. I spent Christmas in an Insane Asylum. Perhaps the correct title these days are "Psych Ward" - but not for this place. No. Dix was a not just a Mental Institution, but a Permanent Residency for many Insane, as well as a Prison for criminals completely out of their minds. Because it was Christmas, many people had gone mental and they were the only ones in the area that had a bed available for a suicide attempt.
It wasn't my first attempt on my life, so I had heard the stories. Holly Hill is a Luxury Resort in terms of Mental Facilities. Dorothea Dix is a place hardened criminals are scared of. Worse than prison I was told by some self-labled crack-whores I met there. They kept me safe during my stay. For I was a shadow of myself then. Timid and tiny due to my inability to keep food down. I have long since developed a soft spot for ladies such as them. They are Strong Women, surviving a Hard World, even if just barely.
But I was not so lucky as to be placed in that section with them right away. Initially I was given a bed in a different wing due to the overflow in that Holiday season. A wing that housed more dangerous mental cases.
I remember she was nice at first. A big girl, dark hair, crazy smile that I was immediately wary of. She would watch me as I walked by. She would say things that didn't make sense as I passed. Things that would scare me. Things about me. Things she was wanted to do to me. There was a communal bathroom with a tub. You couldn't fill it enough to drown yourself, but it was enough to give me some relief. She found me that day. She was friendly, in a scary way. I was cornered and I knew it. I was careful to treat her with respectful calm that would not spook her into violence. When I felt it was safe enough, I carefully made a quiet escape back to my room. I might have made a mistake in telling an orderly what happened. But I think not. After that she got louder and threatening towards me wherever I went. They would have to physically restrain her and sedate her regularly. One Day they had to strap her to her bed. I was walking back from breakfast and passed her room during that incident. I remember her staring at me through several men holding her down as they put restraints on her and a doctor injecting her with a tranq. She yelled threats at me, horrible things I don't remember now. They moved me into a different wing that day. A wing where I found friends in the form of prostitutes who had overdosed on cocaine. They had my back when a different crazy stole my underwear and man through a chair at me. I wonder how they fare now. I wonder if they are alive.
What I don't wonder is if that black haired woman who haunted and hunted me is still of this world. I have no doubt she is long dead. I cannot convey how much this saddens me. Because I understand why. I understand her, in ways. Trauma and Cruelty begits the same. She was born into a hell on this earth that many could not imagine, I have no doubt. And our society does not have the means to do any more than contain the person she was made into. We don't have the means to help the Insane. The only people who need help, that get help - are people with a Support Group and a Decent bit of money. The rest all eventually end up in facility after facility, and eventually die trying to find ways to cope with their Pain.
This was my memory just now. One of many I contain deep within my mind. You no doubt have enjoyed it as little as I did. But often Life is not about Joy. Rarely, actually. It's about Following God. It's about Learning from our Mistakes and the Mistakes of others. It's about Growing and Sanctifying and Surviving this Life until we can GO Home. This may not have been a happy post. But it is a necessary one. Life is not about Happiness. It is about MORE.
It is about Him.
