Ponoka:Part2

When I first got to Ponoka Mental Institution I was put a room by myself. By the end of the first week I had a roommate. Although I cannot remember her name, I can tell you something very strange about her. This is actually so weird, that I have a hard time wrapping my head around it even now.
At the time this happened, I was living in Wainwright, Alberta, with my boyfriend, and his uncle John. We lived in John's trailer, with their 4 dogs. John's two dog's names were Buster and Otis. And so when I net my new roommate, she seemed very nice, and I couldn't figure out why she was there.
She was very kind and generous. And she talked often of her friend John. Apparently they had come to visit her often, since she came there, and he brought her candy, and pop, and other treats that none of us had. She shared a pepsi with me the first time she met me. Then she started telling me about how he had broght Buster with him the last visit, and Buster was his dog. I couldn't believe it! John and Buster had come to visit her!! And not me!! I was so angry!
I found out shortly, that this was a different John and Buster, because they really did come to visit her, and I saw them with my own eyes. It was not "my" John and Buster. But it was still strange.

Anyways, we shared a room for about two days. I found out that yes, she was crazier than I was, and I had to ask to be moved. I was afraid of her. The first night we had to sleep in the same room I had a dream I will never forget. I sonetimes still wonder if I was really dreaming, or if I somehow accidentally saw the real reality. In my "dream", I had woken up, because something was flahing brightly in my eyes. Like a tiny spotlight shining directly into my closed eyeballs. I opened my eyes, and through the blur, my eyes started to focus, and I saw a machine, about the same size as my hand, directly in front of my face. It was as though it was staring me in the face, watching me. It just hung there in the air, so close to my face that it was almost touching. When my mind began to realize that this was odd, i was starlted back into "our" reality, and found myself, laying in the hospital bed, with my heart pounding in my ears. It was then that I hear some rustling beside me, and there was my roommate, crouched onto the floor, helping invisible beings build something on the floor of our hospital room. "Hey!" I called out to her. But she couldn't hear me. I saw her twisting an invisible steering wheel in front of her, as she was crouched on her knee's on the floor, and I saw her heave an invisible pipe upwards, into the hands of an invisible person. It freaked me out so badly, as I just sat and stared, watching her and a crowd of invisible people building an invisible machine, or city, right in front of my eyes. I ran out of the room and called a nurse, and a nurse came and stopped the building at once, and put my roommate to bed.
I was pretty shook up, and requested a little white pill to help me go back to sleep. The next day I was transferred down the hallway, and got a new roommate who was there because she was suicidal. She had cuts all over her arms, and she stayed in her bed most of the days,unless she was smoking in the smoke room with us, which was rare. She was very nice, and quiet, and I felt safe as I fell asleep at night, and so I stayed in that room.

There was a small group of us who were in the good patients club. If you ask me, most of the people in this club were not crazy. Some maybe were a little touched, but for the most part we were a good bunch. There was one girl who was increadibly beautiful, and she reminded me of a sexy cartoon character, with long black hair,  bright green eyes, and full, lucious red lips that curled up when she smiled. She thought she was a very powerful witch, and that her powers had gotten sooo great that "they" had locked her up in there, so she couldn't use her powers. She seemed nice until one day, she said something off hand to me, and I took a swing at her, and we had a mini-cat fight in front of the nurses station. We ignored each other after that.

And then there was my buddy, whats-her-name. She was a very nice girl also, who really, really liked being my friend. We sometimes sat together for meals, and chatted, and we smoked together too. She was part of the good patients club, and when they took us on an outting one day, to the movies, we sat together. I really enjoyed having a friend on the unit. She didn't like leaving the unit however, and so I managed to have a private life besides the time that I shared with her, on the unit.

