It’s not euphoria or hypersensitivity or the darkness of a
deep depression. The spikes are no longer as severe as a freshly sharpened
pencil, now more rounded, curved and easier to pass over. The waves have not
disappeared – there is still sadness and happiness, anger and excitement. But
they are easier to steer… they are no longer run-away trains, reaching the
tipping point and about to spill off of the tracks.
Level. Stable. Manageable. In control. It’s almost
terrifying – a great unknown and after another depressive episode, it is an entirely new world
to feel this way. It hasn’t been easy to reach this place and there have been
some detours along the way. But right now, in this moment – my mental disorders
are not winning.
Recently, I spent a week in the hospital. I was at a low
point and drove myself there; I fought through what felt like interrogations and
some criticisms, and I was admitted so that I was in a safe place where I could
be monitored and so that my medications could be adjusted again.
I did not want to be there.
But I was… and it was a massive victory.
Taking myself into the hospital was not easy… I felt like a
failure and like a fraud. I was low but I was highly functional. I was
depressed but few people knew about it. I was struggling but I felt like I
should be okay. I was angry because it was such a short journey from managing
my triggers and being able to work through my emotional surges, to feeling as
though I had fallen down a rabbit hole and knowing the world had morphed into a
much darker place.
Again, I did not want to be there. I did not want to admit
my weakness. Throughout the days leading up to and during my stay, it was often
a fight within myself… a heated and intense battle for control… for my life.
But it was also a testament to the changes I have made, the
way I have grown within my diagnosis, and my ability to identify with and help
myself. It was days of reaching out and seeking help from trusted sources. It
was days of self-care while doing things that bring me joy, it was using the
resources that I have collected and learned to use, almost as though they have become second nature from the practice and continuous learning that I have
done. It was keeping to my routines and it was remaining functional while
recognising that I was falling, and doing something that I had never done
before. It was stopping when I knew that I was in danger and taking myself in
before I was past the point of no return, before I was able to fall further,
before I tried to end the suffering or before the police were called. It was
calm and without the drama of past experiences. It was me never letting go of
the reigns and steering myself to the help that I knew that I needed. It was being
aware of and able to hang on to one single spark of light and let it spread as
I stayed safe, quickly illuminating the darkness and letting me recover faster and
easier than I ever have before.
It was a success.
I was hospitalised, but I don’t regret it. I will continue
to grow. I will continue to strive to remain level. I will continue to hang on
to those sparks of light when the darkness begins to close in on me. I will
continue to learn and remain aware of myself, my triggers, my weaknesses, and
my spikes. I will get the help I need, when I need it. I will embrace stability
– even when it frightens me.
I will continue to share my story. I will continue to be open and honest, to let everyone know about the struggles and the victories. I will continue to talk and to listen. I will continue to grow stronger and I will keep going.
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