Today was a difficult day. Nausea from the antibiotic, working from home and seeing requests I know that I would have picked up if I was feeling like a human being, and going to pool with Saltines to quell the nausea because otherwise we would have had to forfeit. Thankfully I played first, so I'm home now instead of 11 or 12 pm like normal.
On top of that, it was the monthly meeting with my psychiatrist. I vented some of the rage about my family and actually cried in his office for the first time in years, especially since I was physically feeling so shitty overall. We're trying to up one of the meds to compensate for the last month of serious depression.
And we discussed the hospital. He was surprised to hear that unless I was absolutely desperate I wouldn't go back since it was one of the most helpless experiences I've ever experienced, except for when I was going through multiple surgeries after a botched appendix operation. Then I had my parents constantly there as advocates, and this was when I was 20 so it was normal. I'd never really lived on my own before. Then, with the rift between my family and purposely planning the act while my parents were cross-country, I was on my own, which sadly fit the situation. My sister visited, which I appreciated, but considering that she and I have so many issues, it made it harder in some ways.
Do I think that the hospital stay saved my life? Definitely. Yet it brought home to me just how much can be taken away from you in every possible way. Possessions, freedom, privacy, and the basic sense that you are a person who exists in the real world. And I was in a great facility compared to others!
Would I voluntarily go again? I don't think so. I've learned to endure, to wait until there's a chance of feeling normal again, or at least on the way up from the bottom. After so many years in practice, I'm surprised he hasn't encountered this attitude more often.
Maybe it's because I'm so used to being independent. Maybe it's because I've learned not to count on others and to rely on my own self to make the basics of life; pay rent, make it to work, and manage my own apartment and expenses after college. Maybe it's because I've endured so much that I can look back and know there will at some point be a better day, and another, and another if you just keep living in the real world and not the hospitalized, sanitized, protected world.
I know some people would prefer that world where decisions are made for you, a strict schedule is followed, and any of the responsibilities and pressures of the daily grind are not present. I am not one of them, having experienced both paradigms. And I'm thankful for that.
On top of that, it was the monthly meeting with my psychiatrist. I vented some of the rage about my family and actually cried in his office for the first time in years, especially since I was physically feeling so shitty overall. We're trying to up one of the meds to compensate for the last month of serious depression.
And we discussed the hospital. He was surprised to hear that unless I was absolutely desperate I wouldn't go back since it was one of the most helpless experiences I've ever experienced, except for when I was going through multiple surgeries after a botched appendix operation. Then I had my parents constantly there as advocates, and this was when I was 20 so it was normal. I'd never really lived on my own before. Then, with the rift between my family and purposely planning the act while my parents were cross-country, I was on my own, which sadly fit the situation. My sister visited, which I appreciated, but considering that she and I have so many issues, it made it harder in some ways.
Do I think that the hospital stay saved my life? Definitely. Yet it brought home to me just how much can be taken away from you in every possible way. Possessions, freedom, privacy, and the basic sense that you are a person who exists in the real world. And I was in a great facility compared to others!
Would I voluntarily go again? I don't think so. I've learned to endure, to wait until there's a chance of feeling normal again, or at least on the way up from the bottom. After so many years in practice, I'm surprised he hasn't encountered this attitude more often.
Maybe it's because I'm so used to being independent. Maybe it's because I've learned not to count on others and to rely on my own self to make the basics of life; pay rent, make it to work, and manage my own apartment and expenses after college. Maybe it's because I've endured so much that I can look back and know there will at some point be a better day, and another, and another if you just keep living in the real world and not the hospitalized, sanitized, protected world.
I know some people would prefer that world where decisions are made for you, a strict schedule is followed, and any of the responsibilities and pressures of the daily grind are not present. I am not one of them, having experienced both paradigms. And I'm thankful for that.
posted by AnonymousX at 8:46 PM
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