Losing It

by Sandy McKay

  I tried not to look shocked but when we hugged it was … well, far out … You kept saying how quiet I was. Mainly, I just wanted to cry. But I couldn’t because … well, how could I?

  What kind of a friend must I be?

  I shouldn’t be going on like this, either. I should be supporting you, being positive and all that. But I’m worried, Jo. What are you doing to yourself? You’ve got to eat. Please…

  Missing you heaps.

  Your best friend forever,

  Issy

  Dear Mum,

  There’s not much happening here lately. We do a lot of talking but that’s about it.

  It’s the outdoor education that I like best. I think we’re getting onto that next week. I’m looking forward to kayaking and maybe abseiling, although I’m a bit scared of heights.

  What is it you do again? Something to do with computers, was it? We could do with a computer in this place. You’d think the ‘gifted and talented’ would be first in line for technology. My friend, Leon has a laptop he uses for music. If we had a computer we could email each other. Send photos even. I’m dying to know what you look like now. It’s been such a long time.

  Dad told me once that you wanted to be a clothing designer and have your own label. Maybe you went off to do that. Hey Mum, do you remember a book called Charlotte’s Web? You read it to me when I was little. It was about a spider and a pig but the ending got sad so we stopped reading. We pretended that Charlotte didn’t die – do you remember? The pig’s name was Wilbur and there was a rat called Templeton and the girl’s name was Fern and there was someone else called Lurvy (weird name!), I think. The spider tries to save the pig’s life and she does but … Yeah, well, anyway … I have a Charlotte in my room here. She’s spinning her web as we speak. Yesterday she caught a big fat wasp. She’s very clever. And she lives all on her own, without needing anyone at all.

  Luv,

  Jo

  Toilet graffiti:

  They said, smile and be happy, things could be worse. So I smiled and was happy and things did get worse.

  Yeah, know the feeling!

  Noticeboard:

  Patients’ rights

  You have the right to privacy and the right to fair and proper treatment.

  Your rights are outlined clearly under the mental health act.

  A copy of this document is available on request.

  Develop Inner Strength

  Speak your truth even if others find this difficult.

  Be courageous and move forward, even if this feels uncomfortable.

  Don’t compare yourself with others.

  Take full responsibility for your actions.

  Show compassion.

  Step out of your comfort zone.

  Always face facts – denial leads to pain.

  Welcome to your new OT – Linley Clearwater will be taking a session here on Wednesday afternoon 1–3 p.m.

  This week you can learn how to make novelty chocolate. All those interested please meet in the common room at 1 p.m.

  Toilet graffiti:

  Do you ever feel alone and hopeless — like your soul is dead and you’re a walking zombie?

  Mmmnnnn … sometimes.

  ‘All I need is the air that I breathe …’ The Hollies

  (an old school band from way back).

  A poem by F.C.

  My Secret Weapon

  My secret weapon makes

  me strong.

  And wipes away

  my tears.

  My secret weapon numbs

  my pain.

  And casts aside

  my fears.

  My secret weapon protects

  me well.

  And makes me feel

  invincibell.

  Another poem by F.C.

  The Shape of Things

  Whittle me down

  As far as you can

  Carve my angles tight

  A work of art, a body part

  Chiselled cheekbones,

  Nice and thin

  Wrists like twigs

  Shape and trim.

  Dear Jo,

  School is driving me nuts. Only five weeks to go and the whole of Cameron College is heading into ‘formal’ paranoia. Gemma and Zoe and Ruby Wheeler are positively ga-ga about their new outfits. Well, their impending new outfits. Apparently, Zoe’s dad is taking them up to Christchurch in the weekend in his new Subaru station wagon (which Zoe just can’t stop skiting about). I’m sure there are shops down here that sell posh frocks but they seem to think the ones in Christchurch will be posher.

  In English, Miss Haddock got so sick of them wittering on that she split them up, which made it worse for me because now I’m in between Zoe and Gemma. Yesterday I was smack bang in the middle of this conversation about how Gemma’s going to take all the hairs off forever with some wax strips she got at K-Mart.

  Gemma – All you do is put a strip over the hair and then pull it off really fast so the hair comes out at the roots…

  Zoe – Does it hurt?

  Gemma – Don’t think so.

  Zoe – Can you do it, you know, down below, as well? (Giggle, giggle.)

  Gemma – Don’t see why not.

  (Ow! Sounds painful to me!!)

  Anyway, the big news for us is – drum roll, please… I’ve put both our names down for blind dates. Don’t look at me like that, Jo. It’ll be fun. I promise. There’re some guys coming from St Paul’s and you had to have your name in by Tuesday. I know we said we’d never do blind dates but I’m not taking any chances. Sometimes a girl’s gotta face facts and the facts are that no one from Cameron College is going to ask me to the school formal. Clarke Ross was my one big hope but only because his mum is my mum’s best friend. Anyway, his mum told my mum last week that he’d asked some girl called Sophie from the chess club. I was quite relieved actually because Clarke Ross is not exactly the most exciting guy on the planet. I think Mum was a bit disappointed though. (‘Lovely boy, that Clarke. Lovely boy.’) A blind date sounds like much more fun. Anyway, it’s done now, so the next thing is to start thinking about outfits. Given that no one has offered to whisk us up to Christchurch we may have to settle for Mum’s sewing machine. She says if we get the material organised by next week she might get them made in time. So, I went to Fabric Vision yesterday after school and I’ve sussed out a couple of patterns. I also managed to con the sales lady into cutting a few samples of fabric, which I have enclosed in this letter.

