The looney bin typically does not evoke pleasant memories for me. Today's memory, however, is pleasant. When I was taken to Doctor's Behavioral Health, they took me back to a holding cell of sorts, while I waited for the social worker to interview me and decide if I was crazy enough to admit. I had given my phone to Sonja when I checked in since I wasn't allowed to have it with me while I was there and there was literally nothing in the holding room except a bench in front of a barred window. The sun was streaming in through the bars and a sparkling pool was just outside the window. There was nothing to do in the room, so I curled up on the bench and just laid there. The security guard came in and brought me a pillow and a blanket. I snuggled up there in the sun and everything stopped. I didn't have to take care of a thing. No children were clamoring for my attention. No dinner needed to be made. No texts or phone calls were setting off my phone. No relationships needed tending. There was peace and I laid there, not wanting the quiet to end.
Today, I went back there mentally, to the sun, and the warmth and the quiet. Yet even though I turned off my phone for a few hours, life did not stop. The world did not pause for me as it did that day back in August. Relationships still had to be taken care of, children had to be picked up, housework did not go away and dinner did not make itself. And as much as I would never wish myself back in the looney bin, I do wish myself back on that bench, just for a day. A day of nothingness. A day of sunshine and complete rest.
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