"I get knocked down, but I get up again"

This time, for reasons unknown to me, I’ve been admitted to the older part of the hospital. No fancy new rooms or blinds, carpet, bathrooms or gadgets. This part of the hospital feels like it hasn’t changed much in the last 100 years.

JD be grateful.

Okay so everything is old, dark and definitely in need of renovation but I’m safe and the staff all seem nice. These staff are a change from the last staff – they seem to care more, are more knowledgeable and seem better trained on caring for people with mental illness. I’m thankful about that.

I’ve been to 5 (FIVE!!!) Group therapy sessions and not ONE of them has suggested scattergories so I’m especially thankful for that. These sessions are teaching us about dealing with mental health and “strategies” for dealing with feeling sad/distressed. Right now, I’m suffering badly with grief and some kind of PTSD from the year I’ve had so I roll my eyes at everything said in class.

“Intense exercise is very good for anxiety/distress” Oh is it? Because when I’m climbing the (metaphorical) walls in distress, I don’t fancy going to the gym. Moving my body in any successful way to the hallway where my sneakers are kept is absolutely beyond me. How is intense exercise meant to be carried out when you’re out of your freaking mind???

The meals have stayed the same – five star all the way. Nicely presented, always hot/warm (depending on when you start eating them) and a really nice choice on the daily menus for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tomorrow I’ve chosen to have pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast (I literally wrote the word “woohoo!” next to that option. I hope it makes the cooks smile), lamb korma curry with fluffy rice for lunch (so excited) and then…omg…then beef with potato and a yorkshire pudding! Hahahaha. Oh Lord. Maybe I’ve chosen too much? I’ll find out tomorrow.

Did you know my Private hospital room costs $1000 a day? I know. SUPER EXPENSIVE. I’m grateful for medical insurance that foots ALL of the bill (woo) and I can just take some time to REST. To really rest.

Right now I’m typing to you in the Courtyard here under a big tree. Ants are crawling all over me (not liking that) and it’s a really, really hot day. But I didn’t want to be in my room all day so here I am. The grass is long, green and soft and there are little dandilions dotted about which make me think that wishes are possible. I need to know how to take photos on this laptop so you can see this. Nature. There’s something healing about it, huh?

My concern is that I’m here for 2 weeks (Dr C the Psychiatrist picked the extent of my time here…go figure) and it’s not going to help me. I’m really broken. I’m really hurting. Really struggling. Really lost. I honestly feel like I’ve been set adrift and I have no rudder. No direction. No purpose and absolutely NO CONTROL.

How is this going to be fixed in 2 weeks?

In the back of my mind this entire time, I’m also worried about Alun. Al is struggling with worrying about his friend “Jenny” who’s in a physically abusive relationship and he’s absolutely heartbroken over losing his close friend Dave Hobbs. Dave had pancreatic cancer and got treatment for it…and seemed to be recovering well from it…now he’s in palleative (not sure how to spell it) care and is expected to die any time now. That must weigh heavily on Alun and instead of being there for him, I’m away in hospital – on virtually a holiday. I feel extremely guilty about that.

I feel unsettled. I feel like I can’t rest…and surely I can’t feel better in 2 weeks if on day 2 I feel like this?

Guys, I’m really worried.