The Healing Mess That Arises When "Taking a Break"

I came to the realization last night, that this pandemic, this quarantine, could be absolutely what I need to heal.

One year ago, 2019, I was in a psychiatric hospital. The positive side of being there, was that I had the much needed break from the world that I needed. The isolation, was healing, but the healing was painful. I struggle with major depressive disorder and post traumatic stress syndrome. I struggle with dissociation and flashbacks, and when feelings get too intense I tend to shut down. I isolate, I struggle to communicate. I lose my appetite, and as tired as I am, I cannot sleep. One painful memory was sitting on the floor of my hospital room, no memory of how long I had been sitting there. I just could not stop crying. My tears made no sound, and my body was tense. I could not move if I wanted to. A nurse came in and sat in a chair near me and asked what was going on. “I can see that you are not okay.” My mind was racing miles a minute, flashes of pieces of my childhood, the assault I experienced in college, and a choking feeling sitting in my throat. I don’t remember if I answered her. I don’t remember being able to speak or able to explain to her what I was experiencing. I just remember wanting to be alone, but also, not wanting her to leave. Perhaps I knew if I sat there long enough, someone would come looking for me. Too many people walked past my open door, before she came.

I have been handling this pandemic the best that I can, as everyone else is. Once a week I talk to my psychiatrist on facetime, and one week ago I asked to go back on my nightmare medication. I expressed to her that I have been anxious for our sessions in-between appointments, and she encouraged me to reach out if I felt like I needed an extra one. But me being me, I’m stubborn. I try to handle everything on my own first.

While I have much more freedom during quarantine than I did when I was hospitalized, I am noticing some things to be similar. As I continue to work on myself, on my mental health, I do not currently have work or school or very many things to worry about while I do so. I am in a safe place with room to explore the past, present, and future. But maybe..too much of the past. I have been blaming quarantine, living back home with my family, on restricting my freedom and triggering bumps in my healing process. Truly, because I am continuing therapy, and because I have few distractions, the healing is happening all at once. Things are creeping up on me in the shower, in the car, when I wake up in the morning, and when I go to bed at night. It has been messy. I have been trying. I have been pushing the people I care about away, I just want to be left to myself while I deal with these emotions and process past traumas. It’s a lot. I know there is a way out of this, and I know these feelings won’t last forever. I have been trying so very hard to not feel the way that I am feeling these past few weeks, but maybe now is exactly the time I need to be feeling this way, processing these things.

My step-father came to my room yesterday, sat on my floor as I stayed in my bed turned away from him. “Talk to me.” I didn’t give him much, other than I don’t knows of what I was thinking, feeling, and needing. I am grateful he cares, I am grateful that I have so many people who do give a shit about me. Lately, I feel like I am disappointing them all. PTSD is so very hard to explain to those you care about. Everything can be so good, but one thing can trigger something else and it is very hard to separate the two. Everyone wants me to talk, to open up about what is going on inside my head. Other than to my therapist, it just feels easier trusting that nobody can understand. “You went to school for 4 years studying this stuff.” he said. “What would you say to someone sitting on your couch going through what you are going through, telling you they just want to be alone and shut everyone out?” I would empathize, I would validate those feelings.. but I also was overwhelmed by him asking me that. Fears creeping up that I won’t be able to truly help my clients, because I am them.

I will help my clients. I know I will know what to say. Right now, I can’t, because as any good social worker knows, you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of someone else. I will learn from my own experiences. What helped, what hurt, and I will get to a point where I am stronger than ever, and will be a great social worker.

This, right now, isn’t defining my ability, my worth. It is messy and uncomfortable, but I have to believe it is ok where I am at right now. This is just a stepping stone to something great, a healing that would have been halted unless the world itself were on “pause.”