a close call with a psych ward

two weeks ago, I laid almost exactly where I am now. that was then though.

now, I'm relaxed. I'm watching my partner play a video game while I write this. the fans are on, slowly humming in the background. I can feel my breathing, steady and strong. no part of my body is shaking.

then, I was a disheveled whimpering depressive episode cocooned into a half-tattered blanket, wet from the tears. I was scared. I was shaking. I wasn't breathing -- at least it didn't feel like I was. I was moments away from checking myself into a psych ward.

have you ever had that thought? have you ever reached such a low point that the only two options were "I can die, or I can commit myself"? and when I say the only two, I mean it. I mean nothing else could come into focus. no line of vision existed outside of those two flashing exit signs, the two choices to escape my brain and thoughts and feelings and fears and traumas and pain and agony and everything that had somehow become all too much in all too many ways.

I had never felt that way before.

---

in the past, I have planned suicide attempts. those points weren't as low as this. in the past, I have drank and drugged myself into blackouts so I could escape and not feel anything. those points weren't as low as this. in the past, I have driven recklessly -- like, making a 10 hour trip in less than 7.5 recklessly; like nearly being arrested the first time I was pulled over recklessly. those points weren't as low as this. in the past, I have ran away -- to Las Vegas, to South Dakota, to Wisconsin, to multiple stops in the Wyoming-Colorado-Nebraska corridor -- to act as if life didn't exist. those points weren't as low as this.

I don't know how to tell you any differently, but I'm not getting my point across.

nothing had ever been as low as this.

---

a little more than two months ago, I was officially diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I almost immediately started taking an antipsychotic, from the recommendation of my psychiatrist and support from my therapist. I thought I was getting better. the nightmares stopped. the constant repetition of words in my mind mellowed out. I could think at speeds slower than 792 miles per hour. I was sleeping at least eight hours a night.

I didn't realize that I was getting worse.

for those who don't know, my degree is in psychology. I earned it a year early, with honors, so I'm confident in my knowledge, particularly about mental health and warning signs. but I didn't see it. I didn't see that my constant lethargy wasn't just a side effect from the medication but a depressive episode slowly creeping into every area of my life. I didn't see that the nightmares and fast thoughts stopped because I was becoming numb. I didn't see that I decided to cut the hair I'd been growing for almost a year on a whim just because I wanted to feel that thrill, that rush, of spontaneity. I didn't see that I was beginning to hate my job just because it wasn't my bed, which constantly called for me to come home, to stay a little longer.

and then I broke.

---

have you ever pulled your manager into a conference room just to shakily ramble something about "not being able to be here, I can't be here"?

have you ever had to have a friend leave work early to take you to a behavioral health urgent care because you weren't ready to go to the ER yet, but you'd already taken a medication that was supposed to make you fall asleep? for the record, it didn't do shit.

have you ever had to call your mom, who you don't talk to much, just to say, "[my partner] will let you know if I do, but I might be self committing to a psych ward tonight. please make sure my bills are paid"?

i hope you haven't.

but i have. and i never want to do it again.

but that's the thing with this disease. it will likely get worse sometimes. it will likely result in more medication changes over the course of my lifetime than I am willing to admit. it will likely result in extensive therapies and treatments to stay stable, to work full time, to maintain my relationship, to commit to friendships. because it isn't easy.

it isn't just, "I took my meds today, everything is okay," because sometimes it's, "I took my meds today. and I want to die now." and sometimes it's almost going to a psych ward, until you fall asleep and stay asleep just so it's not.

---

---

I would like to extend a public message of gratitude to the people who ensured my bills were paid since I had to take multiple unpaid days from work; the people who answered my calls on that day and in the days after; the people who checked in when I made a vague post; and my partner, for supporting and loving me, especially when I can't do it myself.