Day 3
And the sun rises on my third day. It is important to note at this point that technically I have not been here 72 hours. I arrived Tuesday and today is only Thursday, but 2 nights feels like 3 days to me. Homesickness has truly found a place inside of me and I am more than ready to go home. The amount of anxiety that I have continually had since arriving is truly astounding considering how beautifully I have handled it. In here though one only has to worry about themselves. Past, present and future, none of it matters. In fact nothing else matters in here except for the body that carries the mind that brought you here in the first place.
As I sit here on my bed and write there is finally something worth taking notice of outside the window. The sun shines on my journal almost divinely (this is the moment I decide I will somehow eventually share what I have written down). Outside of the window I notice a wonderful orange hue as the sun rises and is set so benevolently against a beautiful azure blue rising across a deeply saturated green tree line. It is a new day and I am excited to venture into it knowing that I can make my own happiness.
Although it hurts my hand and my penmanship is hardly legible there is something deeply cathartic about writing in this journal. A simple pen and paper. No keys to push, no auto correct or spelling check, just the pen that kisses the paper as I share more about myself with this journal than I have with any living thing in quite some time. I can simply write how I feel. There is no judgment on this paper. There is no right or wrong. I can choose to punctuate however I would like and the best feeling of all… I can simply leave it be and never pay any attention to it again. In this moment I realize that I may not leave today (though it is voluntary and I could leave at any point) and I feel okay with that. I feel surprised at how strong I am. I liken myself to an old home. Built methodically with love and patience. Through the years renovations have been done. New layers of paint applied both inside and out. Now in this moment, in here, all of that has been stripped away. There is nothing left but the home itself just as it was when it was first built. From here the home can become whatever the builder wants it to be. Through a special guidance I know this home will be the most pleasing version that it can be.
I had to change rooms last night around 3 a.m.; I actually know what time it was because I checked at the nurses’ station. My new roommate snores louder and with more raucous than I have ever heard. I get out of bed and Thank God, my Heavenly Father, for all that I am and more importantly all that I can be. I brush my teeth and learn that the mechanically automated sink in which you push a button to receive water for an allotted amount of time is either broken or thinks it funny to only give me water in 2 second bursts. Once I feel satisfied that my teeth are clean I make my bed for what I can only hope is the last time and I pull my hoodie over my head. About that time Linda pokes her head in my door and cheerfully says “come on baby it’s time for breakfast”. We all trek down the hall to the dining area and receive our trays. I was delighted to open my styrofoam clamshell serving container to see bacon. The joy I felt seeing that bacon was tremendous and I finally began to understand living in the moment.
The next couple hours go much like the day before except for my goal of the day was “to go home and start my life on my own”. I had finally succumbed to the pangs of homesickness. During morning activity we watch the news once again and I stretch out feeling renewed. The social worker shares a delightful thought with us, “happiness is a place between too little and too much”. It is a Finnish proverb. God Bless Finland! When morning activity is done I find myself walking up and down the hallway stopping at each end to stretch. I was anxious to see the psychiatrist and time could not move fast enough, but each second down was another second closer to possibly leaving. I finally settled in the small activity area and began asking everyone how they slept which everyone replied unanimously that they slept great. There is something to be said about receiving sleep medication each night.
Finally it was time for group therapy. Once again I was excited because after all group went so well the day before. This time I placed myself in the back of the dining area with some SnackWells Devil’s Food cookies. I think I have found a new vice. I was quiet today and just tried to take in what John said. He spoke about death and how as humans we never accept death for being as final as it truly is, we simply push it away with sayings like “grandmother has passed” or “grandfather is in a better place”. John explains that we should have our time and realize that this is in effect the end of a chapter in our life, but on a brighter note we never know how great things can become in the next if, and this is a big if, we decide to make them so. “Tomorrow is never promised” he says and asks if anyone knows why. I stay quiet much like the rest of the room until someone says “because tomorrow is today”. I was taken back by this. How can a saying I have heard so many times before all of a sudden mean so much? “EXACTLY!” John exclaims. “So if tomorrow is today than we have to start living for today. We have to actively work to fix our problems”. John brings up my analogy about the work truck and says that it takes much more knowledge and strength to know our limits then it does to push ourselves beyond them. This goes against everything I have ever been told. My entire life has been about pushing myself to overcome all the fears that hold me back. I certainly should never give into them. This speaks volumes to me. Realizing that I should never try to push myself past the point of breaking, and finding my limits and knowing them, and thusly improving upon them. Once again I am rescued by a nurse saying it is my turn to meet with the psychiatrist.
The walk down the hall seems to take forever but I do not rush it. Doing so would seem to go against something in me and given the amount of homesickness I currently have I am not quite sure what. I enter the room and sit down. This time I say nothing. I stay seated waiting for the psychiatrist to speak to me. She looks up and asks me “how do you feel today?” Without hesitation I say “hopeful” and all at once the flood gates open. I am hopeful about my life and all I have to look forward to. I still have so much to do and so much to teach my daughter about chasing her dreams. I finally reel myself in and stop talking. Again the psychiatrist looks up and says “you can go”. I stand up and walk toward the door then pause and ask “Home? I can go home?” I received a nod, a smile and one of the best yes moments in my life.
The day decides to go much slower than any other day of my life at this point. I make it back to group to enjoy the end and John wraps things up hurriedly like he did the day before. We all leave the dining area and I start telling everyone that I am leaving and they all seem so genuinely happy for me. I tell Linda that I get to go home and she hugs me and says “well I don’t know why you were here to begin with; you are as cool as cucumber”. To this I just laugh. There is no other reaction that seemed to be fitting. My last couple of hours are the most anxiety ridden. Part of me is excited to leave and the other part is scared. I have to go be an adult again. I have to go take care of my responsibilities. Maybe I should write a letter to my health insurance and thank them for the vacation.
Leaving was exactly as bittersweet as I thought it would be. Hugging the people I had played board games with the night before. Collecting what few belongings I had brought in and had brought to me. I was ready to leave I guess. Time continued to tick away. Vitals were checked and I had to do some deep breathing to get my heart rate under 100 beats per minute. I enjoyed lunch which was made up of ham and steamed vegetables. Second group activity was actually fun as we all played the game Fact or Crap. I have always enjoyed trivia based games. Finally it was time for our second snack and again I grabbed some SnackWells cookies. I walked to the window and looked out thinking about being out there again and if I was ready for that. I figured if I could survive the last two days then I would be okay. After finishing my last cookie my name was called. I started to pass out hugs and finally worked my way to Linda. She looked up at me from a seated position in the dining area and stuck her hand out. I laughed and asked her if that was truly all I got? She then grabbed me and hugged me while talking into my ear and making sure not to let go until she had finished speaking. “You go home baby and you take care of that little girl and don’t forget to be good and I don’t ever want to see you again”. I cried through my smile the whole way down the hall to the exit. I was finally free.
For the sake of the true individuals involved all names have been changed.
Preventing the absurdly unpreventable. 