The Unbalancing Act

by Lynn, Kristen

  Dr. Ames: Okay Vada, now let me ask this in a different way, what did you do here at New Outlook that has benefitted you? Just you and your recovery?

  Me: I ate delicious brownies. I got a hold of the janitor’s carpet cleaner and cleaned the carpet in my room twice. I got a mop and spray cleaner and scrubbed my bathroom floors sometimes more than once a day. I really like clean floors.

  Dr. Ames: Yes, Vada, the floors are important to you. All the headaches you’ve experienced, tell me about those.

  Me: I was faking them.

  Dr. Ames stopped the tape. The panel looks at me as if I would have been voted off if this were elimination night.

  Dr. Lipton starts flapping his jaws. “You see, Vada. This is significant. We feel that a diagnosis of obsessive compulsive disorder needs to be made. This floor cleaning is not healthy and is a control issue for you. Do you realize that now?”

  What am I supposed to say? Of course I am OCD about the floor. Why don’t they just fry me in the electric chair for it? I’m guilty. It’s not like it’s hurting anybody. In fact, I’m helping the struggling economy by purchasing cleaning supplies.

  “Yes, I do, I’m going to leave my floors dirty for a while. I’ll only mop every other day. Will that work for all of you? Can we please end this now, so I can go home?”

  “Just one more moment...” Rita whispers in Dr. Lipton’s ear and he then whispers in Dr. Ames’ ear who then whispers in Ms. Peters’ ear.

  “Oooh are we playing telephone, should I scoot closer?” I ask.

  They all ignore my attitude and Dr. Ames puts in a new tape. We listen. This is just dreadful. I don’t want to hear any more of this ridiculous pig shit.

  Dr. Ames: Tell me Vada, about when you were going to commit suicide on the roof.

  Me: I wasn’t. I just needed to get a break…

  Dr. Ames: A break, like a broken tailbone, arm, leg? Were you looking to break a bone?”

  Me: I just needed a break. I didn’t care where it was.

  Dr. Ames: So you weren’t actually trying to kill yourself?

  Me: No, just a break. I tried to make it quick.

  He stopped the tape. I see what these bastards are getting at. They are trying to make it look like I wanted to hurt myself.

  “Just a minute, I did not break anything! I meant a break like I needed a motherfucking break! Like a minute to myself! Haven’t you people ever had kids? Do they not make you want to run out screaming sometimes? Do your relatives not make you want to hide? Well mine FUCKING do! So I went on the roof to hide. When I said I didn’t care where it was, I meant a place...not a body part! A sabbatical, not a broken bone. You are manipulating my words!” I am now shouting. I am sounding like one of the crazies. This is what I have resorted to. I’m going mad. They are not listening and I know it.

  “Vada, we have discussed this as a group of trained professionals. We all agree that you have a mental illness which is considered a factitious disorder. There are different degrees and types of factitious disorders including one called Munchausen syndrome. We are not talking about by proxy, not the one where you would fake someone else’s illness, like a child’s. We are talking about faking your own. The constant headaches, while refusing pain relievers and you’ve admitted you have been faking them. The neck problems you’ve described in your sessions that appear to come and go with no explanation. This is a complicated diagnosis. Factitious disorder can go hand in hand with other mental illness, in your case, obsessive compulsive disorder and anxiety. We believe that your incident on the roof was a way for you to injure yourself to seek medical attention. Your plan was interrupted because your husband caught you in the act. In addition, we do not in fact feel you have an eating disorder but you do have a very real need for people to think you have an eating disorder. We believe that the evidence of this has been deliberately staged by you. Please know we are not judging you. We believe we can help you.”

  My blood is boiling. They have this all wrong. I look at Rita. “Then what the hell were you acting so concerned for?”

  She replies most definitely, “I was giving you the opportunity to come clean, Vada.”

  There she goes with that stupid word again, opportunity.

