Three Hours

Take me away

To somewhere below hell

Where I can look up

And tell the devil I’m lower than him

He is not the ground floor

The elevator hitting 66

Missing a six because

He is missing a screw

Does not stop there

No, I am at level thirteen

I can rise above

The stairs are not too long.

I’ll raise up to 40

Forty days and forty

Nights

It will take to rise above

The evil he brings

I am good now

My evil has been

washed away

I know I am not wrong

I am alive

I still breathe

I’m coming above the surface

Where fire can not survive

I am the one who survived

40 trumps 66 missing the six to

99 missing the one on it’s head

The devil will not drag me

No, not tonight

Tonight, I am a hero

Even if just for the next three hours

It’ll be be three hours I will never forget

Song Of Redemption

Sing me a song of redemptio

As I walk down that road

It seems so new to be traveling

Along one I walked so long ago

 

I’m running away from my past

A free spirit instead of a ghost

No more eating my insides out

Instead I watch as my flowers grow

 

I’m no longer a rooted tree

Yes, I have my strings in the ground

They are so long I can tumble

Away from the path leading down

 

The truth is I will have my problems

They will never not be around

They might swirl around in the darkness

But the light lets me not be bound

 

I’m happy for once in a lifetime

Or maybe just a few years

Either is better than nothing

My life is no longer just fears

 

Life will never be simple

But it can be more than just tears

I’ll raise my eyes to the ceiling

As we all scream victory cheers

We Share Our Stories

From the bottom of my aching heart

I want to thank you from the start

I was downcast, I was beat

All my problems caught up with me

 

Years have been tough, but I have too

Ladders to climb, hoops to run through

Each step a memory, each snapshot I took

Each page I have written could write a book

 

Blogging is better than writing in a journal

Basically the same, but a blog is external

Other’s can see what happens each day

Never have to hide, I know many relate

 

We share our stories to help us grow

Close to a bloom, then our petals show

We advocate through stories and  our

tweets

Trying to keep our demons asleep

 

Each letter represents our internal pain

Each word shows pulling of our chains

Each sentence leads to a little regret

Each paragraph has our eyes growing wet

 

Each page is a lesson to behold

Every story is a story meant to be told

It can be a challenge to share it all

No story from the heart is ever too small

 

To all of you who embarked on this climb

We all slide down a couple times

If you want to get up to he mountain top

Never stop writing, there is no need to stop

TO ALL OF YOU:

Rachel Platten- Stand By You

 

 

Misery, Recovery, Victory

Five years of misery

Five years of this mess

Ready to confess the truth

I’ve been hiding

Since my youth

Has come and gone

again

 

Things are never easy

Running from my mind

Need to release a little steam

‘Cause I’m done releasing mine

Crimson leaves a stain on the floor

 

                                                              

For five years

I spun around

Holding to get better

With each day showing blue

Times are tough

Living is hard

When you’ve spent your life

Waiting for something real

For five years 

 

Five years of recovery

Five years of no plan

Here I stand while rewinding

Memories fade

While we’re still finding

Hidden days and empty years

Behind 

 

I’ve come too far

To throw it down the drain

Head high on my shoulders

Memories flood when I see pain

Nightmares cure like anthrax 
 For five years

I spun around

Holding to get better

With each day showing blue

Times are tough

Life is hard

When you’ve spent your life

Waiting for something real

For five years

 

5 years of victory

Hope it will stay close by

The last time I felt this good

Was mania, and wild

Did what I could

Top of the mountain

Alive

 

Felt like anger, holding me back

Somebody else hold the reigns for a while

Don’t need anybody to tell me I’m not okay, I know

I’ll be alright, nothing is wrong 

Victory calling me all night long

 

For five years

I spun around

Holding to get better

With each day showing blue

Times are tough

Life is hard

When you’ve spent your life

Waiting for something real

For five years

 

Burned like charcoal

Waiting for the rain

When it won’t go out

Send in a hurricane

To blown things down

Sometimes I give up

It won’t happen today

All I know

Is that I am okay

I’m gonna stay

My Experience With Residential 3

After acute, Is started working hard. I got all 100s on my point sheet every day, which got me into the 700 award, I actually had the most 700s they had ever had in a row. We got parties when we reached a certain amount of points. During parties we got snacks and the privilege to watch TV or play video games.

I had to do several things to earn my T level, the level you can go home on. I got to go to special outings, like the beach, Dairy Queen, and a place that had a bunch of video games and pool tables. We had a lot of fun on our outings.

To get T level we had to get signatures from staff and write an autobiography about our life and read it to the director of the program and a your staff member you was dedicated to a small group of people. I petitioned for my level and I got it. That was a great day.

T level is also the time to start visiting your home.  At my eighth month, I started with a few hours where we could hang out with our parents. Eventually it moved up to weekends and a few days at a time. Then it was time to start going home. I graduated from the program after being there for nine months. I was free!

Just because I went to the program does not mean I will never relapse or get hospitalized again.

