Falling Back Into Life
I'm falling back into my life. I've spent a total of 19 days in
the local mental hospital. Planned to take my life twice. Even added more scars
in this bought of craziness.
So what happened to lead to such a horrific breakdown? I think several things
played key factors. One, meds were WRONG most definitely and thus I had nothing
to regulate the up's and down's. Second, parents were screwing with my education
and with my mind. Third...I didn't use the support systems in place. Fourth- my
reality- just plain f***ing wrong.
In the last three weeks, I have been in Mental Hell. Everything so screwed up in
my head, I couldn't see or think straight. My reality was shaded in crimson; it
was twisted and broken...and led me to want to end my life.
I woke up one day...just tired, so very tired of fighting. It is hard...to wake
up each day and have to fight. It's something that most of us have to deal with.
And yeah, it fuckin sucks, but it's something we have to do to remain alive. But
the fighting was just getting too hard...and I will say this- I own up to it
being my fault that the fighting was getting too hard. I was not doing things to
make it just a little easier.
I wouldn't talk to anyone, I kept my life super stressful, and I didn't listen
to advice given to me. And so now, the difference between getting up and
fighting three weeks ago and today are vastly different.
I feel much freer these days. I have decided that I will not graduate on time.
It would just be too hard and too stressful to do that. I would have to take
summer school, which for the average person may not be so bad, for me, after
what just happened- I need a breather. I need time to just be me. So I
let go...I let go of that one stringent fact that was a major load on
my chest.
I had a family meeting where I was completely and utterly honest with my family-
it went very badly of course. But I needed to know where my parents stood one
way or another and I got that closure. They of course were all good and I was
all bad, but hey, at least I know where I stand with them, so now I can work on
how to handle them. They won't change, but it IS within my power to change how I
interact with them.
I am on lots of good medication that together is working:
Lithium, Lamictal, Effexor, Seroquel, Xanax, Concerta- It's a lot, sure, but
each helps a different component within me...if it works- I don't care if I have
to take a hundred meds.
I have a support system and family in the town that I live in. I didn't really
get any visitors while I was in the hospital, but I did get at least six phone
calls a night. My counselor called almost everyday, two professors called
everyday and various individuals called. It actually awed me. I never knew I had
such support here. And now I know I can use them. I can pick up the phone and
call someone when I feel like shit.
And damnit, when one of my kids (that i work with) came to visit with his
mom...right then and there- suicide was NOT an option worth exploring
anymore. Hugging him, looking in his eyes, hearing his voice, seeing
his smile- broke my heart. He doesn't talk much, but when he first got to the
courtyard at the hospital he kept calling out my name looking for me. And
another child, who is higher functioning, I talked to her on the phone and she
was so excited to talk to me and it was just great. I can't leave them.
So, I fall back into my life again. I am stepping out and away from
death, from darkness, from the past...and stepping up and in to life, to love,
to living a hell of a life.
There is this one quote that says,
"Did he
know from the outset that ten days in a mental hospital, at least the first
time, is only enough for the coming apart altogether, and that the putting
back together, if it gets done at all, will be prolonged and in some ways
more dangerous than the collapse itself. Perhaps not."
My 19 days in the hospital for sure was
the full coming apart- and I yelled and I cried and I came apart...and now, from
the last two days there to now, I am coming back together, building myself
together again, to someone I like and respect. To someone I can actually look at
in the mirror. What a gift that is.
This was my sixth hospital visit in three/four years and I am only 20. I think
that is enough.
It's time to stop just surviving
life...but time to start living life.