I started to drive there in the late evening. On the way I called ABBHH and spoke to someone in the assessing department. That's where they discuss with your psychiatrist which unit you'll be on. She couldn't guarantee I'd be on the unit I wanted. She asked if I could stay safe until the next day when I'd have more clarity from my psych. I turned the car around and drove home.
His office called the next morning wondering where I was. I told her the story. She called back and confirmed I'd be in the unit he and I discussed three years ago. I drove myself there like I always have and signed the papers. It's really not that easy. You usually have to wait anywhere from 2-4 hours to get to your unit but it's a comfortable enough room with others who are waiting so you don't sit there like a dork.
I struggled again and cried with the body check. "Please remove all of your clothing, including your underwear, and place them on this table." They hold a gown in front of you to give you some privacy but still, the gown is lifted and moved to check for scars or wounds. For a sexual abuse survivor, it takes a lot of self-talk to get through it and lots of tears. The most important sentence I said to myself was, "You are not being sexually abused. You are being checked for your own safety and those on the unit. Everyone has to do this and so can you. Go ahead and cry, feel those uncomfortable feelings and remove your clothes so it can be over soon."
Once that trauma passed, I was able to talk to both nurses about stuff outside of what just happened. They didn't need nor want to hear my story. I wasn't the first nor the last sexual abuse survivor they've checked. I needed to lighten the mood in the room so that I could get out of my dissociative state and back into reality.
I attended groups, had three different roommates and my medication was changed. I went in with a heavy heart and came out in the same condition. I'm used to coming out happy and my spirit lifted but that was not the case. This time, I identified the coping skills I'd let go of (AA meetings, talking at a deeper level, getting out of myself and helping others and not allowing people who are ignorant about mental illness to take away my serenity).
In Expressive Therapy I made a clay piece which I allowed to take shape without any prethought about what it should be. It turned out to be rectangular/oval in shape with the side view of Aaron's face on the right and a smoothed almost smeared look of his face looking at me on the left. When I shared in group, I began to cry. But I kept talking because I have to get past the feeling of embarrassment for crying and honor what I'm feeling for myself - no one else matters.
Another day we were asked to draw/paint a place where we feel safe. This is what I did in water colors:
