Psychotic in the Flowerbeds

Part One

I have a phone appointment with Alicia. She’s my Centrelink employment provider. I’m fully prepared. I’m probably overprepared, but she’s late to call. Again. With a sigh, I shuffle my large and slightly exposed bottom on my rickety desk chair, which groans rudely as I move. Slamming shut my smooth silver mac, I slide a stale ashtray, which was once a baked beans can, over the desk. The can is half filled with brown water and cigarette butts which have formed a dark brown paste.

Dropping my near empty pouch on the wood veneer desk, I reach inside the plastic which crinkles. I can feel the dry and wiry tobacco with my yellow and brown stained fingers. This is my fifteenth cigarette for the morning. Much to my parent’s dismay, my bedroom resembles an opium den. They would prefer that I smoked outside, but when you are smoking forty cigarettes a day, smoking inside enables all important productivity.

All the windows in my bedroom are open to try and create a fresh current of oxygen. A strong gust of wind flutters the documents sitting in piles on my desk. I reach for my collection of other ashtrays, being jars and commandeered family mugs, which are hidden under the desk. I decide to use them as paperweights.

When the papers are secured, I pull out a good-sized pinch of tobacco and place it in the centre crease of a rollie paper. I then roll the two sides of the paper together until the shapeless hairy blob resembles a little possum poo. I roll, lick and light up.

Leaning my head back, I run my hand over the soft regrowth of my shaved head and blow a deep lungful of smoke toward the flickering plastic electric candle chandler. Things are not happening fast enough! Why hasn’t she called? I hold the cigarette loosely between my lips and reach my left hand up to stretch my neck by pulling my head towards my left shoulder. I catch a view of my fuzzy underarm as I deepen the stretch.

Alicia is often late for our appointments, sometimes by an hour or so. It’s disrespectful. If she called, I would stop twitching like a Thoroughbred before a major horse race. The truth is, I have a full and demanding schedule despite being unemployed. I am working on several major projects. I am training to run a 100-kilometre charity running event. I am writing my first ever novel which I honestly believe will become a modern classic. Lastly, I am learning German, Spanish and Arabic which will help me with my scholarship applications for Oxford University.

I give Alicia a courtesy 5 minutes and then I call her because I’m desperate to begin our meeting. Before Alicia can speak, I say ‘Good morning, Alicia, I believe we had a meeting scheduled for 5 minutes ago. Do you feel ready and prepared for our meeting?’ The line is silent. After a few moments Alicia answers slowly and politely ‘Yes, Sarah. Thank you for your call.’ I was apprehensive about calling first, but she clearly appreciates my proactive approach! It’s exciting because she has no idea what I have in store for her today!

I beam, ‘Wonderful. Great to finally have this meeting. It’s been too long since our last meeting, especially since we have such a limited amount of time to go through everything. Have you received the documents I sent you? One is saved as Meeting 1 in a pdf file.’ Alicia pauses, ‘I have but...’ With time constraints in mind, I cut her off. ‘Yes, well the document has numerous talking points for us today. There are over fifteen pages for us to go through. I have tried to address a variety of issues with an eye to a productive and collaborative future.’ Putting the cigarette in the cradle of one of the smaller ashtrays, I open my laptop and the pdf file.

‘Well, we have our Proposed future job applications schedule and the Meetings with Alicia sections which deals with the issue of deadlines – both mine and yours.’ Alicia tries to interrupt me, involuntarily whining like a trapped animal. I decide to talk a bit louder. ‘We then have the Communication and Philosophy moving forward sections which discuss the ways we can improve our professional working relationship. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye about how quickly calls and texts should be replied to ... regardless, I think that you will find the document to be quite comprehensive.’

I am waiting for Alicia to start gushing praise. I’m sure she has never had another job seeker show so much initiative. There is more silence. I’m a bit confused. Maybe she just wants to stick to the basics. I can do basics. Basics are easy. ‘If you refer to the email you can see I’ve attached a copy of my updated CV, as requested. It’s six pages long. I decided to put some travel photos on it to help employers recognise that I am a globally minded individual. See? There’s a picture of me eating a guinea pig in Peru! They look a bit terrifying with the teeth and everything, but they are quite delicious. Think crackling.’

I’m so excited that my breathing becomes shallow and fast. Talking is making it worse. The more I talk the more I feel like I’m scratching an itch which should be left alone. ‘The thing is that they’ve had me on job seeker all this time, through all the years I was in and out of hospital and look at me! I am FINALLY... how do you guys say? JOB READY! It’s incredible how far I’ve come’. Alicia butts in ‘Sarah have you applied for the waitressing job I sent you?’ I inhale sharply. ‘Thank you for raising that discussion point, Alicia. In my experience hospitality can be quite a rough industry. Basic protections can be lacking. I was also thinking that I could apply for positions where my skills would be better suited. What do you think of me applying for employment provider positions? With all my experience with poor mental health wouldn’t I be suited to working with clients who require these services? I would be able to understand their limitations and empathise with them.’

