Trauma Doesn't Make You Stronger

 Being admitted to a psychiatric facility once is enough of a troubling and traumatic experience. Especially if your stay gets prolonged, ranging from several months to over a year, the ward will most likely become a place you never want to find yourself in ever again. And for those who get the proper help they need on their first and longer ward period, there might not ever be a reason to go back – and that is always the end goal.  But for those of us who might not stay at the ward for months but only weeks, it's more common to end up in the same situation again. The kind of mental illnesses that you have obviously contribute to this as well, and for someone with a mood disorder like depression or bipolar it's more likely they won't spend extended periods of time at the facility but instead are more likely to come back at another time.  And I am definitely one of those people. My main diagnosis is BPD, borderline personality disorder, but I am also diagnosed with MDD, ma...

 " Wait, really?! Were you guys really allowed to do THAT? I wish I had had those same privileges too, man that place almost killed me with boredom." Psychiatric facilities are generally known for their strict regulations. Patients are only allowed to do certain things, access certain personal belongings, and everything is closely monitored via security cameras. When you go there for the first time, you might be shocked at how much your life is being controlled by other people. But if you are one of those who end up going for more than once, you get used to it. Especially when in hindsight, you understand the need for those restrictions.  It is all for your own safety, after all.  Psych wards in Finland are not nearly as controlling as in countries like the United States. There are certain universal rules every patient must follow, like meal schedules and having your personal belongings checked every time you come back from a walk. But the majority of the rules are based ...

 Sometimes, they let you have visitors. If you're relatively stable, not a threat to others and can handle social situations, you are allowed to invite people to come see you at the ward. Typically, it's family members that visit the patients, but close friends are also common. For me, having people visit me is the most important part of recovering and getting closer to the eventual check-out date along with the actual treatment. In general, it feels good to leave the sterile white rooms for a little while and talk with people who are living their regular lives. It makes you feel like a normal person again, kind of restoring that connection to the outside world you've lost since being admitted.  "Ah, so the world is still the same, after all. When I get out, I'll return to the normalcy of everyday life once more." It's a very comforting thought. And a very important one to hold onto too, because institutionalization is something we are all afraid of there....

 I have never been a morning person. I don't like waking up early for no apparent reason: to me, there needs to be at least a somewhat relevant motivation for me to get out of bed before the clock strikes 9 am. For the longest time, I had that motivator in the form of school schedules and uni lectures. But as years have gone by, as I have gotten even sicker and sicker, those reasons quietly exited my life and left me without much of a trace. This, in turn, made it possible for me to stay up ridiculously late and wake up to eat my "breakfast" at 2 pm. That used to be my very normal lifestyle, with a sleeping pattern so horrifying that people around me almost started to worry for me, no matter how much I tried to justify it with "my creative juices flowing the best at the wee hours". To everyone else, it looked like a very unhealthy way of life, while I was none the wiser. And as much as I love working when everyone else is fast asleep, I do have to admit one thin...

 You're at the main entrance of the hospital. With the little amount of things you're allowed to bring with you, you step into the building whose walls are the typical sterile white color that reflects every bit of light to grace its surface. The artificial lighting in the hallways is so bright and unnatural, you almost feel naked, like you're completely exposed to everyone who walks past you in the corridors. They are going to know everything about you, why you're there, what got you to that position in the first place, and how they plan on helping you get out.  You take the elevator to the second floor of the huge building, you step out and see the doors. You find the doorbell almost immediately, you don't even have to look for it anymore. You press the button, the security camera turns on for a second, and someone asks for your name in the speaker. Then, the door buzzes, and you know what to do.  You're waiting for somebody to come and let you in through the ...