I've been on a little bit of a vacation since Wednesday afternoon. A non-voluntary, not very much fun kind of vacation. I was in a place where you aren't allowed a belt, or shoe laces, or plastic wrap, or even plastic knives. For some reason, they won't even let you have q-tips. And they check on you every 15 minutes. There is no access to cell phones, or email. I was in the kind of place you get checked in to when you tell someone that you are thinking about taking your own life. A place were you can't see your kids.
Last Wednesday I finally realized that when I told everyone that I was ok, and when I told myself I was ok, it was a lie. I realized this while in the throws of a panic attack. I was thinking of hurting myself. And I was scared. Scared enough to finally ask for help. The kind of help that gets you locked in a psych ward for 5 nights.
I learned a lot about myself in those 5 nights. And I made some very good friends. Friends that I will most likely never see again, but friends who helped to save my life. I learned that it's ok to not be ok. It's ok to let people know that you are hurting. It's ok to ask for help.
When they were checking me in, the first thing I asked was if there was a treadmill. There wasn't. But, even if there was I wouldn't really be able to use it since I wasn't allowed to have shoe laces for fear I might hang myself with them. And all of my running shoes have laces. But, besides missing my kids, the worst part was feeling like a caged animal. Only being able to walk the hallways in my slippers. I needed to run.
I have a lot of stories from those 5 nights, and will share them in the near future. But right now, I am going to cuddle with the little boys I missed more than anything, who kept me going for the longest days of my life.
Last Wednesday I finally realized that when I told everyone that I was ok, and when I told myself I was ok, it was a lie. I realized this while in the throws of a panic attack. I was thinking of hurting myself. And I was scared. Scared enough to finally ask for help. The kind of help that gets you locked in a psych ward for 5 nights.
I learned a lot about myself in those 5 nights. And I made some very good friends. Friends that I will most likely never see again, but friends who helped to save my life. I learned that it's ok to not be ok. It's ok to let people know that you are hurting. It's ok to ask for help.
When they were checking me in, the first thing I asked was if there was a treadmill. There wasn't. But, even if there was I wouldn't really be able to use it since I wasn't allowed to have shoe laces for fear I might hang myself with them. And all of my running shoes have laces. But, besides missing my kids, the worst part was feeling like a caged animal. Only being able to walk the hallways in my slippers. I needed to run.
I have a lot of stories from those 5 nights, and will share them in the near future. But right now, I am going to cuddle with the little boys I missed more than anything, who kept me going for the longest days of my life.
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http://www.danoah.com/2010/09/disease-called-perfection.html
Know this: you are never alone. Never.