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"They're Just Jealous"
“Why else would they say those kinds of things? It's all just envy, don't worry about it! You're way ahead of them, that's why they comment on your body like that. Just don't pay them any mind, they don't deserve your attention anyway.”
Taking Advantage
When I go back to those years, those days, those moments, a paralyzing sensation of dread sets over me. It makes me feel violated all over again, and in a lot of ways, I think I am just now truly experiencing the horrible emotions those events caused within me, because I just wasn't aware of any of it. I just didn't know what it even was that I was facing, and why years and years after, I felt uncomfortable and scared around other girls.
Is That Really Normal?
Gym dressing rooms. They were probably the single place in the entire school building that I was the most scared of. I remember entering the hallway on the basement floor that led to the dressing rooms, and the soul-crushing dread and fear that settled deep into my being. It wasn't just in my gut, it was everywhere; in my head, in my heart, arms, legs. Every inch of my body was screaming at me to not go there, but I knew I had no other choice.
I Didn't Know
Dissociation has taken a lot of things away from me. I have massive gaps in my memory, both long-term and short-term, seemingly for no reason. But it has also shielded me from a lot of things; things that were too hard for my child brain to comprehend. It's fascinating how you can go for years without knowing a single thing about it, and then one day, the memory is right there, crystal clear in your mind, as if it was planted there. You question it – how is this even possible? – and think you must have just made it up and it was probably nothing. But the memory persists, it will not leave you alone, and every time it comes back to you, there is a pit in your stomach, and you feel it in your bones.
Leaving
The days go by, one after the other, and you can't recognize the passage of time anymore. Until one morning, after breakfast, your nurse steps into your room.
"The doctor wants to see you today after lunch. He's assessing your current status and whether you can be discharged soon."
Wondering
Being admitted to a psychiatric facility once is enough of a troubling and traumatic experience. Especially if your stay gets prolonged, ranging from several months to over a year, the ward will most likely become a place you never want to find yourself in ever again. And for those who get the proper help they need on their first and longer ward period, there might not ever be a reason to go back – and that is always the end goal.
Supporting
Sometimes, they let you have visitors. If you're relatively stable, not a threat to others and can handle social situations, you are allowed to invite people to come see you at the ward. Typically, it's family members that visit the patients, but close friends are also common. For me, having people visit me is the most important part of recovering and getting closer to the eventual check-out date along with the actual treatment. In general, it feels good to leave the sterile white rooms for a little while and talk with people who are living their regular lives. It makes you feel like a normal person again, kind of restoring that connection to the outside world you've lost since being admitted.
Waking
I have never been a morning person. I don't like waking up early for no apparent reason: to me, there needs to be at least a somewhat relevant motivation for me to get out of bed before the clock strikes 9 am. For the longest time, I had that motivator in the form of school schedules and uni lectures. But as years have gone by, as I have gotten even sicker and sicker, those reasons quietly exited my life and left me without much of a trace. This, in turn, made it possible for me to stay up ridiculously late and wake up to eat my "breakfast" at 2 pm. That used to be my very normal lifestyle, with a sleeping pattern so horrifying that people around me almost started to worry for me, no matter how much I tried to justify it with "my creative juices flowing the best at the wee hours". To everyone else, it looked like a very unhealthy way of life, while I was none the wiser. And as much as I love working when everyone else is fast asleep, I do have to admit one thing.