A Message Brought to You by Unit Z | Article

Articles THUMB

Abandonment: It has a salty taste to it because, at the time of writing this, my tears are running down the sides of my face. I write this article in my Timeless Tree journal I got from Barnes and Noble, as I am eating a small chocolate ice cream and the classic Lorna Doones of Unit Z.

 

I’ve been here for what is just becoming my fourth week. It has been four weeks of BS.

 

My social worker, whom I dutifully named DC for reasons I cannot go into here, has been working my case. Unfortunately for me, DC and the psychiatrist want to take me to court to get me court ordered to go to a state hospital.

 

Luck is on my side, however, because it is a long process to get into state hospitals. Also when people go to state hospitals they go for months and or years at a time.

 

I do *not* have time for that BS. I have a puppy at home that needs me. I have a family to go back to. I have friends to see and hang out with. I have articles to write, a blog to upkeep and a Twitter page to tweet out with. Not to mention I have a Youtube channel to provide videos and content for.

 

I have not stepped outside in a month. I have been stuck inside these four walls and a length of two hallways for a month with crappy hospital food and clock run medications.

 

I have made new friends, people I hope and envision staying in contact with when I do walk out of here.

 

And I do believe I *will* walk out of this hospital.

 

I *have* to believe in that.

 

Otherwise, there is no point in doing anything. There would be no point in living at all.

 

I have to believe there is more to life than ongoing hospitalizations. I have to believe that I am stronger than this situation. I have to believe that I am brave and that I am a survivor. I have to believe that this situation will only make me stronger.

 

I have to pull out of the fall 2017 semester. Which sucks, plainly put.

 

But, school will always be there.

 

Our trials and tribulations are time sensitive and temporary.

 

This moment of BS will not always exist. I have a choice in how I handle my downfalls.

 

And I am choosing to be strong. I am choosing to have faith. I am choosing to be better than I have been.

 

It will get better; gradually and one step at a time.

 

DC likes to tell me the cognitive distortion that I have no choices in my treatment and in my recovery.

 

I continue to reframe their distortions by affirming to them that I *always* have a choice.

 

I regret to report that I have not been the safest during this hospital stay. I spent a couple of nights alone in the Quiet Room. I’ve self-harmed in new, rather ingenious, ways. I have the scars to prove it and I’ve attempted to kill myself on more than one occasion.

 

To cope with this, they’ve changed my medications while I’ve been here and I’ve received six rounds of electroconvulsive therapy or ECT.

 

I carry around my stuffed animal dog, who has been renamed Ruby, like a child lost in the mall.

 

I am a child lost in this psychiatric unit. My security blanket has been snatched away and I’m left wondering how much of that my fault is.

 

My brain reminds me that I am a burden to those around me. It reminds me that I am a waste of space and that I can’t even kill myself properly.

 

I fear that I’ll die in here. I fear that I may not be strong enough.

 

But I have to put on a brave face. I can’t let them see how weak I feel. Because I *am* strong. And I am brave. And this situation is merely temporary.

 

I will survive this. I will get better. Sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.

 

This is just a roadblock in my recovery journey. The real work begins outside of here.

 

I may not always want to live but I can still choose to take a deep breath, pause in my journey and begin again.

 

I don’t always wish to be here–both on the unit and in the world at all–but I’ve got to be strong.

 

I’ve got to be strong for you, for me, for all of us.

 

This is my confession: I still struggle, too.

 

And, I know I’m going to get through this.

 

I have to; because my story isn’t over yet.

 

And my legacy is just beginning.

 

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

 

And recognize that you could be the shining beacon in someone else’s life.

 

Don’t deprive the world of your sparkle.

 

If no one has told you today: You matter. You are important. Without you, I’d be more lost than I would be found.

 

Shine brightly, and thank you for existing.

 


And now a small discussion piece:

I hope that you have enjoyed the production of this article and that it gives you some sense of faith, not alone-ness, pleasure, enjoyment and the strength that you DO have within your soul to face another day and PUNCH your mental illness IN THE FACE like a BOSS!

Today is the first day since I’ve been out of the hospital where I am feeling happy and inspired! My OWN words have inspired me as I had to read and re-read them over and over again to get from 1,034 words down to about 850 words! Also, I’ve been listening to good music such as “We Are Okay” by Joshua Radin and legit “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus because I seriously had that song stuck in my head throughout my hospitalization, no joke (I’ve also written an article about that which you’ll see later on).

I would also like to submit the full version of this article that actually was more of a journal entry sometime in the future, but not now and not today. You will see it though because I plan on typing and uploading all of my journal entries from when I was in the hospital to my blog and other locations (like deviantART).

PS DC stands for Douche Canoe. 😉 And I actually made them a bracelet, that I left behind on the hook in my room, that says “Douche”. 😀 It’s unlikely but I really REALLY hope they get it delivered to them!!

 

Thank you for reading!! And of course, for the amazing SUPPORT! You know who you are. ❤ ❤ ❤ This article was written 10.15.2017