  What do you think? The material will cost about thirty dollars a metre and we’ll need about three and a half metres each. I was thinking maybe the purple for me and the aqua for you. The aqua would look stunning with your blonde hair.

  Let me know as soon as you can because we don’t have much time. I’ll need your measurements too. If you like the fabric then perhaps I should phone your dad and ask for some money. What do you think?

  Luv,

  Issy

  P.S. This is a rough sketch of the outfits.

  Dear Issy,

  A blind date? Are you for real? We always said we’d never get blind dates. You could land up with anything. You could get some creepo with five chins and body odour. Or a psycho with two left feet! What if he’s totally disgusting? What if he picks his nose? Or puts his tongue down your throat?

  Count me out.

  Jo,

  What do you mean count you out? I can’t. WE can’t. Our names are down already. Do you really want to be the only sad-arse girl in the whole of Year Eleven who doesn’t go to the formal? Can you imagine what it’d be like hearing it all second hand from the likes of Gemma and Zoe and Ruby Wheeler?

  Issy

  P.S. I am not taking ‘no’ for an answer. If you don’t promise to come with me then I’m not writing you another letter.

  Sorry, Issy, but I’m not in the mood for getting dolled up and going to a poxy dance with a total stranger. And have you really thought this thing through properly? Like, do we ask the blind date to come
past the looney bin for a pick up? Huh? That’ll be a turn on, won’t it? (Sorry, but would you mind opening the door for me, please – straitjackets are just so restricting these days!!)

  Jo

  Dear Jo,

  Stop it! It’s not funny you’re in hospital and don’t say stuff like that. It’s not a looney bin.

  Also, this is not some poxy dance! This is the Cameron College Senior Formal and I’m not going without you. Got that?! So make sure you’re out by then. There are still five weeks to go, which is exactly thirty-five sleeps!!! I figure that two steak and cheese pies per day should just about nail it. Do it for me, Jo. Please. Pretty please. Pretty please with bells on.

  Luv,

  Issy

  P.S. Please find enclosed one packet of Smarties to get you started.

  P.P.S. The steak and cheese pie wouldn’t fit in the envelope so I had to eat it myself!

  P.P.P.S. Pull your head in, Johanna Morrison!

  Dear Issy,

  Thanks for the Smarties. I have eaten two blue ones already.

  Sorry. You caught me on a bad day. I am a sarcastic cow and totally ungrateful. I don’t deserve such a wonderful friend and I don’t know why you put up with me. I promise to pull my head in from now on. (See? This is me, pulling my head in!) Anyway, the aqua is gorgeous and I think the purple would be awesome on you. I also thought your sleeve design was really inspired. What a good idea putting bells on the sleeves. Did you make that up yourself? Maybe you should think about becoming a clothes designer one day. I think the best thing would be to get yours made first and then I could try it on for size. I don’t want to ask Dad for money.

  Sorry if I sound a bit shitty but I’ve had a crap day.

  It started with group therapy. Veronica is always trying so, so hard but it feels like we’re going over the same old ground and not getting anywhere. You know, like in that movie Groundhog Day, where the guy gets stuck living the same day over and over and over.

  Anyway, Tegan is really getting on my nerves and if I hear one more sob story about a dead horse, I’ll scream. But you have to sit and listen and even if you’ve heard the story a million times you’re not allowed to interrupt because it’s against the rules. Even when Tegan’s story is totally pathetic like it was today.

  Aaaarrrgggghhhh!!! That’s me screaming out the window in frustration!!

  Kara is no better. Today she spent the entire session counting the tassels on a cushion. I can see her counting because her mouth is going like – one, two, three, four… and it drives me nuts. Then there’s Ingrid – who is so pretty and talented and cute. What a waste! If she went to Cameron College she would be part of the in-crowd for sure, and she would have been asked to the formal a hundred times over. Instead she’s in here. Well, anyway, it really got to me today, Issy – I felt so sad about everyone.

  Even Caroline, who’s not sad like Ingrid but has a hardness about her. She’s all bitter and twisted up inside. I mean, she must be in her twenties and she’s going nowhere. Well, I guess none of us are. It’s like we’ve all come to the same dreary dead end.

  Leon doesn’t like Caroline much. His face closes over when she talks as if he’s trying to ignore her. I’m not sure what that’s about. So, it wasn’t a good session. And to make things worse Veronica is on a feelings rampage again. ‘How do you fe-e-e-e-l about that?’ she says, giving us her sucky therapist look. Futile! Hopeless! Pissed off! Fat! How the heck does she think we feel?! And who gives a toss, because it’s feelings that got me into this mess to start with. Whoops! Wrong thing to say, because now Veronica pounces like a cat.

