Well, I’m back in the hospital for a medication change.

Psychiatric medicine has come so far in being able to treat people who suffer from debilitating depression and anxiety. And yet the system is still so far from perfect. When your current meds begin to lose their effectiveness as tolerance builds up in your body, you basically start back at square one in trying to find a medication or combination that will create long-term stability.

And because I’ve had such negative reactions to some meds, and have such high impulsivity when I feel suicidal, the risks are too great to be a guinea pig outside of hospital anymore. So I’m here, and I’m committed to getting better, and I’m grateful that the staff admitting me last night was compassionate and understanding and more importantly, recognized the severity of my need.

Being here (on the same unit I was on in 2014) is both nostalgic in an odd way and frightening. The last time, a hospitalization we thought would be a few weeks stretched on and on for months until a whole year had slipped away from me.

Kathryn keeps reminding me to let this all unfold as it will, cultivate hopefulness that I will get back to my life soon – hockey starts this week, I miss my clients at work, my friend’s wedding is next weekend, the GS Halloween Party the week after that. I don’t want to miss any of this.

And so in the most difficult moments I will ask for help and use my coping skills and remember it doesn’t always feel like this. I am not here to escape my pain. I’m here to confront it and find a better way of managing it.

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