Now, I can't take full credit for my decision to check myself into the hospital. I have a very understanding friend up at school who stayed up talking with me many nights before she convinced me I couldn't keep living like this. I would have settled for her to say I couldn't keep living, but she meant I couldn't keep living like that. I didn't think the hospital would be able to help me unless I had actually attempted some form of craziness. It turns out, they trust you if you claim to be crazy. I guess, they would have to for liability purposes--or maybe they could tell that I hadn't been sleeping and my thoughts were racing.
I met a lot of interesting people in the hospital. I spent a lot of time alone, lying in bed, looking at the ceiling. I was fortunate enough to work every day with a great therapist and psychiatrist. The hospital was a safe environment for me to heal. It was, of course, unpleasant, but when I feel that depressed, anything is unpleasant. Plus, the hospital really put things in perspective for me. I learned school isn't everything. I also was reminded what an incredibly strong support system I have. Thank you to everyone who continues to love and support me.
I have been writing a lot of poems since the hospital. It is one of the only things giving me any sense of solace. My poetry professor was very supportive of the three I showed him. I also just won a poetry prize at my school. I'm beginning to feel like a poet.
I am supposed to return to school and work this week. I don't feel ready, but I know I need to return to some sort of normal schedule. I realize it will take a long time to really see results. That's the logical side in me talking. I actually still feel very poorly. I get my truth from emotions, so it's hard for me to believe I will get better when I am still overcome with the despair, guilt, and hopelessness caused by this illness. I feel like I will never get better. I try to let logic rule, though. When I'm paralyzed in bed many times a day, it's hard to keep believing in healing. I've asked friends and family for prayers. I try to take comfort in the connection that gives me. I am seeing a real therapist again. I am trying with everything I have to feel okay. I just still have trouble functioning. I'm always sooo tired whether I've slept or not. I also hate trying to sleep, because it forces me to be alone with my thoughts, and I hate the potential of tossing and turning all night. That only amplifies my hopelessness, so I would almost rather stay up all night by choice than try to sleep. I know I have to try to sleep to get better, though.
Today my dad asked me what it felt like to be sick like this. It's the first time he didn't just tell me to cheer up. He did say that he didn't understand how I could feel hopeless when I have so much going for me, but he listened to how I feel, and I was honest. It was a big step for both of us. I just hope I can get better soon, so everyone can stop worrying. I hate making people worry.