  “I specialize in eating disorders and was immediately suspicious that something was off with your case that night in the bathroom. I wasn’t positive so I simply did my part to support you and gave you the benefit of the doubt. I gave you the chance to tell me the truth many times.”

  Dr. Lipton’s voice overpowers the conversation. “It has become clear that you have established several relationships with other patients and while we commend you in your efforts to try and help them, it is our collective opinion that you are seeking relationships in order to increase the people in your life who will believe in your (and he finger quotes) ‘illnesses.’ I do, however, believe, as you stated in one of our sessions that you have always felt forgotten, like when you were left at the grocery store as a child. I think that factitious disorder can stem from these types of feelings and incidents.”

  “That’s just not true. First of all I was never left at the fucking grocery store!” I argue. “Secondly, I have tried to help some of these women because I am a mother! That’s what I do. It’s not attention-seeking or manipulative; it’s a maternal instinct for shit’s sake!”

  Dr. Lipton won’t shut up. “In addition, we have come to the conclusion that your ‘sleepwalking’ incident the other night was in fact a deliberate need to seek medical attention and attention from other patients. Injuring one’s self is a very common part of this illness. At this time, the fact that you are seriously hurting yourself is extremely concerning and I’m afraid we cannot release you. You are at high-risk for causing further damage and harming yourself.”

  My eyes dart at Dr. Ames who will not look me in the eye.

  “You dirty piece of shit!” I say to him. “You lied to me. You know what happened that night with the fence. Tell them about the security tape! Why don’t you speak up?”

  “Vada, we are going to have to ask you to calm down. Remember you came to us for help. That is all we are trying to give you,” Ms. Peters says calmly.

  “That’s right. I did. Didn’t I? I came here for help. Actually, you know what? I’m done with his whole thing. I didn’t really come here for help.” I stand up. “I came here to get away for a while. I just wanted a vacation alone, but couldn’t justify going to the beach without my family. Your fancy brochures looked so wonderful.” My hands are now waving around and I’m losing my patience. “I was thinking… nice rooms, sleeping all night without a baby crying. I was going to do yoga, which by the way is a joke. I faked this whole stupid thing so that I could have some peace and quiet! You guys have obviously not figured this out by now. Hello...McFly? Don’t you get it? There is nothing wrong with me! I came here on purpose to get some time to MYSELF. I am perfectly healthy. This is such a misunderstanding. I just need to get home.”

  Dr. Lipton stands up. He frowns and removes his stupid looking glasses. “We know you are physically healthy Vada. That’s the problem. Your repeated attempts at creating mental and physical illness and now injuring yourself are a mental illness in itself. Planting vomit on a sweatshirt which you know would be found...I’m sorry Vada. We cannot release you. You came in voluntarily, but as your doctors we have the legal rights to keep you here for your own safety. I think its best you return to your room for the night and we will discuss this further with you tomorrow. We have an extensive treatment plan waiting for you.”

  “Fuck...Off!” I yell. I move my chair out of the way and head for the door. Dr. Ames blocks my path. I see him send a message on his computer and shadows on the etched glass door tell me that he has called security. “Are you kidding me, you jerk off? I want to get home to my children! I need to be with my babies. Fuck you! Let me out of this shitty hospital. I’ll sue every one of your asses, do you hear me?” I’m yelling so loud that I’m surprising myself.

&n
bsp; I’m getting out of here one way or another. I push Dr. Lipton out of the way and he yields, to my surprise. I open the door and find myself surrounded by three men in white scrubs. I’m five foot tall. Do they really think it’s going to take this many grown men to get me? Idiots!

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way Vada. Just let them walk you to your room.” I know its Dr. Ames’ voice.

  “He’s fucking the nurse! The one with the plastic face!” I yell, pointing at Dr. Ames. “You are a cheating pig! I’m going to tell your wife! What about my box, huh? You just completely fucked my box!”