One day, as I came back to the unit, to eat supper, I noticed there were a couple of new faces on our unit. I didn't bother trying to meet everyone, or even trying to befriend everybody. I mostly kept to myself. But one of the new men asked me in the line up, "What's your name?" I answered him, "Starla. My name is Starla." and he laughed at me, and said, "No it's not!" Confused, I repeated that yes, my name was Starla. And again he laughed, and looked at me like I was crazy, and said,"No it isn't. That's Starla over there." And he pointed across the room at my buddy, who had her short dark hair fashioned into two small braids. " My name is Starla, and I'm a native" I heard her telling one of the other new people. She had assummed my identity, and was introducing herself as me, Starla.  So much for my non-crazy friend.

About a week and a half before my 30 days were up, I had another dream that I'm not sure if it was real or not. In my dream, I was being rolled in my hospital bed through the hallways. I could feel the bed rolling along the smooth linolium, and I could hear a baby crying. I tried opening my eyes, but they were blurry with sleep, and I managed to catch a glimpse of who was crying. It was a toddler, but it wasn't a human toddler. It was some sort of species that I've never seen before, and it was standing against a wall with it's mom. The mom was "shushh"ing it, but it continued crying. We were going through some sort of waiting room, and I was being wheeled past a massive, hairy looking spider on a hospital bed like mine. I tried to move my arm from hanging over the edge, afraid that the spider would bite me if my hand brushed against it, and sure enough, as we passed the spider close by, it twitched, and stung me like a scorpian on my left hand, right where the skin stretches between my thumb and forfinger. I still have the scar. ( I woke up with a blood mark the next morning, after this dream) We wheeled into a room, where a strange, human-like man was standing, sneering at me. He was catoonishly fat, and looked more cartoony than real. He seemed to hate me, and I didn't know why. I was stood up to my feet, and the oxygen was sucked outta the room, and I began to float. At first it was quite fun, floating up to the celing, bouncing off the walls, until I noticed that there were strange beings filimng into the room around me, all laughing at jeering at me, and then the trial began.

The strange human'like man with the big bottom started telling the crowd about my sketchy past. Things that I have never addmitted to another human being were coming out of his mouth, and the starge beings were reacting to hearing my wrong deeds. There were things that fat man wre saying that even made me cry, and in my head I was thinking, "How did he know that?" It scared to crap outta me, and I felt embarassed, ashamed and very, very naked. The end of the trial finally came, and the fat thing held up a shiny pair of keys.
"For your brand New car!" he jeered at me. I stopped for a moment, thought about it, and my pride took over. "I don't want your stupid keys, or a stupid car. Just leave me alone." I said defiantly, coming close to tears. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I just wanted to get otta there, and so I was strapped back to the bed, and whelled back to my room. I skipped breakfast that day. And din't get outta bad till noon. I was filled with misery, and shame, and didn't feel like leaving my room.
I noticed my hand hurt, and when I looked down at it, I saw where the spider had bit me. There was a fresh blood scar on it, and I said nothing. I can still see the scar today, and everytime I catch a glimpse of it, I remember this dream as clearly as I have shared it with you. Gone are the feeling of shame and embarrassment. At the time, I needed to feel those things. These days, I have made my peace with my past, and have moved onto better things. I pray I have learning something from my mistakes, and know that Ponoka is far in my past.

My first boyfriend.

Eugene was his name, and I thought he was the hottest guy in my school. He also happened to be the older brother of my best friend Molly-Lynn. That’s how I knew him. I had spent a lot of time over at her house, and had gotten to know her brother a little bit. We started flirting with each other a little bit, and then I confessed to her that I thought he was cute. Well, she of course, told Eugene this, and he told her that he liked me too. We then went through a phase where we wrote each other cute little notes, and she played mailman, and passed the notes back and forth for us.  I’m not sure how or when we became official, because we were so shy of each other that we rarely talked to each other in person. We smiled like crazy around each other, and waved to each other when we saw each other, but that was about the extent of “us”. It was a really cute time in my life, when I was still so innocent, that it remained really sweet. I’ll always remember the one time we actually touched. I had been over at Lynn’s house, and Eugene was riding around on their quad. He asked me if I wanted a ride, and I said “Yes!”. And so I climed on the back, and wrapped my arms around him tightly, and he took off, really fast. It was a thrilling ride, to say the least. I think what made it so thrilling was the fact that I got to be so close to him, and that I could feel his muscles through his t-shirt.  Anyhoo….

