Because I had undergone terrifying electric acupuncture, I became obedient, and the old patients became obedient because of it. New patients come in, and if they are not obedient, they all undergo electric acupuncture, and once they do, they become obedient. During casual chats, several old patients mentioned that there is also electroshock therapy, which is even more terrifying; it feels like falling off a cliff when undergoing it.
The daily routine in the psychiatric hospital is very regular, comparable to that of a prison or detention center, with the commonality being the loss of freedom. The patients' activity area is divided into two parts: one is the sleeping room, and the other is the activity room, which is where they stay during the day.
In winter, when it gets pitch dark, we get up before 6 o'clock. The blankets are folded by the nurses or old patients, and in winter, we cover ourselves with two blankets. The nurses have a unique method for folding blankets.
After getting up, we wash up. The toothpaste is communal, and an old patient is in charge of it; he only gives you a dollop the size of a soybean. After washing our faces and teeth, we go to the activity room for breakfast.
It is still dark outside, and everyone lines up with a ceramic basin and chopsticks. The orderly pushes a cart with breakfast; inside the stainless steel frame is plain porridge, and one drawer contains steamed buns. One person scoops a bowl of porridge, and the orderly grabs a little bit of pickled vegetables, usually just a small amount of radish, along with two steamed buns. We find a spot to sit and eat. The bowls and chopsticks are washed by old patients on duty, but they are just rinsed off and not really cleaned.
After eating, we wait for the doctor’s rounds at 8:15, feeling bored. The doctors and nurses start work at 8 o'clock, hold a morning meeting, and the orderly takes new patients to meet everyone, with a room full of white coats, creating quite an atmosphere.
Each patient has their own doctor, with each doctor responsible for about ten patients. During the rounds, the doctor asks his patient, "How are you?" and the patient replies, "Good." That’s the entire check-up.
At 9 o'clock, the nurse brings a box containing various cigarettes to distribute. Family members can store cigarettes, and each person receives six. This is an important ritual in the psychiatric hospital; the six cigarettes from yesterday have long been smoked, and everyone is waiting for this moment. New patients who have no stored cigarettes also want some, but the nurse says, "You didn’t leave any at home," and sends them away.
Patients are not allowed to bring lighters; the nurses light the cigarettes. Once the cigarettes are distributed, those who just received them rush to the nurses to get them lit, quickly becoming addicted, smoking their six cigarettes throughout the day at set times.
Then it’s back to boredom, waiting for lunch. Lunch is at 10:40; everyone sits down, and the orderly pushes a cart with several drawers of steamed rice, one bucket of unappetizing vegetables, and a few bits of meat. At this time, doctors and nurses come to help, along with old patients, who carry trays with several bowls to serve to the patients.
After lunch, we line up to take our medicine. An old patient holds a handful of pills in his left hand and a cup of water in his right, swallowing them all at once. I had never taken much medicine before and didn’t know how to take it, so I sat next to the nurse and took them one by one, while old patients laughed at me, calling me a "fairy pill" eater.
After taking the medicine, we go to the sleeping room for a nap, although some people chat instead of sleeping.
Around 1:30 in the afternoon, we get up and go to the activity room. The first thing we do is distribute snacks, which are stored by family members. The caregivers and specific old patients call out names in the order the snacks are placed on the shelf, and those called must take their designated items. Some old patients, who have no snacks, crowd around, hoping someone will share with them, and sometimes they even snatch a bit.
There is an old patient who has been hospitalized for a long time, named Xu Jialai. I see him and think of going home, so when it’s time to take something, I say, "Xu Jialai, take one (apple)."
At around 2 o'clock, family visits occur. My mom brings me delicious food every day, with a thermos filled with chicken, ribs, and some fruit. Sometimes my brother comes to deliver it when he has a day off.
The afternoon remains boring. There are two large red basins for foot baths; everyone washes their feet in hot water, although many do not wash at all. Sometimes the nurse sees this and says, "If you don’t wash, it won’t smell," but they still don’t wash. There is a specific old patient who distributes toilet paper, tearing one sheet into two halves, giving each person half a sheet.
Dinner is at 4:40, and it is the same as breakfast: a bowl of porridge and two steamed buns. After dinner, we take our medicine again, then return to the sleeping room to rest. Since it’s still early, everyone chats in small groups, but because of the medication, they all go to sleep early. The designated sleep time is 8 o'clock, but most people go to bed earlier.
The next morning, we get up and repeat the previous day; this cycle continues every day.
I have a situational disorder, more severely described as manic-depressive disorder (bipolar affective disorder).
On December 21 (later known as the Resurrection Day of the Divine Religion), the nurse told me not to have breakfast and to stay alone in the sleeping room.
After waiting for a long time, a group of doctors and nurses came in, mainly a few doctors who held me down, grasped my head, inserted a needle into the top of my head, and placed a small wooden board in my mouth. I struggled, not knowing what they were doing, but I couldn’t resist their numbers and eventually lost consciousness.
When I woke up, it felt like nothing had happened, and the orderly let me eat the cold breakfast that had been saved for me.
This is electroshock therapy; it did not have the feeling of falling off a cliff as described by the old patients. After the electric shock, I lost consciousness, went into shock, and felt like I was asleep or dead. After about an hour, I woke up. This is what I later claimed as being crucified and resurrected.