I am 83, and my life seems to have been mostly happy. But after a year at art college, I sort of disintegrated and was sent to a mental hospital after I had tried to kill myself several times. My best explanation is that life was too difficult and painful. But why?
In the hospital I had 15 electric shock treatments. After the first one I didn’t recognise my mum. I had a blinding headache, and the fear of never waking up was strong. I was given antipsychotic drugs and sedatives. I caused a lot of worry to my parents, but I couldn’t “pull myself together”. Looking back, I see myself as a caring person who helped the confused and unhappy ladies who were locked away in that massive old mental hospital, where, in a way, I felt at home.
