This is a Really Real Mental Health post.
I spent 2 hours in tears yesterday.
At times they were sobbing, uncontrollable, chest heaving, choking tears.
I had to ask for comfort, because I couldn’t handle sobbing alone in bed.
You see, I know I have to go.
I know I have to give up 2 months of my life to have a chance at normality.
And it feels like the hardest thing I’ve done.
Although I know I’ve been through worse.
“Can you reframe it as something amazing that you get to do?”
But for now I’m grieving.
I’m grieving the lost time with loved ones.
A 40th birthday spent on a locked unit.
The only contact being short phone calls, stolen moments when the phones are free.
I’ve talked to friends who have been there.
Who have been on the locked unit that isn’t fully fat accessible.
Chairs too small, asking for the few available accessible chairs, and only occasionally having that request granted.
This will be made worse by Covid.
They had removed most of the chairs from the seating areas in the unit I was n, leaving only enough to allow distance between patients.
Even though we all gathered at one table for socialization.
Did they leave the accessible chairs on this unit or will I have to fight for that.
Strangers surrounding me.
Strangers that will likely become friends over time.
Over the 2 months I’m locked away from everything I know.
And it’s harder because it isn’t my fault.
I did nothing to deserve this.
I’m accused of nothing but being traumatized.
I’m fighting back tears again, afraid of letting them start because I can’t handle early morning hours alone and sobbing.
I hate all of the people that did this to me.
Anger and sadness clouding my vision.
Of course this is an opportunity that very few people get.
Of course I should be thankful.
But for now I’m bitter and I’m grieving.
And I need to allow space for that.
Maybe later I can see it for the blessing it is.
The chance at normality.
The chance for healing.
But for now, I’m letting the tears flow.