Entry 6: Re-Entering society

Hospitalized: Mercy Franklin
Hospitalized x2: Mercy Franklin
Hospitalized x3: Mercy Franklin

Transfered to S.A.F.E
Inpatient Residential Treatment Facility: St. Louis, MO

Hospitalized x4: Lutheran
Hospitalized x5: Lutheran
Hospitalized x6: OD, CICU, Inpatient at Lutheran Adult Mental Health Unit

After being in the hospital no matter how long, no matter where: it's incredibly hard re-adjusting to life on the outside. My times at Mercy Franklin were only outpatient daily curriculum, it was very structured, we followed the same schedule each day and had over maybe ten group therapies a day. So, I would go to outpatient therapy, get picked up by my mom, go home, and then wake up in the morning and do it again. When I would get picked up by my mom it's like I would be entering a different world; from structure, structure, structure to home life with my four brothers and sisters and parents. It's going from a therapeutic environment where everyone is after the same goal, to chaos.

Then I went into a residential facility where I lived, breathed, ate, slept, listened, loved, experienced therapy. Structure was the key to the program. I was there for 35 days. We had group therapy after group therapy after group therapy. It was INTENSIVE. The name of the program is actually S.A.F.E INTENSIVE. When I got there, there were four other girls there. Our days consisted of breakfast, therapy, therapy, therapy, school, lunch, therapy, therapy, therapy.

I am going to upload a picture of the actual schedule and yes I was there for Thanksgiving.

I was discharged on December 5th. When my family came to pick me up it was weird. It was weird. It was like I was at home at S.A.F.E. and they were coming into my home and taking me back to a foreign place. My life was structured and I always had someone who I trusted to turn to and talk through my impulses to self-harm and restrict, purge, and exercise excessively. I had my peers. I had my girls who knew what it was like to have the same impulses and to have similar experiences that I have had. I always had someone there. But now, these people were here. They looked familiar, they sounded familiar, the felt familiar but they weren't. They weren't my family. My staff were my family. My peers were my family.

When I got home, it was as if I was re-born into the family. I felt like I had to re-learn things in order to perform successfully in our home. I played hooky with my mom the day after I got home, because I had to decompress; it was a day that was full of withdrawal from treatment and withdrawal from my family.

When I came back to school for the few weeks we had before finals and Christmas break, I spent in the counseling center. My teachers came in to me, my friends came in to me, I did work in there. I took tests in there. I ate in there. I had therapy in there. I basically lived in there for those weeks. I was there, but I wasn't there. I wasn't ready to see all of everyone. I wasn't ready to be integrated back into the full population of students. I still was working through the withdrawal of not being at my home, my safe place, my facility.

That was definitely the most difficult re adjusting that I have had to go through. It was full of therapy, isolation, individual growth. It was stressful, frustrating, difficult, strange, challenging, strenuous, laborious, problematic, painful and very demanding.

All of my stays at the hospital have always required hard work, which is a form of normal, because obviously it's going from structure to chaos. It's going from not having to fight very hard for recovery, to fighting your ass off everyday just in order to stay alive.

My last stay at the hospital wasn't very different from my stay at S.A.F.E. I honestly believe this is because I wasn't allowed to go "home." I wasn't able to spend time with my pets, or be in a familiar environment. When I left the hospital I was in the midst of the worst panic attack I've ever had. I've always used a scale to communicate my level of depression and anxiety. So on a scale of 1-20, 20 being the worst you've ever had in your entire life, 20 is a number where it's so high it's unbearable and hard to function; and 1 is none, basically none, it is blissful. Well. On the day of my discharge on December 28 I believe it was, I woke up at a 5 and after rec room when I had to call my mom and see when she was coming, and she said she wasn't coming until 12:30pm. I was like what? Because I thought we had agreed for her to come as early as possible. After the phone call I was like an 8. When my mom got onto the unit, it was a 10. When we started to talk with Jadie, and she told me NOT to come home; that it wasn't SAFE for me to go HOME, I became a 19.9. There was no consoling me, there was no calming me down. Nothing. I was screaming, shaking, crying, hyperventilating, numb, pissed, depressed, heartless, hurt. I was so much I couldn't think. I had no thoughts. All I knew was I had to get out of that room before I became a 20.

At my 19.9 I got up and SCREAMED, "I NEED TO WALK OUTSIDE FOR A SECOND TO CALM DOWN. I NEED TO LEAVE IN ORDER TO ENSURE MY OWN SAFETY." I left the room and slammed the door and started running down the hallway. Stumbling. When my family: B and C came up and caught me right before I fell. They picked me up, held me tight and made sure I was going to be held until I was okay. They helped me call my dad. They made sure he was going to pick me up and that I was going to be safe and emotionally alright. He came, after I made my mom leave. He came to pick me up, even when he had a patient at the office. He dropped everything to come pick me up. Because of B, C, and dad my 19.9 went down to about a 12.

Not all heroes wear capes.

Re-adjusting is hard. Re-adjusting is challenging and painful. BUT re-adjusting and re-entering society is vital to a successful recovery. No matter how hard the withdrawal from being at your newly acquired "home," working towards becoming familiar again with the "outside" world is essential. Yes, in the hospital it's easier to stay healthy and focused on recovery, because everywhere you look you are reminded that you have to do these things if you want to be let out. BUT once your out, you aren't reminded everywhere you look, you aren't reminded by everyone you come in contact with. The key to life outside of the hospital is to fight your ass off. When you leave the hospital you are thrown into the room of two choices: choosing to fight for a better life or returning back to the unhealthy tendencies and behaviors. It's your choice. I'm choosing to fight for my life. I'm choosing to live.

What are you choosing?