one week, two hospitals, two wildly different experiences.
four long, long days of locked doors and mesh security window grills. of screaming and wailing, both distant and close by. of ‘medical’ restraints and crisis alarms. vandalised walls and expletives. children tucked away in a dingy basement, waving at people who don’t wave back. nurses that yell “shut up”.
(to put it across plainly:) days filled with shit and piss and vomit. pacing the room for hours on end. staring into space. head-banging, skin-gnawing, scratching, pinching, anything to quieten the noise within and around. medication four times a day.
but most importantly! the friends i made in this “hell” (i.e., people who understand completely, people like me, people i have heart-to-heart talks with sitting cross-legged on the floor). and the things i’ve learnt: that the illness is not my fault but my responsibility. that it is okay to be (truly,completely) vulnerable. that recovery is an ongoing, lifelong process. that only i can save myself.
i am home! snuggling in bed. the bad thoughts still come in waves, and when they do, the bad feelings hit hhhhard. but i am home, i am home, and i am so loved, and i (got to convince myself) i have so much to live for.
returning to school (to life,) next week with a vengeance.
a face in the crowd 