The psychiatric unit. It’s seen as a place of despair, a stereotypical “looney bin”, a mad house, a dark place that people go when things feel impossible. Over the last 20 years that I have actively engaged in mental health treatment, I have been in often rotating or long term stints at these units for more times than I can count on two hands. Personally, it has been a mixed place of tortuous anxiety ridden hell, and a place of healing. While it has historically been these things and I have gained the additional symptom of complex trauma from bad experiences, the people that helped guide me, the connections I made over the years, the kindness extended to me by staff, I carry forward in my story of growth and reflection. This is a story about finding hints of light in the shadows, and discovering that even in the darkest moments, there is hope to be found. To all the behavioral techs, nurses, social workers, therapists, and psychiatrists over the years that helped me, I sincerely thank you. To all of those special individuals I met along the way on the unit, thank you. This story highlights lessons that I choose to share, not the painful memories of a couple bad experiences. I hope that this story encourages you and gives you comfort if you need it. I hope that this story makes an impact, even if it is to solely break the stigma of what it means to be inpatient on a psychiatric unit.

One of the first lessons I learned as a result of inpatient care, was how you start looking forward to things again. You are suddenly evermore grateful for the simplest luxuries. How the rays of sunshine feel as it glistens your skin, a home cooked meal, your first sleep in your own bed, feeling the wind howl as a thunderstorm passes by, a loving embrace of a family member once your return from treatment, a warm long shower or bath. These moments I used to take for granted are all the more satisfying now.

The second lesson I learned as I had time to focus on my own healing, was drawing and journaling. I recall my first hospitalization in 2007, I drew a picture of my spirit animal, the great blue heron, surrounded by a water scene, about to take flight. I drew countless things, that I dont have record of anymore. I started recording my thoughts and turning those thoughts into actionable items. I created my blog to capture my life in 2009. These precious moments to focus on myself and reconstruct my life served a larger purpose, to give me the tools to climb up out of my own psychosis and mania that I was more frequent to be treated for, my primary diagnosis being Bipolar I disorder. I began to realize that my issues were not insurmountable mountains to climb, but rather things that can be overcome once the right supports were in place.

The third lesson, the wonderful patients I encountered from all walks of life, all with their own struggles. That moment when you can hold your own conversation with another patient, make a meaningful or lasting connection. It occurs when you can find that spark whatever it may be, a spark of enjoyment in common interests when you pass the time with an older French speaking lady pacing the hallways lost in broken French conversations (I studied French in school for 8 years). Or when you can find that one person on the unit who understands you and can help you fact check elements of your paranoia. When you meet the most humble and most caring humans you have encountered in your life, most of the time to never see again. To these special kind souls I encountered over the years, in Maryland, in Virginia, even in Florida, you helped me on my path of self-discovery, thank you for your part in building me up again.

The fourth lesson, when you can come to the understanding of why you are there and what the larger picture is, to get well. To be able to function again. Many stints I was unable to see this. When you are not well mentally initially, this is harder to understand. I remember feeling trapped at times, doing everything in my being to find a way out. One two occasions I found ways to be released, only to end up right back in the same unit days later. That gave way to the focus on progress. Certain past stays in various units, it took me a long time to recover post-hospitalization. After my first round of hospitalizations during the summer of 2007, it took me 6-8 months of difficult depression and hard work to recover. After Ella was born in 2012 I was hospitalized for 3 months consecutively and the recovery from that time took nearly a year. My last inpatient stay during spring 2023 I was admitted and treated, and home within one week. Back to work another week later. Recovery is possible, and attainable after a stay at the psychiatric unit.

The fifth lesson, when another patient gives you an article of clothing as an offering of kindness, even if it’s a very silly tshirt you will never wear. Or when the staff comes and checks on you, to find you singing quietly in your room, they stand their and suddenly join your song. When the staff quietly survey the floor ensuring everyone is safe. When the therapist during a group activity smiles at you in acknowledgement of your progress. When you see the others you are surrounded by in commonality, uniting in different ways, making a lasting impression. When you understand everything is going to get better soon.

The sixth lesson, you might know your on your way to healing, when you are not only actively participating in group therapy or being completely honest with the psychiatric team, its when you wake up and are excited about the day ahead, that’s when you know you’ve turned a corner. When you believe in yourself and your life again.

The seventh lesson, is when you realize everything the staff has done to help you stabilize quickly. So much so, that you write them each individual cards and drop them off at the from desk of the hospital after your release. They help you get to a place of recovery, acceptance and progress forward, so that you may be productive in the future.

The eighth lesson, when you reach a point that you see the care and concern of your family members and best friends, and look forward to their visits or phone calls, that connection is invaluable and the people that care for you, especially while you are inpatient, will never stop rooting for you and want only the best outcome. When your loving and supportive husband comes by during visiting hours just to hug you.

The ninth lesson, albeit some bad experiences (handcuffs, restraints, isolation rooms and sedation), I accept that now as not ideal treatment of individuals in a mental health crisis but even from the bad comes the good. These experiences of treatment also healed me in ways what I know now how I will accept treatment, I have an advance directive a legal document notarized to advocate for my wishes when I cannot directly voice those concerns. I also accept that these extremes were used years ago and much less acceptable now in the mental health world. While my PTSD symptoms flare up from inpatient experiences even in my most recent stint in 2023, I am more equipped now to handle that trauma through my work in trauma therapy the last two years.

The tenth lesson, is to go in with an open mind, and a kind heart. Take in the stories, the guidance from staff, the skills gained in every therapy session, and use it. Apply your own takeaways from the experience and learn and continue to grow. Surfing the psychiatric unit doesn’t mean that your struggle with mental illness is over. It does mean that you’ve faced a mountain and kept climbing, even when the path was steep and dark at times. These lessons that I have learned aren’t just about the many times I spent inside those walls. They are about caring the light I have found forward into every day after discharge. Healing isn’t a destination, but a journey: marked by small victories, kindness and the fortitude to keep moving onward. If you are reading this and feeling lost or overwhelmed, know this: you are not alone, and there is hope waiting for you on the other side. I remember a nurse handing me a flyer 20 years ago at my first rounds at a psych ward, for NAMI, National Alliance on Mental lllness. I took the flyer home, soon after found a NAMI support group in 2008. I began volunteering, and all of these years later, I still volunteer for them, I am now a National and State trainer and a program leader for more than 10 programs. I have been involved in NAMI affiliates all over the country. In a way, NAMI kept me steadfast and accountable on my mental health journey, and I would have never known about the non-profit organization had I not received that flyer from the psychiatric unit staff. The main lesson, find your light from the seemingly darkest places and never, ever give up hope that recovery is possible.

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