Mental health; while it's the bane of most jokes and the reason why everyone, including myself, seems to be triggered by anything and everything, it's actually super important to pay attention to. Unless you too would like to be like me and be hospitalized for nearly two weeks because of it. Doesn't sound fun, does it?

Well it's certainly not as fun as some of my most recent articles, but it's something that needs to be talked about, and who better to talk about it than someone who was quite literally and recently in the hospital for it than myself? Thought so. So here's my story, and I'm truly hoping that it can stop someone from ending up in the same position that I was in.

What happened...

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Had I not expressed my true thoughts and feelings to my nurse practitioner, I'd still be lying to everyone, including myself, saying that I'm fine and that I'll just deal with my issues on my own time. I'd also be saying that seeking additional medical attention outside of my appointments with said nurse practitioner is useless and just a big waste of my relatively short so far life. Just like tons of people in society, I too was depressed and suicidal. It’s just not normal to tell your friend that’s accompanying you during your nurse practitioner appointment that you want to hang yourself with his belt in front of him just so he can watch you go.

That was until my nurse practitioner highly recommended that I go to the hospital on the last Friday of July. Of course I said no and didn't go then, and that's because two days later, my friend and I voluntarily put me in the hospital after a necessary morning pit stop at Ess-a-Bagel. Having my friend drag my caffeine-less self to NewYork-Presbyterian on a Sunday morning at 6am wasn't ideal for either one of us, but it was completely necessary for my overall wellbeing.

I never thought that going to the hospital would make me a weak person per se, but I didn't think that it'd make me any stronger of a person either. I will say that prior to going to the hospital, I was (and still am) on the highest dosage of Lexapro that's available, which just so happens to be 20 milligrams. Prior to that, I was on Lamictal 10 (milligrams, duh). The difference between the two is that Lexapro is an SSRI and Lamictal is a mood stabilizer. Being on meds doesn't make anyone less of a person, and if anyone tries to say any different, they can “educate themselves” as people in my generation love to say. People can judge, but they're not in your shoes, so don't let them tell you what's up with you when you know more about you than they do.

Ultimately, I was in the hospital for a little under two weeks, and realistically, I don't miss it. While I did make some pretty cool friends, that's not what I was there to do. My medical team diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder and changed my meds, which is something that I grew to become comfortable with. I'm not my diagnosis as for it’s part of me, and as I've been told, I'm “hard to read…” Whatever that means. 

Two weeks out; what's changed?

While in the hospital, my medical team started me on Abilify 10, which is an anti-psychotic that I take with my Lexapro 20 and my new birth control. Now my head feels clearer, but I still feel a little anxious and obsessive, which isn't ideal, but it's a sign that I'm making progress; which during recovery, is all that I can ask for. Part of me feels like I'm fine, but the other part of me feels as if I'm a monkey with a set of drums. It's the craziest thing ever and I've never experienced anything like this, but it's all part of healing. 

The whole reason behind me sharing my story is to let others like me with similar situations know that they're not alone and that help is available. Acknowledging that help is needed isn't easy, but always remember that it's better to start getting help later than never.