Katinka 2.0

On my second stint at the basement (with barely a month in between confinements, dang it), I was constantly asked by the nurses and the orderlies, "Anong nangyari? Bakit ka pinabalik?" I couldn't  couldn't explain it since it was so complicated, so I just said, (sarcastically, natch), "It's more fun in the basement!" It almost felt like a homecoming. Like I was with my people (schizos, catatonics, and my fellow bi-polars). As it happened, the nurses and the orderlies were my only friends on my first few days back because I was still reeling from what, in fact, led me back to the basement.

(Aside: This was the conversation that prompted my return --
Me: I don't what's wrong. It's like it's getting worse! (Through mega tears yan a.)
Doctor (who looks and acts like Yoda): *deadpan smile* ---> [I swear, I know that's an oxymoron, but he really does always have that expression. Yoda nga e.]
Me: What should I do???
Doctor: You need to go back downstairs. I'm sending you to the basement again.
Me: What? When?
Doctor: Oh. Now.

And, scene.)

I couldn't quite explain what happened, but whatever it was, it was certainly getting worse ("it" being my depression).

I felt like such a pro on my second foray into the world of the behaviorally disordered. I already knew what was contraband, so I didn't even bother bringing them. I knew the routines such that taking my vital signs 4 times a day became a breeze for me. I also knew I could get away with not eating as much as I should, so I found a takaw buddy who ate most of my food for me.

The first few days were still horrible. I'd still have "spells" that rivaled the ones I actually had in the outside world. Eventually, they changed my cocktail of meds and I started feeling better (I'm on 6 different medicines, sana naman, diba?).

The great thing this time was that the nurses and doctors allowed me to have my real journal, provided that one of the residents got to read it. For the first time in my life, another set of eyes looked into my Moleskine. I felt naked and afraid at first, but it helped because the resident's daily therapy with me had more substance.

One of the nurses also noticed that I could actually draw. Now, now, I know I've been saying that I can't draw for sh**, but she said I had something when it came to the abstract. So she gave me a sketch pad and some materials and I discovered that...I love to paint! I had never really taken painting seriously, but it turns out I could. So, yay.

I've been out for a few days now, and I can definitely say I'm starting to feel like my old self again. Even Chad noticed it. I have moments of panic (especially with crowds), but when Chad is with me, I stay calm. In time, I want to regain my confidence in being alone. I used to be able to go off and do all sorts of things by myself, but now I feel so iffy about being among strangers.

No matter; I feel like I'm at the cusp of a new beginning. If only this visa application would go without a hitch, then everything will be okay. I need to start from scratch. Katinka 2.0.

Jump, high-five, freeze frame.

Aaaand, scene.