Unity

When I normally think of teenage girls, I usually wince. I think of cliques, judgement (both on themselves and others), gossip, and general malicious. Who could blame me? The reality is, that is what a lot of high school is: unnecessary cruelty. I remember being in high school, wondering why the 'in-group' girls would just shove past anyone in their way, making cruel comments and dismantling the humanity of others. There were exceptions, there always are, but even within those there was a trace of resentfulness, of suspicion of others. No matter what, I thought, girls in particular are cruel.

That perspective changed a little bit yesterday.

I was alone with all of the high school girls who did not have visitors; there were probably 17-20 of them in this one small room, with just one staff. Not our normal way of doing things, to be sure, but for the most part they were getting along well, split into smaller clumps and talking and laughing, or playing games.

And then a new girl walked in.

She was tiny, nondescript, with huge scared eyes, her shoulder bowed in against her heart, as if to protect it from the heartbreak of exclusion. The talking, the laughter, stilled.

"A new girl!" one cried.

The newcomer hunched smaller into herself.

"You're so pretty!" another called out with a huge smile. "What's your name? We need to introduce ourselves--join us!"

And I watched with joy as she blinked, straightened a little, and hesitantly walked over and sat down at a chair one pulled up for her. Within minutes, she was laughing too.

And when another girl came a few hours later, she received the same eager greeting.

And I learned something.

I learned that unity has nothing to do with history, race, socioeconomic status, appearance, or any other possible separation. Unity is not about being alike, or even agreeing on the same topics. Unity is greeting someone new with a smile, welcoming them in without hesitation, and offering them hope. Unity is a hand to pull you up, no matter who you are. Unity is listening, understanding, patience. Unity is a group of teenagers who all accept each other, who protect each other and support each other, even when that might get them in trouble or may make them stay longer. I have seen so much beauty in this place that many would call ugly, and this is by far the most beautiful thing of all: Acceptance.

We could all stand to learn from teenage girls.

Worth It

Tonight, a girl handed me a letter she had written for the staff. I loved it, thought I'd share it here. This is why I do what I do.

"To ALL Staff:
When I first got here I wanted to be here but when I came [onto the unit] I didn't. I was made that I couldn't leave before I even got put [in my group]. But when I started to meet new people and I've made friendships that I will never forget. I've seen Nurses and other staff that truly love their job and care about all of us here regardless of why we are here. I'm leaving tomorrow but I've enjoyed [Hospital] so much because I've learned how to relieve some of my stress and different ways to cope.

There aren't enough words in the world to tell everyone how grateful I am that everyone has helped me not only with my mental illness but with my self-confidence as well. So all I can say is Thank You! Thank you for everything! And I hope that I can work at [Hospital] one day, because I love everything about [Hospital].
Love: [Name]"

Survivor

Have you ever had a panic attack? It's a terrible experience. Everything around you is pitch black, you can't see, you can't think, all sounds come from a distance. All you hear is your harsh breath and the thoughts that torture you, saying you should be stronger than this, that you're worthless, that all you've ever tried to accomplish isn't worth a thing. And most times, all you can do is lay still and hope to God it'll be over soon.

This is what I walked in on at work yesterday. A woman, buried under the blankets on her bed, sobbing and hyperventilating. I leaned against the window by her bed, and talked to her softly, telling her to breathe in time with my counting as I counted to ten and back again. At first, there was no reaction, but after a few seconds, she began to follow.

"Deep breaths," I said. "Focus on the air going in and out."

Slowly, her breathing slowed and she pulled the blanket off of her head. And we sat and talked. She told me her fears, her memories, her secrets. I listened, praying I'd have words to offer. She sobbed and asked me why this was happening to her, how could God let it happen to her, and all I could tell her was what brought me comfort once: that God gives his toughest battles to His strongest soldiers, and that she was so, so strong to have survived what she had already experienced. I told her she wasn't a victim, but a survivor, and she looked at me, and the light dawned.

"I'm alive," she said.

"Yes," I answered.

"Wow."

And then, a small, half-formed, half-hopeful smile slipped across her tearstained face.

Together

Usually, my job doesn't affect my private life. I am very good at compartmentalizing, after all. But yesterday there was a girl who looked just like my sister. And around her neck were bruises from where she tried to hang herself.

Now, I don't believe my sister would ever attempt something like that, but it was a bit of a jolt. To look at her, she seemed so cheerful, so ready to encourage others and smile. I wondered how much of it was faked, and how much of it was just relief to not have to hide anymore.

There is some controversy in putting a bunch of suicidal teenagers in a room together to try to help them. Some people believe that it's just asking for trouble. But, having struggled with depression for years, it's something that I find hope in. For once, these girls don't have to hide. For once, they can share openly, and have someone nod and say "I've been there. I understand."

We live in a somewhat egocentric society; we are raised to think that we are all unique and special, but the reality is that we are all, at our core, human. Still, we believe that how we feel and experience life is 100% unlike anyone else's, and so how can anyone identify with us? But here, in a psych ward, the barriers are useless. There are scars, bruises, track marks, identifiers we as staff recognize well, and the girls know too. They talk, they laugh, they cry. It seems cathartic.

Wouldn't it be such a relief to be so open in the real world? To never have to hide, to keep your emotions open and clear...this is an impossible dream. There will always be shadows. But, sometimes, maybe a cloud will dissipate, and the sun will chase away our secrets.

I could use that right about now.

Emotions

It's sometimes weird to me how much my job has affected my everyday life. When I said goodbye to my brother, who I would not see again for nearly 4 months, I went to give him a high-five instead of a hug. I knock on bathroom doors before going in them. I keep my pens in my pocket instead of my hair, and I am ALWAYS aware of where they are. I can read a person and determine the most efficient way to deal with them. I always sit facing the rest of the room.

My brother likes to tell me I'm paranoid. He laughs at my reactions to tense situations, and thinks that I'm exaggerating. To the everyman, I am. But you learn VERY quickly that everyone is just one bad day away from being admitted.

"You shouldn't feel ashamed to be here," I tell the adults I occasionally work with. "You're sick; you're here to get better, and if you're willing to work on it, we can help you."

I don't know if they believe me or not, but they seem to appreciate it that I believe it. They tell me all the time that so many staff just ignore them or pander to them, but I listen. I just smile and tell them that everyone here has a lot going on, and sometimes, we forget that the patients are people too.

"It's okay to be scared," I say. "It's okay to be nervous or unsure or depressed. You don't need to feel guilty over how you feel."

I wonder sometimes if my life would have been any different if someone had told me that when I was young. At 14, there were a lot of life events that triggered me into a depressive state; I was trapped. It took 4 years (4 years) for me to admit it to my parents, who then made an appointment for a psychologist. Not long into our meeting together, he told me it was okay to feel the way I was feeling. Me being me, I tried to argue. There were people involved in the events that had triggered me that deserved to feel like that, and I, a bystander, shouldn't feel like this. He smiled and said:

"Says who?"

And I didn't have an answer. That night, I realized he was right, and in that realization, I found hope.

I don't know if I have any readers. I don't know if people care about my tiny corner of the world. But if you do, if you're reading this, please know that you do not need to justify your feelings to anyone. It's okay to feel depressed or stressed, even if, comparatively speaking, you have very little to feel depressed or stressed about. Don't ever compare your emotions to others', because what you feel and what they feel are both unique. It's like trying to compare colors. Take your emotions for what they are, be they red, blue, purple, green. Try to understand them; get help understanding them.

And know that there is at least one person who doesn't even know your name cheering you on.