Khimilia Delair/Diary/Imprisonment

Back to index

The next few paragraphs are transcripts from most of the things I experienced while in the psych ward. I remember everything pretty clearly, so my beloved Emacs, M-x transcribe-notes-of-a-mad-girl RET:

It was my fifth day in Vienna, when one of the police women on patrol recognised me. I was down at the banks of the Danube reading, and I did not see her coming my way. She looked down at me, and said:

"'Tschuldigung...".

I looked up, and into her eyes. A fatal mistake. She recognised me immediately and waved for her partner. In haste I grabbed my stuff and tried to get a way, but I blindly walked into her partner.

"Sie kommen mit aufs Revier. Ihre Familie ist schon krank vor Sorgen.", he said and grabbed me. I said nothing to either officer and tried to get away, but I had no chance. Rather sooner than later I found myself handcuffed in the back of the police car. The two tried several times to start a small talk with me, but I didn't want to talk. And especially not with them. I kept staring out of the back window, and looked at the people rushing through the streets of Vienna. We drove about about twenty minutes through several districts of Vienna, until we reached their police station. They took off the handcuffs after I got out of the car. Maybe it didn't look so good if they bring in a missing person handcuffed like a criminal, or maybe they just figured they weren't required anymore. Inside the police station they sat me down in front of a desk, and another police man was tasked with getting my information into their computers. The policeman was rather old, and I am sure he was either close to his pension or one of those Post employees transfered to police duty.

"Haben Sie einen Ausweiß dabei?", he asked. I got up a little and reached down in my back pocket. I pulled out my passport and put it on the desk in front of him. He took out his glasses and put them on. He compared the information in the passport with those he had on this computer. "Wo haben Sie den in Wien übernachtet?", he asked and looked at me over his glasses. I got up a little again and pulled out a small business card from a motel and put it on his desk. Some friends who were already studying in Vienna took me in, and the motel was just my backup plan. But I had no intention of explaining that to him, let alone give the name of my friends to the police. He picked up the business card, looked at it and typed something into this computer. He typed some more, clicked a few times, and I had some time to look around the police station: Most policemen (and women of course - long live the Quotenregelung) were walking from one drawer to the next, picking up empty and filing filled out forms. I remembered what our neighbour, who worked for the police before joining the Austrian Army, said: For every work you do as an Austrian policemen you have to fill out six forms before and six forms after. The policemen cleared his throat, and I looked back at him. "Ich werde nun Ihre Eltern verständigen.", he said, while picking up the phone. I shook my head but the policeman kept on dialing. He ignored me, kept on dialing. I got up a little, and thought about protesting, but on second thought it seemed pointless; and picked my passport instead. He dialed a number that was all too familiar to me. The phone rang several times. I looked at my watch. No one is usually at home this early. But someone did pick up. "Polizeidirektion Wien. Spreche ich hier mit der Familie Steinmayr?", the policeman said. A few seconds of silence. "Sind Ihre Eltern zu Hause?", the policemen was obviously talking to my brother, "Richten Sie bitte ihren Eltern folgendes aus...". He kept talking to my brother for quite a while. Most of the questions the policeman asked I don't remember, as I continued to watch the other policemen doing their work. While I was angry when they brought me in, anger was replaced rather quickly by indifference. After the old policeman hung up, he still tried to get a few answers out of me. Why I ran away, what I was thinking strolling the streets of Vienna alone, and if I was not bothered about my family being worried. But I remained silent. Maybe he meant well, maybe not, but such questions, coming from a policeman will always feel like an interrogation.

I was probably a few hours in the policestation, and some time after midday a psychologist came around. He was in his mid thirties, early fourties. While he was a nice person (and I heard weird stories about psychologists so it did come to a surprise to me), he got a bit unpatient with me as he realized I had no intention to talk with him. And even as he got out a sheet of paper and a pencil, I still had no intention to communicate with him. He finally gave up. In hindsight it was probably not the best idea to ignore him like this, as he was the one who got me admitted to the mental hospital.

Another police car drove me to the mental ward. I did not resist, at this point I didn't care anymore. They would not keep me forever I thought, and when my parents would come to visit me, they would get me out.

