Hard

My mom didn't exactly get it. This is not surprising given that we don't go into the more difficult parts of this thing of mine. I don't think it had ever occurred to her that I might be placed in a psych ward. She doesn't seem to get the small relationship between person with a history of very severe depression+person who usually has mixed episodes whenever she gets sick+taking away her antidepressant=not such a safe place to be. Apparently suicide isn't something she's ever worried about.

Even with the explanations that this is a transition that is tricky and that I'm going to be in a very nice, small place for it, she still can't understand why I need to be on a locked ward. I'm not going to spell it out. I can't. This is a time I can only be strong for me.

She also doesn't quite seem to understand why this is necessary at all. I think she is afraid that this is going to screw up all my meds. I don't think she understands that it is somewhat dangerous to be relying on a med that the dose can't be changed if I need it to be. Ultimately, even if I didn't have SAD, I would be in a difficult place with no room to vary my antidepressant dose. It's true that my current combination of meds has been amazing. But it is certain to fail eventually and as I keep saying, possibly to convince myself, it is much preferable to control that happening than to wait until I inevitably get sick. I tend to get depressed at Christmas. I would much, much prefer to be in the hospital in November than to be hospitalized and in a very bad place for a time of year that is nearly always difficult for me to begin with. I cannot live a life where I am battling constipation so severe that it causes 5 lbs of weight gain and my belly is so tight half the time that my too big pants are tight. I cannot keep surviving on high doses of various laxative agents. That is just not good for my body.

She also doesn't understand the thing where the patient still has control. I will simply refuse to take any med I don't want to take. I will call Dr. Brain and complain loudly if someone messes with things like my Seroquel without her express permission. She won't be my doctor during that time, but she will help me. And a huge part of doing this where she is nearby is that she knows the doctor who will be treating me.

Another highly unhelpful comment? "You'll be so bored". Um thanks? It is not going to be much fun. However, I am not going to be sitting in a bed all day, probably even if I want to. That's part of the point. I can't say I look forward to group therapy, but I also am interested to meet other people in my shoes. I also am likely to be too sick to be bored. More than likely I'll feel very depressed, very tired, and very uninterested in doing much. Which is not great for being home. In the hospital I have to eat, I have to shower, I have to talk about it if I feel like dying. Dr. Mind is great but he doesn't live here (thank God). He can't do that for me.

It makes me mad that I'm ok with this, but I have to hear her negative comments. It's me who has to go through this. It's me who had to admit that this is needed. It's my body that is going to feel horrible. It's me who has to deal with feeling lousy, potentially for a number of weeks. It seems like it isn't asking too much to just hear "I'm sorry but I'm glad you're making the right decision for you.". I'm the one who has been terrified of having exactly this (hospitalization) happen for years, and I am the one who has fought and screamed and done all kinds of things to avoid it.

It's true I've known this was likely (although not a week's worth of it) for a few weeks. But ultimately, if you have a child with serious mental illness it's fairly reasonable to assume this kind of thing may happen. Any other chronic illness wouldn't horrify her if I needed to be hospitalized. So why is this different?