recovery journey: part one
DAY ONE
The day I was going to be checking into the NWC facility really felt like a normal day. I kind of was treating it as if I was packing to simply go to Seattle or an overnight stay. Except I wasn’t. I was packing for a fourteen day stay at a crisis residential center but emotionally I was pretty neutral and remained in solitude for most of the day. My reason for going to a crisis residential facility can simply be reduced to the fact that I had succumbed to the symptoms of my OCD and bipolar depression. I really couldn’t be alone and even if I was, the maladaptive behaviors wouldn’t cease. I would wake up and immediately start to self soothe by numbing myself with substances and self-harm. I had reached the point where I no longer wanted to exist or wake from sleep. When I was given the ultimatum to be placed under a 51/50 hold or wait a couple days to go to a facility, my choice was the latter. I have had some, and I hate to use this word, traumatic experiences at certain psychiatric wards and I don’t think I could survive another one. Packing was hard because I wanted to bring clothes that didn’t have too many washing guidelines and things that I could mix and match with each other. Even though I was heading to the psychiatric hospital, remaining in touch with my personal style was important. I’ll list all of the clothing I brought down below so you have an idea what’s good to pack…in the case you too end up in a similar situation. Yeah, that’s what we’ll call it, situation.
I spent most of the day alone cleaning my room so that when I return it will feel clean and fresh, hopefully it will have some semblance to how I’ll feel when I leave the facility. The whole day though, I didn’t really talk to any of my family. I felt that it would make saying goodbye harder, and in the end it didn’t really matter it was still hard. About an hour before I left, I lost it. I was so angry but that’s the secondary emotion to sadness, so I knew I was simply sad. Sad and terrified. It was just me and my mom and my sister met us there at the facility to say goodbye. I asked her to stop so I could buy headphones, two packs of Parliament shorts and a toothbrush. Then we headed to the facility and our goodbye was rushed, however as I heard her car ignition turn on to drive away I ran after her car, just like I did when I was in school. She got out and asked what was wrong. I said in a hasty and superior tone, I don’t have to stay here, it’s voluntary so I want to go home. She hugged me and told me how strong I was and that I need to do this. I put my hand on her chest and pushed her away and reluctantly went back inside.
When I don’t feel strong, I don't want to hear that I am. I feel like at that moment I shouldn’t have to put on a strong and resilient front. I already know that I am not weak, so I’m often frustrated when people try to remind me of that. I need to process and honor my vulnerability and melancholia at that moment. After she left, a staff member combed through all of my belongings; clothes, undergarments, hygienic products, everything. I felt like an inmate but at this facility you’re able to keep your electronics, and you don’t have to wear scrubs and you get to smoke. Probably the only thing that sold me on this place. Just kidding. Since my check-in was in the evening, I simply settled in and met my roommate who seemed nice enough, but I'm not here to make friends. We had an evening check-in, I ran two miles on the treadmill then it was time for medication and I went to bed. Crying and praying for help and guidance.
DAY TWO
I was interested to see how the next day would be since I technically didn’t have a full day of planned groups because my check-in was later the previous evening. They have a planned schedule for the whole day that begins at 7a but they’re really relaxed and don’t enforce scheduling rules here like they do at 51/50 stays. So I woke up at 830a, got some coffee and had a few cigarettes. Just like home. The days have a general structure, three groups a day and two check-ins, morning and night. In the morning you set a goal and then at the end of the day, you share if you met that goal. For me, I thought to myself, my goal is to not leave, but I simply said, “use the treadmill.” And I did. The second day was relaxed. Our second group was informative but although I already knew the coping skills for worrying, which was the subject matter, I was happy to be refreshed and I go more into that here.
For the rest of the day I kept to myself, mostly smoking and eavesdropping (against my will) to other housemates and their tragic stories. I had to remove myself from the smoking area, and not because their stories were necessarily triggering but because I had the competitiveness in me to want to share where I had been and where my father had been and done. I don't know how to explain this without sounding likee a narcissist but it sounded to me like they were in their own competition of all of the fucked up things they had done, and I felt like some of the stuff I’ve experienced was in some ways worse. But it’s not even the fact that one person's experience is worse or not, it was bothersome that no one was actually listening but trying to establish their credit for being here in the first place and that one patient was more qualified than the other. But me being so reserved, I didn’t even comment but sat in my corner and thought that I couldn’t believe I had twelve more days to be there.
I ended up removing myself prepared to go for my second treadmill run that day. Before that, mom called and I soon found out she was parked outside the facility which only hurt more that she couldn’t come in and visit until her scheduled visit that next evening. I surprised myself by hanging up and texting her a list of things I wanted her to bring: tank tops, Jesus is King Yeezy top, my Yeezy 350s for running and two packs of Parliaments. I did thirty minutes and felt like I could do another thirty, but instead I showered and changed, smoked one more cigarette in solitude (thank G-d) and got into bed. I couldn’t sleep despite having taken my meds so I read Just Kids and began a poem that I ended up finishing in a dream I had that night. I only shed a few tears and I couldn’t identify why or where they came from but I know I felt sorry for myself.
Packing List
So here are the initial items I packed for a 14-day stay at the National Walnut Creek facility.6 tank tops in black and white6 t-shirts in black, white and gray. Also, my Leonard Cohen tour shirt1 pair of flared yoga pants2 pairs of black leggings1 pair of Agolde denim cutoff shorts1 pair of Nike sport shorts3 pairs of biker shorts1 pair of Adidas track pants2 pairs of white Brandy Melville lounge shorts18 pairs of underwear12 pairs of socksCrocs, Yeezy sandals and New Balance 550sI packed this much because I wanted to avoid doing laundry as much as needed, however there are multiple laundry facilities available but I use a special psoriasis detergent so I wanted to have enough clothes to last me. Although, I see how I like to change clothes throughout the day, so I will eventually have to do my own laundry here. In addition to clothing, I had to bring all of my own medications that the nurse holds onto for you. I also packed my own toiletries including, toothbrush, hair products, body wash, lotion and all of the other skincare and haircare products I use in the morning and evening. Of course me being a stylist, I wanted to pack things that weren’t just stylish, but things I wear anyways to make me feel more in touch with who I am and how I express myself. Because I find that being here, in some way I have lost who I am and fashion helps remind me of who that is. Plus, at the end of all this I am going to upload a photo diary of what I wore for each of the fourteen days I was here.