wordslacedwithgold™

paper thin,

matching two piece , 

untailored , 

no strings ,

much less subtle details ..

intentional , possibly 

fabric resting on my skin 

back out 

hugging me for 72 hours

My First Admission

what led me there

My first admission was born from psychosis ..
a moment where reality slipped its grip
and confusion began.

I was disoriented, untethered.
A peer, brave enough to act ..
made the call for help.
courage that handed me over for needed medical attention.

the evaluation

The evaluation unfolded over approximately three days
three days of being seen, studied, spoken to.
interviews and questions that felt like an interrogation,

quiet observations.

Depending on the hospital, the faces change:
a nurse, a nurse practitioner,
a psychiatrist, a therapist,

a social worker, a case manager
as a team, they decide if you’ll be admitted
if your mind needs time and space
to be understood.

learning how to exist inside the walls

During my first admission, I barely spoke.
Confusion and unfamiliarity made me mute.
I existed in fragments.

The hospital offered small lifelines,
games, art, simple activities.
At first, they felt meaningless.
Then slowly, they became bridges.

I began to connect with other patients,
strangers who somehow felt familiar.
We shared space, silence, glances.
We needed one another
to survive our long days.

At the time, I didn’t know what I was recovering from.
I only knew I was recovering with others.
An oxymoron of confinement and connection.

A friend came to visit.
Familiarity has a way of pulling us back
toward ourselves.

what I discovered about myself

I learned I am not an introvert.
I spoke first.
I reached out.

Maybe it was because I might never see
those people again,
but I learned how easy it is
to break the ice
when nothing is left to protect you.

I also learned that asking for help
is not weakness, it is strength.

No one can see me drowning
if I keep swimming
as though I’m not desperate for air.

how my perspective shifted

I try my best not to use the word “crazy” carelessly

or “mentally ill” as a deregatory term.

When I see people struggling ,
misunderstood, confined by their own minds,
I see myself.

I understand now that anyone
is one moment, one trigger, one circumstance
away from a mind that turns against itself.

I move with more grace.
I loosened my grip on judgment.

what carried me through

Other patients.
Art.
Recovery groups.
Talk therapy.
Journaling.
Movement.
Yoga.

My family and friends helped in the ways they knew how.
They didn’t fully understand,
but they tried.
That effort mattered.

Routine became grounding.
Sleep became medicine.
Whole foods became nourishment ..
proof that what we ingest
feeds more than just the body.

advice to those considering admission

Research before you sign anything.
Ask questions ,
even the ones you think you already know.

Please see Mental Hygiene Law for more details ;

Advocate for yourself.
Be honest with the people who love you.

You may have more safe spaces
than you realize.

how it changed me

I learned to prioritize myself.

To fill my own cup
before it runs dry

swapping out unhealthy vices for healthier ones.

I invite you to ;

ask questions
share your own experiences.

#wordslacedwithgold