My stint in a psychiatric hospital

So where do I start? Perhaps from the beginning. I have been reserved in sharing this post due to its personal and absolutely raw nature however in my healing journey, I think it's time. After my recent admission to a psychiatric facility, I never thought about writing or what to write about but I think it's time I shared my story and what I have learnt in hospital.

Technically, my depression started in 2015. Whilst the family mourned my mother's death, I tried to keep it together and be another "mother" figure in the family. That was my down fall. I didn't grieve like I'm supposed to and I didn't cry as much as I should have. It eventually caught up with me and I noticed every single day of driving to work I just wanted to burst into tears and lie in a corner somewhere. It carried on for weeks of not months, mind you I had just given birth so the circumstances weren't the best.

Still miserable I pushed on, everyday trying to find a positive outlook and prayed excessively for some kind of healing. Until one day. One day I made a mistake and there was no going back from it. Of course I know that there are many people who made the same mistake I did (they just weren't found) I had to face severe consequences.

From that experience I knew I needed intervention of another kind. Sure I'm on meds but they weren't helping so my doctor and I came up with a solution. I had to be admitted and I had to go through the program to properly heal and find the source of my problems.

Now unemployed and in the waiting room of my life, I have to reflect on my life. I have to reshuffle the deck if you will. The tunnel I was in, was dark and the light seemed to be barred from entry so I walked alone on a path I didn't know where I was heading to. It felt like being outside of your body looking in and feeling like you can't find the light switch to make the room brighter. It was an endless tunnel that I wobbled everyday through not realising that this isn't going to magic

I remember the first night at the hospital, I clutched my tummy and rocked back and forth wailing for my baby. I suffered the same fate as the days went on. That week was the longest and most terrifying week of my life. How did I get here? I asked myself that question and I didn't know how to answer myself. All I felt was this ache in my belly because I missed my baby so much that I could feel the seperation until a kind occupational therapist told me "You are doing this for your baby".

Days passed and my pain was slowly decreasing as I took in the therapy and gave it a chance. I came all this way so I had to give it a chance right? All day was endless and I longed to hold my four month old baby.

After losing so many things, I felt "how would I face the world?" A question that I still feel very much so as I type this.

Being in that facility, made me feel less alone about what I was going through and I realised normal plain Jane's walk around with mental health disorders and you would never know. Hearing the stories of people aged as young as 19 all the way to 60 years old was my reassurance that depression knows no age, religion or ethnicity.

One of the main therapy sessions was who to keep in your filing cabinet and who to get rid off. It's almost like you have files in your life and the moment it's full, it's time to make some space in those files. Be it removing things from the files (like people) to made the file less heavy or archiving and dealing with them when you are ready. The one thing that I had to face was the ugly truth and that was, it's every person for themselves and friend or not, there's certain things you have to face alone with nobody holding your hand or a shoulder to cry on.

This entire process has taught me that it's time to reshuffle the deck again. I think I have been through one of the hardest times in my life and in my depression and anxiety journey, the lowest of the low was being admitted. Stripped of how you live your day to day life and completely removed front civilisation is something so vulnerable and difficult. Being admitted felt like the days were a blur and I hope to never experience that again.

Prior to being admitted, alot went on. Let's just say if my husband didn't call me when he did I would not be here so God's timing came through for me. I really don't know what life was like before I was admitted and right now as I type this I don't know what life has in store for me. What I do know is that the best part of being this low is that it can only go up from here.

Thanks to my team of doctors I was able to get the help that I needed so very badly but felt ashamed to admit it. I left it for ten whole years until I grieved. Boy, did I cry! Kims ugly crying face had nothing on me. I do know that I'm not where I'm supposed to be but I came this far and I have abit of faith that I'll heal.

Healing is a journey on it's own. Just as you take a step front, some days you feel like you have back tracked. Simple things get to you like the tone of the person when they talk to you or when you notice people slipping away from your reach when you need them the most.

During my experience at Akeso, I was baffled by how many "normal" looking people were admitted there. One was a head of sales, the other worked for the municipality, a few teachers and a stay at home Mom. They all had the same problem as I did. I tried my best to listen to their stories about what their lives were like but I couldn't fully engage because I was elsewhere, drifting into the abyss and waiting to go home.

Talking to a bunch of strangers about I felt was nerve wrecking and even though you may think it's easier - it's not. I longed for the visiting hours to gain some normalcy to see my family but when that was over, it was back to square one. Healing is ugly. Healing is not easy. Healing is painful and uncomfortable and it cannot be covered up. You should never cover up your healing and the people that love you will love you at your lowest and rise with you at your highest.

Admitting you have a problem is one of the most hardest things you will ever have to do because in our minds, we feel like it will make us weaker. Pretending is what actually makes us weaker. I feel relieved that I don't have to pretend anymore because it felt like an 8-4hour shift. My home support system has been amazing and I couldn't ask for a more understanding family. I am so grateful for that.

One thing that stood out to me was when my doctor had asked me "what makes you happy" besides family, besides a person, I didn't have an answer that was truthful. I guess I'm navigating that as we go along.

I am hopeful for the future. Today might be a bad day but bad days don't mean you have a bad life. I keep telling myself that and even though I'm not okay right now, at least I have hope. Thank you to the ones that reached out and stood by side. Iv never known loneliness at this level before. To my husband, father and sister - I could not have made it through the endless darkness without you all.

Just as a lion rests and may cower in his cave, he will soon road and claim the kingdom. I see myself as a lion. I will reclaim all that I have lost and be brave once more. The old me is gone. She doesn't live here anymore and when she's healed, she will resurface stronger than ever.