Long is understatement. This day nearly stood still.
At 11:30 a.m. I was released following a six-day hospitalization at the psychiatric unit at Happy Valley Regional Medical Center; the end of a near week of yellow wallpaper. I will say that I admitted myself. Once a patient is committed, however, the choice of departure is no longer theirs to make.
In the days I was hospitalized doctors addressed my blood lithium level, which had dropped to a meager .5. I stabilized at 1.0 Sunday. Therapists also worked to address my depressed spirits and to root out the evil that demands I am not worthy to live.
I made the painful decision that I cannot continue in my marriage. I sent word to my husband on Friday that I will be seeking a divorce. That decision hit me square in the chest upon release this morning.
I don't remember the last time I felt this sad. The difference between mood now and six days ago is that there is light at the end of the tunnel. I know this was the right thing to do and that it's going to get better, not just for me, but for my children, and ultimately my husband as well. He may not see this as the mercy it is, but without this divorce one or both of us was in grave danger.
I wish the best for him. He told me once that for the right woman he has a lot to offer. I know he's right. But I'm not her.
And for myself, I believe that I deserve to be happy and to be treated with kindness, consideration, love and compassion. I've learned. Selling myself short only brings unhappiness to everyone. I really am worthy of the love I expect. I am worthy of life.
It's odd, but I'm moving in with my ex-husband as a co-parent to my kids. He is being incredibly kind and supportive as I regain my mental health and continue my education. The kids will have to take time to adjust. This is hard for everyone. Our present circumstance feels something like refugee status.
Looking for the normative to become apparent...