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Bordering on Crazy

(07/21/04 4:00am)

The most disturbing thing about being in a mental ward is the idea that someone else thinks you're crazy. Carolyn* struggled a lot with that during the four days she spent there. The first time I walked in to see her--after I had checked my schoolbag, sweater, purse, cell phone and the contents of my pockets at the door--she took me down the hall to her room, closed the door and whispered to me, "Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, the people here, they're crazy! Like really crazy!" Not crazy in the take-23-Tylenol-with-a-few-glasses-of-vodka way like she was, but in the schizophrenic, multiple personality, have-conversations-with-the-wall kind of way. Carolyn was just depressed. She says she knew from the moment she took the last pill, that life was now going to work itself out somehow and she was, at least for the moment, not responsible for how. But here she was, surrounded by really crazy people. When I sat on her bed that first day, she leaned in to me and whispered, "You know I'm not crazy, right?"