I recently found a semi love letter when cleaning out my cupboards. Two pieces of cardboard, folded in half:
DONT SHOW ANY STAFF OR DONT READ
[On the inside of the first piece of cardboard:]
Dear Grasefuly Insane,
Sorry if ive might of freaked you out a bit but I really like you. I know that I might of been a bit worried about u, but only cause I really like you. And how you said your mum said you're not worth it, well if I were your family/father I would be so proud of you for attempting to try and help yourself. But im not the father so I can just think about you & me. I really like you and think your sexy, cool, intelegent and so COOL
P.S.
Write back, put it in my door tonight.
Like/love u
DONT SHOW ANYONE
[On the second piece of cardboard:]
SORRY WRITTEN IN DARK PEN BUT MEANINGS ARE THERE
DONT SHOW ANYONE
WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME
O YES O NO
It was sent by a hormonal 14 year old boy, Noah, second door across the hall from me. Both of us were prisoners of Little Loons. As our county's hospital only had an adult acute psychiatric ward, the local Child & Adolescent Mental Health Service preferred not to put their youngsters there. So if at all possible, we were sent to Little Loons, a kind of safe house for the more disturbed among us.
From the outside, Little Loons looked like a normal house, in a normal street. Its only give-away being the many cars that constantly drove in and out as staff members changed shifts, children were driven to their therapy appointments and parents arrived to see their sons and daughters. It catered to a maximum of five children at any one time and they made sure children with similar diagnostics were never housed together. (Druggie + anorexic = okay. Self-harmer + self harmer = not so okay.)
I was 18 when I was offered (forcibly made) a stay in there. I was quite ready to leave this life for the next and in trying to prevent this, my parents had become exhausted from monitoring me 24/7. As this was an acute admission, they only had a bed available for the next three days. Being the borderliner I am, I was furious for being locked up. As soon as I got out I tried, quite dramatically, to jump off a bridge. Very Hollywood-like. Three passersby saw me and called the police. After a bit of a chase (note to self: you cannot outrun a police car) I was grabbed by a police woman and taken into "protective custody". This remains my one and only trip in the back of a police car.
Needless to say, the very next day I was back at Little Loons.
My stay came complete with supervised showers, the handing in of all my belts, shoe laces and earrings, as well as the 15 min checks at night, where you are told to go to sleep and then get woken up by a night staff member entering your room every 15 minutes to make sure you are asleep.
When I was at Little Loons, Noah quickly formed a crush on me. I was flattered, but told him I was not his type. He assured me I was, as probably anything with two tits and an ass would be. Apart from sliding notes under my door, which staff had strictly forbidden him, he made sure we had our daily dose of in-house entertainment by pulling pranks on the poor students that had to take us out during the day.
During my stay I befriended Hot Girl. She was 16, anorexic and had the most gorgeous body. I could see why she might object to having to gain weight. Hot Girl had been admitted to Little Loons on and off for two years now, she told me. Every time she was below her minimum weight she was sent here to fatten up (there were no eating disorder clinics in our part of the country). As soon as her weight was back up she got released, only to be readmitted a few months later when she had lost all the weight.
Hot Girl was slightly wary of me until she learned I was 18 and could buy cigarettes and alcohol. I was soon regarded as "cool". As the only two girl inmates, we gravitated towards each other and quickly worked out a system where she would throw the biggest tantrum at dinner about not being hungry so I could self-harm in peace and quiet. And in return I would show staff one of my hidden razorblades and then refuse to hand it over if Hot Girl wanted to give in to her bulimic tendencies in the bathroom.
When checking in to Little Loons they searched my bags for razor blades and forbidden items (like knives, lighters, alcohol and cigarettes, but also things like spray on deodorants and perfumes, go figure). I had hidden razorblades in CD cases between the pages of the lyrics booklet, in between the double lining of my panties (obviously not the ones I was wearing) and in the battery compartment of my cell phone.
I took great pleasure in hurting myself at night, proudly showing the morning staff my handiwork, and then sit back and watch them turn my room upside down, while I had to wait in the living room...with my blades securely taped to the soles of my feet.
