This Mommy's Mind...
...has been hospitalized twice now. The first time was involuntary.
From the Back of a Deputy's Car
I have never been arrested. Never been in trouble with the law in any way. Yet here I sat in the backseat of a sheriff's deputy's car, handcuffed and humiliated. It's policy in my county for those who have been involuntarily committed to be transported this way, though no one explained that to me before they paraded me through the emergency room, cuffed and barefoot. "Police escort" is the pretty way they put it. Being lied to does not improve one's mood. All I kept thinking was how grateful I was that my daughter was not there to see me like that.
A Room with a (partial) View
I arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night, alone and afraid. I was miles from home, in a strange place and with no control. Over anything. Over where I was, over how I was treated, over anything at home. That was the kick in the gut right there. When you are a homemaker, as I proudly name myself, you are the queen (or king. Hey, it's the 2010's.) of your castle. When you are locked away in a place with a view of the parking deck, all control is stripped from you. I worried sick over whether bills were being paid, if my family was being fed, if Punkin' Butt was miserable without me. Or worse, better without me? Would The Bearded One still want me after all this? Did I have a home to go back to?
A Ray of Sunshine
Of course I did. My family didn't stop loving me just because I was sick. And it was abundantly clear when they finally got to visit me and PB came toddling up to me just as fast as she could, yelling "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" I was reminded of why I was there, why I had to give up control. I was there to heal, to help make my family whole again. I relished every second of that visit and I sobbed as the doors closed behind them as they left. It was as if all the sunshine had gone and with it a piece of me. I was more determined than ever to get well.
The Storm Passes
As with all storms, the clouds broke up and the sky became clear again. My meds got straightened out, I learned ways to cope with the stress of life and made a few friends along the way. I even came out of the whole ordeal with a new therapist, and I call her that proudly, for she is wonderful at what she does. After seven days I was allowed to leave to continue my recovery at home. That night, as I sang to my sweet babe for the first time in ages and kissed her goodnight, I knew I was going to be ok.
But as with every passing storm, it's not long till another one is on the horizon.