Going on from my last post and thinking about how utterly ridiculous the situation in the mental hospital was. There I was an 18 year old kid who quite clearly desperately needed to talk and the first thing they did was drug me to a point where I could hardly speak. The term kid is apt, I may have been an adult in the eyes of the law and I was certainly intellectually mature but I’m not ashamed to admit that I was emotionally little more than a child which may or may not have been caused by events in my past.
Still very depressed I didn’t protest or struggle when told I was being taken to Brookwood, although I knew only too well what that meant, and was completely docile with the ambulance men. I didn’t put up any sort of fight while I was being admitted and put on a ward, I pretty well just sat there and let them do whatever they wanted. Why they felt that sedation was called for I’ll never know, perhaps they were nervous of my powerful physique… yeah. If my Dad hadn’t told me I wouldn’t even know that I was there about a week, I’d lost interest in details like that.
When I had my first session with the psychiatrist I was so whacked I couldn’t form a rational sentence and I’ve no doubt that words like uncommunicative, uncooperative and withdrawn were at the top of my case notes. Of course I was all of those things, the twats had almost anesthetised me! The really stupid thing was that if the idiot had any understanding of adolescent psychology and the wit to ask the right questions he could have got the whole sordid story, I wasn’t in any state to lie. How bloody ironic!
As a voluntary, not a sectioned, patient I was technically free to discharge myself but was in no state to do it and without Dad’s rescue mission wouldn’t have even thought about it. They tried to thwart Dad by pointing out that I was legally an adult and that he had no right to sign on my behalf. He neatly countered that by pointing out not only was I blatantly a child, emotionally, but I was his child, to hell with the age of majority. Then they tried to suggest that I might still be a risk to myself and he just laughed at them. Did they really think He and Mum were planning to let me out of their sight long enough for that to be a problem?
I’ve never been certain that Dad liked me very much but I guess he proved beyond all doubt that he loved me a great deal, it’s a shame that I ever felt I needed the proof.
Love
Your dad definitely must have loved you, helping you out like he did.
Love
Daniel
Daniel
I know that he did, he proved that more than once but unfortunately he simply couldn’t even talk about the fact of my homosexuality. There were times when his denial was even worse than mine when I was 13 and first dealing with it. Just a blind spot that he couldn’t get over I guess.
Love
Malcolm