To pass time, Hot Girl and I would hold competitions to see which one of us could rack up the most incident reports in any one day. I think our record was four. In hindsight I can see we were a pain in the butt, yet I remember my time at Little Loons as "fun" mostly. A place where I could act out my craziness without repercussions. Where I could be angry and sad without feeling guilty towards my family that they had to endure yet another one of my tantrums.
At Little Loons we had two night shift guys. Creepy and Sleepy. They rotated on a weekly basis, so that one week we'd have Creepy supervise us from 10.30PM until 7AM, and the following week we'd have Sleepy to keep us company at night. Sleepy was by far our favorite. He was supposed to stay awake all night, but consistently fell asleep in front of the television between 2AM and 3AM. This was about the time I'd get out of bed, have a rummage through the kitchen, self-harm for a little while and have a cuddle with Puss-Puss the housecat, before returning to my room. Creepy was harder to trick, and neither I nor Hot Girl liked being around him.
During the day the house was staffed with two people at any one time, one male and one female. Sometimes these were qualified social workers, most of the time, though, they were third year psychology students. The latter were my favorite as they were more gullible. Quite idealistic still, and therefore more prone to believing you when telling them you would just like to take an unsupervised shower and you promise you will not get up to no good.
After three weeks I was sent home again, with the threat of a planned longer stay so my shrink could work more intensely with me. As my family and I moved three days after my release, this never happened.
The lessons I learned at Little Loons?
Blue-top milk contains more calories than orange-top milk. And no matter how hard an anorexic patient will try to convince the staff that orange-top milk contains extra vitamins, they will still make you drink blue-top milk.
Getting Night Shift Guy in trouble by telling the day shift you really did not mean to hurt yourself, that you even tried to talk to Night Shift Guy for support but he was asleep, is surprisingly satisfying.
I learned that cats like no other beings on earth, can make you feel at home in a strange bed.
The cactus plant in the kitchen windowsill is not all that well suited for self-harm purposes.
But most of all I learned that, despite my preconceived notions, it was nice and almost familiar to hang out with other people "like me". For once not having to feel like the odd one out.
Thank you for reading.
Yours truly,
GI
DONT SHOW ANY STAFF OR DONT READ
[On the inside of the first piece of cardboard:]
Dear Grasefuly Insane,
Sorry if ive might of freaked you out a bit but I really like you. I know that I might of been a bit worried about u, but only cause I really like you. And how you said your mum said you're not worth it, well if I were your family/father I would be so proud of you for attempting to try and help yourself. But im not the father so I can just think about you & me. I really like you and think your sexy, cool, intelegent and so COOL
P.S.
Write back, put it in my door tonight.
Like/love u
DONT SHOW ANYONE
[On the second piece of cardboard:]
SORRY WRITTEN IN DARK PEN BUT MEANINGS ARE THERE
DONT SHOW ANYONE
WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME
O YES O NO
It was sent by a hormonal 14 year old boy, Noah, second door across the hall from me. Both of us were prisoners of Little Loons. As our county's hospital only had an adult acute psychiatric ward, the local Child & Adolescent Mental Health Service preferred not to put their youngsters there. So if at all possible, we were sent to Little Loons, a kind of safe house for the more disturbed among us.
From the outside, Little Loons looked like a normal house, in a normal street. Its only give-away being the many cars that constantly drove in and out as staff members changed shifts, children were driven to their therapy appointments and parents arrived to see their sons and daughters. It catered to a maximum of five children at any one time and they made sure children with similar diagnostics were never housed together. (Druggie + anorexic = okay. Self-harmer + self harmer = not so okay.)
I was 18 when I was offered (forcibly made) a stay in there. I was quite ready to leave this life for the next and in trying to prevent this, my parents had become exhausted from monitoring me 24/7. As this was an acute admission, they only had a bed available for the next three days. Being the borderliner I am, I was furious for being locked up. As soon as I got out I tried, quite dramatically, to jump off a bridge. Very Hollywood-like. Three passersby saw me and called the police. After a bit of a chase (note to self: you cannot outrun a police car) I was grabbed by a police woman and taken into "protective custody". This remains my one and only trip in the back of a police car.
