Page 393 of Releasing 10
FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER
Lizzie
APRIL 19, 2004
THREE MONTHS, TWO WEEKS, AND ONE DAY.
That’s how long it took the doctors to piece me back together.
Stabilizing my mood, after spending so many months spiraling, took a herculean effort, but Ididit.
I complied.
I didn’t fight the doctors this time.
Instead, I worked with them to crawl my way back to life.
The first several weeks of my admission remained a distorted blur, and I was relieved, because remembering everything hurt. Many of the blackout periods I experienced during mania were still a mystery, and I could only pray they remained that way.
During my stay on the ward, I had ten sessions of electroconvulsive therapy to alter my brain chemistry in the hope of stabilizing my mind and improving my quality of life. I could only hope that it worked because the experience of being repeatedly and intentionally electrocuted wasn’t something I wouldeveragree to again.
Daily therapy, along with a carefully selected combination of mood stabilizers and antipsychotics, had brought me to the point of my long-awaited return to society.
Finally.
When I returned to Old Hall House last Friday evening, I felt like a stranger.
Like this wasn’t the house I was supposed to come home to.
Like my parents weren’t my parents, the bike lying on the front lawn wasn’t my bike, and the room I’d spent most of my childhood in wasn’t my room.
It was strange, but I handled it.
I workedthroughmy feelings instead of running from them.
Mam was thrilled to finally have me home, while Dad was cagey.
I didn’t blame him.
I felt exactly the same way.
When I returned to Tommen, it was the first day back after Easter break, and because my mam wanted to ease me back in slowly, I didn’t go in until after big lunch.
After suffering a pained one-way conversation with Mr. Twomey in the office, I was ushered off to class with a pat on the head and an invitation to come see him if I needed anything at all. I wouldn’t, but at least he didn’t get snotty over my absenteeism. The principal seemed to be more concerned with my mental health than my attendance.
Academically, we both knew he didn’t have to worry. Before I left, I’d been coasting through my classes, finding the whole junior-cycle curriculum boring. During my hospitalization, once I stabilized, I had completed my schoolwork from my bed. Honestly, I could have missed another three months, and it wouldn’t have lowered my grades from higher-level A’s.
When I stepped out of the office, a squeal of excitement filled the air.
“Omigod, omigod, omigod!” Barreling toward me, Claire threw her arms around me before I had a chance to say hi. “It’s about damn time you came home!” Wrapping me up in her arms, she hugged me with a death grip. “I’ve missed you like crazy, Lizzie Young.”
Shivering, I allowed myself to sink into her hug, allowed myself to consume the warmth she was enveloping me with. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“How’s your mam?”
“She’s on the mend.”
“And you?” Pulling back, she ran her hands all over my hair, searching my face with her eyes. “How are you?”