I’m so excited from the phone call that I need to try and calm down. ‘I’m sorry Alicia I’m so excited that I’m having trouble breathing. I didn’t even realise because I was enjoying our call so much. I think I need to have a shower to calm down. I am just so excited! So, FUCKING excited! I know this is probably inappropriate, but I honestly feel like I’ve been snorting cocaine for a week.’ I start giggling ‘Madness! Thank you so, so much. Have a lovely day. Bye, bye.

Bye for now. Must go. Please send me job ads for employment provider positions. Bye. Bye. Bye now!’ I hang up, burst into breathless laughing and start punching the air in celebration until ash from my cigarette drops on my head.

Part Two

I am in training to become the female equivalent of Jason Bourne. He’s like the best secret agent to have ever existed. Well, he never actually existed... he was a movie character... but I’m going to be just like him. They have captured me and are keeping me in a psych ward against my will. I escaped on two occasions, but they finally got me. The police found me with plastic bags tied to my feet. I was sitting in my green leather rocking chair at home circling various codes in my university textbooks with a blue biro. I had covered every other object in my bedroom with glad wrap and colour co-ordinated posted notes to help protect and organise evidence for a pending investigation into a large drug trafficking ring. Members of the ring had left fingerprints on my belongings, and I needed to preserve that evidence. But just so the police knew who was in charge, I made them listen to John Butler Trio’s Treat Yo Mama while we waited for the Crisis Assessment and Treatment Team to make an appearance.

I have spent the last two weeks walking around the ward with an apple on my head to try and improve my posture. I hear that good posture is important if you would like to be a femme fatale. The older patients approve anyhow. I have been keeping myself busy by learning German. I tried to train my German Shephard in German before I was institutionalised. ‘Wasser’, being the German word for water, was the only German word I could remember at the time and that became the only verbal command I used. I was trying to make her a sniffer dog. I’m not sure how effective it was seeing that she smells everything and anything. The neighbours were giving me weird looks as I was walking around their properties with my dog saying ‘Wasser! Wasser! WASSER! SMELL IT!’

I have been getting instructions from my superiors from the German language Superstar program I have on Spotify. According to this language program, my deep cover position will be at a German Embassy in France. How lovely! I also realised today, however, that they have been sending me more messages through Tropkillaz’s songs. I have been trying to decode these messages. One of their songs, Put It On Me, clearly means that they will be paying for everything until I am finally in France. I highly doubt that it’s other meaning applies.

Living in the hospital is ok. I try to improve the tasteless meals by melting butter into them and stirring it through. Mum says I’m getting fatter. I was talking about suicide with this very sad man and one of the other patients threw her cake at me. I responded by standing up and saying, ‘well fuck me, let them eat cake!’. Since then, cake girl and I are now friends because co-operation is required to keep our cigarette and lighter smuggling ring operational.

I sit down on my small single hospital bed and look around the small space. The walls are white, and the floor is a light grey linoleum. The fluorescent lights give off a sickly green coloured light which makes the space feel cold and inhospitable. On the small wood veneer desk sits the novel Perfume and my laptop. The small cupboard in the corner is bursting with a rainbow of my clothes and other belongings.

I hear a gentle knock at the door. A nurse pops her head of bouncing red curls in. ‘Sarah, are you interested in attending the morning walk? The doctor has approved your request to come with us.’ This is a bit confusing. To be completely honest, I don’t remember meeting a doctor. They have a morning walking program? ‘Where do you guys do your walk?’ I ask the nurse. She smiles ‘Oh, it’s just around the suburb that surrounds the hospital.’ ‘Sounds like a good diversion’ I grin and twirl around in my desk chair ‘count me in!’. ‘We’re leaving in 10 minutes. We all meet at the entrance to the unit’ the nurse says as she closes the door.

I jump up because it is essential that I find a good outfit for the occasion. Every occasion demands a good outfit. I look at the desk where there is a portrait of Girl with a Pearl Earring that I have been sketching. She will be my inspiration. I have a pair of pearl earrings! I reach into a small dark blue shoe box in my cupboard and retrieve one delicate tear drop pearl earring which slides into the hole in my ears. The woman in the painting also has a blue head wrap. I don’t have any blue material but have the bright idea of using scrubs. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I wrap the pants around my head, and it looks perfect, just like the painting. I think I have a face like the woman in the painting, in that classical way. Apart from that, I want to keep it casual by wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Since stacking it on, I now must jump up and down to pull the jeans over my ass.

Before leaving for the walk, I hide all my valuables in various places around the room and then I head off to find the group. As I walk down the corridor to find the entrance to the unit I walk past the sensory garden. This is supposed to be a place where patients can come and practise Mindfulness by feeling and smelling all the different plants. I have been going there to try and build up a collection of plants to create a luxury range of natural moisturisers by mixing the plants with the free moisturiser pump bottles they have around the hospital. Thus far, I have only managed to make a concoction that seem to leave a stinging or burning sensation on the skin.

I meet the other patients by the entrance. There seems to be about a group of twenty of us. Twenty psych patients walking around the suburbs! The idea makes me smile. Sounds like everyone’s nightmare, really. How delightful! The white doors begin to open, and we start to walk together out of the unit. Everyone is on their best behaviour. I am sure they don’t want to end this privilege for themselves or the other patients.

