My to do list changed

I'm a suicide survivor.
My to do list used to consist of a few random mundane daily tasks

• feed the kitties
• check emails

My daily to do list revised quickly 2 years ago.

• save my life

It's easy to get lost in the sea of emails, phone calls, texts.  As a survivor, there is always that lingering word of recovery.  Recovery means a new way of life, less friends, less drinking, weekly appointments, daily pills, side effects, weight gain, new boundaries and a hypersensitivity to mental illness stigma. 

Conversely, it also means hope, faith, grace, love, patience, kindness, clarity, strength, understanding and serenity.  

I write this today as a reality check for us all. 
We live in our own bubble.  
It is Tuesday.  Only day 2 of the week yet already I have had a friend admitted into Peachford and a text telling me of a suicide of a husband and father.  

People, it's complicated yet at the same time so simple.
A brain can get sick.  
You may have the flu, I have mental illness.  We both are sick.  

The American Psychiatric Association Foundation has a Campaign to Change Direction hoping to change the way America addresses mental health issues.  
With 1 in every 4-5 people having a diagnosable mental health condition, we should all make it a point to "know the five signs."  

1. Personality Change          4. Poor Self-Care

2. Agitation                           5. Hopelessness
3. Withdrawal 

I don't have all the answers but I do know that reaching out to someone could be the exact hope, answer, kindness they need.  

I've been thinking....

I went to Peachford today.
I saw another ambulance bringing a sick hurting soul for treatment.  
I believe God placed me with my Dr. to return to the hospital for me to look at those double doors and see how far I've come.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about two words
1.  Grace
2.  Positivity

I've discussed both in therapy the past few weeks and am working feverishly to extend grace to all people I encounter on a daily basis.  I'm also working to sprinkle in positivity like it is celebratory glitter every day on my desk.  I do have some people in my life wanting to focus on the one "B" I made instead of the 4 "A's".  It is up to me whether I let them make me feel less than.  

You change the thought.
You change the mind.  

"Think" about that this week.....

Lights out

My iPhone alarm was set for 6:05 am this morning.  At 6:38, JT was waking me up out of what I felt was a deep sleep.  I turned my alarm off without even realizing it at some point between the 5 and the 38.  Ay Caramba!  Then came the vicious scramble of showering, coffee and Atlanta traffic for an 8 am Doctor appointment.  Sleep has become a barometer for my quality of life.  I am really, really tired.  Not just I worked today tired, but crazy tired.  I remember walking through the double doors at Peachford feeling comatose from lack of sleep and trying to lay down on the plastic covered wooden bed before the nurse said, "honey, we need to make the bed first."  I didn't care.  It was my body's way of saying, "lights out."  Up until March, I never equated sleep with quality of life.  I always pushed through late night emails, setting up of my work showroom in NYC, delayed flights.  I didn't listen to my body.  Honestly, I judged my lack of energy as being lazy and not successful.  

I am learning to respect the REM cycle.  When I got home from my appointment this morning, I promptly headed upstairs and peeled back the covers and declared, "lights out."  Some of you might say that's a perk of working from home.  I look at it as a necessity after flying from Vegas to NYC and working non stop knowing I'm hopping on another flight Sunday to LA.  Sleep, just like the 3 pills on my bathroom counter, is medicine.  I will take it.

Lights out....        

Dear John

We are finally having a few rooms in our house painted.  Yahoo!  I'm not excited at all.  So disturbing that I have the colors sea salt, sockeye and french grey memorized.  I have told JT it's the taupe paint in every single room of this house that made me mentally ill.  In all seriousness, super excited to have some color change since I work from home and see this house almost 24/7.  This has made me do some reorganizing and merging of files.  Lo and behold, my blue Peachford folder popped up in the organizing.  I flipped through all of the pages and got chills when I ran across some song lyrics and a page of Bible verses.  