Baring it all: I was Crazy Once

Baring it all: I was Crazy Once

I was Crazy Once

Back when I was in my early 20's I went for a "visit" to Alberta Hospital in Ponoka. LOL Just thinking back to my time there makes me laugh. Literally. It was, pardon the pun, CRAZY! First off, I was checked into a room, by myself. It was actually quite a large room, and I didn't really care at the time because I was so sure I wasn't going to be there for very long. The doctor's had obviously made a mistake in semding me there. All I really needed was a couple good days sleep, and then I would be right as rain. Anyways, I did spend the first couple days, just sleeping, and only getting up to go eat breakfast, lunch and supper. I was starving, and hadn't eaten, in like, a year. So I literally georged myslf on hospital food, and I do have to say that it was delicious! They have really good cooks in Ponoka. On about the thrid day, I broke the bad news to my doctor. I told him that he had been grossly misinformed, and that I did'nt belong there. And sorry for the inconvience, and I should really be on my way. He just sighed, and shook his head, looking a little annoyed. He then told me that just to make sure I was alright, I'd have to be under evaluation for at least 30 days. And at the end of the thirty days, I would be evaluated again, and a decision would be made on when I would be released.
I went into panic mode. I started the water works, and my doctor seemed totally unaffected, and so I tried to reason, tel;ling him the real reason I was sent there. He didn't budge. And so I started freaking out, realizing that I was trapped, and he prescribed me tiny white pills to calm my nerves. I found solace in the indoor smoking room, and spent alot of my time in there, bumming smokes off of the my fellow crazies. They all seemed to really accept me, and like me, and so I enjoyed smoking for free for the first week or so I was there.
Near the end of the first week I had really relaxed and accepted my situation, and had become familiar with my surroundings. I was detaxing off meth, and found myself really twitchy, and I couldn't sit still. I was able to sit long enough to smoke 3/4 of a cigarette, or eat most of my meal. But it felt like there was all this abundant energy inside of me that would not let me relax. And so I asked for the little pills more and more often. One day, after I had eaten another pill, I felt myslf starting to shake, and then BAM! Suddenly I saw about 4 faces looking down over me, and asking me if I was alright. I had had a seisure without even realizing what had happened, and I had smacked my head hard against the floor. I started laying off the little white pills after that.
Because I was on such good behavior, I was now part of the good patients club. We had full access to the hospital, and were permitted to go on special outtings. It was good to be me. The hospital was, in fact, HUGE, and I had anytime access to the swimming pool, the gymnasium, the woodworking room, the pottery room, and the games room. There was even a Starbucks stand outside of the games room, and a small store that sold clothes and tabacco. Since I was checked into the hospital, I didnt have any money, and I didnt have visitiors until later, so the hospital hooked me up with social services, and they gave me enough money to buy a couple pouches of tabacco, and some tubes, so I was able to roll my own smokes.
Ina place like that, smoking is the only thing that makes you feel normal, so I smoked alot! My physical and mental state wouldn't let me finish an entire cigarette though, so they lasted me awhile. My days consisted of going to the swimming pool, jumping in, doing a lap, going down the waterslide, sitting in the hottub for 5 minutes, then getting dressed, going for a smoke, going to play a game of pool, going for a smoke, going on the internet, checking my email, going for a smoke, going back to my unti, smoking another ciggy, going to lay down for 3 mi utes, taking a bath to try and calm myself. Filling up the tub, jumping in for 4 minutes, jumping out, going for a smoke, etc. It was so hard when I felt like I was jumping outta my skin constantly.