  What does it matter? They all just think I’m spouting off crazy talk and they probably think I’m talking about my vagina. I feel so helpless. What have I done? I really did just want a quick week away from home. Just some rest. I wanted to come right back home and be the best mom in the world like I always am. This whole thing has gone way too far. But I’m not going to my room. I’m getting out of here, because I’m not a prisoner. I have three children who have had their mom gone long enough. I’m so out of here. I immediately look for the best possible route. The hall to the left leads to patient rooms. The hall to my right leads to the Solarium and I could run out the back door in to the wooded trails. Alright. Here goes nothing. I bolt. Who knew it would come to this? The guards are right on my trail and I pass patients gawking at me in my high speed chase. I’m running as if my life depends on it. I see Katelyn as I make the turn into the Solarium.

  “Vada!” she yells stunned. I just keep going. I’m still so sore from my stitches that I know I’m not running at my full potential, but my adrenaline is through the roof and I push through the pain. I do think I have popped a stitch or two in my leg though. All I can hear is my heart beat and all I can think of is getting out the door. If I can make it to the trails, I can hide. I know I can do this.

  I see the door to the outside and it’s daytime, so it should be unlocked. I don’t even slow down. I slam into the door and push the bar to open it. This literally backfires because they’ve put the place on lockdown. I fall back and slam my head on the marble floor. Fuck that hurt. How many times does a girl have to land on her head! I turn over to get up when I am surrounded. I have two men restraining each arm and one holding my legs. My horrific vision has come true. I am being held down against my will looking like the Exorcist and shouting profanities. “Get off me, you cocksuckers!” I yell. I am thrashing and shouting, but I still have control of my bladder. “Get your hands off me, assholes!” This is all seems impossible. Like it’s a dream...I feel like biting these pricks, but the next thing I know, I feel a sharp stick in my thigh, there goes the bladder, and I am spinning into a world of darkness.

  Waking up is hard to do

  “Vada? Are you awake?”

  No. I am not. I am not. I’m sunk down and I can’t open my eyes. I’m not on a normal level of consciousness, but I hear a voice.

  “Vada? Are you ready to wake up?”

  Who is this talking to me? Where am I? Where are my boys? Where is Eric? Where is this voice coming from? Am I dead? I try hard to force my eyes to open and all I can see is gray walls. There are only gray stone walls and no windows. I fall back asleep.

  “Vada Bower...I need to you to try and sit up.”

  That voice. Who is it? My eyes open and I am relieved. What a nightmare! This is the worst dream I have ever had. I sit up and realize that I am not in my normal bed. I am in a hospital bed. There are restraints hanging loosely on each side of me. Shit this is real, this was not a dream. I am in isolation. It’s all coming back to me.

  Two months later

  I am sitting in the front row of Max and Ben’s end of the year school program with Jordan on my lap. This is the first big school event that I’ve been to since I got out of the nuthouse. I have on a yellow spring dress and my hair is down and freshly highlighted. Although, they’d never know by looking at me, I can’t help but feel slightly paranoid that some of the other parents may have suspicions. The mother who is involved in every activity, every sport, every party, doesn’t just disappear for three and a half weeks. That’s how long I was there. The longest three and a half weeks of my life. It probably would have been more if I hadn’t finally convinced Amelia Peters, with Katelyn’s help, that Dr. Ames was trying to make me look crazy, so no one would believe me if I told anyone about his affair. So what? Maybe I faked, or “embellished” a little bit to get into a luxury psyche ward, but that was on purpose. Many of the other patients and even little lunch lady, Loretta went to bat for me. Jessalyn talked to Rita, who is still her sponsor, and told her the real story with my sneak out and the fence incident. I was assigned new therapists and Dr. Ames has been put on paid leave while an investigation is being done. The fact that he destroyed the tapes from that night, seemed to work as evidence on my side. Katelyn says he is still not back at work. Good, because Mrs. Ames got a very revealing letter about her husband…from me. I hope she kicks his ass out. That idiot!