Needless to say, the very next day I was back at Little Loons.
My stay came complete with supervised showers, the handing in of all my belts, shoe laces and earrings, as well as the 15 min checks at night, where you are told to go to sleep and then get woken up by a night staff member entering your room every 15 minutes to make sure you are asleep.
When I was at Little Loons, Noah quickly formed a crush on me. I was flattered, but told him I was not his type. He assured me I was, as probably anything with two tits and an ass would be. Apart from sliding notes under my door, which staff had strictly forbidden him, he made sure we had our daily dose of in-house entertainment by pulling pranks on the poor students that had to take us out during the day.
During my stay I befriended Hot Girl. She was 16, anorexic and had the most gorgeous body. I could see why she might object to having to gain weight. Hot Girl had been admitted to Little Loons on and off for two years now, she told me. Every time she was below her minimum weight she was sent here to fatten up (there were no eating disorder clinics in our part of the country). As soon as her weight was back up she got released, only to be readmitted a few months later when she had lost all the weight.
Hot Girl was slightly wary of me until she learned I was 18 and could buy cigarettes and alcohol. I was soon regarded as "cool". As the only two girl inmates, we gravitated towards each other and quickly worked out a system where she would throw the biggest tantrum at dinner about not being hungry so I could self-harm in peace and quiet. And in return I would show staff one of my hidden razorblades and then refuse to hand it over if Hot Girl wanted to give in to her bulimic tendencies in the bathroom.
When checking in to Little Loons they searched my bags for razor blades and forbidden items (like knives, lighters, alcohol and cigarettes, but also things like spray on deodorants and perfumes, go figure). I had hidden razorblades in CD cases between the pages of the lyrics booklet, in between the double lining of my panties (obviously not the ones I was wearing) and in the battery compartment of my cell phone.
I took great pleasure in hurting myself at night, proudly showing the morning staff my handiwork, and then sit back and watch them turn my room upside down, while I had to wait in the living room...with my blades securely taped to the soles of my feet.
To pass time, Hot Girl and I would hold competitions to see which one of us could rack up the most incident reports in any one day. I think our record was four. In hindsight I can see we were a pain in the butt, yet I remember my time at Little Loons as "fun" mostly. A place where I could act out my craziness without repercussions. Where I could be angry and sad without feeling guilty towards my family that they had to endure yet another one of my tantrums.
At Little Loons we had two night shift guys. Creepy and Sleepy. They rotated on a weekly basis, so that one week we'd have Creepy supervise us from 10.30PM until 7AM, and the following week we'd have Sleepy to keep us company at night. Sleepy was by far our favorite. He was supposed to stay awake all night, but consistently fell asleep in front of the television between 2AM and 3AM. This was about the time I'd get out of bed, have a rummage through the kitchen, self-harm for a little while and have a cuddle with Puss-Puss the housecat, before returning to my room. Creepy was harder to trick, and neither I nor Hot Girl liked being around him.
During the day the house was staffed with two people at any one time, one male and one female. Sometimes these were qualified social workers, most of the time, though, they were third year psychology students. The latter were my favorite as they were more gullible. Quite idealistic still, and therefore more prone to believing you when telling them you would just like to take an unsupervised shower and you promise you will not get up to no good.
After three weeks I was sent home again, with the threat of a planned longer stay so my shrink could work more intensely with me. As my family and I moved three days after my release, this never happened.
The lessons I learned at Little Loons?
Blue-top milk contains more calories than orange-top milk. And no matter how hard an anorexic patient will try to convince the staff that orange-top milk contains extra vitamins, they will still make you drink blue-top milk.
Getting Night Shift Guy in trouble by telling the day shift you really did not mean to hurt yourself, that you even tried to talk to Night Shift Guy for support but he was asleep, is surprisingly satisfying.
I learned that cats like no other beings on earth, can make you feel at home in a strange bed.
The cactus plant in the kitchen windowsill is not all that well suited for self-harm purposes.
But most of all I learned that, despite my preconceived notions, it was nice and almost familiar to hang out with other people "like me". For once not having to feel like the odd one out.
Thank you for reading.
Yours truly,
GI
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