I’m home from psych jail after 3 full days (left the afternoon of the forth). I use that moniker because it was my mother’s, but it was a voluntary stay. There was push back when I chose to leave, out of genuine concern. Not much to criticize as far as inpatient treatment centers go, which is why I am not looking for a different one. I’m instead finding an intensive outpatient program (like the ones I’ve been in before, where you do part time job hours of therapy while living at home.)
It’s odd. Going when I did, and leaving how I did, felt guided in a “divine timing” and life lesson sense. Even just a day removed, the memories feel like a dream. That was a pocket dimension I got stuck in, and I’m coming back to the life I suspended. I wonder if that’s a common feeling post-confinement. In treatment, my brain was narrative-making, mirroring my own fears and flaws in the characters around me. Sometimes too the degree it felt like a sitcom. Unfortunently, the constant survalience and frequent inescapable moments of percieved rejection made it a torture chamber. A war zone of triggers.
[[there is something about that last description that is evoking how I percieve the experience of celebirty…the fact that fame is a quality you absorb and can’t just scrape off is making me sick to my stomach…did you ever- get on a ride and wanna get off? …save that idea in the scrapbook for now]]
I stuck it out longer than I might otherwise have, only because of my roommate. That is really the part that feels like “I was meant to cross paths with this person here, we were meant to help eachother through this”. She is 23, and that in combination with how similar we are, brought out a protectivness I kept having to reign in. By navigating how to best support her while still prioritizing my own healing, I could not help but have more compassion and understanding for myself. It was also funny to, for the first time in my life, be the older person in that dynamic. “Oh fuck, yeah, we are starting to get lessons from the universe about stepping into the role of mature advice giver, while learning just as much from that person listening to me.” I’M OLD, every person in their mid 30s screams at least 5 times a day.
And yet, there was a point on the third night when my body decided I was Done. It would not let me sit in this constant terror and nervous system overload anymore. I became a person I do not recognize. As I talked to the staff and coordinators, I kept 100% consitant. “I am leaving today. Direct me throught the process.” There was no, “I want to leave” or “I think I should leave”, just: “If you do not physically prevent me, I am leaving today. I know I have the power to make that decision for myself in this situation. Do not waste my time.” I would fully listen to their perspective, mirror it back to show that I understood and thought about all of it. I’d patiently explain my experience to any degree of detail they asked for. They would not get a single shread of evidence to call me obstinent. “So tommorow we will do your labs, and readjust your meds…” “Well, I will be leaving today. That will not happen.” It was funny when I finally spoke on the phone to the clinical director, and she clocked almost immediately where I was at. I couldn’t totally get a read on how she took it, there was muted frustration in the tone, dissapointment in me perhaps. The call was less than 5 minutes, and I was out the door an hour or two later.
Who the fuck was that? Robyn? It’s almost unsettling to level up so fast you don’t even recognize yourself. It was counterbalanced by a very Robyn thing — I wrote short letters to all the patients and staff I interacted with. In all of them was a specific reference to something we talked about, or they mentioned was important to them, and what part of my life that helped me view differently. I pointed out at least one exceptional quality, and how that would propel them forward in the future. Ofc ofc, I also put on a few stickers that matched their specific vibe. As I was up at 2am writing them, I stopped to reflect: is this my usual fawning over-giving? Maybe. In the moment, it was helping me process my experience. I wanted to reaffirm that there was one insane blessing in this otherwise torturous hell – the people.
I feel genuinely so refreshed and clear headed. Higher perspective achieved. I was also immediately back on my bullshit when I got home, but the good bullshit, I think.
>>robyns_ramblings 