I have been M.I.A. from this blog long enough for it to deserve some explanation. It wasn´t that I didn’t feel motivated and inspired to write another post, in fact, I have a few of them written waiting to be published. All of them were very enjoyable to produce and I can’t wait to get back on the horse after a long time of being away.
The truth is, I have to address some very personal issues I have been struggling with for past few years. I promised myself I will be open about my problems even here and therefore I am making this post solely about mental health.
I had a blast this summer. I went to a festival, to a historical fair, spent a lot of time with my friends and family, visited my cousins and played with their kids. All in all I had fun. But behind all this eventful period of my life, I felt something wasn’t right. I stopped sleeping for a few days and felt energized and productive and I didn’t even realize there could be something wrong with me. Though I knew something was there as if lurking from the deep dark waters, a heavy boulder I carried wherever I went. I thought I could solve it on my own, but after a few days of no change I called my psychiatrist and she prescribed me new pills. Mood stabilizers. The depression was, however, unbearable. I spent most of my summer being tired of people I loved dearly and had no energy to do simple tasks like clean up and shower. I felt worthless and ashamed.
As a result of feeling like nobody, I started cutting regularly, which never happened in such scale, and putting out cigarettes on my wrists. I still didn’t accept something was horribly wrong, until one day I came to a conclusion I killed a few people in my town and started to hear my own laugh in my head in the evenings. Since the beginning of September, a new symptom of shaking hands and rattling teeth became my daily bread and I decided that the hospitalization is inevitable.
I spent two weeks at a psychiatric ward of a hospital that is an hour ride on train from my town. First, I was in the closed part of the ward since I stated I am suicidal and I had self-harming tendencies. They took everything from us we could use as a weapon: strings from pajama pants, mirrors, cigarettes, pens. The cigarettes were given out every two hours or so and one elderly lady had pencils with a colouring book on her, so they weren’t as strict after some time of being there. I made some friends there, because what else could you do there other than sleep and chat. I came to realize that lately, my closest friends come from mental hospitals.
After five excruciatingly long days I was discharged from the closed ward and sent to open ward. First thing I noticed was the mirror. I had a previous experience of a patient smashing it and starting to cut their throath until the nurses came to tie her up on the bed. So there is an explanation to every rule. Open ward was swell. We had access to everything at the hospital, could walk anywhere we wanted, we were only bound by pills and meal time. I ran way one day with a friend to the city to get some icecream and I must say, it was the best decision at the time.
I have spent there two weeks total. Got a new diagnosis. Gained a few beautiful and admirable friends with tough life stories of their own. Got a perspective for my own life and straightened myself up a little. Moral of the story? I have no idea to be honest. Life is worth living, but meds are meds. Once you dive into the murky waters of mental problems, it is hard to surface above it again. But until the next period of sadness comes, I will keep my head up as high as possible 🙂