So now I delve into an area inside myself that seems so far removed, so foreign now. However, the experience was very real and is still very much a part of my testimony. What happened to me next catapulted me into a lot of healing. It was one of the first good choices I made for myself, or I should say that Sean and I made together. He was very supportive.
I was on a lot of medication. Something for anxiety, something for depression and something to help me sleep. I was a walking medicine cabinet. My dosages weren't extremely high but they were enough to make me numb. That's what I was going for. Feeling things was causing problems, or so I thought. Turns out that feeling things is what, when done carefully and prayerfully, can help heal a broken heart. But I wanted to silence mine. It worked...for a while.
Something strange started happening while I was on these drugs. They stopped working. One could say that God was at work, His healing hand taking away the numbness that I was seeking. But more medically speaking, this happens a lot. A LOT. People go on things that they think they need and all of a sudden the medicine stops working. So, they up the dosage. And so on it goes until they max out one drug and try another. It's a mess. Now, I'm not here to say that meds don't help a lot of people. Back then there were times when the anxiety medication actually helped me start talking in my counseling sessions. Otherwise my heart would just burst and I would have a panic attack. Yes, this was all spiritual in nature, but God used certain things at certain times to help me get by. But at this point, I think He was saying "Enough". I started literally getting worse. I was still taking the medication but you would think that I had stopped. My crying was worse, my hopelessness was worse, my anger was spilling over into every other area of life. I had very few "good days". Praise the Lord that He brought me to this. The numbness wasn't worth what He had in store for me.
Sean and I were having another day with me barely able to think rational thoughts, and I decided to take all my pills and "go away". I still don't think I really wanted to die, but I was close. I locked myself in our bedroom and got them all out on the bed. Sean sensed something was wrong and broke the door in. He saw what I was doing and got very angry. He said that I needed to check myself in to a hospital and get some real help. After a yelling match I realized that he was right...what was I doing? I had to give it a real shot before letting go of all I cared about. So, I checked into St. Mary's Health Center here in Jefferson City.
I very clearly remember the drive to the hospital. I remember the triage room and the questionnaire I had to fill out. I knew that if I wanted to me admitted then I had to be honest and check the boxed marked "suicidal". So sad. So true. So, I did. I remember the triage nurse, oddly, was a guy in all white with longer dark hair and a beard and bright green eyes. He was thin and wore, to my cynical amusement, a white leather fanny pack. He started talking to me about his faith in God. He told me that when he was my age that he checked himself in as well. He said that it would really help me and to not forget to pray. Wow. I still tear up when thinking about him. Next, I saw the ER doctor. His name was/is Dr. Samuel Simms. I remember him very clearly because he was a quadriplegic. He had been in a horrible car accident, but had managed to maintain his career in motorized wheelchair with the help of his nurses and a beautiful golden retriever. He was the happiest man I ever met. It made me feel so small to see such happiness in the midst of so much pain. I wanted that. He told me that I could get that same happiness for the pain I felt inside.
Humbled, I was checked in. They took all my dangerous belongings away from me. No hair ties, no belt, no shoelaces. That was a strange experience. I realized that they saw me as a serious danger to myself. I think the doctor knew otherwise, but he also saw in me a deep need for help. I am so grateful for them.
Upon my arrival to 4North, aka the psych ward, I was flabbergasted at what I saw. People were truly in pain. People had done things to themselves and others that I can't even describe. I was assigned to a room with two roommates. One was on her way to jail for homicide and the other had burned herself. The girl in the room next to us was strapped to her bed and detoxing off heroin. WAKE UP CALL, to say the least.
My nurses there were Christians, as I soon found out, and my counselors were both very wonderful men. The occupational therapist especially. Danny was his name. A total free spirit. He really showed me what it looked like when you could wear a smile every moment of the day. I loved going to his sessions. He liked me and didn't judge me. I was surrounded by these beautiful, hurting people and these true optimists and I knew the Lord was giving me insights that I wouldn't understand until years later. I am so grateful for my time there.
My folks called me on the phone while I was there, as did Sean. They encouraged me and knew that I was doing the right thing. That felt really good to have their support. I knew when I left that I had more tools, more perspective, new pills (sadly), but I was now hooked up with a Christian counselor and a Christian Psychiatrist to help me along the way. I have to say, without them, I wouldn't be here today, healthy, happy and free of meds. I have a lot to say about them, but that's for next time.
Thank you so much for letting me share that. It's so healing, even now.
