Comfort, that's all I crave

It’s hard to be all alone when times are rough, whether it be about the fight you just had over the phone with your boyfriend, accusing him of cheating, to laying in bed at an intensive psychiatric care station where you are bawling your eyes out, crying yourself to sleep every night. Nobody deserves to be left alone with their feelings, ever, and if the opportunity presents itself to call loved ones, please do so, as the feelings of being loved are magically radiated through the phone, leaving you with more courage and willpower than before.

At this intensive psychiatric ward, the best in the country, people don’t come here willingly, usually. They are forced to be brought under through court orders and all that jazz because they are in severe danger of themselves and/or others. 

But I came here willingly, that is the main difference in distinguishing me from the other 7 patients here. Only these specialists, at this unit, have the knowledge and the know-how to nurse me back to health. I am fully accepting recovery as I want to be able to live again, to run around carelessly through the meadows with friends on a warm sunny day, enjoying that nice little picnic as the sun sets over the horizon without having to worry about the numbers that have destroyed my life last year - weight, calories, and BMI.

As the other patients were forced to be brought here, they obviously don't want to accept the treatment that would however, benefit them tremendously; giving them the satisfaction of gaining their life back as well, regardless of which mental disorder, such as major depressive disorder, a different type of eating disorder, or bipolar disorder, they have fallen victim to. Like previously said, what distinguishes me from these 7 other people is that I am accepting the treatment and cooperating, like the Spanish soccer team does when facing opponents, continuously passing the ball successfully and communicating efficiently, like a team, with the experts here; slowly gaining my life back. 

The others, especially new arrivals, scare me to death and do not share my current state of mind. They often have to be chained to their bed so that they cannot run away like a deer would, if it noticed that it were being hunted. They are brought here under court order, and are given medication upon medication to try to get them to quieten and eventually fall sleep. And hopefully, through a long and agonizing process, not only for themselves but the others in the room like me as well, as we have to witness this madness, they too will realize that they are ill and need these specialists to get better.

The new arrival from yesterday was especially tough on me emotionally. Not only were extra strong male helpers from other stations notified and brought in to lock him down on his bed while the newly arrived, six foot tall man, just stood there standing colossal, ready to embrace the challenge - like one of the villain’s in those children’s movies that always ends up failing - yelling and screaming in a gibberish of really foul swear words and German with a heavy Russian accent. The good news is, he’s finally asleep, as he has been forced to have a vast array of medications. Yet the worst news is that he lays opposite of me in this four bed jail-like looking room. Thank God for the curtains that are capable of dividing the room into four, saving me from witnessing something so horrid. 

This all happened this night, shortly after visiting hours were over at 8 pm, so no one was there to console me, to tell me that things would be fine, like a mother comforts and solaces her youngest after she misplaces her barbie somewhere in their lovely family household. 

I had no one, it was dark and nighttime. I was, and still am, scared of this patient lying across from me. I’m scared of how he will act, of what he is capable of doing; that I’ve been crying nonstop, with tears jotting down my cheeks like waterfalls. I wanted to leave, to be with someone I trust as the situation was anything but pleasant, yet I know that I need to be here because of what I have put my body through this past year.

I was stuck.

I am now sitting here in my bed, alone, crying, having anxiety attacks and simply being scared to death to say the least; I was emotionally worn down to the extreme. Yes, I was alone with regards to the people around me, but my favorite stuffed animal never leaves my side, and while it may sound childish and immature, it gives me comfort when I need it most. I finally feel at ease holding onto my favorite, worn-down, big, fluffy stuffed animal with dear life, inhaling his scent, like a child who runs to his mommy, for reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

Friedolin, My Savior

What I get when I cuddle Friedolin, the loveliest carrot stuffed animal there is, is coziness, support, comfort, and I finally feel at ease and the idea that everything will be all right begins to settle in my mind; that it’s worth it to keep going with recovery, even when times are tough. Because Friedolin gives me the comfort and reassurance that I so desperately crave and long for, like a chocolate-lover and his obsession with anything chocolate covered.

Friedolin lies next to me in my bed every night, being my comforter for when I am all alone, enabling me to doze off into a deep slumber, only to wake up fully refreshed and positive for the day to come, to not only get healthier but stronger as well.