Most of the past two years are a blur to me, but I do remember being in the hospital quite a lot… too much probably.
Psychiatric hospitals aren’t as bad as they portray in the media, at least depending on where you end up. The ICU is pretty terrible and I spent much of my time there absolutely frenetic. But I was only there once… I think. Like I said I can hardly remember anything.
I spent most of my time in the adult psychiatric ward, which was specifically for those who were at least eighteen. The food was almost inedible, not that I ate while I was there anyway, but the company was nice.
I know that sounds a little strange but like my blog says, insanity is relative.
Out in the real world I constantly feel like I’m a mad woman but there… I was normal.
It was like being inside a bubble where no one judged my thoughts, feelings, or actions. And what a glorious bubble it was. Being in the psychiatric ward is like being in prison, though I’m sure a little better, but at the same time it was freeing.
Does that make any sense at all?
I guess just being there made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone in the world and when all you’ve ever felt was loneliness, company’s always nice, isn’t it?
I spent most of my days talking to the other patients and discussing our respective stories. The “so how’d you end up here?” was a common theme that wasn’t too much of a taboo for most of us.
For the first time, I was strangely okay discussing what I had done to end up in the psych ward with the rest of them.
And for the first time, I found a way to laugh about it all.
Can you believe it? I found comic relief in a psych ward!
When you think about it, I guess it doesn’t sound too absurd.
That feeling of company… I miss it… but I would never want to go back. It’s unrealistic to want to live inside a secluded bubble for the rest of my life. I don’t think I would even want to in the long run.
It was just something that I truly needed to find the strength to go on in the real world, a world filled with people who will never ever truly understand.
That’s okay, of course. I don’t truly understand much about others either.
But maybe, just maybe, I’ll find collective insanity in this world.