3 Favorite Things I Learned In A Mental Hospital

I’ve lived in a mental hospital. That’s something I never thought I’d say. It was only 6 days.

I shouldn’t say that ... It was 6 days. 

Growing up, there was a mental health hospital in the middle of my suburb. It was up on a hill, tucked back on a long driveway, surrounded by lots of trees. We would tell ‘spooky stories’ with our friends about what happened when people ran away from there, and what it was like inside. 

I never thought I’d be able to sit down some day and tell you that no, in fact the people inside a mental hospital aren’t dangerous. They’re not trying to hurt anyone, and most of the time they’re working to get better. They’re receiving treatment. They’re me. 

Being strapped to a hospital bed, sedated, and then transferred to a medical hospital was not my ideal October activity, but that’s where I found myself last October. I lived through a manic episode. Then I lived in a mental health hospital for 6 days. Then I received 11 weeks of outpatient treatment for 8 hours a day Monday through Friday. 

I was given a bipolar diagnosis, but I was also given so much more. These are the 3 favorite things I learned in a mental hospital. 

Your brain is not always a reliable narrator

That may not resonate with you, so let me try to elaborate. The concept that the thoughts going through my mind were not always accurate had never occured to me. You may think that’s an odd realization, but I had never taken a step back to realize that what you tell yourself is constructed somewhere between reality, and your impression of reality. This is still something I have to remind myself daily, but the more times I can step back when I’m frustrated, angry, embarrassed, upset, and ask myself: what is the truth and what am I telling myself? The better off I am.

Depression* doesn’t always look the way you may think (*sub in anxiety, bipolar, PTSD, OCD, etc)

When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder I was obsessed with what experiences I had lived, that lined up with the common symptoms of the disorder. I also wanted to line up what parts of my life did not. The biggest anchor of truth for myself in those early weeks and months was that I displayed and leaned to the manic side of bipolar, but I didn’t really express depressive tendencies. Those were my words. That was my impression of my experiences with the mood disorder, pre diagnosis. To me, depression was laying in bed for days. It was canceling all plans and never taking a shower. It was not being able to go to work.

I was a happy person! That had never happened to me! And then I realized how naive a though. Depression can look a lot of ways. My version of the depressive side is when I come home after 3 back to back days of events and cry on the couch while watching This Is Us. My boyfriend just rubs my back because he knows we’re not supposed to make it better. It’s when I wake up and run through every possible reason I could cancel my meetings for the day, but I end up throwing my clothes on 15 minutes before the train leaves, and jet over to the station to catch the 6:15. Just because I don’t skip work when I’m down, doesn’t mean I’m not down. Everyone is different. You know you, and you can work every day to get to know your brain better. Don’t categorize disorders. Share what your version is. 

The World Moves on Without you

This may sound like a bad thing, but it’s honestly one of the most freeing things to realize that the world will keep going without you. When I was taken to the hospital and eventually admitted to treatment I had no way to communicate with the outside world. My parents called the HR department at my company the following day and told them I would be out for an undetermined amount of time and we would let them know more when we knew. Beyond that no one knew anything. Friends showed up places for coffee dates, puppy play time, and get togethers. I was nowhere to be found. There were events I was supposed to be speaking at and even events I was supposed to be hosting. They were all either covered by colleagues or reschedule. And believe it or not, I didn’t respond to one work email in 3 months, and I’m still alive. This is what I remind myself on my worst days. It will all be there tomorrow. I didn’t lose a single friend over any of my no show dates, and my job was still there for me when I returned.

I know some of these facts are not true for everyone, but I’m lucky they’re true for me. I needed to take that time to focus on myself and it’s the best medicine I’ve ever gotten.