Progression

Life goes on. For you. For him. For her. For them. And yes… me.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written to you. Life has been (depressing) busy. I was so down and wasn’t getting any better. I begged to be locked up. Swore I was losing my mind. All of this after I was thrown out of my mothers house. The last bit of stability I had, taken away from me.

Homeless. Not completely because I always had someone nice enough to let me sleep on their couch. But the weight of that blow to my stability was making it even worse.

I spent yet another Wednesday on my therapists couch crying about how crazy I felt I was going. Can you believe he threatened to fire me as a patient if I didn’t follow the instructions he was about to give me?

This is what he wanted… he told me I needed to call and find information on entering the IOP in the Psych facility of St Joseph’s Hospital. I called before I even left the parking lot and was sitting in the hospital waiting area the next day waiting to be evaluated. I mean you know how much I love my therapist… I didn’t wanna lose him.

So the following Monday, I started the Outpatient Program. They put me on the Bi-Polar track, which I completely disagreed with, but the other option was substance abuse.

Everyone was very nice, and very screwed up in their own ways. I learned a lot about various types of bi-polar disorder and that I fall into the Bi-Polar 2 category. I can live with that. I went every day from 9-3. They served lunch. We colored while we discussed all of our individual SHIT. I’m super vocal, so I loved to talk. And cry.

Ya know it actually made me feel really good to go to these groups. I felt like I had a purpose. Or at least a reason to get out of bed every day. And even shower at least twice a week.

There were a lot of people like me. And people a lot worse off. I cried for the things others had been through. I cried for myself. I cried just because.

But I have to tell you… it was the best thing I could have done. I started December 12th I believe? And then finished January 30th. It went by so fast. I still talk to people from group. I’m going to attend after care group meetings. I’m even considering going back to work, however… I still have no place to live.

Author: Autumn Delaney

A screwed up girl in an even more screwed up world...

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