7: Freedom Forty-Seven

September 11, 2017, the day after World Suicide Prevention Day, I was discharged from St Joe’s West 5^th campus Hospital. I walked out on my own two feet; I was twenty pounds lighter, significantly less tan, and in a hell of a lot better mood than when I had been admitted forty-seven days earlier. And I rode off into the sunset on a unicorn and lived happily ever after. 

 

In reality, as I left Hospital, I was terrified. And rightly so! I had been living in a safe cocoon of a society for over a month and a half and here I was heading back out into the real world �" where there were choices, and stress, and things that couldn’t be predicted and people wouldn’t be protecting me. It took a long time for that fear to subside, for going out to be more than a brave face plastered on. Every single day of my first week at home I wished to be back in the comfort and security of my hospital room - the one that I had so adamantly hated in the beginning. I missed having the assurance of seeing a nurse or doctor every time I turned around. I had to readjust to life at home, and to become used to the feeling of being safe in my own company again. Each time I had a follow up appointment as an outpatient in Hospital I stayed on campus for many hours both before and after it, because being back in the building gave me a sense of confidence and safety I hadn’t quite regained for myself out in society.

 

Cautiously, I started allowing myself to get back to doing the things I enjoyed. I baked, did crafts, walked the dog, and made plans with my friends. I made appointments for myself and I kept them; I was determined not to let the ball drop again any time soon. These were the baby steps back into life. A life I was going to live, and to love.

 

I also listened to a lot of empowering songs by Rachel Platten. And Cher. No shame.