Per my previous entry, Girl, Interrupted I arrived at The Peach on a bleak Saturday with almost zero sleep.  I can assure you Sunday morning I wasn't feeling much better.  Reality had set in big time accompanied by a big headache and withdrawal symptoms due to changing of medications.  I never in a million years thought I would know how an addict in detox felt but I somewhat have an indication now.  One of the MHA's yelled, "If you are going, line up for church!"  I sunk down into my chair.  I didn't have the energy or mental fortitude to go to church.  I was hurting so bad and was in a strange place with complete strangers.  God had a different plan.  My sweet friend "S" came over to me and said, "Come on Natalie.  You are going with me.  We can do this together.  We need this.  We need Him."  Indeed, we did.    

So on that Sunday morning, March the 9th, in a gym I worshipped with men and women in pain, in grief, in confusion, in anger and any other negative emotion you could think of.  On a tiny CD player that reminded me of 7th grade, the below song by Mandisa played that touched me like no other has in a very long time.  I won't type all of the lyrics, just the several that gave me chills.  


Dear John, How you doin' 
I've been thinking about you
I'm not sure how to say it, but I've been praying daily 
for some kind of breakthrough

I've said this a thousand times
And I know you don't see my side
But I do it 'cause I love you
So, dear John here's the truth....

There's freedom
On the other side of
Things that keep us tied up and afraid
There's hope in every situation
No matter what you're facing every day.  

Dear John, People hurt you
And you know I've been hurt too
There's no way to escape it, 
Don't let your pain be wasted 
No, don't let it get the best of you

'Cause God took my broken parts
And gave me a brand new start
Now I am walking, breathing, living proof
And, dear john, He can do this for you.  

Dear John Video

That song along with the woman from a Dunwoody church got me through that day.  She held my hands as I cried and prayed for me and one of the things she said was, "Natalie, every morning we get a fresh batch of mercy."  

I am walking, breathing, living proof.  xo, n

Face your fear!

I remember hearing and also research validating that the majority of dog bites come out of the animal experiencing fear.  I also remember thinking that was nuts.  I don't feel that way anymore, especially since I'm seasoned in dog bites (that's a story for another day).  Fear brings out a number of emotions.  I think we are all fearful of the unknown.  I was scared to death when I was at Peachford and saw someone check the box on their self inventory, "are you having homicidal thoughts?" YES!  Even more fearful when she announced herself as Bipolar and proceeded to talk into a pretend walkie talkie as a member of the CIA. (Yes, you are allowed to laugh at this)  

One day in processing group, I was tired, not wanting to be there and I snapped at someone.  I told her she was being distracting.  She proceeded to get in the fetal position in a corner and rock and cry.  I felt horrible!  I apologized profusely for hurting her feelings.  She proceeded to leave the room.  The group facilitator said, "Natalie, you did nothing wrong.  Just remember there are different levels of mental illness."  She was Bipolar and has PTSD.  There you have it.  It was the unknown for me.  I didn't understand those illnesses.  I was fearful of them.      

I was baffled in support group a couple of weeks ago about the word mania in association with Bipolar.  The symptoms were ones I had never experienced and to my knowledge never been around.  The reality is it was pure fear on my part because I was surrounded by Bipolar patients at The Peach and also in my support group meetings.  I was experiencing thoughts of fear simply because it's something I cannot relate to and understand.  I'm learning though.  I'm learning that along with Bipolar comes depression and that is something I can relate to daily.  I'm challenging myself to learn more about this illness and I challenge you as well to open yourself up to learning about things you are in fear of.  We have a tendency to react quickly and listen poorly when we don't understanding something.  

     
I'm looking forward to going to a new support group tomorrow night and facing my fears of the unknown -- new people, new topics, a new group.  All 3 things I'm equipped now to overcome.  
  

Good "Good Friday"

I'm surrounded by a few daily reminders of my time at Peachford.  Every time I take a shower I see the facial scrub they confiscated (shout out to Natalie Davis and the awesome Rodan + Fields she sells) with my patient ID, DOB and Doctor info.  

