This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

I’m overwhelmed.

The world is loud.

Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t ready to come home.

But the place was making me worse, with no therapy available and no processing time.

But maybe, the world is a bit too loud.

With video game sounds and text messages and phone calls.

Maybe things are a bit too hard right now.

With sorting out meds, and figuring out why the wrong prescription was sent over.

And what I’m going to do about that.

And there goes the buzzing on my wrist again.

I was so used to being plugged in. The buzzing of my wrist didn’t stop for days after I was on the unit.

The phantom feels of phone calls and text messages.

But now it just feels busy.

Buzzy and busy.

Typing hurts my wrists, it’s like they aren’t used to this motion anymore. And it’s only been a week? 10 days? Something like that.

I’m tired, but the sound of the fan is too loud.

My oh, so, comfortable bed, is just too soft after the hard rubber mattress I’ve been laying on for days.

I take one of my as needed meds, something to take the edge off.

But I really wonder, am I ready to exist in this world where I have to organize my own meds and plan my own meals and figure out my own appointments?

They do it all for you in there.

If you don’t show up at the med window on time, they come and find you.

You eat what they give you.

They get you when you need to be somewhere.

Don’t get me wrong, it has it’s own kind of loud. But it’s different than here.

It had it’s own sort of overwhelm. But it’s different than here.

Maybe I wasn’t quite ready.

But I think I was.

This is just going to take some adjustment, again.

Being capable, again.

Being outside, again.