The Longest Stint

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.