Acknowledging Progress & Bravery

Exactly one year ago from this moment, I was lying in a bed in a new-to-me apartment in Houston, Texas,  feeling nervous and not sure if I would be able to sleep. My parents had dropped me off that day with my luggage. I was there for treatment in a community reintegration program, and we could not know how long I would be there. 

I can tell you now, of course: nearly nine months. 

My treatment involved hours and hours of therapy every week--mostly group sessions with fellow clients in the program, but also individual appointments, too. I had a team of that worked with me, including a Primary Clinician, Individual Therapist, Vocational Rehabilitation Specialist, Dietitian, Music Therapist, and my Neuropsychiatrist.

All of this treatment over the nine months I was in the program followed the ten-week-long inpatient stay I had at the beginning of 2020 (right before the pandemic began) where I learned that I had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder for about seven years and that I actually have an autoimmune disorder. But, I also have some mental illness struggles that I need to learn how to cope with--so treatment was time to get back on my feet, like physical therapy, except I was strengthening my brain. 

It was hard work--especially during the pandemic, it felt so much longer than it really was! Every week, I was in group or individual therapy somewhere between about 10 to 15 hours. I cannot stress how emotionally and mentally exhausting that was for me.

Over time, I saw progress in myself. By January, I got a job. My team saw progress in me and they started encouraging me to think about going back to school in 2021 rather than 2022 like I had planned. That sounded really scary--I cried when they told me, but only because I wanted it so badly.

When I had to medically withdraw from school in California in 2018 after my mental health wouldn't allow me to continue, I was heartbroken. I felt like I had failed miserably. Now, we know that it was the medication and incorrect diagnosis that had messed me up--definitely not my fault! We were all doing the best we could with the information we had at the time. But I always planned to come back. 

So, guess where I am sitting at this moment? 

One year later, I'm here. I'm back. I'm sitting in my own little apartment in northern California!

Because my team believed in me and pushed me, and because I put in hours and weeks and months of hard work, I'm here. I'm back pursuing my dream of becoming a professional in the canine industry; six weeks into getting my bachelor of science in cynology at Bergin University of Canine Studies. 

There's a quote I love that says, "A year from now, you'll wish you had started today,"  -Karen Lamb

Well, I'm glad I started a year ago. And today, I'm glad I started school because one year from now, I'll be halfway finished with this degree (we have to transfer in with 60 credits, so I only have 4 semesters until my bachelor's degree is complete at Bergin University)!

I've also heard it said that the days are long but the years are short. The older I get, the more I know that to be true. My days in treatment felt like they would never end. I couldn't imagine life outside of treatment for a long time. But after a little over a year, I found the life I really wanted. It's not perfect or easy, but nothing worthwhile is ever easy and what does perfect really even mean? 

I got my haircut today and the woman told me that moving all the way out here from Texas was brave. 

Brave. I don't ever think of myself that way. Maybe I could start though. I've definitely displayed bravery in my life, but I easily forget all the time how much I've been through--weird, huh? 

Well, today, I'll say it:

I was brave enough to go through intensive mental health treatment.

I was brave enough to move alone across the country and try college again.

I am brave. 

May you be brave, too, my friend and reader--and brave enough to acknowledge your own bravery. 

Thanks for reading.

Sincerely,

Haley