I thought of that moment tonight. I tried to fall asleep at a decent hour tonight because I am giving it everything I have got to beat this illness, and that starts with developing healthy sleep patterns to improve my life.
Maybe having “The Shack” on the TV in the background wasn’t the best idea, especially knowing the struggles I have been facing in terms of “God” and “Faith” and what the doctors ended up telling me was just mental illness. How do you believe? Why is this such a struggle for me? Why can’t I let it go and just live? Why does this rob me of sleep?
Questions so many questions. I sit here typing at 4:32am, knowing I have to sleep, knowing that I can’t pop a Melatonin because I will NEVER be able to get up and help my father shovel the mountain of snow that is left for him alone to do, (Why the HELL did God make is snow?) I may be wracking my head too hard for answers, and what I am searching more may be simpler than I think. “Keep it simple,” they say – a mantra I have come to know well.
God may have shown me the answer I needed tonight, the proof I was looking for, beyond the doctor’s opinions of my mania, beyond of what I believe is my mania.
It may be just as simple as remembering a moment that I haven’t thought about in many, many years.
I was hospitalized more than 17 times in 2004. I was a guinea pig for the doctors because I beat them at their own game, took their pills, got better, and then threw them the hell out. I didn’t want them, I just didn’t want them. Up until the first moment I popped a pill, I NEVER experienced ANY kind of PSYCHOSIS in my ENTIRE DAMN LIFE.
Until I popped a pill, I was just your average kick-ass, hard working American Woman.
Then from there my entire world collapsed. I lost my job, my apartment, my boyfriend, my self-respect, and most of all, my sanity.
They caught me finally, and drugged me up SO MUCH, that I was nothing but a vegetable lying in a hospital bed of their psych ward prison. Lying in a bed, all day, every day, unable to move, barely able to eat, an absolute broken woman as a result of “the system’s solution to my mental illness.”
Then one night, there was a voice. The voice was weak, small. It simply said two words, two words I will never forget, two words that may be the answer to the questions I have been searching for:
Over and over again. Repeating louder and louder.
No other message was sent. There was no complicated scripture, or nonsense religions teach you. Just two simple words for the tortured soul of a newly diagnosed bipolar patient.
After the message was loud enough, I completely jumped – NO LEAPED – out of bed, ran to the nurse’s station and called my mom to tell her it was time we talk to the doctors and work out a plan to get me out of there.
That was the last night I lay helpless and broken in a psych ward bed.
It’s funny you know, that same message came through as I tried to sleep tonight. “Get up.”
I am not even going to ask why, all I know is that I am here typing this out for the world to see it.
In a time where there are SO many drugs being continuously fed to us, prescribed to us, pushed on us, and at the same time religious fanatics push their agenda on us, so many people are caught in between – and for the people like us, with mental illness, the battleground for our soul and sanity is embedded deep in our mind. It may be that the mind of someone with a mental illness is where all the answers of the Divine that has been sought after since the Beginning of Time.