This is a Really Real Mental Health post.

Possibly the last one for awhile.

But maybe,

just maybe,

in the hustle and bustle of tomorrow,

packing up the things I need,

checking my list twice,

three times,

more,

maybe,

just maybe,

I’ll need to put fingers to keys one more time.

This is scary.

I didn’t know what decision I was going to make until the moment that I told her I was interested in coming onto the unit.

Even in the seconds before I was going back and forth,

back and forth,

back and forth.

But I think I made the right decision,

instead of the easy one.

Because this is hard.

I can’t decide what is scarier. The idea that I won’t pack everything I need, or the thought of the unknowns on the unit.

Of course, I’ve been to this hospital, I know what some of the process is like. But I don’t know much about the unit I’m going on to.

I have some insider information, but I don’t want to ask too many questions.

Don’t want to be,

too much.

So I wonder. What are the rooms like? What are the shared bathrooms like? What are the showers like?

How much of it will be comfortable for my body that is larger than life?

What activities are available? What type of therapy do they do? What will my doctor be like?

How much of it will be wholly uncomfortable when I first get there?

How much of it will I settle right in to?

I’m feeling confident in my ability to make friends. I’ve always been concerned about that. But lately, I see how I attract like minded people to me.

When I started on the other unit, I would sit in a chair in the far back corner of the room.

Alone at a table.

Quietly writing, or coloring, or doing word searches

(so, so many word searches in my 10 day stay).

Slowly people started joining.

Sometimes we would talk.

Other times we’d sit quietly lost in our own little traumatized worlds.

Coloring, writing, working on our own little minds.

Two of them are also coming to the trauma unit.

I wonder if they got there before me? Will I have a head start into meeting people?

Or will I find a corner chair alone again.

Quietly writing, or coloring, or doing even more searching for words.

(I bought 2 new books of them.)

I have a list, two pages, things I just can’t forget.

I have a suitcase, I’m only allowed to fill one.

So, I just have to make sure it’ll all fit. I only need a day or two worth of clothes, right? Fill the space with all of the other necessities.

Of course I’m kidding. I even made new shirts for the occasion.

How will they handle my CPAP. Will I be allowed to have it all of the time? Or will I have to check it out of the med room for every nap?

So many unknowns. So many what ifs. So many anxieties.

I’ve already taken my night time meds.

My melatonin.

And my brain is still racing with so many questions.

17 hours until I check in.

17 hours until the door locks behind me.

17 hours until my newest new normal begins.

17 hours.