MY NAME IS ROB, AND I'M NOT OK...

 My name is Rob, and I'm not ok.  Far from it.   I am currently on the 5th floor of Henry Ford Allegiance hospital.  This is my new home for now.  Today is my first day in the mental health unit and it's going to take some time getting used to.   But, lets back up and start at the beginning of the story that ended with my being here.   I am suicidal, more specifically, I have suicidal thoughts.  I have never acted on them  and I've never had a plan on how to do it, until recently.   I've battled depression for awhile now and had become pretty good at keeping it at bay and pushing it down until I thought it had passed.    The funny thing is, it never really goes away.  It may fade and you may feel a little better but it always comes back.  And this time it hit me harder than it ever has before. 

This time it had me questioning whether life would be better for those around me without me in it.   And I have had brief thoughts like this in the past but could quickly dismiss it and it would be gone.  But not this time.  This time it not only made me question things, but added a new twist, it made me really question if it would really matter if I was gone and what that may look like.  How would I make that happen?  I have never thought about how I would do it before, but this time I did.  Now don't get me wrong,  I wasn't sure if I could actually go through with it, but, I also didn't think I would actually think about how I would commit suicide.  But here I was thinking of the different ways of which I could do it and weighing the probability on if I could go through with it.  And in the midst of this I had what could only be described as a breakdown.  A break down for me consists of feeling completely hopeless and crying uncontrollably and wanting that pain and feeling to be stopped.  Only this time I was thinking of a way to end it permanently, not just a way to get it to go away for a little while.

I spoke to Jill about this and then contacted my therapist.  My therapist then told me that I needed to contact my personal physician and get in to see him.  So, I did just that.  I set up an appointment for the following day to go see my doctor.  In the middle of our appointment and explaining everything to my doctor I had another breakdown.  My breakdowns usually don't come this often and to this level.  My doctor was concerned about the fact I had a plan of how to do it and was even more uncomfortable with my answer when he asked if I was safe.  I told him that the little voice in my head (not the crazy kind of voice like another personality) that tells me not to go through with it was getting quieter and that I was afraid of that one time I felt suicidal and that voice falls silent.  So he advised me to go to the hospital to seek help.  I went home after that and discussed this with Jill and had another smaller breakdown.  And with that Jill drove me to the hospital.  

They took me to a room in the ER and that would end up being my home for the next 24 hours as they weren't sure they could get a room for me in that hospital, there was talks of sending me to Ferndale if they couldn't get a room for me in Jackson.  It honestly felt a little like prison.  The room I was in had one little chair, a bed, and a TV that was encased in a thick plastic case.  There was a community bathroom that had what could only be described as a prison style toilet and a sink.  Needless to say I didn't get much sleep that night, I probably slept 2-3 hours total that night.  I woke up for good at 5:56 the next morning and they brought me a breakfast plate that had a breakfast sandwich, some fresh fruit, and some coffee.  Along with this breakfast they brought me the news that they had indeed found me a room in the Jackson unit.   And with that they moved me upstairs to where I currently am.  

I won't lie, I cried for about the first hour I was in my room.  I think it was a combination of lack of sleep, fear of the unknown, anxiety, and not knowing when I would see my family again.  It also had something to do with that first time you see your room and it hits you what type of facility you are really in.   No TV, no clocks, no phone, only a bed, a small desk and a chair.  I did have my own bathroom that had basically a half a door that didn't really shut.   I was not allowed to have anything with strings, drawstrings or laces.  I was not allowed to have anything sharp.  I was not allowed to use regular kitchen utensils.  They had given me a cardboard type spoon to use in the ER to eat.  And they also took my cell phone and personal property away and locked it in a locker.  I am allowed visitors, but only on certain days at certain times.  It's very stark and cold here.  I've spent most of my day laying in my bed.  I've also met with a host of people who have become my "team".  Doctors, nurses, technicians, a psychiatrist, and my social worker.  It was honestly a lot to take in and it was one person after another coming to my room to talk or taking me to an interview room to get my story and ask me questions.  I've told my story so many times to so many different people that I'm sick of discussing it.  I know they just want to help but it feels like it's never ending but, I feel this is going to be the way it is until I get released. 

I've been told it could be as quickly as 2-3 days, others have told me 3-5, and one told me the average stay here is 1 full week.  So far we've changed the dosage of my medications, added another medication, and set me up with a gameplan to put into place for when I am finally released.   So we have definitely taken some steps today.  It just feels like an overload of information, telling my story, and answering the same questions just asked by 20 different people.   I've talked to Jill a couple of times today as we have community phones here that we can use between 6am and 10pm.   I just had to have more blood work and an EKG done so I had to stop writing for a few minutes. 

They do group therapy, community groups, recreational therapy and play games.  I was told that it would be in my best interest to participate in these groups and take full advantage of them as it will greatly benefit me and show my team that I'm serious about getting better.  I will admit that I skipped recreational therapy and stayed in my room.  But, I asked for a journal and a pen.  And I have been writing this for the last hour.  I feel that has to count for something right?

I also received a container with toiletries so that I can feel somewhat human.  I got a pair of sweatpants, a t shirt and some scrubs so that I can change when I want to.   This place is no joke.   I wasn't expecting a 5 star resort by any means, but, I was definitely not expecting this either.  Everyone here has been very nice and understanding. I just was not expecting such a culture shock.  It will take some getting used to for sure.  

I did get to meet a guy who says he is a prophet and claims to be Jesus, So I have that going for me.  He has taken a liking to me and refers to me and introduces me to others in the unit as his bodyguard and that if anyone wants to mess with him they have to go through me first...  Great...   Where ever I go if he shows up he comes right over and shakes my hand and checks in with me to see if everything is alright.  He's a good person, just a little off.  He means well.  I've already heard him snap on a nurse and was screaming for his Angel named Michael to come down and kill her.  He also claimed that God is his lawyer and that no case against him shall stand and they would never win.  So there is some entertainment in this unit for sure.  

I have no idea what my time here has in store, but I pray that I'm strong enough to get through this and find the good in it and find some practices and ways to cope to take home with me when all this is said and done.   This journal has been a good thing for me as just writing this alone has helped ease a little of the anxiety and allowed me to get some feelings out on paper.   I will take you on this journey with me if you are willing to come along.  It might not always be pretty and it might not always be interesting but I feel if I journal my time here it will help me greatly with getting feelings out, documenting what I had to go through here, and as a reminder of how far I've come in this journey.  

*That was my first day in the mental health unit.  Thank you for reading and please, if you have any questions do not hesitate to ask or if you have have comments you can leave them here, on my Facebook page, or email me at RefRobG15@gmail.com    I am going to be as open and candid about this as I can possibly be.  In hopes that if someone is struggling they can read my journey and know that things will get better and that there is  hope beyond the pain and despair that depression can bring. And that it is ok to not be ok.  I will update this with my journal and I plan on continuing to journal even though I am home now.  This has been an amazing tool for me and has the added benefit of making me write again.

Thank you for reading, leave comments if you have any, ask questions if you have any and I will update this again soon.

Until Next Time,
Be Well....