‘The Bravest Thing I Ever Did Was Continuing My Life When I Wanted To Die.’ Juliette Lewis

It’s the eve of my graduation

Tomorrow I will graduate from the Taking Charge Program at Humber Hospital

Where I’ve been going two to three times a week for the last two months

I remember in the days leading up to the start of the program

I had no hope that things would improve

I had no hope that I would learn anything or experience anything life changing

I was so wrong

In this program I’ve had the fortune of meeting people

Who are like me

Something I’ve not experienced often, if at all

Sometimes one of us will be talking and I’ll look around and see others nodding their heads

Or we can finish each other’s thoughts

It’s uncanny

How a group of totally diverse strangers could share such intimate details of their lives

And bond in such a way that makes me wonder what I’ll do when I don’t get to see them so often

Often the stories are sad

Or frustrating

Or disheartening

Or just too fucking familiar

But there’s this weird sense of comfort in all of it

The comfort you feel when you’re just completely understood

Even in the midst of all your fucked up-ness

I’m proud that I made it through this program

I’m glad I forced myself to talk, share and listen

Even on the days when I wanted to remain curled up in bed

I’m honoured to have been part of this wonderful group of misfits

I didn’t think I could learn more about myself

Having been through this so many times

But I did

I learned about myself

I learned that in the end

Even after all the shit and hurt and pain

I can still be in such awe of life

And I’m still willing to do whatever it takes to do more than simply exist

I want to live

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‘Armed with skill and it’s frustration. And grace, too.’ The hip

There’s something about the sight of my hands covered in paint or glue

Chipped nail polish and stained fingers

It’s the look of hard working hands

It shows the world that I’m a hard worker

Valuable

A member of society

Even though I don’t feel that inside

It reminds the outside world that I still exist

It hints to the world around me that I’ve gone through my share of battles

Battles I still go through

It allows me to feel purpose

Even though most days I’m walking through life without an idea of why I’m still here

And yet I still feel pride in my tarnished hands

It’s similar to how I feel about my collection of tattoos

It illustrates to the whole world

That I was here

That I’m here now

That I’m alive

That I’m still surviving

The only difference is now I’ve got the battle scars to show it

Nolite Te Bastardes Carborundum-The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Atwood

The last 4.5 months have been filled with things I was too scared to do, things I thought I’d never be able to do again and things I fought to be able to do again. This was one of them. ‘Don’t let the bastards grind you down’ means more to me now than it did when I initially wanted this done. Thank you again to the incomparable @xmarks for the tattoo, the chats and the comfy chair.

‘In the blink of an eye, everything can change.’

Sometimes I’m scared to blink

Im afraid that this current edition of my life

Will suddenly morph back into the one I was living 4 months ago

Although living seems like far too grand of a word for what I was doing

Existing maybe

Barely

So now even going to sleep is a gamble

Which version of myself will I be when I wake up?

It seems like far too big of a risk to take

And I’m not that much of a risk-taker

Not with my life

I don’t want to lose this stranglehold I have on my life right now

I’ve worked too hard

Struggled and fought too hard

To lose it all

In the blink of an eye

Me n Robert Frost and a room full of strangers

Three people graduated from the program today

The facilitators spoke about each of their accomplishments

The rest of the group was invited to share with the graduates our own thoughts and well wishes

Three strangers were moving on

To different stages of their lives

They looked relieved, scared, unsure, happy and apprehensive

They spoke about fear of relapse and of isolation and of the unknown

My peers talked about their wisdom, bravery and relatable experiences

I shared the only thing I could

‘In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.’

And there’s something that’s both so reassuring and terrifying about that

It just all depends on the day that you wake up to

I looked around

And I just knew that each of them understood exactly what Robert Frost meant

I could see it in their eyes

That reminded me so much of my own

‘Expectation is the root of all heartache.’ Shakespeare

I’m starting a program tomorrow at my local hospital

It’s teaches coping skills for people with anxiety and depression

It is half days on Tuesdays and Fridays for 12 weeks, with a minimum of 5 Thursdays

It is a group format, run by a Social Worker, Registered Nurse and Occupational Therapist and overseen by a Psychiatrist

I’ll have a primary worker and access to the Psychiatrist during the program

At first, I was really intrigued and almost hopeful

Until I went for the info session

It was a few weeks ago

It was run by the OT who was jet lagged and seemed like she hadn’t a clue in the world of what she was talking about

I felt some of my balloon of almost hope deflate

I then went for an assessment last week with the RN, who sat impassively while I cried as she asked questions from her computer

I felt foolish and disappointed when I found out she would become my primary worker

I was accepted into the program and given a start date

Tuesday March 26

Tomorrow

I’ve promised myself that I will give it an honest open-minded try

After all, everyone has bad days and all that

And it would be reckless to throw away an OHIP covered 12 week program off of two measly meetings

Right?

Tomorrow, I’ll be there at 8:45 AM to start my first day

So maybe my balloon of almost hope won’t inflate

But maybe my ballon won’t pop either

And maybe

For right now, that’s good enough