Contracting for Safety

i've had a rough few weeks.  few months.  few years.  it all came to a bubbling boil around the 25th of July or so, when i suffered what is now called a Mental Health Crisis.

despite my blogging, however infrequent it is these days, and my small email discussions, i still retain my lifelong "stuffing" habits.  and its been quite unhealthy.  unhealthy enough to land me in the ER several times in one week and finally, voluntarily, in a Behavioral Hospital for about 6 days.

i wasn't suicidal, that's never really been my speed.  but i had ceased to function, at work or at home.  irrepressible tears that couldn't be stopped by family comfort, or distraction, or even medication.  a small intervention was necessary, and when it occurred, i was actually relieved.  i shook, and cried, and croaked out that i needed help.  and the calvary arrived.

apparently my friends, family & boss had been watching me sliding steadily downhill for well over a year.  different loved ones would mention periodically that i might want to talk to someone.  i'm awfully stubborn.  i could deal with it all on my own.  i could take care of it. clearly, that wasn't the case, as those around me stood helplessly as i was evaluated by the psychiatrist at the hospital for the second time in a week.

when i met my treatment team on the Unit at the Behavioral Hospital, it was pretty routine.  family history, drug/alcohol history, personal history.  even though i was pretty heavily medicated, i still shook, still cried endlessly as a talked about the Kiddo, the miscarriages.  i was impressed that they all said up front that they knew very little about adoption in general, and some hadn't even heard of open adoption.  it was better than having them feed me some pat lines of bullshit.

when my medication was adjusted to an anti-anxiety and anti-depressant, i started to feel like myself a bit.  i talked with the other patients, spoke up in the groups, talked about what i was going through, using the generalities of Grief, Loss, Stress & Guilt.  very few people knew about the Kiddo, and the miscarriages.  it seemed unimportant in the grand scheme, as the Unit was really just a short term weigh station for long term care or outpatient therapy, which i already had set up a few days before entering the hospital.  and that i'm really looking forward to starting on Wednesday.

i've been battling the Depression & Anxiety demons since, well, forever.  probably since i was a child.  i was first diagnosed around 1992, and took medication for several years.  and it worked. and i felt better. so i stopped.  typical. i resumed it around 1999, felt better, stopped. typical.

one of the counselors took me aside after a group, reinforcing to me that i deserved better than the punishment i was handing myself daily.  that i deserved a better life.  my husband deserved to have a wife that was present. and somehow his words got through my thick, stubborn skull and i realized he was right.

and the Kiddo deserves better from me.  for me to be healthy and happy.  i don't want his last memory of me to be a puddle of tears and utterly stressed, which i imagine IS his last memory, almost 3 years ago.

as honest, emotionally and in the short stories of incidents that have occurred, as i have been on this blog, there have been many things i haven't been able to convey.  real anger, real hurt.  i've always felt, truly, like i deserved to hold onto these feelings, that it was my deed therefore my punishment.

i wrote almost constantly on the Unit, in a composition book, using tiny "golf pencils" that only held a sharp point for about half a page or so. it was all about adoption.  i wrote about the last time i saw the Kiddo, how the visit actually went.  and a few days later, i wrote him a letter, coming from a much better place.  it is unfinished, i had run out of time during that session, and that's okay.  i probably won't look at that writing again: there's no need.

i also discovered how much i am loved during this time. how much my friends, my family need me to be well.  and that i want to get healthy.  in so many ways i've been shutting out so much life, and keeping myself in this box.  

i'm slowly coming out of that box.  and it will take work.  and it will be difficult at times. and i'm prepared for that.  looking forward to it.  the end result is worth it.  i'm worth it.  my husband is worth it.  my friends and family are worth it. and the Kiddo is most certainly worth it.