I had been living with bi-polar disorder and PTSD for a few years...It's not so bad, except for when I have to explain myself to my friends after I've isolated myself and become pre-occupied and distressed from stress, distracted in front of them....Basically I've had a life of non-self-inflicted drama and the stress gets the best of me...I live across the country from my family and try to stay away from "toxic" people now on purpose...The other part of having a chemical imbalance is all the treatment, not to mention the side effects of meds I have to go through...I have now been hospitalized several times...and I have been in a couple of programs, not to mention a few outpatient places...I am probably an expert now on the difference between all the hospitals...I've also met several interesting people...
In New York, I have been to two different hospitals. Beth Israel in Manhattan and South Beach in Staten Island. They couldn't be more different. South Beach was kind of a waystation for people, a place where a lot of cons go, or people with immigration problems, most who have no place to go to...I was released there after I got sent to Riker's for painting a clown on a fence in Brooklyn. (Four cop cars swarmed on me and then I got sent in for questioning...There were three or four cops asking me questions at first, they brought up a lot of taggers that I'd seen up but never met...I insisted that I don't tag and I only know muralists...These cops knew nothing about old school people...then they asked me about a certain crew...Unfortunately, I don't tell lies and it slipped out that I had dinner with them like six years ago...Then this really vicious cop came into the room and was mean, I mean mean...He asked me to name people, give up addresses, phone numbers...so I did the only thing that I could...I wrote down my name and address and phone number and gave up a few websites...He told me I would go to jail for a year for withholding information...I told the truth, and honestly those cops are like gangsters...I think they sent me to Riker's to "teach me a lesson"...All I did was paint a mural in a place covered with tags already...) My charges were dropped under the condition that I get medical attention. I ended up getting released to a forensic hospital first, where a cellmate from Riker's who was like 400 lbs. struck me with a heavy chair to the head like three times...I was just minding my own business, I didn't even flinch, and I think others around me were shocked by that...Then after that, I got stuck at South Beach for three months even though I was told I could be released in a couple of weeks because I had no place to go to. My ex-roommates had told me I could not come back to the apartment. I didn't call anyone. I needed a little vacation. See, my sister had just sent her kids on a plane to Seattle and left them with her sister-in-law's family. Her sister-in-law put them in social services and they went to foster homes. I was also dating someone who didn't want to date me anymore because I was too much drama. He wanted to watch American Idol, play his guitar, write songs and smoke pot, except he wasn't doing it, so he was miserable. I was ashamed of my family. When I got caught painting, I was just blowing off some steam painting a clown because that's how I felt, like a clown...Anyways, I couldn't leave the grounds of the hospital because I didn't have a place to go, so I couldn't even look for a place to live. It was like a vicious cycle... South Beach was expecting me to let them place me somewhere like a SRO or a residence...I ended up giving in and asking my ex for help...He let me stay with him for a couple months and then I subletted until I got my own place. That was awkward, but it was kind of him...
During my stay at South Beach, I met people who had been there for 7, 15, 21 years. One guy had shot and killed someone during a delusional period and he couldn't speak a word of English. He was Italian. One guy had been caught selling cocaine and he was Cuban. He always reminded everyone he had been there for 21 years as if that was his excuse for special treatment or for his sadness. He was like a bird in a cage, but one who might not make it on the outside because he's been caged so long. Another guy was Ethiopian and was waiting for his green card because he got it revoked when he hit someone over the head with a bottle. There was an 18 year old girl who was a cutter bulhemic who would swallow pennies and staples and ran away and was a prostitute in Florida making money she would use to get tattoos. Her sister and brother also got hospitalized. There was a crazy older Jewish lady who made nonsensical sentences and had volume control issues. There was a Vatos Locos member who was an out-of-control alcoholic. The reason he was there was he got into fistfights with the cops after he broke this guy's nose. .
Phew...Recently my Mom got involved in my life again and was coming to visit in January. I ended up at Beth Israel, a Jewish teaching hospital. Quite a different place. It was pleasant. I met people who were normal, just headsick. I met an older guy who grew up an orphan in orphanages and his only living relative, his brother got killed in '73...He'd been in homes and been to prison, but he made me cry in group when he was saying that he's been "following his brother into the grave ever since"...I relate to that. When Mike got killed, I lost something. Maybe it was hope...Anyways, I felt close to him. There was a young cocky, funny ad guy who had been doing coke and drinking...He had ADD so badly...He gave me boxing tips and we trained together...I wrote him notes all the time...He asked to read my journal...I also met a couple of Brooklyn painters, one an alcoholic older guy from the Kandinski era who grew up in Martha's Vineyard and the other a military brat whose sister and mom triggered him...
Beth Israel released me into a Partial Hospitalization program at Long Island College Hospital. Groups all day long, transportation to and from home provided. Five weeks.
My psychiatrist at LICH, in the initial interview said that the punishment didn't fit the crime when I talked about my prior experiences. He said that they've been banning certain kinds of art all the way to the Vatican throughout history. He said maybe I was ahead of my time.
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