This is a drabble for Monday’s prompt and it is inspired by some of my friends’ experience with the mental care system and Emilie Autumn’s art.
Because this subject matters to me, I want to take a beat before moving on to the fiction.
I’m saddened by how both professionals and friends treat people with mental disorders sometimes. They are saner and stronger then you think, and a little understanding goes a long way.
For writers (or others) who would like a no holds barred, raw, genuine look into the mind of a person with mental disorders (with some fiction woven in there), I strongly recommend you get your hands on The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls by Emilie Autumn (buy here, GoodReads reviews here). It’s worth every penny, you won’t be able to read it in one sitting because it will pluck your heart’s strings, and if you ever found it hard to share your writing, you’ll be stumped by the strength needed for someone to publish this.
Okay. I’ve said my peace. Drabbling time!
* * *
The orderly grabbed Suzie’s arm, startling her.
“Please let go,” she asked.
He pulled her off her chair.
“Let go!” She squared herself.
The orderly tugged and Suzie stumbled forward. “He’s trying to help.”
“He’s trying to slap on a diagnostic.” Suzie grabbed the orderly’s arm and jerked. “This.” Jerk. “All week.” Jerk. “On purpose.” Jerk.
“Enough,” the orderly barked, freeing himself.
“See! Are you mad, yet? Are you mad?”
The orderly waved a syringe. Suzie stepped back.
“Anger isn’t part of my disorder.” Suzie returned to her chair. “Find someone who really wants to help.”