Everything I had on me was removed, my passport, my bag with my trusty laptop, my precious green notebook containing most of my drawings, MP3 player, book, money and a small pocket knife in my sock (something which the police did not find). I got new clothes, a room and a room mate, who wasn't here when I arrived. The nurse that was with me further explained to me: What to do, what not to do, when to sleep and when to expect meals. I did not pay much attention to any of it, as I expected to be out soon. One of the wards brought me bed sheets, a blanket and a pillow, and said that I should do my bed. They left me alone, and I began making my bed quickly and with not much care. With nothing left to do, I closed the door, and layed down in my bed and tried to fall asleep. Wasn't really tired, so it took me quite a long time to fall asleep. My sleep didn't last very long before I was woken again by the door. It was my room mate who had returned from where ever she had been. She was in her late twenties with short brown her that almost reached down to her shoulders. Her face was long, just like her nose, with dark sun taned skin. Her eyes were in contrast light blue and shined like a summer sky. In her own way she was beautiful, but not in a way models or actresses were beautiful. She looked at me confusing, I think unsure if I was awake or not. I waved at her, and she smiled and waved back. She sat down in her bed, and looked at me, still smiling. I sat up as well, facing her, and tried smiling back. She introduced herself; Maria was her name. I remained silent. She explained why she was here; abusive hustband followed by addiction to alcohol. I remained silent. She asked who I was, and why I was here. I remained silent. Her smile faded, and asked if I could talk at all. I remained silent. She sighed, and claimed that she was looking forward to have someone to talk to in this mad place. That most of the other patients either ignored her, or were mentally too far away to talk. And that most wards and nurses wouldn't talk much either, and that her doctors are to patronizing to have a decent conversation with. But her spirit was not be killed. She looked outside the window, and grabbed me. She lead - well more or less dragged - me out of the room, and towards the back exit. After asking nicely she convinced the head nurse that we could take a walk outside. It was a beautiful day, and it was only slightly diminished by listening to Maria's life story in which I took little interest. We walked across carefully cut meadows, and avoided the pathways. Maria claimed they were filled with people with nothing else in mind than to talk about you when you walk past. She kept on talking, I kept on listening until it became cold outside, and the sun began to set. Wards and nurses came outside and gathered their flock.

The next day started with with breakfast, and pills for most of the other inmates. None for me though, as the doctor hadn't ordered any yet. Yet. I spent most of the morning in a therapy session with many other patients, including Maria. The therapist tried several times to get me to talk about me, but I refused with silence. Before midday I got a call from my mother. She had earlier talked with a doctor in the ward, and they came to the conclusion that it would be best for me to stay here for a few days. I hung up the phone in anger before she could even finish her explanation. An older nurse was already awaiting me to finish my phone call: "Sie haben einen Termin mit Doktor Kaltenegger.", she said, "Folgen Sie mir.". The old nurse turned around and I followed. We walked down a long corridor, took a turn left into a smaller corridor. The old nurse knocked at a door with Kaltenegger's name tag on it. "Herein.", a low voice said on the other side. The old nurse opened the door for me, and waved me in. Inside the rather small room, stood a couch on the left side from the door, a small cupboard on the right with various books and a CD player, and in the middle of the room was a huge desk - which was far too big for the small room - with two chairs in front it. Behind the desk sat a rather young man, full black hair, glasses and a blue shirt. I put him in his late thirtees or early fourtees, but he looked rather young, so it was hard to tell. He offered me a seat, and I chose the biggest of the two. He looked down again at his sheets of paper that were on his desk, and back up at me. "Frau Steinmayr,", he began, "darf ich Julia zu dir sagen?". I shrugged at first, but nodded afterwards. He raised both his eyebrows quickly, and leaned back a little. "Wie geht es dir den heute?", he continued. I remained - to no surprise to him or me - silent. "Nun gut, dann fangen wir anders an.", he moved a bit back with his chair and opened a drawer of his desk. He put out a notebook and two pencils, and handed them to me, saying: "Fangen wir doch damit an, warum du nicht mit mir reden willst.". I took the notebook and the pencils. It took me a while to find the correct words, but then scribbled them down in haste. I gave the notebook back to the doctor, and he read what I wrote out loud:

"I red nimma vü den de mit dera I gern reden dat, is fia imma stü."

