Been reflecting a lot lately
A page in the diary "The Daydreaming Student of Life"
Written by a-Leng 29. Jan 2008 08:50 AM
I don't know if reflecting as much as I have been is a good thing or not for my depression however part of the reason I haven't well slept in so long is because of this.
Anyway, I thought I might share something about my experience at the psychiatric ward as an 18 year old that helped me cope better while there.
As I mentioned in the previous paragraph I was only 18, and just past my birthday (like a few weeks into my 18th year of life) when I was admitted into the psychiatric ward. I was pretty much one of the, if not the youngest person there. I was also still in year 12, and I believe among other factors it was the stress from year 12 that caused me to have a mental breakdown in the first place. I felt like a teenager amongst all these people who appeared to be so much older than me.
Now, then, what's the comfort in this you may ask? There was none initially. However one thing I did appreciate that was at the pysch ward at the hospital was that there was an activity room with loads of art supplies. Now, not everyone is artistic, but i always loved art and creativity as a form of expression so I took advantage of the medium (art supplies) available to me at the psych ward. It was much like the art rooms at school only none of our work was for assessment and we could do whatever we wanted with the stuff, provided we didn't abuse our rights.
The activity coordinator there also ran some relaxation sessions and invited guest speakers from various mental health support groups or organisations to speak. Needless to say I went to all of these and I even read the brochures on illnesses other than my own, to understand better what a mental illness is about. One of the things I found comforting was that I was relatively quick to adjust to the environment. Some people there were so distressed they couldn't even do basics things to look after themselves.
Also another comfort was that my family came to visit me every day, especially my mum. It showed that she and the rest of my family cared even though I was at my worst in state of mind. I felt truly sorry for those who had no one to visit them.
I also talked to people while I was there. And this included the other patients. I'm not one to judge too much based on looks but I admit I did eventually figure out that I could not relate to a lot of the people there, for example one guy who felt good getting good deals on illegal drugs. There were some people who like me were truly depressed or traumatised for whatever issues who had not harmed anyone in such a way. There was one woman in particular who I had kept in contact with until recent years who was absolutely lovely to talk to. Her circumstances were so much different to my own mind you, she was around 34 when I met her, very overweight, probably to the point of obesity and had diabetes. We got along very well, and eventually I had a 'group' of friends who I decided I could confide in without being laughed at, and we could always joke about things in our lives as well.
Strangely enough, even though I was a patient I had this almost instinct to want to help people. So I even talked to some people even though they were probably not who I would usually associate with outside of the hospital. One of these people was woman of Aboriginal descent. She taught me quite a bit about Aborignal culture and their ideals, and way of life, so now I feel I better understand where other Aboriginal and Torres Strait islanders are coming from. She didn't like me at first, and I think eventually didn't like me afterwards, but we talked about things, and she realised that I truly did feel sorry for Aboriginal people because of the disadvantages they have in Australian society.
Another thing I noticed while there was that because I was young and 'educated' I felt I was more knowledgable in certain things than other people. One woman there who I later found out was a bit of a person who harrassed her son, had had this dream of participating in her son's schooling, and had said she wanted to write a newsletter or something, so at the time she told me I had this crazy idea myself (as a student who was studying design at high school) that I could help design this newletter as a project and get credit for it for my school subject. Anyway, as I explained to her the process of design, another woman was like, are you a designer, which made me laugh and think gosh, people don't actually know this stuff that I do. Funnily enough the second woman I met in this scenario was heavily into music, Delta Goodrem, so was I, so we talked about singing and stuff and I told her a bit about reading music, as a former student of music at my high school. And she appeared very impressed, which I thought was a huge compliment.
Speaking of music there was also a piano there. Now, I've never studied or been taught by a piano teacher how to play but I did in the past learn some very basic tunes that I could play with both hands. I didn't realise what a comfort for me, and others it would be for me to be able to take my emotion out through playing it. It was a beautiful upright piano as well. Much nicer than the one we have at home, from the days my brother learnt to play.
Before I finish off, I want to first apologise for anything bad I say about other people in my diaries that may apply to you. My reasoning for writing these entrie is to comfort myself, and let others know they're not alone in this battle of depression or other mental illness. Please let me know if I have said anything that upsets you.