This past week I've had a wake-up call. After an attempt to take my own life, I was hospitalized. I spent all last week in the psych ward in the local hospital. Tuesday night, the night I was admitted into the hospital, was one of the worst nights of my life. It was tough to see how much I've hurt my parents and I was scared. I had no clue what was going to come next. I didn't know what was going to happen to me, and I had no clue when I would get home.
Wednesday was a better day. Even though, I woke up in a room other than my own, had no clue what was going on, didn't know when my parents would bring me my clothes, and was frankly just wondering how I got to this point. Everyone in the unit was nice, and the nurses were wonderful. I would attend groups every time they had one, and would try to talk to other patients. The psych unit in this hospital was small, there were only 7 people when I got there, and four were discharged within the first two days I was there. Anyways, one of my first groups that I attended was about self-esteem and how we should look at the glass half full instead of empty. So another patient was talking and I said "You know, we all should look at the glass half full, instead of empty" and the Occupational Therapist (OT) responds "What if it's completely empty?" I responded "Well then you better call over the waiter to refill your cup." The groups throughout the week were filled "half-full" comments. It became a way for everyone to joke, but still remain serious.
Throughout the week, in between groups and meals, I would have some time to think about stuff. Think about how I got here, what I need to work on, what I need to change, and how I can accomplish life when I get discharged.
Yesterday, Monday, I was discharged from the hospital. I spent one week in the adult psych ward. Do I regret going willingly? No, because I've come to terms with my illness, I've come to terms with my self-harming, and more importantly, I've come to terms with myself. When I was told that I could go, I felt strong, I still feel strong. Do I regret getting to the point that suicide was my only way out? Yes, I could have used my support lines, but decided not to. But, I've learned that getting to this point wasn't my choice. It was God's. I wouldn't have survived this past week if it wasn't for my faith.
The other thing that I've come to terms with is that I'm not going to look back and go "Man, how stupid was I." Mainly, because that's distorted thinking and the OT would not like knowing that I have distorted thinking ;) But I will look back and state how strong I was. How strong I was to have won, and to have keep on living. I might have faltered a couple times, but I've become stronger. And I know with the help of God's love and guidance and with the support from my family and friends I will even get stronger.
I want to end this blog with a little note, okay a few notes, but bear with me. God does have a plan. No matter how tough life may get, he's always with you. If you told me this I wouldn't believe you, especially in the psych ward, but when I had deja vu in the middle of one of my groups. I knew that God was watching out from me ever since I was born.
Also, a problem is always temporary. No matter how big it is. You would never want to make a permanent solution to a temporary problem, right? (see nurse, I do listen!)
These are my last two words of wisdom. One from a fortune cookie that I ate yesterday and one from a friend.
"Stay in touch, above all, with how you feel" - fortune cookie
"Believe in yourself and all that you are. Know that there is something inside you that is greater than any obstacle."
Oh, and remember that if your glass is ever half-empty or just empty call the waiter over to refill it for you!
God bless,
Cae ♥
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