There were actually crazy people on my unit. The craziest was an older woman. And BOY, she was nuts. She would yell at the top of her lungs for and hour straight, "NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NOO!NO!NO!!" The nurses would take her to a roon at the end of the hallway,(right by the only bathtub on the unit), andlock her in that room, and let her scream for hours. She would tire after awhile and be quiet for a half hour or so, and then she would start again. The bathroom I used for my baths was at the very end of the hallway, and she was in the room next to the bathroom. I wou;ld be sitting in the tub, listening to her yell, and I would hold my breath and go under the water, where I couldn't hear her anymore. It was the weirdest thing. Because every few hours she would stop screaming, and a nurse would come let her out and escort her to the smoking room. And then she's stand there, not looking or talking to any of us, and she'd smoke her ciogarette in silence. And then after her smoke was done, she'd go sit in the sitting area, and suddenly start yelling,"NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!" again. Weird.


If you wanna hear more, leave a comment!!!!

The experience of being me.

I really should have known better than to go over there. I mean, I had enough street smarts to know how dangerous it is to go to a drinking party where you know there will be hard alcohol and crack heads. Crack heads are the most dangerous forms of humans, if you ask me. It doesn't even matter if you've been friends with them since the first grade. That doesn't make you immune to their tactics. Nope. Not at all. In fact, it kinda puts a big victim tattoo in the middle of your forehead, if your sympathetic to their cause. You might hear, “Oh, I need to borrow your car. I have a job interview I want to go to. I want to get off this shit, and start fresh.” hahaha! Yea, right. If you hear that, and lend your car out, know this. Your car is being used to to get drugs and do crime. Sucker. Oh and, you might hear this: “I need, like 10, or 20 bucks, because I have to take the bus there and back, and I need a pack of smokes.” If your talking to genuine crack head, then you know that 10 or 20 bucks is going to the nearest and fastest “crack dealer” and their getting a “piece”.(that's piece of crack, to those of you who don't know the lingo. A “piece” is exactly what it sounds like. A piece of crack. Usually so small and minute that it can be smoked up in less than a minute.)

Anyways, back my story. I should have known not to go, but my alcoholism wouldn't let me go that day, and all I could think of was “Free booze.” Yippee. In that time in my life you might as well have said that it was like winning the lottery. Free was free. And so off I went. To get stabbed.

The Lord is helping me through school. I swear!

Do you know what is soo crazy? Its like some invisivle force is pushing me the direction it wants me to go. Beacsue Iam a faith believeing Christian, I can confindentally call this force, lovingly, of course, God. Iam finding out that things are getting accomplished in my life that I never thought possible on my own. Its such obvious, but simple things sometimes, like math. Now, on my own, Iam terrible at math. There are times during class that I feel that my teacher is speaking Chinese to us. And what makes it worse, uis that it seems like all the other students around me understand, what I don’t, and I can see them out of the corner of my eye, nodding their heads, as the teacher continues teaching in Chinese. Arhhggg!! Crazy. But then, as I say a simple little prayer up to God, truly begging him deep down in my heart, to help me understand, slowly, as if a big flashlight slowly starts to light up brighter and brighter in my head, the Chinese slowly dissolves into English, and I have that “light bulb “ moment. God. Then it’s as if I’ve been figuring out tangents, and dividing side opposite into side adjacent all my life.

School is going better than was possible all on my own!

Thank you Lord!