I turn and things like this also surround me and I realize how precious life really is.  

               

                   

I met a friend for dinner last night and I arrived a little early and she was a bit late so I sat back and ordered a glass of champagne which is highly out of character for me.  I savored every tiny drop and even toasted cheers with 2 ladies at the next table.  

Last weekend we walked in the 80 degree weather down Peachtree Street and I looked up at the sky and blinked back tears.  I wanted to cry because I couldn't imagine not ever seeing a blue sky again, the sun, fresh tulips.  I see life so differently now than I did before.  I have such an appreciation for "the little things."  I hope I hold onto that forever.      


It was a good "Good Friday."  

Answers to the Q's

Q.  Who or what was your biggest source of strength while at "The Peach?"

A.  Hmmm, I have 3.  

1.  JT, I don't have enough words to say about how this man has supported me unconditionally.  He answered the phone morning, noon and night and always had a positive thing to say to me to get me through.  He told me who texted him, took handwritten notes from me to text, read me Bible verses, told me who all loved me and funny kitty stories about Gabby and Pepper (anything to make me smile.)  

2.  My friend, "S" who was in "The Peach" with me.  She was the only person who came from across the room to me as I sat in the vitals chair upon my arrival tired, scared, dirty and sad.  She introduced herself and said, "It's gonna be okay Natalie, I was you yesterday."  That gave me such peace.  She will be a forever friend.  We took a journey together that no one can understand.    

3.  My Prayer Journal my Mother-in-law Lynn brought to me.  When you don't have a clear mind, it is so hard to stay on track with a prayer which in turn creates guilt.  This little special red book afforded me the ability to read small sentences of her notes and Bible verses.  They were amazing!  I read many of them to my roommate at midnight on my last night. 

Q.  Could you have visitors?  

A.  Yes, but only on Sunday from 2-3 PM and Wednesday from 6:30-7:30 PM. JT was so great about organizing the visits.  It was planned out where I saw him first, my parents second, Lynn and Michael next, a couple of friends and then him at the end all within an hour.  On Wednesday, he did the same thing with Mom and Dad and the Bohannons.   

Q.  Was family involved in your treatment?  

A.  Yes, I was assigned a Social Worker who called JT to discuss my case and set up what they call a "Family Session."  The sessions include education about depression, an understanding of what leads to crisis, developing a crisis plan and determining the next steps of the treatment plan.  One word = intense!  

It's late and I have a busy week ahead of work, therapy, support group and homework.  I'll leave you with one of my favorites from the Prayer Journal.  Matthew 6:25  

Flashback Friday

When a crisis occurs, I have a tendency to revert back to what is comfortable. Comfort to me are songs from the 80's and early 90's sung in cars with big hair and in bedrooms with cassette tapes and fuzzy clock radios.  Comfort is knowing there is gaping space of physical distance between my high school best friends but only a quarter inch between our hearts.    

There's an unspoken code I like to think that has developed between us. There have been times we let our friendships waver and fade too much.  None of that matters.  You are here now.  I am here now.  We will always be there for each other in the important times.  And if we can't be there, we will understand that, too.  We get that there is a current life with responsibilities and struggles and even joys that neither of us is a part of because of time, distance and reality.  We will love each other unconditionally because our memories are too precious to let conditions get in the way.  

Hands down, my favorite letter received:  
  
Natalie, you can "ROCK STEADY" at this stumbling block because we're "LIVIN ON A PRAYER" for you.  You'll be singing "SWEET HOME ALABAMA" (couldn't think of anything else) but "GEORGIA" (UGA, that is) will be on your mind.  

We just want to "POUR SOME SUGAR" (smooch smooch) on you and make you "SHINE LIKE A DIAMOND."  "LAST CHRISTMAS" I'd have given you my heart if it would've helped.  "GIRL YOU KNOW IT'S TRUE" you are going to be stronger than ever before.  As Kim would say, "NO SLEEP TIL BROOKLYN."  It's probably getting old getting woken up every 15 minutes.  I'm glad you didn't tell us to "BEAT IT" when we came to see you.  

