It’s been over a month since I’ve felt the ability to write. Not so much in the pen-to-paper sense (although that’s been a struggle too) but more in the I-have-no-words sort. In saying that, I’m not sure that I have regained that ability yet. I only know that now I at least have some motivation. So feel free to sit back, relax and bear witness to the most jumbled arrangement of words that you have seen for some time…
It didn’t take long for January’s “oops, I tripped” to turn into a “Holy crap I’m falling too fast and don’t know how to stop” sort of relapse. Regardless of whether it was due to circumstances or the chemical imbalance that is most likely happening in my brain, I was once again lost and overwhelmed. It would be too easy to blame it on ‘that person’ or ‘that moment’ or even myself, but blame isn’t going to get me out of that headspace. Instead I found myself back in one of those hospital rooms I knew too well, shaking with the surplus of anxiety that was coursing through my body. I was so far inside my mind that talking was almost out of the question and even sleep was distressing.
For someone who doesn’t “believe” in mental illness, I can only ask you to try and conceptualize just how much your brain does for you. The answer is pretty much everything, from telling your body how to move to processing what you see so you are able to perceive the world around you. Now imagine that you no longer feel in control of those things, the words that come out of your mouth or the movements that you make. Imagine the constant fear that you are in a life-threatening situation even when you are alone. To think that an illness in the brain is anything less than real is just saddening.
I really do wish that I could say those few weeks in hospital got me back to where I was a few months prior, it just isn’t the way that hospital works. I currently see myself as stuck, lost and extremely confused, but it is a big step up from where I was. I have gained back the ability to write cohesively, speak (most of the time), sit still (sometimes) and partially read. To most that may seem minor, but I know that for me it makes all the difference in the world. Trying to accept that for the moment, I won’t be able to do the things “most people” can do is a work in progress though. In the interim I have the joy of dealing with the completely unhelpful coping mechanisms I’ve turned to recently *Sarcasm implied*. But that’s a whole other can of worms that I am no where near ready to open.