A week before I left the hospital, I was terrified. I didn’t know if I was ready to go home; to go back to ‘normal’. I wanted to be sure that I was as close to healthy as I could possibly be because I didn’t want to spiral back down. I knew my home life and I knew that I wouldn’t have somebody with me 24/7 like I did in the cushion of the behavioral center.

The day I was discharged, I said my goodbyes to the friends I had made. We acknowledged my accomplishments and I hugged everybody’s necks with tears in my eyes. I wished everybody the best and I knew they would never leave my heart. My dad came to get me at the end of the day and we drove home. I was so excited to see my cat and to sleep in my own bed. My grandparents were visiting that day to do a low country boil, so it was nice to be able to spend time with them and eat wonderful food my first day back home.

The next day wasn’t so nice and fluffy. It was raw and it was mentally draining. My dad and I got into a small argument and asked me if I needed to go back to the hospital. I was considering it. I didn’t feel like I was ready to come home. I felt that way for about three months until I finally got into a somewhat routine. I would have mental breakdowns, I cried so much, and I was alone a lot of the time. It’s been a struggle adjusting to real life from the hospital and that was always a concern of mine. I didn’t want to be cozy in the hospital then get dumped into the spikes and rocks of real life.

You never know if you’re ready until you get out there and try. It is possible; it’s tough and it’s a battle, but you’re not alone in it. Just be sure you have people around you who care and are able to see your warning signs of emotional relapse.


One thought on “Aftermath.

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