  ‘What kind of feelings, Jo?’ Don’t you hate it when people go all neurotic and mushy about their fe-e-elings? I mean, it’s not like you can die from hurt feelings. There are people in the world with not enough to eat and there are bombs going off and Aids is running rampant and Osama what’s-his-handle is ready to blow us all to smithereens. What’s the point in analysing every little feeling and going ga-ga over it?

  I’m unloading again, Issy. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.

  Luv always,

  Jo

  P.S. What country has the largest sheep population?

  (Australia)

  Who was the first black man to win an Oscar?

  (Sydney Poitier)

  What is the most used word in written English?

  (The)

  What is observed the second Sunday in May?

  (Mothers’ Day)

  P.P.S. I hope you enjoy these chocolates. We made them with the new OT.

  Group Therapy Homework:

  Parts of my body I am happy with:

  bellybutton (I much prefer innies to outties)

  fingernails

  earlobes

  big toe on right foot (the left toe has a touch of toenail fungus)

  Parts I am not happy with:

  (Do you have a spare couple of hours?!)

  Dear Jo,

  I’m writing on behalf of Dad. He says to ask you PLEASE, PLEASE can he come and see you. Cause he only wants to talk.

  Love from,

  Matt

  P.S. Sushi had kittens last week. She had them in the wardrobe and they came slithering out like rats. Yuck! And they can’t see, either. Dad says their eyes won’t open for ages. There are three tabbies and one that’s black with a white nose. The other black and white one died before it got born. We don’t know what sex they are yet. Dad’s had a look but he says they’re too little.

  Dear Matt,

  Sorry, but I can’t write to Dad. I just can’t.

  You can write though. I’d love that.

  Dear Issy,

  I saw a doctor yesterday. He told me that if I kept starving my body of protein it would start using muscles for energy. (Sounds like an interesting science experiment.) He also told me that my heart wasn’t functioning properly due to all the throwing up. I think that’s part of their strategy – to frighten us into eating.

  Trouble is – I think my battery’s run out, Issy. Well, that’s how it feels. Like my insides have frozen and everything’s ground to a halt. It all takes so much effort. Even thinking is exhausting. It’s hard to explain but it’s like part of me has shrivelled up inside.

  The last few days have been crap. I’m just lying here doing nothing, like a blob of yuck. Like a cup of cold sick. ‘A cup of cold sick.’ Where have I heard that line before? Does it sound familiar to you?

  Two days later:

  The cleaning lady came yesterday and there was an incident. She must have finally noticed Charlotte because suddenly she had the vacuum cleaner pipe hurled way up in the air and I had to act fast to stop poor Charlotte from being sucked into oblivion. Luckily, I got there just in time.

  Then two nurses came and put me back in bed and it took me ages to explain and, well…

  Please tell me I’m not losing it, Issy.

  Dear Jo,

  You are not losing it. You are going to be fine. A cup of cold sick! Yes! I do remember that line:

  Mouldy, mouldy custard in a green snot pie,

  Mix it all together with a dead dog’s eye.

  Mash it up with mustard and spread it on thick

  Then wash it all down with a cup of cold sick.

  I have this vague memory of chanting it for skipping. You are I were coring and poor Matt was trying to jump the rope. He was hopeless. Remember? Boys are such crap skippers.

  Dear Issy,

  I’ve been on special bed rest for ten days with no privileges at all, which includes washing my hair. I won’t bore you with the details but if it hadn’t been for Dot talking to me I’d have gone completely round the twist. The ‘good’ news is I’ve managed to put on two kilos, which has made everyone happy except me. I feel so revolting. Like a tub of lard.

  Caroline reckons as long as we leave this place looking like over-inflated beach balls they’ll be happy. I think she’s right. But how can putting on ten kilos make anyone happy?

  She gave me some Ketostix t
he other day. I’d never heard of them before. They come in a box and have these little coloured bits on the end like a match and you dip them in your pee to see if they change colour. If they turn purple it’s good because that means your body is getting energy from its own fat. If they stay pink then your body is getting energy from food so you won’t lose weight. I’ve been purple for two days now.

  Missing you heaps, Issy.

  Luv,

  Jo

  P.S. There’s a very strange girl in room 22, along the corridor. I’ve seen her around but we’ve never spoken. She’s usually in a wheelchair and she dresses like a Goth – black hair, black lips, nails, the works. And bare feet. Always bare feet. Very witchy-poo.

  Anyway, this morning she’s sitting in the lounge smoking a cigarette. Leon and I are playing Trivial Pursuit at the table. It is definitely against the rules to light up in the lounge. There are notices everywhere. You have to go right outside to smoke. So one of the nurses tells her to put out the cigarette. But she acts like she doesn’t hear, staring ahead like she’s in a trance. The nurse tells her again but she takes no notice. So then, the nurse takes the cigarette and stubs it out in a saucer. This girl doesn’t bat an eye, even when the nurse wheels her out of the room. But as she’s going out the door she yells something out. Something weird.