tales from the psych ward

So I know I've been asked questions and I know there are people curious...so here is bekah's tales from the psych ward

Now this is only my experience with one hospital. I was in one where its purely psych patients and not part of a bigger hospital like MUSC. The hospital I was at had 3 adult programs....adult dual diagnosis (patients not only struggling with mental illness but also drug abuse), Adult acute care (schizo, bipolar, suicide attempts pretty much anything goes there) and higher ground (so severely depressed they can't function but realize their need for help). I was higher ground....the only higher ground patient at that time and housed on the "short hall" aka adult acute care ward.

When you first get there you are "line of sight"...you can't be out of sight of a staff member even when sleeping. When you take a shower the bathroom door has to be part the way open. Pretty much no privacy. If you behave then after 24 hours you are removed from LOS and can go anywhere on the adult units by yourself but have to check on every 15 minutes. The adult units are all housed in one building seperated into "long hall" (dual diagnosis) and "short hall" (acute care). Higher grounds get put wherever there is a bed. I spent my first night on the dual diagnosis side. (actually everyone kept trying to send me to RTF...the kid/teen program cause I look so young). The buldings are locked units and you cannot get in or out without a staff member and their badge

I admit I only stayed off of line of sight for 48hrs my whole 8 day stay. I kept having freak outs and with a history of self injury they really watched me closely. In some ways thats not a bad thing...I got way more attention but I also had no privacy. Especially with the fact I had 3 roommates.

With the exception of one other girl everyone was 40+ on the short hall.

I admit there were times you would forget you were in a psych hospital...like at night when everyone was gathered in the group room watching TV and laughing and talking. One night we were WILD! Watching the voice and having paper airplane contests while standing and jumping on the furniture

You would be surprised how normal most of the people were. Just regular folks like me and you.

Like everywhere I had favorite staff members and the staff members have favorites.

You had your choice of wearing your own clothing (no shoe strings, belts, or drawstrings) or wearing a hideous outfit of green scrubs that they provide. I chose my own clothing! I might have been a pysch patient but darnit I was going to be a well dressed one! I even wore my beloved converse sans laces

Your days are made up of group therapy (numerous sessions through the day), recreational therapy (can be anything from playing uno to going outside to pet therapy), psych visits (everyone sees their psych everyday) and if needed individual therapy.

Unlike a regular hospital you are expected to get dressed, go through your morning routine, eat meals with the group in the cafeteria, socialize etc. You have a regular bed...not a hospital bed. You are allowed no electronics but can have books, coloring books etc. I think I colored more pictures there than I have in ages!

to be continued...

From my journal

Was going through my old journals and decided to post some of my writing from it:

I'm not made to walk. I was made to fly. Made to be a beyootiful butterfly. To have all the colors of the rainbow in my wings. To soar. Struggling to break out of my coccoon. For my maker to glimpse me  as the new creation I am. I was not made to stay a caterpillar. Abba has made me a new creation
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This world is not my home. I was made for better things. I'm just passing through, visiting this old world. I'll never fit in because this was not meant to be my home. One day I will have wings and soar. My lungs will and my heart will beat without  help. Not only will I fly but I'll run too!
.................................................................................................................................................................

I fall down
And its tempting
Not to get back up]
But then I hear
A whisper from God
Telling me the race
Isn't over yet
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Young woman sitting on a street corner. Head in her hands, tears streaming down her face, heart broken. Lots of people passed her by but noone acted like they saw her. Suddenly she felt someone standing behind her and she turned around to look. She gasped as she realized who it was. Jesus! You're Jesus, she stammered. Yes I am...I know you are too tired to go on so I came to help. Don't you know my burden is light. Come on I'll carry you

Next thing she knew she was on Jesus's back. Her dirty grimy self on his clean white robe. He just laughed and said it could be washed, She held on tight, arms around His neck with her eyes shut tight and a smile on her face. She thanked Him and He said....I love you and I am always with you. All you have to do is call my name and grab hold of me
....................................................................................................................................................................

All alone or atleast thats how it feels
Broken hearted, scared to death
Then I realize I am never alone
Jesus is waiting to heal my heart
Waiting for me to come
cast my cares on Him
He reaches out His hand
And says come Beloved
So all those days I thought
That I was all alone
I wasn't. All those tears I cried
Jesus saw and counted
All those sleepless nights
He was there
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Who is that girl in the mirror? Where did the sparkle in her eyes go? That infectious smile is gone. Her eyes are flat with tears. The smile replaced with a frown. So much taken from her in one night. A few hours and one man changed her life forever. Sure she's alive but he might as well have killed her. He took her spirit, her light. Can she get them back?
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TO be continued!

Poetry

Here are some poems...recent and from a ways back

Lifeless eyes
Haunting memories
Hurting Heart
Thats all thats left
But lord I give you
These pieces
I know you can make
me whole again
Hold me tight
lord take these broken pieces
causes thats all I have left to give

Hold on tight
sometimes thats all
we can do
hold on tight
when everything
is shattering
when the pieces
don't fall into place
and 2+2 doesnt =4
Hold tight
never let go
of the hand
who holds
the world

Darkness comes
she no longer sees in color
her world is dark
shadows loom in her mind
ghosts of the past haunt
memories of yesterday
hold her prisoner

Scaredy cat
looks too much
before she leaps
Sometimes daring
not to leap at all
She's too cautious
too unsure of herself
too afraid to try
She wishes she could
just jump right in
no worrying about the ifs

Mirror Mirror on the wall she sighs
Will I ever be pretty enough she cries
Or good enough for this cruel world
Mirror Mirror on the wall she cries
Help the world to see the real me
The one locked down below the surface
Cause I'm more than what they see

and life goes on

Maybe I was naive. Maybe I was just plain stupid or maybe I was just kidding myself I imagined after this hospitalization that I would come home perfectly controlled on meds and that my life would get right back to normal.

