I've never actually been nervous to write a blog before, but this one is a little different. A little more personal; a little more intense.
I'm sure some of you will have some questions for me. Mostly because only my closest of friends and close family know about this. I urge you, if you do have any questions or concerns, please bring them straight to me. Don't go calling my mother and asking her 30 questions about my personal experience. I'm not reluctant to talk about this with anyone who is curious.
This story is being told in hopes to maybe help others who continue to struggle, and maybe to help myself a little bit, in a way.
As you've seen in my more recent blogs, I had been struggling once again with my mental state. On August 13th, my friend Kate came over to talk to me about my isuues. I really hadn't been doing well. Not eating much, anxious and nervous 24/7, no sleeping for weeks or having to take 2-3 doses of Zzzquil to get some rest, over exerting myself physically and mentally, crying all the time, both at home or at work, etc. In my mind, I was handling my depression and anxiety as well as possible. I was exercising a ton (lifting and then running 3-4 miles a night to exhaust myself), writing, talking to friends, some family...I was running out of things to do in a healthy manner and none of it was controlling my stress and sadness. It started to scare me that I couldn't be alone without freaking out. When Kacey wasn't home, I was scared to be on my own. I had panic attacks and mental breakdowns when I was by myself. It had been weeks that I'd been feeling so overwhelmed and upset, I just couldn't take it anymore.
So anyways, like I said, Kate came over to talk to me about this, and possibly give me some advice and choices as to where I go next. Basically, if I wasn't feeling better by the next day, she offered to take me to Windsor Laurelwood, which is a behavioral health center nearby my apartment. My first thought was 'yeah right I'm not crazy,' of course. I told her I'd make my decision in the morning, thinking I wouldn't even go there. That night, I went for a 4 mile run, and walked 4 miles home. I cried the whole walk home, knowing that I had to accept that I couldn't try to control this on my own anymore. I needed help, and fast, or I was going to end up hurting myself or dead.
The next day rolled around and I really wasn't feeling much better. I went to work in the morning, prepared for a long day of football two a days and soccer scrimmages. I felt in a fog, trying to suck my tears back all day. I called my psychiatrist to see if I could get an appointment ASAP to talk about getting back on medication. The closest appointment was September 18th...well it was August 15th and I had a feeling I wouldn't even make it that long. So I freaked out, texted Kate, and said I need to go to the hospital. I called my soccer coach and broke down in front of him, I broke down in front of the principle, I called a coworker and had him talk to my boss. I was preparing to take the rest of the week and weekend off to check myself into the hospital.
I drove home and got a call from my mom, asking if I was okay and if I thought that maybe I needed to get back on medication again. I played it cool and lied. I never wanted to admit defeat to my parents so I just told her I'm fine and we hung up with each other. I got home and packed a bunch of clothes and whatnot. I couldn't believe I was about to check into a mental hospital..
Kate picked me up and took me in. I had to have an assessment done before they decided to admit me. Telling someone I don't even know all of my feelings was weird. I'm not sure she even cared, but Kate was next to me the whole time while I cried and spilled my thoughts out.
The lady gave me a gown and socks. I couldn't wear my clothes until they went through all of my personal belongings. I had to say bye to Kate, knowing as soon as she left, she was going to call my mom and break the news. When she walked out the door I lost it. Walking through the cold white brick hallways, looking at the patients that I was going to be spending the next number of days with, just all so overwhelming.
They put me in a small room by myself, where I was talked to for about an hour by an older nurse. She was very sweet and I could tell she cared, but I kept having to answer the same questions over and over. 'What was your plan to hurt yourself?' 'Are you homicidal?' 'What are you feeling?' 'Do you want to hurt yourself now?' Blah blah blah can I just take a minute to collect my thoughts and be alone??? Then they had to strip search me and mark down all of my tattoos, piercings, and scars. 'What are the scars from?' Lady you already know the answer to that. Move on. After that, they put me in the little sitting area of our block (1500). I sat down and cried. I tried not to stare at all the patients and they walked by. People were talking to themselves and acting weird and saying weird shit. I was so freaked out I wanted to walk out and never come back. An older lady started talking to me. She was a patient, probably in her 60s. She said she'd been there for a while, and kind of gave me the low down on some of the patients. She introduced me to my roommate- a lady in her 80s wearing some bad ass sunglasses named Joyce.
