The Psych Unit

When I arrived at the Psych Unit I wanted to leave as soon as I could--like immediately.  When I left four days later, I was so grateful for every single minute I spent there.

Staying at the psych unit was one of the hardest things I have EVER done.  I left my husband and my baby and felt like I was abandoning all responsibility.  I was permitted only three 15-minute phone calls per day, and during my stay my husband was allowed one 30-minute visit.

Pretty much everything was contraband--even chapstick. Oh my goodness!  For a girl addicted to lip gloss that was going to be a tricky one, but luckily they gave me a little cup of Vaseline. Good enough. My only belongings in my room were my scriptures.  And they gave us a notebook and mini pencil.  I loved that. Transferring my thoughts to the page was so relieving.

Greg brought me a beautiful bouquet of red  roses and since I couldn't keep them in my room they put them in the back window of the nurses station.  I loved looking at them when I walked laps around the nurses station (19 equal a mile--thank you to whoever figured that out!)

The Schedule

• 7:00 am breakfast--  We didn't have clocks in our rooms so the nursing staff would come in and wake us up.
• 9:00 morning meds/vitals check-- One of my favorite nurses looked like Santa Claus and he'd always have us wiggle our tongues around after we swallowed-- to make sure we really took the pills and to make us smile.
• 10:00-12:00-- Group therapy.  We'd learn about coping techniques, affirmation, etc. and have an open discussion.
• Noon-- Lunch
• 1:30-2:00--Art Therapy
• 3:30-Snack
• 5:00--Dinner
• 8:30--Snack
• 9:00--Nighttime meds/vitals
• 10:00--Bedtime

I had so much time to think--I never realized how much I stay too busy to do that.  With all my extra time in that bland, boring place I began doing things I haven't done in years and years and found very relaxing.  Who knew I liked coloring or puzzles?  I even taped some of my designs up on the walls of my poor beige room.  Oh what a difference a little color makes!

One night we had music therapy, listening to a variety of songs and pinpointing the emotion they triggered. I love listening to music, but focusing on it that way completely enhanced the experience.

When I arrived, there were four other patients--Mark, a chef; Larry, a high school history teacher; Carli, a nurse practitioner; and Samantha, one of the friendliest people I've ever met.  Mark left shortly after I arrived. The day I was discharged, Nick, Lisa, Stefanie, Johnny, and Kathy came during the night.  I wish I'd had time to get to know them better, but my heart broke as I realized that within a week in my familiar geographic area, at least 10 souls had experienced the terribly awful emotion of suicidal intentions.  And I was the only one who was there for the first time.  And these people are amazing with incredible stories and so much potential.  Outside of the psych unit I fear people would see the mental illness label and not even give them a chance.

I had so many sparkling moments while I was there:

• The love I felt when I was told that my Mom was coming to take care of Abbey as long as I needed her to
• The love I felt when Samantha, who clearly has some physical and mental issues said after observing another patient, "You never know how good you have it until you see someone who has it worse than you."
• The love I felt when my Dad told me over the phone that my brother's wife, Morgan had called all of the LDS temples in Utah even when they were closed and left messages to place my name on their prayer rolls
• The love I felt when I called my Dad and my little brother, who is so tender-hearted, answered and offered to talk to me saying, "It's so good to hear from you. I've been worried about you!"