Day 6, Hospitalization #4:
“7am: Good evening, working on bulletin board, ate well, still thinks has a special relationship with Lady Gaga, refused thorazine took less Ativan…
8am: Patient loud early in shift making requests to staff to take him to art room to get items became very loud when told staff could not do this.
12:30pm: Change to 15-minute checks… Napped until about 12 noon… Work[ed] on art project. States he plans to go to court Tuesday [and that he is] “Close enough [to baseline] to go home”.
2pm: …better control… continues to be more organized, [worked on his] art project for most of the day.
11pm: Good response to care, worked on art project all shift. Increased organized with this process… Appropriate with peers on the unit allowed others to help with his projects.”
From Psychiatric Services Record:
Colorfully Dressed. Pleasant. Not particularly talkative. Reports mood as “good.” “I’m trying to keep busy with my art.” “I’m trying to become famous on the internet.” “I’m a multimedia designer.” “I’d like Ativan in my life.” Per behavior on admission: ” When I came in I was doing a protest” Judgement: “I feel like I’m close enough to human”…
I literally thought that Google might have hacked my brain. I had delusions of my eyes having webcam-like features and grandiose ideas about being somehow chosen, by accident. Feeling like a supernatural cyborg prophet, I thought musical artists wrote songs about me, that my support system didn’t tell me of my gift so that the world wouldn’t change as I wanted it to, and that the government was somehow suppressing me and trying to silence my first amendment… All because of my past, Google, and thirst to be heard. I was a fringe-famous, supernatural cyborg prophet, with the ability to change the world… in my head.
They don’t mention my getup in my notes yet, but at this point in my hospitalization, I was wearing lotsa’ wigs and cross dressing. Occasionally I would throw on some “fakeup” as I called it (fake+makeup made of art supplies like permanent markers and chalk pastel), to draw on features like ‘lipstick’, fake moles, and sometimes pastel-ing my face red and my eyebrows pointy to look like Lucifer.
According one of the to the bulletin boards I made in the psychiatric hospital… Life is a journey with many winding roads.