Tag Archive | psychiatric hospital

better days to come

the month of June is coming to an end, and i think i can’t wait for a much better July.

3 lacerations (and consequently 2 surgeries by hand surgeons and another minor surgery by the emergency doctor), had wound dehiscence and wound infections (MRSA and Pseudomonas), was held overnight for observation twice in the psychiatric hospital, had currents three times, had lithium upped, and then all these while having school and a paper to submit. sigh.

just saw my psychiatrist today. stopped further currents. adjusted my medications (lithium level [1g] is at 0.9). continuing therapy. and then praying for the best.

i don’t think i can relive another June again.

 “My grace is sufficient for you for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ , then, i am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when i am weak, then i am strong.

2 Corinthians 12-9,10




You will ever be

it’s been 9 days. 

in these fights- the ones against my mind that threatens everything in my life, against my flesh, against the doctors/nurses, against the system, and now against my own body- i’ve been seeking God. 

i’ve asked myself endlessly where is God, in all these pain and anguish. still being in a spiritual desert, i found myself praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy while inpatient. it gave me a peace of mind, but it ended there. i struggled to hold on to those graces granted. but alas, it was not enough for me.

because i had told my community Sinners before these 9 days started, they’ve been praying for me. but in my anguish i felt undeserving. i was not “really sick” even though i was unwell. i was ashamed even, because it had all started when i decided to turn savage against myself. i was the perpetrator, the sinner here. who was i to be prayed for? i continued to feel deeply this shame, although i was grateful for the prayers. but in my suffering i feebly found strength in the Bible, and in the life of St John Paul the Great.

on day 7, i was finally liberated. i say that because in these 7 days i was technically held under the law. i was ecstatic. i did some shopping, and had a fantabulous dinner with some of the Sinners. and guess what? on this joyful day i did not even take a minute to thank God for his graces.

on that very same night of Day 7, shit happened (really, for the lack of a better word). i felt like the whole night was unsalvageable. i dare not ask for God’s intervention for the 8 hours that i literally fought a battle in my room. it was me, against my failing flesh, and the bloodshed in my room. i did not stop the whole 8 hours- I was either trying not to exsanguinate, trying not to lose consciousness, trying to clean up the horrid mess, and clean myself up. where was God in this entire self-inflicted and self-deserving event? i don’t know, but He must have been there with me. it could have gone a lot of worse and things could have gotten very awful.

into Day 8, i got into trouble again because of my obligation to see my psychiatrist on my appointment. that’s the power of psychiatric hospitals. i spent 10 hours navigating the system in both psychiatric and medical hospitals, and at the end of it, i walked free out of the psychiatric hospital. where was God the whole day? i did not seek Him out, but through my friends from Sinners, His grace and love emanated in the words and actions. yet at the end of the day, again i did not stop to give thanks to my Saviour Lord.

Day 9 came as a shock for me. i had a difficult week fighting a myriad of people, emotions and things. i only wanted to rest. but alas i woke up with my left leg, weak, numb and tingly. history happened again. i called to check if my neurologist was around, but he wasn’t. i ended up in the Emergency Room again. i was fortunate enough that my symptom wasn’t brushed off as an orthopaedic issue. they took me seriously, after giving them my history with this symptom, my falls, my encounter with a neurologist, and my MRI of my spine. it was very real, and the doctors ended up admitting me. while waiting for a bed, they sent me for an MRI of the brain and cervical spine. i sighed a breath of relief as these would be the ones to give the doctors the best idea of what’s going on. in this period of about 18 hours, my leg symptoms waxed and waned, although i still required my forearm crutch. but still i thank God for being by my side through this. medical issues are less predicatable than psychiatric ones, and without God guiding my way, i would have felt so lost.

i know i am superfluous with my words. but in this post, i wanted to write about these “adversities”. i could think that God is absent, or that me being spiritually dry, i can’t seem to see, hear or feel Him. that because of these i stopped praying, and i glance over what He can do and tell myself that He won’t do it for me. that because of the wretchedness of my trespasses i am not worthy of Him, or even the prayers of my friends to Him.

but i am wrong, and perhaps subconsciously i knew that too. i want to give thanks to Him for these 9 days of tribulation. i want to thank Him for this sufferings, because i know with these i am a better person. i want to thank Him for walking with me, for bearing my crosses with me (and not for me), and for sharing my pain and burden with me. i want to thank Him for His unending love and mercy, for the faith He has in me and for the faith He gives me. i want to give thanks to my good good God for loving me when i am most unloveable, and even when people think that of me too. 

i am flawed. i am unwell sometimes. i do unfathomable things which are condemned by many who believe in the same God i do. i find myself extremely wretched. but God sees past all of that, and he does not discount the reality of my illnesses and the suffering it brings. He stays, and He never wavers. He never flinches, even if He sees me trespassing the flesh He so lovingly gave me.

God meets me where i am. in my wounds, in my sadness, in my pain, in my illness, in my encounters with others. 

perhaps when i feel spiritually dry (as i do now, and have for a few months), it’s not much of seeking Him, but simply knowing that He is there. it is our hunger, our thirst for Him, that draws us even closer to Him even though we still don’t feel Him. He is here, if only one remembers to desire Him and everything He stands for.

perhaps one of my favourite Bible verses:

But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.

Job 23:10

a rare chance

i was in the hospital for the last 6 days because of a raging infection on my arm (CRP was 101). to say the least, i was extremely reluctant to bring myself to the hospital because i knew what would come out of it. because of the nature of my wounds, it was expected that the psychiatrist would be involved, and that was the cause of my worry.

i didn’t want to go back to the psychiatric hospital again. and my worries were not for nothing. it was technically decreed for me to be sent to the psychiatric hospital after i was cleared medically. i wasn’t surprised, but i wasn’t pleased either. when they made it clear to me that i could not head home, my mood crashed while i panicked in my mind about what i should do to avoid being admitted into the psychiatric hospital. i slept for hours on end today in a bid to run away from the anxiety of impending doom.

i left the hospital in an ambulance, like it’s always been the last few times. i told my parents that the only way to change this “fate” that i have been condemned to, was to persuade the doctor in the Emergency Room, that i was in no need of an admission. so that was what i did. i almost cried in the consultation room because i have almost never walked out of the psychiatric hospital’s Emergency Room “scot-free”.

no one will understand what a psychiatric admission means and feels. being locked up with triple locks (you have to get through 3 locked doors), the bare minimum to live on, and nothing much to make you feel any better… it is fucking demoralising. it’s the place where you’ve fallen, and try as you might you can’t pick yourself up. it’s the place you know that you’re so fucked up, but they remind you of it everyday anyway. it’s a place that’s a vacuum, that is devoid of hope. one doesn’t leave the ward “all better”. one leaves the ward to be left alone to pick the self up and to put everything back to place again. one leaves still demoralised, and sometimes it never goes away.

i didn’t want to go in again, because the last 1 month out has been so incredibly difficult. i haven’t even managed to get my shit together. i wasn’t ready to be thrown in again, and have all the progress i’ve made undone. i know that whatever that i am right now, going in would change things and throw me off balance. i was scared, to be honest, of going in. and this comes from someone who has spent more than 2 years inpatient (added up).

being back home again is putting things in perspective again. i remember all the times i came home from being inpatient, feeling like all is foreign, yet also having the real sense of longing. it’s the place where i belong. not inpatient, no matter how much i’m used to being inpatient. so yes i feel extremely blessed that i was given a chance despite the shit that i have done to myself.