We hit a busy road and then walk round the corner onto a small street which has well-manicured nature strips and gardens. There is one house halfway up the street which has the most beautiful pink and red rose bed that I have ever seen. I want, no, I need some of these roses to try and brighten up my room! I cross the road and start jogging towards the roses. Ill only have limited time to pick them. I start carefully breaking the stems of the roses with my hands. After a few moments, I hear more and more footsteps coming up behind me as more patients start to arrive and rip roses from their stalks. Some of the patients had cut themselves on the rose’s thorns but continued trying to snap them off. I look up at the front window of the house and I see the owner of the property staring at us as we decimate her flowers. She just stands there with her hands over her chest and pearl necklace looking horrified, gaping like a goldfish, but she refuses to come outside. “STOP! Stop! Stop pulling the flowers from their garden! STOP! I said stop now! NOW!’ the nurse has left the rest of the walkers to try and regain control of the marauders. Coming to our senses, we grip our flowers and walk quietly back to the rest of the group. Some of us have blood dripping down our fingers and palms that then drop onto rose heads.

Part Three

I have a meeting with Alicia. This time the meeting is in person. Her office is hidden away in the grey basement of a community centre which offers social services with extraordinary wait times. I sit outside Alicia’s office door on an uncomfortable vomit coloured sofa. I shuffle, trying to get comfortable as the couch sticks to the fat on my legs. It’s an impossible task. A lot has happened. Now I must see another person who interacted with me during an episode. Another person who doesn’t get it and who will never bother to really get it.

‘Sarah, you can come in now.’ I’m starring at my blundstones and I think they just spoke to me. They sound weary. I start tapping my heels together to see if they’ll speak again. Tap. Tap. Tap. They remain silent. It takes me a few moments to realise it’s over. I’m just scrambled. ‘Sarah?’ The sound is coming from above. Louder this time. I look up to see Alicia standing there with her arms folded. She’s standing tall in tight black business attire. Gosh. She looks different. Has she lost weight? She looks great. Fruitlessly, I try to suck in my gut. I should stop starring. ‘Hi Alicia, sorry, yes, I’m coming in. Let me just gather my things.’ Alicia walks back into her office leaving me in the corridor. I gather a stack of papers and a folder which I drop upon standing up. I’m taking too long so I just stuff everything into the folder. Bowed over slightly with the folder, I trot over to one of the chairs and take a seat. The office is as I remember it. Bare and lacking signs of life. There is a small wood veneer desk with a relic of a computer tower on it and several black metal and fabric chairs carelessly dumped in the small space.

‘When were you released from the hospital?’ I look down. ‘They let me out about two weeks ago.’ Alicia stops for a moment ‘Does that mean you’re ready to start job hunting again?’ I pause. How do I explain this? I sigh and rub my eyes. I’m feeling a bit muddled. ‘I have been told that I need to be careful about the elevation and psychosis returning for the next little while’. ‘I see’ Alicia re-positions her small frame on her desk chair. ‘How long do you think you’ll need until you can start applying for work again?’ I raise my eyes so that they meet Alicia’s. The light changes as the sun recedes and Alicia’s eyes change from hazel to dark brown as she is cloaked in shadow. Wait.... Wait... Is she one of them? Does she know what I’m thinking? Why else would she be staring? I continue to stare at her, and she just keeps starring back! Oh my god! She is one of them! The light returns and shines through the window again. Alicia’s eyes are hazel again. I drop my eyes. This is a nightmare. I look down at the folder in my lap and swallow. I take a deep breath. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

I rub my temples. ‘I’d be happy to start applying for work as soon as possible. I’m just not quite myself at the moment. I thought that a waitressing job might be good step forward in the next few months.’ I look at Alicia for approval and she nods ‘Yes, well that would’ve been good.’ Alicia pauses and picks at her fingernail ‘Sarah I should mention that I will no longer be your job provider’. Alicia smiles, ‘I have received a promotion and will be working in a different capacity at our agency.’ It takes me a moment to compute what she meant by all that. My furrowed brow relaxes, and I grin ‘Well nice one Alicia. I’m sure you’re really stoked. I should say that I have really enjoyed working with you. I’m grateful for all the help you gave me with my CV. I really do wish you all the best.’ Alicia pauses. Without looking at me she says ‘Thank you Sarah. I must say I really have learnt a lot from you and our sessions.’ Alicia faces me and smiles. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Alicia then looks down to re-adjust her silver watch and says, ‘I have learnt a lot about mental illness from you.’ I take a deep breath. Defeated, I give Alicia a weary smile ‘Well that’s good’. ‘Good for your new job probably’. It then occurs to me ‘important for recognising our common humanity’.

Alicia breathes ‘Yes.’ Standing up, she starts to brush something off her skirt. ‘Well Sarah, thank you for coming in today. We must finish up now. Another jobseeker should be arriving now.’ I have been dismissed. I stand up and organise all my belongings and wave with my free hand ‘well, thanks again Alicia.’ Alicia looks at me for a moment before turning her back to me as she sorts through some documents on her little desk. I let myself out.