This will probably be the shortest of the four parts.
If inpatient is any indicator of what jail is like, I will be a law-abiding citizen for all of my days. I don’t like the feeling of having my freedom to choose taken away. That’s the entire point: to take away your ability to hurt yourself when you don’t have the perspective to make that choice yourself. But compulsory group gym time, restrictions on the kind of clothes you can wear, and counting of silverware before you can leave meals? No, thank you.
That being said, there is such an incredible spirit of healing in that place. It was just overwhelming, the feeling of the therapeutic energy that filled every corner. I know not all of you are religious, but I am, and I entirely believe that God is paying special attention to his children in need of mental health care.
When I checked into that place and curled up on the non-threatening sheets, I felt like I had hit the absolute bottom. I felt that there was no lower I could go.
Little did I know, the bottom could get lower, but finding it was an important step.
The thing about finding the bottom is that when you’re drowning, the bottom is the only place you could possibly spring off from. I know I’m not the first one to say that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
There is a dark kind of comedy to be found when you’ve survived so many things you thought would just kill you and you’re still there.
When I left BHC, I was not better. Not really. They talked me off the ledge, but my counselor very nearly had to put me back in the following week.
But that week when I had to get back to my life, I felt like nothing could stop me because the worst, the lowest had not stopped me. And that was powerful.
Don’t be afraid of finding the bottom. Don’t be afraid to get help. Do be afraid if the help they offer doesn’t fix everything. Don’t be afraid if you don’t feel better when you think you ‘should.’ Don’t be afraid to be healed. Don’t be afraid. And if you are afraid, that’s okay, too.