Introduction to the real me

Well, while I was at school today, I just had an urge to start writing, and I ended up starting to write a book for my children, for them to have one day before I die. Now, I'm not trying to be morbid or anything but there are alot of things that I want them to know about my life, that they don't know right now. I have a teenage daughter and she is definatly getting old enough to understand the things that happen in life, and I truely want her to understand a little about me, and whats motivated me and my past behavior. At my funeral, I don't want them to feel like "Oh my mom was a nice lady. I 'll kinda miss her" I want them to actually know that I was a real person, just like them. I think sometimes we have a fear of appearing real to our children. wE WANT TO SEEM LIKE WE KNOW IT ALL, AND WE DO IT THE RIGHT WAY, ALL THE TIME, AND THAT CAUSES THEM TO THINK WE CAN'T RELATE TO ANYTHING. Thats so crazy, because alot of the stuff I've experienced in life, I would like to share it with them, honestly, and have them know that I DO understand them, and I love them, and that Iam no superwoman. Well, Iam hoping they feel blessed by next piece of writing. Iam still not sure when I will give it to them, but I talked to a publishing company already and know that if I can a write a book thats over 45 pages and I'm wil.ling to pay for it, they can publish it for me. Just for my kids. Maybe one for my little sister too.

A Drug Addict and Drunk turned Christian

For the majority of my adult life I was addicted to meth and alcohol. I always felt like that I needed one or the other to be "happy". When I was sober, I was actually very shy, and very awkward around people, especially people I didn't know. I found that if I had a few drinks in me, I was alot more social, and I didn't seem to care if everyone around me was accepting me or not. In fact, sometimes when I got drunk, I didnt want people to accept me. I wanted to fight. I shake my head in embarrassment now, looking back, at all the times I would pick fights with nice people, just because I wasn't thinking straight. The next day I'd either have to watch my self, that I didn't run into the same people the next day and risk getting into another fight, or I'd have to go back, all red-faced and humbled and make my apology. Sheesh. Iam amazed that I still have a nice face, after all the fist fights I've been in. And as for the meth, well, it didn't make me fight. It made me feel....busy. I was constantly on the go, going nowhere in particular.

I find it amazing that that was not that long ago! This past year and a half has been amazing! God has truely set me free from my addiction to meth and booze. Which is really amazing. I am now going to college and pursuing a degree in buisness OR getting my teaching degree. I still havn't decided. I am enjoying learning more about God and His ways of doing things in life. I learn something new every day that I want to. I've been reunited with all my children(4 of them) since I've cleaned up and I have a brand new daughter that I am raising on my own. Its truely amazing what God can do if you let HIM!!! I seriously want to tell the world of all these changes. Wether its encouraging people to pray for their loved ones to turn to God, or whether its encouraging drug addicts to give their lives and hearts over to Jesus and let him restore their lives wholly and completly, I know I NEED to do something!!!! HEAR ME PEOPLE!!!
GOD IS ALIVE AND WELL!!
CALL ON HIM! HE WILL ANSWER!!!!!

I've started

You know, it's important to have a dream. We were all made to fulfil some kind of purpose here on this earth. I feel like I've wasted so much time already, floowing my every whim, and desire, and ended up at the bottom of the barrel. In some ways, it was good. I can only go up from there, right. Well, anyways, I've begun to write. I mean really write.
I watched an episode of intervention last night and it brought back such strong memories for me. It stirred up alot of feelings that really bothered me, and so I started to write. MAN, it felt good to just say what I gots to say...(sorry, I'm watching Queen Latifa in 'Beauty Shop' right now.. lol)

Anyways, I find blogging really helping get my mind stimulated and everything, but there are only certain things I can share on line. I have a feeling I will have to end this blog because its not as private as I intendeed it to be. You know you really gotta be careful about what you share on,line. Alot of people like tyo judge you for your past, which make s me sad because theres so much that I've overcome and I would actually love to share more of it with the world.

So, I've started writing my very first book. Sissy, if your reading this, I want to encourage you to do the same. I absolutly love reading your writing. And really, whats the harm in writing? Its theraputic, and to be honest, theres not alot of people out there who can write and make it interesting. Somehow, God has gifted us with the talent to write. For some unknown reason, people love our work. Whether it's our status on facebook, or just our past experiences, people seem to love or wrirting. Let's do it! I challenge you to write. Anything you want. And I, too, promise to do the same!

We've all got to start somewhere.