A GRIM REALITY
I made a promise to myself when I began to share my journey with you that I would be as open and honest as I can in order to end the stigma surrounding mental illness while trying to heal my hidden scars. So in keeping with my promise I wanted to take you inside another despairing side of my reality, one that I share with millions of others who also feel hopeless and scared.
I made a promise to myself when I began to share my journey with you that I would be as open and honest as I can in order to end the stigma surrounding mental illness while trying to heal my hidden scars. So in keeping with my promise I wanted to take you inside another despairing side of my reality, one that I share with millions of others who also feel hopeless and scared.
Over the last month I have been feeling an overwhelming amount of vulnerability and it has been strongly “encouraged”, several times in the last little while that I go to the hospital in order to keep me safe and help me heal some of my mental and physical exhaustion (“encouraged” by the way is code for being told that the last thing anyone wants is to have to get the authorities involved, which, sadly I am no stranger to).
Hospital stays, whether it has been for 1 night or 3.5 months, have not proven to be much of a victory for me but I understand their necessity sometimes which is why last night I got the courage while desperately clinging to what little hope I have left in me and entered a hospital emergency room yet again (with my hubby by my side). After a few hours of meeting with several doctors and nurses I was told that they had no beds available and that they will be transferring me to a nearby hospital they are affiliated with and just so happens to be world renowned.
Panic began to hit me at the thought of doing this all over again and I wanted to run but it was too late. So we waited for the paperwork and headed to the next emergency room where I was told a team would be there to speak with me, and oh ya I was also told they had a bed for me…well guess what, they lied to us because there was no bed available and it was just a ploy and their way of passing the buck. And that is when I actually did run, right after being told that I would most likely be put on a 72 hour hold (something I was trying to avoid by voluntarily entering the hospital). A hold would mean I could not leave the hospital by law and would be left to wait in a holding area with only a hospital gown to wear until a bed became available.
I couldn’t do it and even my husband began to panic at the thought of leaving me there all alone. Last night broke me a little more and I didn’t think that was possible but all I wanted was to find that glimmer of hope and all I witnessed was how many desparate people there are out there suffering like me, trying to do the right thing, trying to find a safe place and trying to heal but are not able to because there are not enough beds to go around in order to keep up with the demand of people battling this cruel and relentless disease.
I am left this morning more confused than ever, feeling more hopeless than ever and wondering what now? Do I continue to hospital hop in hopes of finding a bed or do I allow my intrusive thoughts to win? How is any of this helpful or fair?
#sicknotweak #whatnow #endthestigmatogether #youareenough #depressionkills #anxietyisreal #mentalillness #itsoktonotbeok