Psych ward

People always seem to want to share on Facebook when they're sick - it can be anything from a cold, to having to be in a hospital.

I'm in the hospital, but I didn't, until now, feel comfortable sharing it with the world. Why? Because I'm not here for a broken leg, a bursting appendix, nor any other physical injuries. I'm here because my brain isn't working right.
You might have guessed it from the title, but I'm going to say it anyways: I'm in the psychiatric ward.
I've been here for almost a week now, and I'm finally starting to feel better.

Admitting to a mental illness still feels stigmatized, if not taboo.
If your body isn't doing what it's supposed to, or you've somehow gotten hurt, it's alright. It wasn't your fault.
Even though I have received an almost overwhelming amount of support from those I've told, I still feel a bit scared admitting the fact that my brain is/was working against me.
Surely, I must have been taking drugs, or not taken my meds, or perhaps just not thought enough positive thoughts, right?
Wrong.
And surely, I must have gone completely coo-coo and/or tried to kill myself, right?
Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Though there are things you can do to improve and keep your mental health, lots of people just can't help it.
I don't excactly know how it works, but I remember hearing several places that many mental illnesses stem from having the wrong ratio of various chemicals in your brain.
There are people of all shapes and sizes here, and I have not yet seen someone as crazy as they are in the movies. No one who thinks they're Napoleon, no one who shouts at someone who isn't there. The people here are ordinary people whose brains simply won't co-operate.

One thing is other people's bias, another is my own. I don't know what set it off, but I feel so afraid of admitting that I can't always control my brain, because of not wanting to seem weak or attention-seeking, that it took me almost two weeks to seek help.
Two weeks of knowing something was horribly wrong, but being too scared to do anything about it.
That's not how it's supposed to be.

Mental illness isn't like having a cold, (which I coincidentally also have at the moment) where you just have to rest for a few days. You have to do everything in your power to keep your sanity, even if it means having yourself admitted like I did, and taking medicines that make you tired.

I am so glad my family and friends have been so supportive about all this. Even in here, I meet people whose families are mad at them for being in the psych ward. People whose families take it personal or don't understand why they have to "act that way".

It takes a lot for a person to admit to something being wrong with them, this also applies to physical ailments.
I hope we one day have a world where no one was raised to "tough it out" no matter the ailment.
I'm very glad I was taught it's okay to seek help where help is needed.

"I don't know"

I used to answer almost every question with "I don't know".
People mistook it for ambivalence, carelessness, or the lack of intelligence. None of those things are true.
Instead, it came from a lack of belief. Just a few years ago, I was so lost and everything felt so hopeless, that I didn't dare to believe in or dream about the future.

"What education do you want?" "I don't know". In this sense, "I don't know" meant "I've tried so many times and failed, that I feel like I'll never be able to accomplish it anyways, so I don't want to get my hopes up.", but "I don't know" was the easier answer.

People also kept telling me that I deserved to be happy and live a happy life with a nice job and a nice partner, in a nice apartment. Nice was more that I dared to hope for, even a year ago. How could I get a nice job when I could barely attend school without it going wrong?  How could I get a nice partner when I continuously kept failing at relationships and ending up with shitty or unfulfilling partners? How could I get a nice apartment when I had never been able to keep one up?


In social psychiatry, we're often told that what sparks the recovery can come from the strangest of places. Even if you accept all the help you're offered, it can take years until something triggers something in you that makes it go so much faster. And that's what happened to me. I can't put a finger on it, but something in me recently lit a though-to-be-long-lost fire, and I'm finally daring to hope and/or believe in a good future for myself.

I've begun painting again, something I lost the inspiration to do when I was at my lowest, I'm moving out soon, and into my very own place. And most importantly, I have concrete thoughts about the future. Realistic expectations.
My expectations felt realistic when I was in my "I don't know" phase as well, in the sense that it seemed realistic that I would never have a good future, but now I see that they were perhaps the most unrealistic.
It's not realistic that I'll end up living on the street, unloved and alone. And that is because I'm fighting. I'm trying to improve myself, I reach my hand out, and take the hands I'm offered.
They always say that part of the path to recovering from a problem is admitting there is a problem you need help with. I say it's just as important to allow yourself to accept that help, but you can't do that until you dare hope that things will be better than what they are.

Hope is important. Hope can sometimes be what drives us.

The fact that I'm daring to have hopes for the future shows, to me, that my life has improved, and that I'm seeing that improvement. I'm daring to hope it will continue.

Bravery

People talk about bravery as if it's easy to gain. Movies portray it as something you achieve when it matters the most.
The reality, however, seems to be that it has to be learned, which is harder for some people than others.

What excactly is bravery? What does it mean, how do you define it?

Some people seem to think that daring to do potentially reckless, stupid and/or dangerous things is brave. Others define it as standing up for what you believe in, while some see it as being good/calm under pressure and in dangerous situations.
I see bravery as confidence.

Man, I wish I was brave.
I want to be confident in my actions, abilities and beliefs, and I want to feel safe telling others about it.
But, I'm not.
I used to be, I think. But somewhere along the way, I lost that nearly blind faith in myself I so admire in others, and I want it back.
Some degree of doubt is healthy, but does too much doubt a coward make?

And is it necessary to be brave all the time, or is it healthy to hold back and think twice once in a while?

I wish I was so brave that I'd shout things from the rooftops. Not that I think it'd do any good, but isn't it a metaphor for being so proud of who you are that you don't care who knows?

I guess in order to get there, I first need to find out who I am, and accept it.
But what if I can't accept what I find out? Does that mean I'm not brave?
Does it mean I'm a hipocrite, since I'm so openly telling people to let others be who they are?

These questions, as well as how I can regain confidence and faith in myself, are what keeps me up at night.

And finally, how come the inspiration to write always seems to come to me when I'm tired and should be asleep?

"Smile at the hidden camera"

I try to keep at positive outlook on things most of the time, but lately, it's been rough. The past week has been a string of failures and bad news, and the feeling of inadequacy is strong.
I'm somehow halfway expecting some idiot to jump out from behind a bush and yell "surprise! You've been pranked! Smile at the hidden cameras there, there, and there!", that it's all just a cruel joke taken way too far.

I won't go into detail about what the things are, but I will say this: I am painfully aware of my shortcomings at the moment. I've cried a lot recently, and I can't sit still, nor keep eyecontact.

As I said, I try to keep a positive attitude. And although time moves very slowly at the moment, I try to take it one step at a time.
One, or even more than a few minor setbacks should'nt get in the way of the overall process of improvement I've been told I'm in.

The hardest parts of getting better, for me, has been accepting that sometimes, I don't feel so good, and also being able to talk about it. Being honest with people about how I'm doing, and putting words to my thoughts.
Accepting you don't feel great also means allowing yourself to feel negative emotions like pain and sadness, and for me, that also means learning how to deal with those emotions in a healthy way.

When all else fails, when I'm alone with my thoughts, I've got stuffed animals to hug. And the internet.

The buddhists have a saying: 'This shall pass'.
Nothing is permanent. Even though emotions like sadness, anger, anxiety, and heartbreak, sometimes feel like they'll go on forever, they won't. And that's important to remember.

I'm not trying to convey some profound wisdom by writing all this, I just wanted to share some thoughts of mine, get them out of my system.
Because right now, I'm alone with my thoughts, and it's hard to sleep even though I'm exhausted and need to get up early tomorrow.

But don't worry about me. I've got supportive people around me, in my life, and I know there's light at the end of each tunnel. Even though that light is sometimes hard to see, I just gotta keep on going, one step at a time.