Happy November, boys and girls!

I'm so grateful that October's over in a lot of ways - it's always been kind of a crappy month for me, because a lot of memories (most of them now unpleasant) were created that I'd rather forget. The weather is fabulous, but the thoughts aren't. So here's to moving on and tackling the holidays now - another time of year that kind of sucks ass, heh. I'll be getting lots of time off for a while, though, due to the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, etc., so that's always nice. I could use the rest, honestly - I find myself starting to "fall apart" on the weekends now, nothing but sleepsleepsleep. My nerves are fucking shot these days. But I'm doing pretty well for someone that had a nervous breakdown this time a year ago, huh?

Recently I've been thinking about that time when I was in Sheppard Pratt. Spending some of the Christmas holidays in a mental hospital. It was all of a sudden, too, the breakdown started on a Sunday night after a concert I went to (oddly in D.C., go figure) and I was so distraught that I went to my doctor's office (at the time). They sent me to Harbor Hospital because I couldn't calm down, and by the time I got there, I was.... I don't remember much after that. Only bits and pieces.

I remember thinking to myself in the ambulance that I was glad, glad, glad that I'd finally gone over the edge. That I'd be put away and never see the light again. That I wouldn't have to worry anymore, about anything, ever again. Isn't that awful?

I remember laying on a hospital gurney, strapped to it (whether it was to keep me from falling off of it or to make sure I wouldn't run amok screaming before they got me into a locked ward, I don't know), and they took a picture of me, on it. I was smiling and saying cheese at the same time that my eyes were running tears and my breath was hitching. That was surreal, really. I think that one moment was the worst moment of my life.

And then I remember pleading to go to sleep, they kept asking me stupid questions about why I was there - it's a mental hospital, you fucking idiots, aren't you supposed to know why I'm here? - when all I wanted to do was sleepsleepsleep. When they did finally say go to sleep, I remember laying down in the room - a bare room with no locks and bars on the windows - and thinking that the mattress was rather soft and comfortable for a 'looney ward', heh. And I slept, like the dead.

Ah, well, that's enough reminiscing for now. That 72 hour period is painful for me, and I have a lot of images in my head that won't go away from that.... but it's a good telling of my first night in there, I think. I'll tell it all eventually, and probably as we get closer to the first anniversary of said event. I can't believe it's only been a year. Surely that says something for my strength of character, you think?

On a different note, I saw "Zack and Miri Make a Porno" at Arundel Mills last night, and I will only say this: Kevin Smith has fucking redeemed himself for "Clerks II", heh. This was the most hysterical flick I've seen in months. You must see this movie. I command it. (Just the sight of a full frontal nude Jason Mewes is enough of an incentive, rofl!)

I'm brewing a bit of a headache, so I'm going to lie down for a while. Maybe a meme later if I feel like it.

Buh-byez. :p