2020

A year everyone will remember. There are some who had a happy occasion (i.e. birth) to make it a year they want to remember. For most, surviving it made for a happy occasion, even if 2021 is still iffy. For me, even if the coronavirus hadn't come to play, 2020 was a year beyond anything I could have imagined or predicted. Although, looking back, I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised. I didn't wake up one morning and decide to let my life spin out of control. It started quite a long time ago. A slow fade. I don't even remember much of 2019. I can't even image what I put my therapist through. She is a professional and knows how to compartmentalize, and she is also a human being with a big heart. I put her through hell.

So...the big secret? I was a patient in the Utah State Hospital. Yep. That one. I don't know how many times I was hospitalized in an acute setting. I honestly don't remember. In January 2020, I was at Salt Lake Behavioral Hospital (yet again) for a couple weeks before they transferred me to UNI for three weeks doing ECT every other day (shock therapy). When I was discharged, according to an email I sent my therapist, I thought I had died. It felt like I had died. I was worse than I was before that hospitalization.

Four days after discharge, I had taken a razor blade three times from wrist to elbow. I remember thinking I would give them (mental health professionals) one more shot, without any hope that it would be successful, but at least I would try one more time. I walked into an ER and just stood there. I was numb. I couldn't speak. I just stood there and stared at the girl while she kept asking me what was wrong. I don't know how long, probably not very, when I raised my left arm with the blood flowing. I managed to whisper "I don't want to live".

I found myself back at SLBH. The doctor said he reviewed my charts and it was apparent to him that acute hospitals weren't cutting it and I needed long-term. He said he was referring me to the State Hospital. For the first time, I laughed. Even then, I did not expect that! Then I started to panic. I started pocketing my meds to save up enough. On Friday, they took me to UNI for Mental Health Court, where a judge agreed with the doctor. I was going to the State Hospital. As it was, my weeks worth of pocketed meds was discovered and I was moved to the Crisis Stabilization Unit, or as they said, the Psych ICU. I was there 2 weeks until a bed opened up for me at the USH, which I was told was a very short wait.

It. Was. Awful. 

 It would take too long to lay it all out just how bad it was. That said, there were some amazing staff and even some patients that I'd like to stay in touch with. My amazing psychologist worked harder than anyone my behalf. I had to endure several different types of therapy - one, Prolonged Exposure Therapy for trauma was incredibly difficult. Of all the ups and downs, I began to get better. I was actually feeling better. Of course, the better I felt, the harder it was to live under 24/7 scrutiny when all I wanted to do was get out and be an adult again. There were so many things I missed. Ice Cream. McDonalds french fries. Chips and salsa. Going grocery shopping. Choosing my own music to listen to. Looking something up on the internet when I wanted to know something. ANNIE. Oh lordy, I missed Annie! (I think she missed me, too :)

While people said I was there at a good time, with the world in a pandemic...I still felt it. The USH has a Treatment Mall, where it's sort of like school. There are several classes offered in an area of the hospital where you get to mingle with patients of other units during the week. Besides different types of therapy, there is also classes for photography, gardening, music, virtual reality, etc. Well, because of COVID-19, it was shut down. The off-grounds activities were canceled. Most of everything we could do, was all on unit. And the few things we could do off-unit, such as go to the cafeteria, my job, or even just go outside, we couldn't do when a staff member, anywhere in the hospital got sick or was exposed. Then we were on quarantine as well. The entire month of November my unit was on quarantine. Quarantining at home you could at least go outside, move about your house, find something to clean, Netflix and chill...you get the idea. And absolutely no visitors. Being stuck on the unit seriously sucked. We even had to miss the parties the hospital had during the holidays because we were quarantining, as well as the summer carnival. They had to close down a unit and make it the COVID unit for the 49 patients who got it. Out of those, 11 were on my unit alone. (out of 5 adult units, 5 forensic units, pediatrics, girls youth, and boys youth). Thankfully, I didn't get COVID. No...I always have to be different so I broke out with a nasty case of shingles. Yes, shingles at 39. Within a week of my discharge, my social worker, psychologist, and psychiatrist all went on vacation. Psychiatrist left for 3 weeks! Although I'm sure it had nothing to do with me, it can still give a girl a complex! ;)

Anyway...this was an experience I wouldn't wish on anybody. However, since I was there and I had absolutely no say in it, I decided to utilize the opportunities offered and I worked my butt off. I received comments from patients and staff that I worked harder than anyone. I was always working on homework, reading a book, doing puzzles...anything to pass the time while many patients slept on the couches. I went to all my groups. I participated. I had a job, and I was even the unit patient representative, or the go-between for administration and unit. I kept busy. I rarely argued with other patients and staff (I mean...come on...that long with the same people...there is going to be some arguing ;) And I was still there 14 1/2 months. Combined with the hospitalizations before the USH, I'm looking at a good year and a half.

So, what is the lesson learned from all of this?? Take care of yourself! Mental health matters! Don't keep thinking things will get better on their own. It takes work. It takes lots of work, but it's worth it. I am so much better now because of it, and when I get down, because I still do, I recover so much quicker. I have my own apartment again, I have my cat, I have my friends and family. I honestly couldn't have done it without the people who have remained loyal to me. My memories, as well as the letters and packages, the phone calls, the encouraging words...were and are so appreciated. Thank you so much, my beautiful peeps!