My life came to a screeching standstill on February 7th. After much deliberation, evaluation and recommendation from the administration of a local hospital, I am undergoing group psychotherapy at the nearest mental institution. Sounds grave, doesn't it? Mental Health Facility. That's sounds so much more PC and so much calmer and less scary. Screw that. I'm undergoing a partial hospitalization program at a mental institution! Complete with craft exercises. And cafeteria food. College had to be put on hold as has my job and most of my social interaction except for those in the group. A diverse collection to say the least. Lost souls seeking redirection.
Today was day three. I went in with a open yet broken mind and I'm glad I did. I'm learning a lot. I'm allowing myself the time to heal. I'm not useful to anyone if I don't take the time to fix me. By whatever means that involves, popular opinion be damned. While the doctor scrambles to adjust my medications to levels I can live with, I'm busy finding comfort in purging my demons to 7 perfect strangers and a staff of mental health professionals. My biggest revelation? No...nothing profound. It's just a simple fact that it's so much easier to share with complete honesty with people who are just as screwed up as I am.
I'm okay with making light of the fact that I screwed up. I think everyone is to some degree. Some hide it better than others. Some are heavily medicated. And the rest...they're just fooling themselves. I'm not looking for a "normal" life. I want a happy life as defined by me. And I'm learning that happiness is in the little moments. That moment you find a parking space close to the store entrance. That moment you find money in the pocket of a coat you haven't worn in months. That moment your child insists on a band-aid for a barely there hangnail. Those moments that are few and far between but make you smile from somewhere so deep inside that you wish you could bottle the feeling. Life is everything in between those moments. It's monotonous, tedious, draining and at times, downright hard and ugly. They build our strength and give us character - and on a really bad day, an intense migraine. But ah...those moments.
So I'm focusing on me for a while. I'm sick and like any sickness, I need treatment and time to heal. I don't need gossip and ridicule. I need support and encouragement. I'm not ashamed of my mental disorder. It doesn't define me. It's a part of me. A very small part. As for what makes up the rest of me...I'm still discovering that.
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Yes, Becky, a woman, moreso than men, I believe, get so busy taking care of everyone else's needs, whether it be your children, you husband, your parents, your workmates, you forget to take care of number one. We have always thought that was being selfish to think of ourselves as # 1, but more and more, we are learning the hard way, that if we ignore our own needs and desires, we may end up with the same problem as you are experiencing now.Let this be an ah-ha moment for us all.It does happen(regardless of whether one has any specific disorder or not)to many of us.I hope you find a solution for yourself, soon.We love you. Aunt Sue
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