Mid conversation- my parents both walked in. I forgot the night I went in was the 1 night for visiting hours. I can't even express or explain the way my heart dropped into my stomach when I looked at them. Their daughter sitting in a hospital gown in a mental hospital...I immediately lost it and bawled my eyes out, grabbing for my mother to hug me. She started crying, I could barely look at my dad, but I just cried and he held me. After the awkward crying moments, we had a real conversation. I explained to them what was going on in my head and heart, and my mom said 'Well I just want to tell you, Kate came over last night and told us what was going on. You have a really good friend in her.' They said they saw me as strong for checking myself in, that not a lot of people have the strength to admit they need help. They told me not to worry about anything at home or work, that now I need to concentrate on getting better.
Hugging them goodbye hurt, but it gave me relief that they knew and were supportive and helpful. I could breathe easy knowing that I had nothing to worry about at home. I asked a girl working there if I could have my clothes yet. She asked if I wanted all my strings cut out of my shoes and pants. Uhhh...leave my shoes alone but do what you must with my pants??? We weren't allowed to have strings or razors or anything like that apparently, woops. The nurse gave me an Adavan to calm my nerves, and I was told I'd be seeing my doctor the next day to figure out my medications and all that good stuff.
I finally got my clothes and my room, and started writing. I didn't know anyone so I really didn't want to leave my room, but then I heard the workers yelling 'courtyard,' so I went out to see what that meant. Everyone was lined up to go outside so I joined and started talking to a few people. I became close with a few people that night, just getting to know each other because we were all in the same situation. These people seemed relatively normal compared to some of the other patients...so I decided I'd try to just hang with them for the rest of my stay.
We had to be in bed by 10:30 that night. They gave me an Ambien to help me sleep, but it didnt help much when people walk into your door every 15 minutes to check on you. They woke me up at 4am to take blood and my blood pressure.
Finally, the next day, I got to talk to my doctor about everything. He was very cool and helpful. He got me started on Cymbalta during the day and Seroquil for night time. I never wanted to be on medication again, but sometimes people just need it. I had to accept it at that time. I just wanted to feel better.
The rest of my stay there was kind of a blur. It was kind of the same schedule for every day- breakfast lunch and dinner at the same time every day, group meetings 3 times a day, down time, outside time like 6 times a day, medicine at the same time every day, bed at the same time...
But like I said, I kind of made a crew during my stay. There was this little group of people who hung out all the time- me, Tamara, Brandi, Brian, Bear, Jay, Mikey, Fay...we all kinda just kinda sat around and talked to each other about our past lives, our lives now, what we're in for, other random BS...we played spades and jenga every night. Life didnt seem so bad surrounded by people with the same issues as yourself, or even worse issues.
Sometimes it got scary...Sometimes people had episodes, there was a few fights that got nerve wracking. Some people got moved to higher security blocks.
When Bear was asked why he was there, he told us he's on vacation. I
guess it was almost like a mini vacation with shitty food and a bunch
of crazy strangers.
My favorite memory of all time was when the nurse told me my parents were there to pick me up Sunday morning. Everyone in the 1500 block slow clapped me out the door. I'll never forget it.
All I had to do was get better, and I did. By the last day I was ready to go. I was nervous to be home again, but ready to take all the stuff I learned and utilize it. I will never forget the experience I had at Laurelwood. I dont regret going, I dont feel weird talking about it anymore. I needed help and I got it. Not only from the doctor, the meds, or the group meetings, but from the friends I made there, and the friends and family on the outside world doing whatever it took to take care of my stuff while I was gone.
I am normal. I'm not crazy. I am strong.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from a patient there. He was a bit off, but arent we all?? "Guess what I got up my sleeve. I gots myself up my sleeve."
Love you guys.
