Sometimes when you win, you lose

Yesterday marked the 12 week point. Twelve weeks. It has been a long and extremely trying journey. For everyone.
So when I sat down yesterday with the psychiatrist, and he asked me how I felt about potentially being discharged, I jumped at the chance. And so, I am home. The dogs are ecstatic~ Ecstatic. My brother Logan is being helpful, though slightly over-protective. I am remembering this need to be watchful. The need to feel as though somehow, even if it is only a small fraction, they can help.

I am spending as little time at home as possible. It holds memories. Some of which are good, some, not so good. Everywhere there are pieces of before. And it rubs at the wound, subtly until the dull pain becomes a roar. It reminds me of how I miss him. Clothing left behind, my gift for Connor, the special memorable things that I know matter to him. I have done the cleaning, the sorting, the laundry. I have done the tasks that needed to be completed. It doesn`t mean that it wasn`t extremely painful. But, it is done. And, there, the Connor wall remains intact. A collage of pictures from baby to 5 year old. His little face upturned and grinning happily. It makes me smile, to see that grin, even if it makes me slightly sad.

I have been reflecting a lot lately. On the little things, and especially, on the big things.You know, out of my 24 years, I`ve spent 6 months in a psychiatric ward. Six months of my life locked up in a hospital. I didn`t know it would be this way. I never imagined as a kid that my life would meander here. I wish that someone had told me then, that you can never tell what the future may hold, and that sometimes, you can't achieve what you set out to do, no matter how hard you try. I wish that someone had told me that I wouldn't be able to fix what was broken, despite my best efforts. I wish that someone had told me that no matter how bad things were as a kid, that it could get worse. I wish that I had known so that I could have squeezed out every moment of gratitude that happened by, before this illness.

I have thought about the past. The way the cycles settle in. The way I can be at their whim. And I have thought of the strength and intensity of them. And how somehow, with each time they take hold, it is just a little blacker. And how, when you are positive that you couldn't possibly fall into a darker pit, you do.  

I have thought of the coping mechanisms that i have used in the past. The good ones, the bad. I look at the scars on my body. I remember, in the times of darkness how i have struggled. The lake, the wrist, the train, the pills. Mostly, because it is the most recent, I think about the pills, and how after taking them, I didn't feel any panic, or remorse. I didn't, as the cliff jumper often does, scream on my way down. I just layed down and let the quiet calm descend. I don't look too deeply for meaning in that. Its a destructive thought. All I know is that in life, people need that sense of calm. Somewhere in the crazy hecticness of reality, we just need to know that there exists a moment of calm, in whatever form it happens to take for you.

I am making plans for the future. Immersing myself in nature is the top priority on the list. All of the doctors and nurses, and social workers have suggested that I get myself on disability. They believe that the fewer stresses in my life right at this moment in time is best. They pretty much said that I'm not okay to hold down a job right now. It hurts to think that at 24, I'm not okay enough to support myself. But, as they say, it doesn't  have to be forever. And so I am inclined to agree with them, temporarily. But I wan't to work. And I want to keep busy. And I want to live. To laugh, and love, and learn. Speaking with family, we've decided that the best thing is for me to go to my dad's farm, the one that will become his on July 10th. It needs a lot of work. There is the aspect of nature. And the dogs would love so much space to run. And I can take it at a slower pace until I am stronger, and the prospect of relapse has settled down. It also means that I can look into school again. Take a few courses. See if I really do want to work in the mental health field. See if, just maybe, I want to be that psyche nurse afterall. It's good to have goals. To have a plan. This is my life, just the way it is, and I am going to live it the best I can.
 
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