Goddammit! I saw the psychiatrist this morning. I’d had a migraine in the middle of the night, and padded out to the nursing station at 4:30 in the morning for some medication.
Then this morning I got a T-3, which finally killed it, and by the time the doctor got here I had gotten up and brushed my teeth and put my hair back in an elastic and everything.
So he said it looked like I was having a good day, and I said yes and asked for a pass – for Sunday or better yet, returning Monday night, and he said that he won’t now (he doesn’t feel comfortable, or wants to err on the side of caution, or whatever), because he thinks I’m impulsive and they lose people to suicide every day. And although I seemed to be having a good day now, “things can change out there in the world.”
But, if I can “put together a good stretch of days,” they’ll probably give me a pass next weekend, or even a day during the week (which would probably only be Friday as ketamine is Tuesday and Thursday.)
Mother of fuck, that stresses me out. I don’t want to beeee heeeeere. Like, antsy I want to get out nowww. I have my house keys, as my neighbour dropped them off yesterday, and I have street shoes, and I have Uber on my phone (so I can do without my wallet, which is locked up.) I am sure I could manage to stroll to the front and slip out when no one is looking.
But, they know where I live and where I work so I imagine that would end up with the cops coming and dragging me back by force. Then they’d be really hesitant to let me put for real. “I’m not doing it to be mean,” he said. Buddy, I don’t care… I just want to get out of here!