I didn’t want to write this post. I really, really didn’t want to write this post. I didn’t want to share this information with anyone in the world but I’m going to. I am going to because I want to provide someone a resource that I wish I had before this happened to me. So here I am.
On Wednesday (actually, since this probably won’t go up for a couple weeks after I write this I’ll give you the date. It was April 18th), I checked myself in a behavioral health crisis center. I’ve thought about it many times and there are so many times I should have gone but was afraid to. This time something set me over the edge and to be honest scared the absolute shit out of me forcing me to take that step.
Here’s the thing: I’ve been manic for weeks. I have never been diagnosed with bipolar so it has taken me by complete surprise. After about 2 weeks of not sleeping more than 2 or 3 hours at a time and constantly having to be moving and not being able to think or focus, it was time. I woke up around 4 o’clock in the morning on Wednesday and the only two things I needed to do that day were go to the bank and get an oil change for my car. Since I had nothing to do until 9, all I could do was pace around my house. For 5 hours. While at the bank, the teller asked me multiple times if I was okay because I was moving a lot. Then, what really made me realize I needed help immediately was when I was sitting in the lobby waiting for my oil change. I couldn’t sit still and was constantly getting up. The man across the lobby from me under his breath referred to me as “fucking tweaker”. At that point, strangers were noticing I wasn’t right so I knew it was time.
I wouldn’t classify myself as having an anxiety disorder and I have never been diagnosed with one, but I do have some anxiety when it comes to showing up places where I am not expected. I wasn’t quite sure where to go and I have heard that going to a regular hospital with mental health issues doesn’t get you very far and they aren’t always very nice. The only place I knew that I could go was about 45 minutes away. I called them and explained what was going on and they told me to come in for an evaluation but they probably wouldn’t keep me inpatient. I was relieved because being hospitalized is also a fear of mine and a huge factor in why I always denied needing more help.
I was there for around four hours that day. I checked in, they took all of my personal items including my jacket, my bag and my phone and brought me to a room. I have no idea how long I was in the room because again, no phone and the room didn’t have a clock. Being manic, trapped in a room with nothing was miserable. I kept walking in circles around the little room and was asked multiple times to sit down. When the therapist came in, we talked for a while and I told her how freaked out I was about what was happening and the diagnoses she already had on file for me and how manic symptoms were not typical for those.
I was released to an outpatient program shortly after since they determined I wasn’t an immediate danger to myself but they also told me not to hesitate to come back if I needed to.
I just wanted to post a little depression update for y’all and give you a little bit of my experience checking myself in somewhere incase anyone reading this is having similar fears about doing so. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve googled “what happens when you check yourself in to a hospital for depression?” or some variation of that over the past 8 or so years. I feel like now that I’ve done it once, if I have to again, it won’t be nearly as scary and I’m here to tell you to just do it if you need to. I promise, it’s worth it.