I have done both, but I am still going. Giving up is not an option. I and everyone reading this is capable to move on and leave the pain behind. Talk about it with a therapist. Go to whichever hospital you need, but only if you absolutely need to go. If they decide to send you to residential, you will be fine. My experience is just one of them, You never know what your option will have. My experience was excellent at most of the time but terrible at others. I wanted to go home, and even begged my therapist to send me to another hospital, but I’m glad they didn’t. It was extremely helpful and I was truly cared for. Do research with our therapist on what your option is like. Call the center and talk to them there. You will be fine if you have to go. Do remember, they say 3-6 months, but the stay is closer to 9-12 months, at least the one I went to. As long as it helps you, it will be worth it.

 

My Experience With Residential 2

When I have to be on a team that expects me to want to win, try again. I’m not the person you want. We played a lot of games with balls and running, probably my least two favorite things about sports. I guess that is why I don’t play any. They also had a climbing wall, which I never did because of a fear of falling off and insecurity that people were going to watch me.

Part of RT was getting to go to the pool every week, I can’t swim, but being in the water and playing beach ball volleyball over a net (beach balls are an exception to my fear), and use kickboards and noodles. It was very fun, and I;n

Christmas was a special day at the hospital. We got to help plan a Christmas Show, where we sang, made up dance, and I got to read a poem I had written about Christmas. We performed it, and my grandparents came down to watch it.  We also got special Christmas pajamas on Christmas Eve, based on our likes. I got Hello Kitty pajamas. We also had written down a list of things we wanted for presents.  They then put it on  tree for people to pick up and give a few gifts to people. I got all Hello Kitty stuff, which I love and still have.

We had school every day. I have another blog about this, which will explain what the schooling is like as an inpatient.

We also had group a few days a week, When a new person came, they would be in a typical group, with music, birthday cakes,  and therapeutic talk. The music came from people choosing their most meaningful song. I believe I chose Blood For Poppies by Garbage because it talks about missing home and your dog, which I could definitely agree with.

We also had DBT. We learned a lot of skills to regulate our emotions, self soothe, and how to let things pass. My therapist and another chooses from the girls based on behavior. No boys were allowed in the meetings.

Every day was not a good day. For me,  I had a “honeymoon effect” where I was great for a while. Then things started to break down. I stopped eating, was psychotic, started cutting with anything sharp I could find, mostly paperclips. I also banged my head against the wall. I got restrained several times and sent to the quiet room with the door locked so I couldn’t get out.  I was forced to wear gowns instead of clothes and had to sleep on a mattress right by the staff so they could watch me. I was on 1:1, which meant no privacy. Right outside of the bathroom and when I ate. I couldn’t even leave the unit because of my symptoms. It was eventually decided that I was too sick to be on residential, That next day, I got moved to acute, where they could keep a closer eye on me. I stayed there five days, several that spent some time in the quiet room and strapped to the bed. On the acute side, they gave shots to calm you down, which I also was poked with a lot.

Eventually I was moved back to the residential side.I decided that I wanted to get better so I could leave and live a healthy life. When I was settled on the residential, I started my path to recovery.

 

Blood For Poppies- Garbage

 

 

l

My Experience With Residential 1

Sometimes things get too tough. What happens to someone depends on the risk someone is for hurting themselves or others. Hospitals are the only way to help sometimes. If you have been in a hospital, it is enough for you? Sometimes acute wards aren’t enough for a person. When that happens, it is decided if you are going to stay on acute or moved to residential behavioral health center. In my case, they decided to send me to residential.

Before I start, I’d like to say that these are my experiences, as I do not know about everything that happens in every hospital.

To be admitted I had to be at least a little bit stable, but still exhibit symptoms of a moderate or severe emotional or behavioral diagnosis. I had to have an interview over the phone with the director of the program. My parents took me there and we looked around. It was good. The first person who introduced their self to me ended up being my favorite person there. I then had to say goodbye to my parents. They then drove the three hour trip home.

The first thing I did as a patient was play with water balloons outside. It was a lot of fun and I got introduced to many other patients. I was a good first day except having to be so far from parents.

We had many types of therapies. Individual, group, dialectical behavioral  therapy (DBT), art,  and recreational therapies. We each were assigned one of four individual therapists. I got Ms. T. who I stuck with the whole stay.

The art therapist Ms. L. was outstanding, Most art sessions included telling how we were feeling that day and then having a project to tell our stories and  let out our feelings.

Recreational therapists were iffy for me. We always played games that included rules that that I couldn’t  comprehend fast enough to  play the game right away. I also asked an RT intern if he thought I had Asperger’s to which he replied “Not at all”. Guess what now? He was wrong.

The RT also planned a summer game  camp, which I absolutely despised. School in the morning, games in the afternoon. Yes, we went to school all summer but it was more fun than the regular school year.I hated it so much, because the boys were too aggressive, as were many of the girls. I am NOT competitive. My days of competitiveness started and ended at my first soccer game at five years old. One game, me and my best friend ran down the field holding hands and picking dandelions.

Animal I Have Become- Three Days Grace