I haven't written on here in a while because of my PTSD mostly, the rest is telling more of this story has only brought up more anguish and sadness.
My 12th birthday had come and gone and I was still in the Hospital, I had become adept at masturbating and except for a few dry humps on Joy that were absolute bliss. I was moved to a old building where they kept the older boys. This was very different, segregated by sex and placed into a situation where they were not only crazy but full of adolescent hormones. In my opinion an awful combination.
Within my first week there I was in a fight with an older kid, he was picking on me and I just had enough. I managed to throw him down the stairs and was kicking the crap out of his stomach and ribs.
That little incident got me thrown over to the maximum security ward, cut off from my family. i was there 2 weeks before they even visited me. I was brought some new clothes and just like that the visit was over. This ward was a new kind of hell for me, the lights wre on 24/7 and somone was always watching us. It grew into another but even more structured and boring realiy. The only highlight I remember was being show the movie "The Fantastic Voyage." In all I was in there for about 3 months before I was returned to the CB building. Little did I know my time there would soon end, but my adventure there was not over. I met another kid about my age, there were no semi private rooms like at the cottage this was open ward sleeping at its "finest" He was about my age and just as scared as myself. I introuduced him to the joy of panties and he quickly discovered that he enjoyed wearing them too. At least i had a freind who understood my desire to wear panties. We never discussed wearing dresses or anything like that it was all quite innocent.
After all, my hormones were raging and all I wanted to do was have sex with girls.
despite a rough start to my time in CB ward it was a time of change as well. Mom had established a small comisary account in my name. I couldn't take out more than a dollar to spend at a time,
Also I was now allowed off grounds for an hour at a time, my home was about 3-4 blocks away and it occured to me I could go visit but at the time I was allowed off grounds no one would be home.
I would go to the candy store and get some soda, or just wander around, eventually I had enrolled in some model building club, and the activity required me to take a bus to a nearby city for "class"
One cold miserable wither evening I had gotten off at the stop about 3 blocks from home and instead of walking up the street back to the hospital I decided to walk to my home in the blustery cold twilight. I arrived in time to interrupt my family's dinner. I had looked in for a few moments before knocking on the kitchen door. I looked at the three of them, eating and then my empty chair, it seemed surreal at the time like I was dead, a ghost at the window yearning to part of something now out of my reach forever. In a way it was a harbinger for a future time just 5 years away.
I knocked and they all turned to look, my Mom let me in while my Dad looked less than thrilled to see his second biggest mistake shivering in the doorway. I stepped into the warm, florescent lit kitchen rife with the smells of my Mother's wonderful cooking.
I don't remember what was being served, i do remember not being allowed upstairs to go to my room. What were they afraid of? All i had to do was pick up a knife or better yet take 3 steps into the dining room and pull out my Dad's loaded revolver from the middle drawer of the hutch and have at them. Of course I didn't think of that, I waited while my Mom called the hospital and arranged to drive me back. The short car ride through the winter darkness was quiet except for the radio playing ABBA's Honey Honey.
I don't recall any kind of punisment for this stunt other than being admonished for "running away"
I came away from that experience very depressed, really feeling like an outcast in my family.
It hurt me so deeply knowing that my family not only had a whole life without me being a part of it but didn't seem to even miss me. Even now after all this time that hurt has not lessened one bit.
However winds of change were blowing and my time there would soon come to an end. I don't really remeber my last few weeks there othere that I strated spitting out my bedtime dose of pills so I can get up early and go down to the kitchen and help out with getting breakfast ready.
I have no recollection of the last day there or going home. I know I was happy to have gotten out for good, but when Sunday evening rolled around I had an anxiety issuue for fear that this was all a cruel joke.
But I was home at last, happy to have my own bed, happy to have all my toys and the things I was not allowed to have in the hospital. I did not go back to school though, i was dropped at my Dad's parents house during working hours to be taken home at the end of the day. I was actually over the moon for quite a long time to be not going back. However I was still on my meds for a few weeks more and suddenly i was cut off cold turkey.
What I didn't know about was I was about to go through a "little" thing called withdrawal. It started with vomiting and dizziness, the endless dry heaves as my stomach was now empty. Crossdressing was the last thing on my mind during this time, as I was now bedridden and violently ill. With a trash can by my side and a clock radio for company. I would not get to eat for many several weeks, I tried to eat but couldn't keep it down, even water would not stay inside me. The doctor my Mom took me to told her to tell me it was just "Chest Congestion".... BULLSHIIT!
I have tried alot of drugs to numb my emotional pain but never got hooked due to my fear of withdrawal. I was sick for about 3 months then better for a week then sick for another month the better for 3 days during this time we prepared to meve to Middletown PA as my father had gotten a promotion and had been commuting back and forth daily between Harrisburg and our city. Which was fine as we barely saw that bastard until the weekend.
I really did not want to move, I had just made some new friends and was adjusting to a life free of being in a locked ward and on debilitating meds.
My beloved grandparents and my numerous relatives were all here as well as the all the familiar places i treasured. As much as I hate that town now, I loved it just as much then. To be ripped away from all I loved and knew was the cruelest blow to my psyche.
But moved we did, i cried and was generally angry and upset, During this time I encountered another relapse of withdrawal and was back in bed for a few weeks.
Next entry, out of the frying pan and into the fire, or a minnow in a pool of piranha's