After 10 years without a single mental health hospitalization, I’ve checked myself in twice in the last three weeks. In short, I’ve felt like a race car with a wobbly wheel.
My first pit stop came from an ER admission, and the pit crew focused on stabilization. I returned to the race too quickly, stalled out, and now find myself staring down an unknown amount of time at a mental health residential program. Most likely 4–6 weeks — the longest recovery stint I’ve ever pursued.
After the first two days of distinct sadness, disillusionment, and crisis, a calmness has settled in. I’m pausing the world outside to work on myself. I miss my wife, friends, and family desperately, yet I take comfort knowing a more stable person will show up soon.
I’d wish this experience on nobody with a healthy mind. But the absence of outside noise and daily chatter creates a particular family feel. We get our phones for only 1.5 hours a day, between 8:00 and 9:30 AM. Support groups, games, and free time fill the rest — along with questions like what medications did the psychiatrist put you on? and where were you before this, where are you going after?
It’s not that I want to stay away from the world. But sitting with seven other people exploring the depths of the human condition — especially when that condition is improving right in front of you — is a special experience. So for now, this is where I’m meant to be, and this is where I want to be.
It doesn’t hurt that I’m also the reigning Ping Pong Champion. Sometimes an ego boost is the best medicine.
Darling son - every race car needs a pit stop once in a while. We give thanks that you had the fortitude and resolve to get that engine overhauled for a lifetime of laps around the track. And if a ping pong trophy comes with the stop, well, that's just an added bonus! Sending you our deep love and admiration.
Thanks for posting this update. This routine sounds like something that would benefit most of us these days! Take your time and know there's lots of love heading your way