Wake Me Up When September Ends...

Wake Me Up When September Ends...

Feb 28, 2022

I've been struggling lately. Just thinking about the whole month of September 2021, when I was in the hospital. I have never been at such a low place in my life. I've struggled with depression and anxiety but I've never been that low and I never want to get that low again.

September was traumatizing. September was a blur. September was full of me hurting people who loved me because of how much I truly wanted to end my life.

I have a lot of bad memories. The only good memories I have are from creating friendships. I wanted to keep a few of those friendships when I got out of the hospital but, it has been really hard. When I got released from the hospital I definitely wasn't ready to come home, but I had to come home because the nurses weren't wanting to work with my condition and thought I was faking it. (Also, after a month of LIVING in the hospital, you get SO used to that life and routine/consistency that going home is so much harder than it sounds.You get so used to living that beautiful life without social media and outside chaos. )There were a couple of nurses who made a difference but they obviously weren't always there because it's their job, not their whole life.

I wanted to keep those friendships because we all met each other at our lowest. We all bonded over trauma and life experiences. We met when we were always wearing sweats and no makeup. It just wasn't full of pressure and trying to be someone you weren't. But I wasn't a good friend when I got out. I still don't feel like I'm the friend I want to be. I have to focus on myself though. I love my friends and I love the friends I made in the hospital but friendships can also be a lot of pressure. I can't go out all the time. I can't drive and I live 45 minutes from the nearest town. I can't get all pretty and dress up often. I don't like to drink. I don't like to go to loud places. I'm really low maintenance and would rather go to a coffee shop, brunch, or just hang out at home.

Anyways, September was a blur. It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed because of the single handed amount of friends I talked to during my stay. I'm embarrassed because of the things anyone who kept in contact with me, heard me say. I'm embarrassed because of how the nurses and other workers saw me. I know that's their job but that wasn't "me" at all. (Yet, I still have this huge want/need to have a relationship with a few of my care team that I can't have any contact with. I still wish they were part of my outpatient treatment.) I was so beyond depressed for months. I hit my breaking point and I have so much guilt just with the thought of who I was during that month.

"I found peace in your violence..."(Francko) Gosh. This hurts so much. I don't think anyone understands this unless they have been through it. That month of hospital stay was nothing short of traumatizing. It was awful. Yet, somehow you have this off sense of peace and comfort. I think that's my biggest problem with attachment to the people I wish I could still have a relationship with. They were my peace in the violence. At that time, they were the people who knew me. Who understood me. Yet they just met me, and had no idea who I really was.

After I got out of the hospital I did have my mom help me write thank you cards to the few people who made a difference. At the same time I wanted to write cards to all of the nurses who made my stay a living hell. (I didn't because that's not me, but I wanted to.) The nurses who made my life hell wouldn't have learned anything from me telling them they should actually care about their patients or telling them to actually do their job.

There were nurses who made me feel guilty for having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I ended up holding my bladder because they made me feel so guilty that I just cried. There were nurses that complained about lifting me when there were 3 nurses doing the one job that my mom did on her own for 3 months after I got home. There were nurses/techs leaving the room grunting and rolling their eyes saying they can't help me after nearly dropping me. They kept pulling my fingers apart saying to open my hands when I couldn't because of the pain it caused.

Don't get me wrong, there were amazing nurses who went out of their way to compliment me and tell me that they are just doing their job. My favorite nurses even went out of their way to wash my hair after over a week without showering because no-one would help me. (I was paralyzed-hands and arms.)

The saddest part is knowing how many people are in the hospital to get help and then leave way more traumatized. It's breaks me to think of and it's so hard to talk about.

I'm going to slowly share my story because the medical system isn't all "We love our jobs, we want to help people." There are so many people who shouldn't be in their line of work and I honestly wish they would just leave so the people who need medical attention can get what they properly need..

Love always, Aspen.

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