Familiarity

 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 second door, and eventually, you see a nurse coming at you, with their electronic key in their hand. They smile at you, and after thinking about their face for a bit, you realize you've seen them before. Just like you have seen the sterile, naked walls around you, the glass doors you need help in getting in and out of. You know this place already, you know the nurse, you've been here before. 

"Hello again", the nurse greets you as they let you in through the door. The greeting in itself is enough to tell you you're not imagining things. 

"Hi, good to see you here! Apparently, this is like a summer tradition for me now, coming here once every summer", you reply and chuckle a bit. The nurse looks at you with a friendly look in their eyes, not saying anything back to your statement. It's a silence of understanding, compassion, and care. 

You're at the last door now, and the nurse lets you in. As you step in to the lobby of the ward, you look around yourself and see the dining tables, the armchairs, the TV in front of them, the countertops with plastic mugs and a fruit bowl on top. The nurses who are watching TV with a patient look over at you, greeting you with smiles and waves. You stand in the common room and take it all in for a moment.

Yeah, I've definitely been here before.

return.

  When I came back to the ward I had been in the summer of last year, I remember I felt this calmness blooming inside me. When the place is not foreign to you anymore, when at least some of the faces are ones you've seen before, it takes a lot of the anxiety and fear away from being hospitalized. As I got the referral note from my personal psychiatrist to the ward, I kept wishing for one thing in my mind. 

Please let it be number 9. 

It's an unsettling feeling at first when you become aware of it; the sense of familiarity you get as you step into the common room and further down the hallways into your own room. Why do I feel relieved and calm when I'm entering the psych ward? Why am I getting used to this? 

Something we fear a lot is becoming institutionalized. The thought of becoming dependent on the hospital environment and not being able to function as an independent adult is terrifying and petrifyingly humiliating. If I feel calm and safe at the ward, does that mean I *want* to be here? No it doesn't. Feeling a sense of familiarity in situations and environments that you are, well, familiar with, is totally normal, no matter the circumstances. Humans are able to get accustomed to the weirdest and wackiest things ever, that's the way our brains function. I mean, you can get used to daily abuse as well, I sure did. So I think getting used to being at the ward is a much smaller of an issue, if one at all. 

Feeling safe there does not mean you want to be there. It means you need to be there, and you trust the people who are there to help you – help you enough so you can get out. Because that is always the goal.

Becoming familiar with that might actually save you in the long run. So let yourself feel it. You will get out soon enough. 

Reminiscing,

ichigonya