Three and a half years ago my world fell apart. I had a manic episode that landed me in a sequence of three hospitals in 9 months. I lost everything. When I got out of the last hospital I was just recently emancipated from being conserved by the state. I was considered gravely disabled and put into a program that would help me find housing and provide me with health care. That was it . My re-entry into my life was at the survival level. Food, shelter and medication were the basics that I needed help with. It had gotten that bad.
I left the hospital with 150.00 and a box of clothes. My program took me shopping at Target and I got some of the basic hygiene and clothing necessities. I was placed in a board and care called Scandia in Long Beach. It was awful. My roommate was a former homeless woman who had a knack for hoarding. The tenants walked around like zombies and while not bumming cigarettes sat around a filthy courtyard doing nothing all day. Cigarettes and soda were like gold. Since I had the 150 I had both so I was pestered constantly. Luckily there was a library close by and I delved into reading again, a skill that I had lost in the hospital. I started writing this blog. There was a woman there that I made friends with and the two of us took buses all around Long Beach. In short, I started to recover.
I moved from Scandia to a home. It was also a board and care but had only six tenets as opposed to 72. I lived with four men and one other woman.. We all had a mental illness and were all very sick. We were cared for by a Philipino caregiver named Mai Ling. What I remember about her most is that after dinner she snuck away to the backyard to smoke cigars! We all shared one bathroom and tried to get along. I was only there six months before moving to a sober living house.I don't have drug and alcohol issues but the 16 other woman who did shared the small house with me. After 6 months with two roommates I moved again, this time to a room of my own. It was a t Cypress House where I waited to get placed in the apartment I have now. With each housing situation came new levels of recovery.The last year though has been the most remarkable and I have flourished in my own place.
Like I said I am stubborn. It occurred to me to give up and several times I did only to pick up the pieces and start all over again. I put my head down, and in survival mode, bullied my way through recovery. Just this last year I have been able to look up and assess what has happened and where I want things to go.
Where I want to go is further into recovery. What I mean is that I want back the things that mental illness has taken away. My sense of self respect, the ability to think clearly and attain attainable goals. I have to believe that there is life after a mental health crisis and maybe I can pass on that hope to others.
I have been to the bottom of the well. My 9 months in mental hospitals were beyond life altering. They proved that life is fragile and we best take care in how we approach it. I remember being closed in for 9 months. There were no windows on the unit and I only saw the outside during smoke breaks. That absence of light, such a fundamental part of everyday life was missing for so long that I still breathe in the air when I go outside. I take it in in long breaths, grateful just to be out, free and able to consume air.. It's funny what you take for granted. Hospital life made it very clear that there was life full of blessings "out there."
So now I am out there.When I get discouraged I remember the hospital and the housing situations I have been in. I breathe in and remind myself of the losses I felt and of the tremendous sense of release I felt when out of the hospital. I count my blessings everyday. I am curious to see how it all turns out. Most of all I see in my minds eye the people who I love and those who have helped me come so far. I know that there is much to accomplish , But I think I am up to the task. Life moves on and me with it. Bipolar I may be but I will face it and see it through.
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