Four Days In Hell

Probably the most frustrating thing about my "four days in hell" is once again being misunderstood.  It has been a reoccurring theme throughout my life. And, yes, it still makes me angry. Maybe I don't make myself clear. Maybe I am trying to give too much responsibility to others.  Either way, that's what had transpired and landed me at "The Farm."

I had to have someone unlock the bathroom door for me.  Permission to bath is also required.  Eating and "group" meeting times are rigidly dictated.  There are absolutely no electronics allowed.  They search your room and belongings all through the day.  And, a really big AND, I miss Ween.

I didn't have anyone to "lick" me awake, if I could finally sleep.  I didn't have to stumble around trying to let someone go outside.  I didn't even have someone to share my food.

Yesterday I "got" to see the Grand Pooba (Psy Dr)  He determines if someone can leave.  He sees me for all of three minutes and he can evaluate my competency?  POWER. It's a wonderful thing.  You have no power or opinion there.  You are a face that moves in front of a body.

I have been blessed to be able to travel.  Tijuana, other border towns, Paris' train station, an interesting shop in Israel.  I guess I was surprised about the facilities - mold in the shower, shower curtain is fall down, window blinds broken, floors dirty to name a few things.  On the positive side, there was hot water for a shower, I have clean linens (uniforms) to wear.  And, don't get me started on the uniforms that "the guests" must wear. Plain street clothes for the staff, and paper blue scrubs for those not yet admitted.  All possessions are taken away and stored "somewhere."  You are supposed to get them back when you check out.

Food is edible up there on 4 W; not so much in the "holding" area.  It took approx 14 hours to get admitted. I had to stay in two different areas before finally moving up to the fourth floor. They did have bag lunches in that area. I'm not sure how they could improve those except by adding a cafeteria. It's a bag lunch.

Cameras are all over.  I even had one in my room.  It's supposed to be because of my heart condition.  My room mate is interesting too.  About 14-16 and sometimes acted like she was 4 or 5.  She screams on a level almost out of normal hearing range.  She's required a "handler" most of the time.  They gave her a shot the first night and she slept after that.

Short of being in an arena at a sporting event, the noise level raises to a slight roar.  My day is usually very quiet and like it this way.  It is indigenous to an ant farm with super bowl speakers on crack.  The walking dead in the halls have blank looks on their faces.  There is also laughing for no apparent reason, screaming, shouting at invisible targets.  Medicated or need meds, I don't know.  I just know my TOTAL goal is getting out.