The hardest part of mental health for me is that healing isn’t linear. It ebbs and flows and there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. When I have a few hard days it helps me to look back and to see how far I’ve come while still holding space for the present. The following is something I wrote last Fall after a two week stay at Princeton House.
Written November 2024
It’s been a week since I’ve been home from inpatient. I’ve been trying to process that two week hospital stay since the moment I walked out the door. I really have so many thoughts but haven’t quite found the words. I think that’s part of my inner chaos is that I don’t know how to let it go while also holding space for it. So I guess I’m going to try.
I know I made the right choice but it was so hard. I keep reminding myself I can do hard things. I’m stronger than I think. It was so invasive and there wasn’t much autonomy to be had. As time passes and my scars are pretty much healed I find myself conflicted. The scars only hurt sometimes now and I think once they stop hurting all together maybe it will make it easier. I want to remember but I also don’t. I need to because those breakdowns on the hospital floor and the medical intervention required is what is going to keep me from relapsing.
The few art therapy sessions we had are what kept me going. I find art therapy very effective. The tree is what I stared at for two weeks from my hospital room. That tree saw me cry many tears. When I went in it was green, changed colors and then was bare. A beautiful representation of how change can be beautiful. I had to fight for the right to have a psych safe pencil and pen. I needed those for creative expression. I was relentless. Somehow they let me keep my post it notes. That still baffles me. I wrote out post it notes and stuck them on the side of my fake dresser so I could read them multiple times a day. Anything to try to get centered.
It was loud all the time. That still gives me anxiety when I think about it. It was so exasperating. Those earplugs came in clutch. I’ll never take fresh air for granted again. Cumulative less than 2.5 hours outside in the 14 days. Always go outside. If you don’t go outside you’re going to lose your sense of reality. I found Jesus in that psychiatric hospital. Through people, books, my Bible, prayer, tears and pleading. I’ll forever be thankful for that.
I tried to journal as much as I could about anything and everything. Because at the end of the day I really do want to remember what it was like when I hit rock bottom. It will make the view from the top one day that much more special. It taught me about common humanity. It taught me how to love people where they are at. That you don’t have to like someone to be kind and love them like Jesus.
It reiterated that you don’t know what people have gone through in their lives. Trauma is universal. Kindness and compassion always. It taught me to be mindful and to be present in the moment because that’s all you really have. I’ve already started to forget the reality of that and that scares me. It taught me to put things in perspective and to be grateful for every little thing. I never want to take people, places or things for granted again. I’m hoping that I always have perspective and stressful things can be considered baby carrots.
I hope I remember how hard I fought for myself. I hope I always acknowledge that I am a warrior. That I’m a survivor. That I chose to stay and the devil didn’t win. I hope I always remember how many people love me and have walked through this with me. That people would miss me if I was gone. That I realize that God is the author of life and that He dictates our life span. That I know that I’m worthy of love and deserve to have good people in my life. That I don’t have to apologize for taking up space. That maybe one day life won’t be so hard to exist in.
I’m thankful for the people I met in wing 4. I’m thankful for the medical staff that were gracious but stern. I wouldn’t have wanted to work with me those first 7 days. I guess the experience could be classified as beautifully broken. God allowed me to break to my fullest extent. The fire turned me into ashes but God is going to make something beautiful from the experience and my deepest pain. I’m thankful.
Hope Over Hurt 