The following is a short excerpt of one of the diary entries I wrote while staying at a psychiatric hospital for the past seven days. I wrote entries every day and took extensive notes, though now that I am home I am unsure what it is I was trying to say, so for now I ask if you would enable me to speak without really saying much at all.
01/09
This morning I brushed my teeth for the first time in five days. It was also the first time I had brushed my teeth with intention, rather than a quick panic, in months. When I told my care coordinator this news in our session today it was the first time I had cried in the first five days here. I did not cry at admission, I did not cry during group therapies, I did not cry in solidarity with the women around me; I cried at the joy and the fear and the shame of celebrating brushing my teeth at twenty four years old.
I am concentrated on the blood that pools from my gums at the embrace of bristles. I don’t know if it is the predictable romanticisation of the red splashes in the bathroom sink or the fact that it is such an unavoidable symbol that I am not doing well, but it is a theme that routinely resurfaces. It is a theme that I also often try to erase, I am afraid of being deemed disgusting, of people knowing that there is fear in brushing my teeth. Life is so embarrassing sometimes.
It is a similar type of embarrassment I feel towards writing about my time at this facility*, despite understanding that there is no shame in seeking this type of help it is still so hard to shed stigma. This feeling is obvious amongst the new faces that roll in every few days, anxiously awaiting to see if the hospital feeds their hopes or fears. I want to tell them not to worry, that I had their face too five days ago, and this morning I brushed my teeth.
*I would like to acknowledge that facilities like this one are predominately restricted to those with access to private health insurance which I am lucky enough to have access to. This is an opportunity that a lot of people who struggle with the same things as me are not able to access due to financial restraints and I do not want to skip over the position of privilege I sit with in my stay here.
Thank you for reading, if you wish to message me to ask if I am ok please know first that I am, and that this was a voluntary admission :)