It's "MY PREROGATIVE" to see that you know how much we love you.  Jeremiah 29:11  xoxo  

I do know how much....and I love you too.  

Shoe Laces and Drawstrings

I'm hoping you will take the time to read through the next 3 paragraphs.  I promise there is a point to my posting of them and it will all come full circle at the end of my entry.  

Excerpt from Healthy Living - With this week’s publication of “The Opposite of Loneliness,” Marina Keegan’s posthumous collection of essays and stories, comes a gift no one ever fully wants to receive — bright and youthful wisdom from a talent who died too soon. Keegan was just 22 years old and five days past graduating magna cum laude from Yale University when she was killed in a car accident on her way to meet her family for her father’s birthday party on Cape Cod. And while she had a brilliant future ahead of her — a job lined up at the New Yorker, a play about to be produced at a theater festival — the rising star had already made a major mark. 

When a young person dies, much of the tragedy lies in her promise: what she would have done,” notes Anne Fadiman, a professor and Keegan’s mentor at Yale, in the new book’s introduction. “But Marina left what she had already done: an entire body of writing far more than could fit between these covers.” 
Shortly after Keegan’s death, her final essay for the Yale Daily News went viral, receiving more than 1.4 million hits. That piece, “The Opposite of Loneliness,” is the first in the new collection — one that you’ll be grateful is here, in spite of yourself. 

2 of Marina's life lesson's which hit home for me.  

4. Value life — all of it. 
“People are strange about animals. Especially large ones,” she writes in one essay. “Daily, on the docks of Wellfleet Harbor, thousands of fish are scaled, gutted, and seasoned with thyme and lemon. No one strokes their sides with water. No one cries when their jaws slip open. I worry sometimes that humans are afraid of helping humans. There’s less risk associated with animals, less fear of failure, fear of getting too involved.” 
5. It’s never too late (even if you’re not in your 20s).
“What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds,” she writes in the book’s titular essay. “We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating from college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.”

Do you ever a gripping feeling that you are being pushed to do something?  Last night as I was headed home from the airport I had this overwhelming feeling to call "T" (a fellow "Peach" person) and check in.  It was 10:39 -- way too late to be calling.  However, I had 2 voice mails from her I admittedly had not listened to.  She picked up the phone immediately.  She needed a friend.  She was in distress.  She needed to hear, "it's OK, I'm here."  I've been her.  I get it.  I love this passage from Rachel Naomi Remen's bestseller, Kitchen Table Wisdom:    

I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. And especially if it’s given from the heart. When people are talking, there’s no need to do anything but receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they’re saying. Care about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than understanding it.

Marina lesson #4 for me is this.... It's easy to take the road of not getting involved and helping others.  Heck, there are days when I feel like all I can do is help myself.  But the reality for me is I would be kidding myself to close that door -- kidding myself that I don't enjoy those relationships.  I'm finding on this journey that focusing on helping other patients with small positives in turn helps myself.  Example, "T", I know you want to have this book published and you feel like a failure because it's not anywhere near done.  Let's compromise and get 2 entries done per week.  

As Elementary as the above may sound to some of you, it's real life for a person with mental illness despite the degree of the illness in my opinion.  Life becomes overwhelming and we have to stop, breathe, reassess quite often.  It's very similar to my entry of frustration from my weekend.  I have had to stop, reassess that I can paint one room and that I'm not a failure for not having my entire house ready to photograph for the pages of Elle Decor (ha!).
      
Marina lesson #5 is for "T":  "It's never too late."  I recall hearing you say you received summa cum laude honors and a College degree around the age of 50.  If that isn't a lesson in "it's never too late," I don't know what is.  Today as I write this, I am wearing pants with a drawstring.  That is progress my friend.  It's funny how something so insignificant can make you feel so powerful.  Only "The Peach"patients know why that's important.  So put on your tennis shoes with laces, pants with a drawstring and go out into the sunshine and write a beautiful book entry.          

