the hard work
...and my next birthday.
For the past three months I’ve been receiving intensive out-patient treatment for my mental health. This means therapy five days a week for three hours a day. Recently, I graduated down (yes, that’s the term they use) to three days a week - which is a solid win. And I know I’ve talked about my mental health, my struggles with anxiety and depression before but this is different. So different in fact that before I started this treatment program, I honestly believed I wouldn’t make it to see my next birthday. That was four months in the future and my mind couldn’t comprehend me lasting that long.
But here I am. I end my treatment on Friday. Even though my treatment is ending, I’m not completely “healed.” I don’t think I ever will be because recovery and wellness are a never ending process. This is a concept I’ve intellectually known for a while but it’s just started to be something that I feel. I used to think that to be better I had to be completely healed. No depression. No suicidal ideation. No anxiety. To be healed, I would no longer feel the complex emotions that constantly fill my head, that make me want to crawl in a hole, or consider driving off the side of the highway. But what I am slowly starting to feel is that those emotions won’t ever completely go away but I have the tools to deal with them. And while I’ve been going through this intensive treatment program for three months, I know some of my most difficult work starts Friday when my treatment program ends.
I got into this program because of three main reasons. First being that my regular therapist said it was too dangerous to treat me in my current state and said I need more support than she could currently give me. The second was one of my best friends literally found this treatment program for me because I was so out of it and overwhelmed I couldn’t (thank you IS - I love you endlessly). Three, my mom agreed with my therapist and if you know my mom, she’s usually right. Without those three things I wouldn’t be here writing to you. One of the most difficult things about depression is how isolating it can be. Believing that there isn’t a way out and no one will be willing to help you. That is how I felt and still feel sometimes.
I convinced myself that if I didn’t talk about my emotions and communicated very surface feelings, then that would go away. But one of the first things I learned in treatment was if you try to stop feeling one emotion, you’ll eventually push them all away - that’s not a good thing. I wouldn’t feel sad but that means I also wouldn’t feel joy. But over the past two years, my depression was getting so bad that it could no longer be suppressed. I could hold it off for moments at a time but knew I could only do it for so long. Eventually, I was crying almost daily. I would force myself to eat or leave the house because I wasn’t sure if I should be alone. I could never say I was having a good day. The most you’d get out of me was an “I’m fine.” I knew driving longer than 20 minutes by myself could be dangerous - longer than that and driving off the side of the highway got more inviting. I’d have to make phone calls or play games on my phone to keep these thoughts from taking over. Life felt like an endless black hole that delighted in my drowning.
When I started treatment, I wasn’t convinced that it was going to work for me. But over the course of several weeks, it felt like I started coming up for air. I was improving. Even when I didn’t recognize it, those around me did. Each time I took my health assessment, my numbers improved. I went from needing assessment every two days to every two weeks. But again, this doesn’t mean I’m completely healed - just on the journey of getting better. I’m no longer suicidal which I count as my greatest achievement. I don’t spiral like I used to. I can name my emotions and express how I feel. And to be honest with you a lot of those emotions aren’t great but I’m feeling them - something that I haven’t been able to fully do in a long time. The joy I feel is no longer immediately tainted by my anxiety. I drive without “accidentally” swerving to the right. I don’t avoid calls from my family and friends because I fear disappointing them with my general existence.
Some of you may be surprised by this. That’s ok. I’m an excellent masker. Hiding emotions, being guarded, rarely letting people see my soul - those are my specialties. There is an incredibly long list of things that I am still working on. There’s an even longer list of what I still want to talk about. But like I said, some of my most difficult work in recovery and healing is only just about to start. Nonetheless, I’m making it to my next birthday and I’m pretty glad about that.
I want to end this by thanking my mom, dad, and sister - my foundation, my whole heart. I want to thank my friends who immediately rallied behind me, loved me when I didn’t (and often don’t) love myself. I want to thank my church - where I find community, understanding, and enthusiastic support on my mental health journey. Lastly, thank you to my treatment team. Together, this all literally saved my life.
Resources for those who may need extra support:
*Please note I’m not recommending specific in patient/out patient programs as each program is different and what works for one may not work for all but please seek the help you need.