  I have stayed in touch with Jessalyn. A couple weeks after leaving the looney bin, she took everything she owned and decided to find a new life for herself out in New York City. She’s already booked a few modeling jobs and I know she’s going to do great. I’m excited for her. This suburban paradise is no place for a model. She literally left her past behind her. Plus, I think Sabrina and I are going to try and plan a weekend to go and see her in the fall. I just hope there aren’t many biker bars in NYC! But if there are, we know how to close them down.

  Lauren Sanders got out of there too. Unfortunately, it was not to a better place. She’s been transferred to a more intensive treatment center in Missouri. I do keep in touch with her though and have sent her a birthday card every day since I have been out. The poor thing has no family, but I’m at least thankful we gave her at least one happy day. I hope the cards help. I occasionally get a letter back addressed to “SHITHEAD” and it’s always the same story about the day she was born. At least writing letters gives her something to do. I guess sometimes I wish I had the balls to call people shitheads out loud. I kind of admire the lady.

  As far as I’m concerned, Bath Salts Mary should be locked up forever and sterilized. I don’t know what the hell that swollen beastly woman is up to these days, but I am constantly worried that I will wake up one night and she’ll be peeking up at me with those ghastly eyes from the foot of my bed just licking her chops. I haven’t seen her since the attack in the hallway, but I hope she and her venereal diseases live happily ever after, and far, far away from me!

  If anything else good came out of this whole thing, it is that I now cherish every waking moment of time I have with my children. I know I will have moments. I know that things will get stressful. However, I know now that any amount of time with them is important for them and for me. I look over and see Heath and Katelyn (holding hands) to my left, Eric to my right and my three-toed mother and goofy father next to him, all there to watch my boys sing some songs and be as cute as can be. Sabrina is right behind me along with Eric’s parents. I feel so lucky to have all of these people here who love me and most importantly, love my kids. Jordan is already starting to squirm, but I don’t care. He’s a baby and that’s what babies do.

  I’ve decided that when all the other moms ask me where I have been, I will simply say “I had to have my spleen removed after a series of tests.” I’ve practiced the line many times. It rolls right off the tongue. I’m not really sure what a spleen is, but I Googled it and I know it can be removed and you can live without it. It’s in your guts somewhere, so clearly no one will miss it. What the hell...I know it’s not that exciting, but it’s simple and I don’t owe anyone any explanations. I’m allowed to have some privacy.

  I watch my boys sing their songs. Between each song all the parents clap and Sabrina is doing the whole “woop-woop” thing and you can hear her over everyone else. My boys know it’s her and are eating it up. I know that my ridiculous eyes are full of tears, but I can’t help but fee
l so overwhelmed that I get to be their mom. They are wonderful. Max has one finger up his nose. Ben seems to keep checking to make sure his wiener is still there. They are my perfect boys and I have the most amazing crazy life I could ever imagine.

  Since I have been home, I told Eric the truth. I spilled the beans about everything, from start to finish. Although, I got a lecture on being honest with him from now on, I think he actually understood. I remember him saying, “It shouldn’t have had to take something so drastic for me to realize that you need a break once in a while.” With that comment, I knew we would be okay. He still pisses me off quite easily, but he’s stood by me and I appreciate that. Sometimes, he even cleans up his own spills...well...sometimes.

  For the record, I’m still on medication. But you know what? Looking around at the crowd of mothers sitting here tonight, I bet at least half of us are. The other half are thinking about making an appointment to get some. I’d bet my left implant on it.

  Doing the Mom Thing

  Thank you followers for not abandoning me. I know it’s been a while since I have posted, but please know that I’m back and I’m more excited about being real than ever before. I will keep this short today, because I’ve promised my kiddos I’d build them a fort to sleep in tonight. That should be fun...especially once it’s done and they still want to sleep in my bed. Lol! But I wanted to at least give my fellow mothers some thoughts for today.