"You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes.  You can steer yourself any direction you choose."  Dr. Suess  





  
   

Solo In The City

I feel like a child leaving for school for the first time with my book bag on my shoulder.  In a sense, maybe I am.  It's my first foray into the big city alone since "The Peach."  My first meetings with 3 accounts alone since "The Peach."    Other than a night of almost zero sleep, I'm up and ready to take on the Big Apple.  As much as I do not like or want to take my prescribed sleeping pills, I'm going to have to cave into my Doctor's advice -- "as needed."  The alternative is not pretty.  I can weather the storm of vivid dreams and they make for great conversation.  

JT, my brother, my boss all called to "check in."  One might think that would be annoying to me but at this stage, it's comforting.  Comforting to know how much they care.  Comforting they took the time to call.  I'm realizing that time is a precious commodity we can't get back.  People love to say they are  "too busy" but the reality is, we make time for what we WANT to do.  I'm trying to be more aware of using my time wisely and not using that terminology.  
Baby steps.  

With bright colors staring me in the face telling me to smile and a word document left on my laptop, it's going to be a great sunshiny day!  

Walking on eggshells

When I committed to putting fingers to the keyboard and hitting the "Publish" button, I committed to honesty and raw emotion.  Today will be just that.  How I have known this blog was the right thing for me was that it wasn't a chore or on my "to do" list plus it was encouraged by my Doctor and Therapist.  It came so natural and I couldn't type fast enough.  Yesterday and today, not so much.  

I'm not a fan of the terminology, "walking on eggshells."  How many times have you ever heard it used in a positive connotation.  Me?  Never!  I've been guilty myself of using it often and although I haven't been in the living rooms of my friends and family recently, I fear it's been used in reference to me and my illness.  I feel certain people feel they have to walk on eggshells when they speak to me.  I can't say I wouldn't feel the same way.  I don't really know a solution at this point.  I can at least offer a list of the 5 steps I have gone through and am still going through to shed light over the last several weeks and where I am now.     

Diagnosis
Treatment Planning
Early Recovery
Recovery & Maintenance
Relapse Prevention

I'll speak on the recovery and maintenance stage since that's where I'm living at the moment.  It's a few steps forward and a few back and a really uneasy time.  It takes just that....time.  In a fast paced world, that is a rarity we are afforded.  Time combined with persistence and patience.  That's a tough trio.  The toughest part for me so far in this stage are the absolute polar opposites of the good days and bad days.  When they are good, they are great!  When they are bad, they suck!  What makes me proud though is that I now know they are just that, a couple of bad days and I have the tools to combat them.  

Look, I'd be lying if I said this isn't hard.  I fear I've painted a rosy picture on some of my blog entries of recovery.  I currently have 5 voice mails from friends in a panic because I didn't call or text them back in 2 days.  It isn't them, it's me.  One of which is my sweet friend "S" who was in "The Peach" with me and said she was on her way from Athens if I didn't answer my phone.  Trust me, she wasn't kidding!  It's exhausting in this stage of my recovery because I feel so much is expected of me and quite frankly, I'm expecting it of myself as well.  Waking up, eating because I have to in order to take my meds, showering because I have to because working in my pajamas is sign of depression, answering emails, compiling a to do list, diving head first back into work because they honestly need me and the business suffered while I was away, leaving the house for lunch or an errand b/c it's unhealthy for me to stay home all day, Therapy appointments, Support groups, calls from parents, texts from friends, planning dinner, quality time with JT, laundry, etc. etc.  And as much as the people around me feel like they are walking on eggshells, I feel like I'm being viewed through a microscope.  Viewed and expected for every single day to be a good one.  That's a tough act and I don't know of any pill or Doctor that can pull that one off.    