I didn't know it was to be a struggle of finding the right doseages, a neverending cycle of appointments with a psychiatrist, therapist and rape recovery counselor. I didn't know it was going to be a hard adjustment coming from a structured hospital setting to a self admitted unstructured family life. I didn't know I wasn't going to be as good as new. Nope that was just the start of this journey

 Tuesday I turn 27 and this is the first year I have not been excited over my birthday. Yes I like my two pairs of converse, lounge chair and two DSi games (and yes that was really my wish list). Yes I will eat cake (yes I will get excited over cake :-). But am I excited? No. I just cannot work up much enthusiasm over

There are three times in my life that I would say have been the hardest ever. 1) the rape, 2) being diagnosed with cystic fibrosis and hearing the words "fatal" 3) these last few months.

We got more bad news a few weeks ago. I had a severe asthma attack and had to have a steroid shot and was put on prednisone. Had what the psych called a severe manic episode on them and we are having to search high and low for an alternative. My lungs need them but my brain can't handle them putting us in a very hard place. Just what I needed

I guess like it or not Life goes on I do know God must have some awesome plans for my life as many times as I've come close to not only dying but to taking my own life. I take no credit for still being here...its all God!

 I know this post is brutally honest and maybe theres a reason for that. I think a lot people thought like I did. That this hospital stay "cured" me or that I came home a new person. I wish, I really wish but alas that was just the start of the journey For now I am seeing psychiatrist every 4 weeks, rape counselor and therapist once a week. Lots of appointments for lungs too to see what plan we can come up with that does not involve steroids. We're also working on making my days more structured and consistent

Life goes on....

one big leap for bekah

Today I took a very big step

I saw a counselor at the family justice center here (think rape crisis center but with more long term counseling). It went very well and I really liked her. This is huge because I have put off professional help since the rape but with recent events I think this is something I need to face and finally deal with and move forward from. No more victim for me

Friday I meet my counselor at the mental health center so we will see how that goes. I've already met m psychiatrist there and loved her. Now have to meet counselor and caseworker.

So slowly but surely things are happening for me. Little steps at a time but nonetheless steps forward

My new passion

Raising awareness for cystic fibrosis is one of my top passions in addition to raising funds for research. My new passion is raising awareness for mental illness

I read a quote that really applies to this: True character is how you treat those who can do nothing for you

I challenge everyone, especially nurses and those in health care professions to remember that every person with depression,bipolar,schizophrenia etc is someones loved one...someones daughter, son, sister, brother, mother, father, or grandchild. That person is loved and valued by someone. Every patient experiencing a psychotic episode has someone who cares about them. How would you want them treated if it was your loved one? Or if it was yourself? You would compassion, respect and most of all people to keep you safe...not to make it worse

Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and be kept safe whether they suffer from any illness or are perfectly healthy

People with mental illness are first and foremost PEOPLE! And deserve to be treated as such. Most people with mental illness have high IQs and are very intelligent and creative people....those seem to be common traits among those who suffer depression, bipolar etc. So mental illness does not equal dymb. It also does not equal crazy. I like to say there is mental illness and then there is just plain crazy...one can be treated and one can't! But no matter what a person is a person no matter how small!

it really is an illness....

Being home hasn't been all sunshine and roses. The adjustment from an extremely controlled enviroment where I was literally NEVER alone and was watched 24/7 for most of the days I was there to home where though I have a tight knit family noone can be with me 24/7. The enviroment is not controlled...there are pill bottles, knives, razors and assorted sharp objects. I'm in charge of my medication...noone is there to make me take it or remind me to take it

I was also with people who were like me and people who understood people like me. I've been blessed with a wonderfully supportive family and friends but there are always people who don't get it.

Depression is an illness! Serotonin is as real as insulin and I don't see anyone denying that diabetes is an illness! Yes there are non medicine ways to treat depression just like diet can treat diabetes or airway clearance can help CF but anyone with true depression is going to need meds too

Its taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I am not a freak, a loser, weak, not Christian enough etc. Yes I've heard all those things at one time or another. I am sick. Just like CF makes me sick, depression makes me sick. If my serotonin levels were anywhere near normal I would be dead from serotonin overload syndrome from all the meds I'm on...thats proof enough for me that it is a chemical imbalance.

Yes other factors play in and can worsen depression but at its core its a chemical imbalance.

And a lot of people don't get that. I'm not weak, I'm not a bad Christian, I'm not a freak. I am sick. I can't help it. I can try my hardest to make improvements, work hard in therapy but nothing can cure the imbalance of chemicals.

I've become an outspoken voice for depression and other mental illness because I hate to see others go without treatment due to lack of support or the stigma associated with it. I am very outspoken about my battles, mostly in hopes that other people will see they aren't alone and that maybe just maybe I will inspire one person to get the help they need