I smirked a little, it was always a pleasure to see people from Vienna decipher other Austrian dialects. He saw me and a "hmm" escaped him, "Wir schaffen es jedoch nicht ohne, dass du mit mir kommunizierst. Aber ich werd' es mal so akzeptieren.", he said while handing me the notebook back. I put it on my lap. He reached down again and opened another drawer. He put out the things they removed from me one by one. Everything except my bag, my laptop, money and passport. He picked up the book and read the title out loud: "The Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers". He opened it at my bookmark and read a little before closing it again. "Auf English, Respekt.", he proclaimed and handed me the book. I was glad to have it back. At least something to do while being stuck in this boring place. He then moved on to my knife. It was an old knife with a folding blade, my grandfather gave me when I was young. He opened it, and moved his finger tip carefully over the edge. It was very sharp, and he almost cut himself even though he was very careful. "Wozu brauchst du den das?", he asked. He folded it again, and turned it while inspecting it carefully. He found the engraving on the back side of the handle and read it out loud: "Alfred Steinmayr. Hast du dieses Messer von deinem Großvater?", he asked. I nodded. "Du verstehst sicherlich, dass ich dir das Messer nicht zurück geben kann?", and put the knife back into the drawer. He then picked up my green notebook, looked at me and asked, "Darf ich es mir ansehen?". I nodded. He opened it carefully. My precious green notebook contained most of my pencil drawings. When I am in a drawing mood I'd draw anything that is in my point of view. But I generally preferred to draw nature in its full beauty. He moved slowly from page to page and looked at each drawing carefully. Drawings about my family, our dogs, cats, forests, close up drawings of bees, bumblebees, frogs, rabbits, flowers, trees, and some recent ones about the Danube, the skyline and streets of Vienna. It creeped me out how carefully he looked at the drawings, as he didn't look at them to appreciate my motives or the art, but to find out as much as he could about me. As he reached the last page, he saw the text I wrote in the corner. He raid it out loud: "My precious green notebook. A slit in the Marylebone Road, and I left my bags there.", he looked at me confused. I just silently nodded. He shook his head slightly, closed the notebook, and put it back into the drawer. I was saddened that I didn't receive it back, but I guess that's what he wanted. To have some sort of leverage or reward should I work well with him. He also put the rest of my things back into his drawer. "Wie geht es ihnen mit ihrer Zimmerkollegin?", he continued. I just nodded silently. He looked around, looked at me, leaned back a little and pointed at my lap. "Schreibe oder zeichnne doch bitte wie es dir jetzt geht.", he said. I put up the notebook he gave me and made a few short strokes on the front paper. I held up what I had written: "Good.". He sighed, and said: "Ein bisschen detailierter bitte.". I wrote again, this time a little bit more in detail, as he wanted:

"We all must be shown, we must realize. That everything changes, And everyone dies. Best friends die, Worst enemies die, Pets die, Leisures, friends and places decay, Nothing stays the same, Everything changes, and everyone dies." -- Jhonn Balance

He took note that it was a quote, but also that it had meaning. Especially to me, in this part of my life. He sighed again - at the point I wondered if every patient made him sigh as much as I did - and said: "Schreiben Sie mir bitte in eigenen Worten auf wie sie sich gerade fühlen.". I thought about for a few seconds and complied: "Gut, außer das ich an einem Ort bin, an dem ich nicht sein will.". "Sie sind nicht lange hier, glaub' mir das. Wir wollen nur sehen wie du den Tod deiner Schwester verarbeitest. Vor allem deine Eltern haben von deiner zurückgezogenen Art und den plötzlichen Abreisen berichtet und machen sich Sorgen.", he said calmly. I wrote down: "Ich brauche Abstand. Nicht nur von dem Ort, sondern auch von den Leuten.". He nodded, and said: "Das kann ich sehr gut verstehen. Aber du musst auch an deine Familie denken.". I shook my head slightly, and wrote down: "Das mache ich auch zur genüge, wenn ich nicht daheim bin.". He continued to talk a bit more about, loss, grief how everyone was just worried about me and that this could help me a lot. I mostly didn't listen, and made a crude drawing about him in his office. He stopped talking for a while and watched me draw, and made a made a remark how interesting it was that I was equally as good drawing with my left hand as I was with my right hand. I tore the page out of the notebook, and kept the drawing for myself. He took a look at the clock on his desk and said: "So Leid das mir auch tut, unsere Zeit ist bereits um.". I looked at the clock too, the last hour with him felt more like fifteen minutes. I took the notebook and handed it to him. He took it and put it in front of him, right next to the notes he wrote during the session. And of course I left him with a few notes in the notebook to ponder over. I left his office, not returning the farewell he gave me. On the walk back to my room, I pondered over the session. I was unsure what to make of it. Maria was already asleep, and I would follow soon afterwards.

On the very next day I was again in a group therapy session. And just like the previous day not a single sound escaped me. Although Maria tried to talk about me, there was not much to report on. Most of the stories the other had to tell were quite boring. And the hours just wouldn't go by. And being reminded that the it would help pass the time talking about myself, didn't help either. After the session, and during lunch Maria kept talking to me, perhaps in a vain attempt to get me talking too. I spent most of my afternoon reading in the huge garden behind the main building. The weather was on my side, and I was mostly alone throughout the afternoon, as Maria had a therapy session. I was told, Doktor Kaltenegger would see me in the evening. I was visited by that old nurse again in the garden. She didn't have to say anything, I knew were to go. She just made sure I went were I was supposed to. Musik could be heard through the door. I knocked and entered. The doctor was on the right, and had my MP3 player connected to his speakers. I immediately recognized the tune: He understood the notes I gave him and was listening to the Coil song "A Slip in the Marylebone Road", from which the quote in my notebook was taken. I had a faint smile in my face; and as he turned around and saw me smile, he smiled as well. He turned the volume down a bit, so the song could still be heard in the background. "Du hast einen sehr schrägen Musikgeschmack. Da ist von Richard Wagner, über spirituelles, und Hip-Hop bis hin zu Metal alles dabei.", he said. I raised my right eyebrow, and looked back at him. This session was longer than the last, and also contained some personal questions I do not wish to repeat in depths and detail. I was honest to most of those questions, but I am also sure he knew when I lied. The various voices of Jhonn Balance followed us through the session, like silent whispering reminding me that it doesn't take much to step over the fine line in the sand.