I always like to end on a positive note.  The one word that comes to mind is HOPE.  When I knew I was getting better and that "every little thing was gonna be alright," my check in at group was, "My name is Natalie T and I'm feeling hopeful because my mind feels whole again and I feel loved."  

Hope and Love...

1 Corinthians 13:13
And now these three remain:  faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.  

  

Love yourself

I think one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves is self respect.  I am learning to love myself again and respect comes with love.  I have always believed that true love for one another cannot really occur without respect.  I had a Doctor's appointment yesterday at Peachford.  It went extremely well.  I went into the appointment almost thinking I was going to "break up" with my Doctor.  A bout of miscommunication with missed and returned phone calls between him and my therapist left me feeling uneasy.  A simple explanation eased my anxiety.  Chances are, simple explanations will always ease our anxiety.  It is the in between moments we allow ourselves to worry that cause angst.  

I was amazed at how well he remembered me, my story, my diagnosis.  Either he has an amazing memory or did some major speeding reading of my file.  Either way, I feel secure that we won't be breaking up any time soon.  I only received a "C" in one area and I quickly remedied that in doing what he asked of me.  It is easy for all of us to play "armchair Psychiatrist."  Clearly, I do that.  I had another patient at Peachford ask me if I was in the business.  No, seriously, she asked and complimented me on advice I had given someone in group therapy.  I'm not sure what to make of that.  Yesterday taught me that I go to an expert for a reason.  He has the degree, not me and not my friends and family.  I doubted myself in many areas of recovery until I spoke to Dr. V.    

I receive gifts daily -- not in a materialistic sense.  The best gift I received yesterday was an A+ from my Doctor.  I scored high in the arena of blogging and transparency.  I scored high in attending all support groups and therapy appointments.  I scored high in keeping in touch with my friend "S" and supporting one another.  I scored high in listening to myself and keeping boundaries.  I scored high in doing morning and evening "checkin's" with JT (another blog entry on that to come).  It feels good to receive a report card with high marks.  It feels good to love again.  It feels good to love me.  

Happy Friday

       

A "peach" of a day

Intake:  After vitals, several vials of blood being drawn, a cold styrofoam plate of fish microwaved for 45 seconds, I trudged to the phone - my only outside form of communication to the world for the next 7 days.  I dialed JT.  It was only probably 20-30 minutes after he had left me.  Voicemail.  I dialed again.  Voicemail.  I left the most desperate message I have ever left in my entire life.  I now know the dynamics of what a parent/child feels when they leave their loved one in a rehab facility for their own good and they beg to come home.  I mainly just remember sobbing into the phone asking why he didn't answer and how much I needed him and how scared I was.  It's honestly gut wrenching to think about it to this day.  It was even more wrenching for him when he called back and wasn't able to speak with me.  Finally, an hour later, I spoke to him and listened to him cry, cry tears of sadness for me, for us, for this illness, for our loneliness and for anything else we could think of to cry about.  I can only tell you I slept the next several hours and remember very little.  I awoke at some point and met my roommate, "M" who was a sweet sweet girl in her 20's diagnosed with Bipolar and Depression.  We considered ourselves lucky that we were both "normal."  During my deep sleep, apparently I missed a fight in the Day room.  I love some intriguing soap opera drama but this would have sent me running for the hills had I witnessed that in my first few hours at "The Peach."     

6:00-6:30 am:  I lie awake in my tiny wooden bed with blue plastic mattress, flat plastic pillow underneath my rough sheet and pilled hospital blanket.  Why am I awake you might ask?  This is because there is a gigantic set of lights from the hallway shining in my eyes (24/7 open door policy) along with the chatter of the staff who are 2 doors down from my room combined with the every 15 minute check in to ensure I am still breathing.  They push a button with a flashlight inside my door.  The medicine "t" has worn off and I am hungover from the aftereffects but the alternative of not taking it and staying awake all night is incorrigible.      

