A Voluntary Hospitalization

Yesterday I was released from a week-long stay at Emory Wesley Woods, a psychiatric care facility. My seventh hospitalization, but my first voluntary one! While I knew it was a possibility that I would need to return to the hospital I was certainly hoping it would be several more years down the road.

So what happened? I was depressed without being hopeless and suicidal without wanting to die. Not a healthy place and also not nearly as bad a spot as I've found myself. Since the start of August my mind has been slowly working against me. Throwing up thoughts of worthlessness and vivid imagery of ways I could hurt myself. I wanted none of these so I doubled-down on my coping skills, pulled back from all non-essential work and life projects, and tried to focus on getting my mind back on track. Trouble was, I was losing.

My stays in hospitals were a journey in rage and continued disbelief. I hated being locked in a building and monitored round-the-clock. I never felt comfortable being rude to the staff so I directed all that anger at myself, which led to ever-worsening self hatred. That is pretty counter to a healthy recovery and I suffered more for it.

This time around was different for three reasons;

First, I told my sister I didn’t feel safe by myself. This was a huge step for me. I used to keep my suicidal thoughts secret which gave them an inordinate amount of power over me. By telling Caitlin I offloaded some of the pressure and that opened the door to her suggesting that I go to the hospital. I had been considering that option for a few days but still thought I could use my tools and get out of this rut. Then on 8/23 I had a massive wake-up call. I spent all day at work outside with my crew. We told jokes, enjoyed the sunshine, and I got some time to practice on the excavator and even got to set a street light with the line truck. All things that one their own lead to a pretty good mood for me. Together that is a recipe for the perfect day. I felt nothing and that terrified me.

Second, I gave my sister permission to come get me. Once I did this all the pressure was off me. I didn’t have to worry about transportation to the ER, and if I didn’t feel capable of talking with the doctors then she knew enough about my medical history to tell them what they needed to know. It was also important that I had someone with me at the ER. I didn’t mind that my sister was an extra set of eyes on me because I’ve had the eyes of a security guard on me and they just aren’t the same.

Finally, I didn’t look at my time in the hospital as a loss. I still can’t quite call it an investment but it was a necessary stoppage. Just like when a coach calls timeout while her team is winning. Sometimes players can lose sight of the goal when they’re far out ahead, and the last two years I’ve been far, far ahead of my depression. Then it comes roaring back and I needed for life to stop so I could re-establish my lead.

A big, big thank you to the professionals at Emory University Hospital and Emory Wesley Woods. Your care and compassion were most appreciated and I’m happy to have my mind back.

I’m off to enjoy a long weekend without having to get my vitals taken every morning, and I’ll be back to writing as usual next week.