Days came and went. Some beautiful, with the sun shining down, some days brought rain and storms. I finished my book, and wished I had the last part to finish the story. Maria still talked to me, about herself, her life and also asked questions she knew I would not answer. My family came by twice, but I didn't want to see them; except for Matthias. He stayed with me and talked about how life had changed at home, while I was away. How mother told everyone I was away on vacation, as she apparently was too ashamed to admit were I had gone.

After a few sessions with the doctor, I got my notebook back. I drew two pictures of the back yard, and tought Maria a few tricks. She was not very talented but my art inspired her. The first decent picture she drew was of me drawing another picture. She hung it up in our room and was very proud of it. We continued to draw, regardless of whether the weather was nice and we were outside, or whether it was raining and we sat inside the main hall.

After a week or so I got my MP3 player back. Although I rarely listened to any musik, Maria asked a few times to listen to some radio, but there was no way to recharge the batteries. I didn't have the power cable with me and I'd usually plug the MP3 player into my laptop for power. My parents came by a few more times, yet I still wasn't in the mood the face them. There was enough time to not talk to them when I was back at home. Matthias was kind enough though to bring me the third part of Lord of the Rings and a few more decent drawing pencils. He got a kiss on the cheek from me and Maria for it, as ours were already getting shorter and shorter. Especially now that we had started with shades, the good pencils good short rather quickly. Maria had already filled her own notebook with drawings. And if you browse from the last page to the first you could see her drawings improve. Especially the recent ones were excellent. She always put the new drawings to the front. Although odd, I thought she wanted the better drawings to be first ones to be seen, and bury her early attempts in the back.

It was now two weeks after I got admitted, and I still hadn't said a single word. I was both impressed by my endurance and theirs, as they still sent me to group therapy. Doctor Kaltenberger continued his questions and analysis and I continued to answer his questions honestly. We worked well together, although I was not quite sure if anything had changed. If I had changed, since I first set foot in this hospital. He felt otherwise, and I did respect his professional opinion on this matter and still do to this day.

There were some tears, tears of joy, hugs and good byes. Many of them, as Maria was to be released. I was glad for her, and was with her in her last moments in the ward. She had been here for several months, and it was a hard good bye. I understood now how one could grow so attached a place like this, and I knew that she would miss me, just as much as I would miss her. She had all her things together. The door was wide open - it always was on days with beautiful weather - but today it seemed to be open even wider as usual. One last hug and a last tear of joy before she set off to catch the bus back into the heart of the city.

It was quiet in my room. And at long last I felt the same sadness, I felt when I'd go into Sarah's room. Tears ran down my cheek as I realized that I was once again alone. Tears transformed into whimpering and silent cry. I sat down on my bed, and whiped the tears away. I saw her notebook lying under her bed. How could she forget it? I picked it up. It felt lighter and thinner than usual. I opened it, careful not to stain with my tears. It had but one drawing inside. The drawing showed us sitting on a bench next to the path way, drawing together. "Danke für alles. Und bleib nicht all zu lange allein.", was written beneath it. Tears and a cry broke a way in me.

The old nurse came in to remind me of my regular appointment, but as she saw me crying she just silently nodded and went away. She gave me ten minutes to calm down. The session this day went easier for me than I initially expected. He did most of the talking, and explained how important I had been for Maria, and how important she had been for me. How she needed someone she could befriend, and how I needed to learn that deal with loss. He further proclaimed that I did well, and that he was going to release me in the next view days should all go well. I was not really happy about it. Yet relieved, and a bit sad. This place does grow on you, and you begin to appreciate it.

The doctor kept his word. Two days after our last session I was released. I got all my things back, and it was especially the knife I missed. Not because I felt vulnerable without it, but rather because it reminded me of my grandfather. My parents and my brother were already on the parking lot expecting me. I looked outside, and turned back towards the old nurse and doctor Kaltenegger. I sighed. The doctor had a dry smile on his face, and said: "Los jetzt, deine Familie wartet schon." I turned around, and before I stepped outside he gave me the most important advice yet: "Ach noch was.", I turned around, "Ich würde an deiner Stelle Gebärdensprache lernen.". I liked the idea, smiled and nodded back.