7:00 am:  "Natalie!  Natalie!  Time for vitals!"  Ugh, roll over and shuffle to a chair for BP/Temp check and the daily, "Do you have any pain anywhere?"  I then shuffle to a chair trying to avoid talking to anyone and fill out my self inventory assessment with one of those tiny yellow pencils you use to fill out your offering envelope in church.  The assessment includes questions such as did you attend groups?  Do you feel suicidal?  Do you feel homicidal?  Do you have any comments regarding your treatment plan?  And so forth and so on.  

7:10 am:  I shuffle back to my bed and by the time I am in a deep sleep I hear "Natalie T!"  You are your first name plus initial for "confidentiality" reasons.  Ugh, yes I am going to breakfast.  Yes, I am going because otherwise I will eat leftover cold grits, eggs and zero coffee.  I throw on some jeans and line up. 

7:30 am:  Breakfast.  I must say I cannot complain about the food at Peachford.  Anytime you didn't like something, there was a hearty supply of Fruit Loops, Corn Flakes and other cereals to chow down on.  It may have been the worst cup of coffee I've ever encountered but by God it tasted like the best.  Think in terms of the cafeteria at your local Elementary school and that's where I was.  The first morning I was "allowed" aka cleared by my Doctor to go to the Cafeteria I was so excited about seeing the Diet Coke fountain.  Hmmm, not so much.  It isn't turned on until lunch.  Such a let down.    

7:30-9:45: Sharps.  Includes "checking out" a hairdryer, flatiron, razor but only with a Doctor's order.  You've never seen a happier person than me drying my hair in the hallway with no mirror.  It's the little things people!  

9:00 am:  Goals Group.  A gathering in the "day room" in chairs with a few tables of all of the patients with the periodic scream of "Code 1, Unit 7" over the intercom.  I finally learned all of the codes - fighting, medical emergency, housekeeping, etc.  I can't really detail any of the groups as they are confidential.  I'll sort through some in my mind and perhaps try to share some at a later date.      

11:10 am:  Lunch.  Yes, that early.  Non eventful.  Sit at the first 2 tables only and don't speak to anyone except patients in your unit.  Fish? Baked Chicken?  I do my best to not sit with anyone with horrible eating habits.  I had no idea how weak my stomach was until I watched people who don't know how to hold their forks and chew with their mouths opened.     

12:00 pm:  Meds & Spades!  Our motley crew of Spades players was the best! We became known as "the fun table."  Honestly, I haven't laughed without abandon that much in a long long time.  I will always look back on those times with those 4 women as some of the most memorable in my life.      

1:00 pm:  Expressive Therapy.  Yahoo!  Coed gathering in the gym for karaoke. (story at a later date)  I don't know if there are enough words in the English language to explain how funny it is seeing "crazy" people karaoke.  I'd kill for a video to upload of the monotone "Sarah, Sarah, no time is a good time, Sarah, Sarah," sung by a man with no expression at all.  I later mocked him with a banana as my microphone with my Spades peeps.  I'm sorry but laughter is the best medicine when you are amongst people talking to a fence and pausing for the fence to answer back.  Yep, true story.     

2:15 pm:  Group Therapy.  An coed assortment of truly giving people wanting to help each other out with advice during the darkest time of their lives.  

4:40 pm:  Dinner.  Yes, that early.  Non eventful.  Well, I take that back.  My friend "S" decided putting two oranges under her shirt would be hilarious.  The staff, not so much.  Again, hilarious.  It's the little things.  

6:30 pm:  Reflections.  This was my favorite because it was an hour spent in our room to journal, pray or sleep.  I did a lot of praying with the prayer journal my sweet Lynn gave me.  It was so special since it had all of her notes and verses from almost 20 years ago.       

8:00 pm:  Group therapy. 

9:00 am:  Night meds

9:30 pm:  Spades!  Cereal munching. Singing. Laughing. Crying.  All therapeutic.  

