On the precipice of No-thing part II

Waking up in restraints, belligerent and with your two younger sisters looking at you with both immense fear and disgust. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any lower. Of course it wasn’t until I awoke the next day in my room in psych, alone, afraid and ashamed of what I had done. I spent that day alone in my room for the most part contemplating how I had gotten there and digesting the shame I was drowning in. It wasn’t until the nurse brought in my roommate that I was finally able to get out of my head somewhat. She was a young woman and she wouldn’t stop crying for the first two hours she was in the room. I finally approached her cautiously and began to engage her in conversation. She had suffered for depression most of her adult life and was struggling with bi-polar issues as well. I befriended her and subconsciously made it my mission to support her in whatever way I could. We would eat together and have talks in our room, share magazines and just be real. Of course this made my time there move a lot more swiftly, but more importantly I lost myself in service to another. She ended up going home two days after admission. I then got another roommate and proceeded to do the same. Then, I watched for new admissions, and befriended them and supported them in whatever way I could. There was one young woman who refused to shower or talk to anyone. It took me a day, but eventually I got her to shower, brushed her hair and got her to finally eat.

How I ended up there became secondary to my to current purpose, to impact as many lives as I could while there. I approached and befriended even the most violent of individuals there. Often times getting myself in trouble with the staff. I risked to reach people, and I wasn’t afraid. I began to slowly feel, this is a part of my purpose. These beings, reconnected me to what truly feeds my soul, serving others. I didn’t expect for my suicide attempt and subsequent stay in a psych ward to be the thing that shocked me out of my own shit, but it was. It lifted it, it inspired me and most importantly, it reminded me of who I was and why I am here. I was visited by family and friends throughout my stay and I couldn’t adequately explain what had happened to me. Everyone held their own opinions and I left them to it. I was obviously put on an anti-depressant medication and had psychotherapy and art therapy throughout my time there as well. Though, that was helpful and I’m grateful to the beings that supported me throughout this process, there was no greater therapy than being in service to others. I freely gave out my phone number and stayed in contact for a little while with a few people, thought eventually that faded out and that’s ok. I left the hospital grateful to Spirit for showing me in my darkest time who I am and what I am made of.

Upon my return home, I had to leave my apartment and stay with my sister and thought none of that was easy being a former “superwoman”. I was able to handle it with a greater sense of peace and gratitude. Things could have gone a completely different way. My relationship to Spirit and myself was revitalized, my sense of purpose renewed and even though at the moment, I wasn’t were I wanted to be, I trusted I was exactly where I needed to be. And the journey continues…