10:30 pm:  Lights out!  Or if you were one of the fun people like me, you were afforded the luxury of staying up until 11 to finish your Spades game.  It felt like a child being given extra money for ice-cream in the lunchroom.  It's amazing how one's perspective changes in a different environment.  

2:45 am:  Awoken to a scream of a constant chant of, "Oh my God! That ain't right, that ain't right!" over and over and over.  Then, a door slamming over and over and over.  Quick, I thought, get under my bed!  Hmmm, no under the bed existed -- a cheap board surrounded the plastic mattress.  Psst!  M, are you awake?  Yes, I'm scared.  From 2:45-3:45 am, the chaos continued until finally I lean out of my bed and see two men carrying off the patient while she screamed.  Clearly, the words "calm down" weren't cutting it.  

6:00 am:  Do it all over again.  

There is a large dry erase board in the Day room with a schedule written daily.  I suppose a routine is best for mental health patients.  I was fine with it because I was happy not to watch a clock or answer an email or a text.  There is plenty of time to read, chat with the other "crazies", watch TV or simply exist.  I failed to mention there are 4 phones in the day room.  I only called JT mainly several times throughout my day.  I needed separation from the outside world.  I needed to heal.  I needed no phone.  I needed no watch.  

In conclusion, I don't necessarily recommend Peachford like one would recommend The Westin in Palm Beach on Trip Advisor, however, I will say that it was a great place for me.  I am a firm believer that "you get what you give."  I gave and I got.        

All that glitters is not gold

Face book -- I'll begin by telling you I am "deactivated" and don't plan to "reactivate" any time soon.  One might could argue that my deactivation a few weeks ago was a sign of what was to come.  I disassociated with many things and that was one of many.  Now that I am in recovery, I find myself oddly still wanting to stay "deactivated."  

A sampling of my old Face book feed would include several Cross fit updates complete with photos (reminding me of exactly how out of shape I am), a plethora of Birthday greetings (making me feel guilty I haven't wished each & every FB friend HB daily), numerous nutty game updates (do these people have jobs?),  Beach vacation photos (reminding me I'm stuck in my office working) and finally several selfies (I'll withhold an opinion on those, right Natalie Davis?).  Honestly, I don't feel any of those items I listed is assisting in lifting me up and working for the greater good in my healing.  Sure, I'm missing out on some interesting gossip no doubt and perhaps some exciting news such as babies, engagements and other monumental events.  I figure that's what girlfriends and text messages are for -- to keep me in the know.  

I read an article that stated something along the lines that FB was like a PR campaign, most of what you see is the good news or the end result, not the in between.  For example, you get the "I got the job and I got a raise -- not the grueling teary job search, you get the awesome week long vacation photos with sunsets and drinks -- not the beanie weenies you had to eat to afford the trip."  You get the gist.  All that glitters isn't always gold.    

Truly, if you feel depressed or that something in your life is lacking, the last place you need to be is behind your computer screen.  My mother has always said the power of the handwritten word can never be replaced by a computer.  I would also add that the power of a face to face conversation cannot be replaced by an email or a Face book status update.  

I'm finding myself busier than ever the last couple of weeks since being "sprung" from Peachford and I don't need to add my mindless clicking on the blue Face book icon to the list.  I'm both happier and healthier without it.  The fact I'm on twitter and instagram probably seem confusing to some.  I get that and I'm not sure I have a perfect explanation other than the fact I love seeing babies, animals and home decor on my instagram feed -- all happy things to me.  On twitter, I adore the fact I can combine my "Tammy tabloid" TMZ curiosity while at the same time, satisfy my need to see the Silver Fox, Anderson Cooper and CNN to feel somewhat intelligent.  I've also found it an important resource for researching mental illness, depression and various blogs which have guided me in a positive direction.  

Face book has proven itself for the greater good in my life and already served its purpose, I wouldn't be with a certain Ginger right now without that friend request popping up in August, 2009.