MY GOD SHONE BRIGHTEST

And Life has beaten countless nasty truths into my head over my 61 years.  The most prominent one to date is that a darker day is always looming. My existence has been wrought with a lot of darkness.  Today I wish to tell you of a darkness that forced me to look squarely into the beautiful face of my Lord, God. My hope is that you gain more faith by simply reading this piece.

My mind raced constantly. Thinking clearly was a complicated chore from day to day. Communicating verbally was even harder than the thought process.  I was frazzled to say the least. My heart reeked with ancient pain and regret. For decades I longed for someone to listen to my story, the story of my pain.  Forgiving those who wounded me and looking into my spiritual mirror was difficult.  However, nothing could begin to compare to my mental state a few months ago. I know now that I was at the very brink of insanity.  Sleep was almost never near to me.  sleep deprivation and anxiety were my enemies. I hadn’t the vaguest clue as to what to do, how to feel better. Physical and emotional pain had crippled me both mentally and physically.  I was petrified at the thought of a nervous breakdown. 

My mind has always been sharp. To have to face the fact that something was out of sync in my brain was one of the most terrifying truths I have had to face in my entire life….but it was necessary if I wanted to remain in the realm of the sane.  I was beginning to plunge into a gargantuan grotto of depression and grief. Many things tortured my tired mind.  This horror came to a head this very summer as I attempted to complete my new book of poetry. I have learned that when God guides you on your appointed rounds, you must listen to that still small voice that is the Holy Spirit.

My self-imposed deadline for my book’s release was not the date God had chosen.  Since I ignored the voice telling me to rest and seek help for my anxiety and sleep disorder, God saw the need to force me to get help. You can best believe that I went kicking and screaming…literally.  A mental hospital is the last place I ever thought

I would find myself….believe that. 

The first weekend in August, I decided to go away for a weekend to put the finishing touches on my book, do some conference calls and rest in quiet. None of that was not to be.  From the time I got to the hotel, there was turmoil and negative vibes. My anxiety and depression really took hold after a very trying day. Without going into too much detail, let me just say that there came a snowball effect as it pertains to all the bad things that happened.

My blood pressure and glucose levels went through the roof and I was taken to the hospital.  This particular hospital is one of the worse run medical facilities I have ever been in.  to make matters worse, it was the weekend and the ER was flooded with the results of drunken brawls and shootings.  I was in a totally frenzied state.  As I tried to tell the medics how I came to be in that state, I realized that I was having chest pains. This realization sent me into a state of highest anxiety.  Because of my incoherence, I was taken by the police to a mental hospital. 

I was put into a unit with people who were actually insane, Schizophrenics, some of whom were detoxing from every drug imaginable.  Terrified does not cover the terror I felt. After seeing the demons that those people were wrestling with, I realized that I was blessed not to be as sick as they were.  I began to pray and remember that God has never left me. Strangely enough, I began to feel a warmth and calm overtake me.  Because of the flooding in of patients it truly was a mad house.  I knew that I did not belong in that unit.

Having no experience with mental facilities, I had no idea that there were different levels, different units for the varying types of patients.  After sitting quietly for about an hour, I noticed that a certain nurse was watching me as I interacted with the people who came up to make me feel welcome.  Each of them seemed to desire an ear, a shoulder to cry on.  I conversed and gave the benefit of my life experiences to try to help them feel better.  One of the young ladies saw how terrified I was and showed me the ropes.  My nerves began to calm a little after that.

Finally, it was my turn to be registered.  During the conversation with the nurse, she told me that I was plainly in the wrong unit.  Seems they had a unit for the “High Functioning” patients.  There were no beds in that unit, so I was forced to stay in that unit overnight.  There were people who heard voices telling them to kill others, and/or themselves.  It would take too long to tell you of the pain and sorrow of the

people in that hospital.  Just that short time taught me that my emotional problems were child’s play compared to theirs.  I silently asked God to forgive me and thanked Him for not letting that be me.  I realized that I was blessed.  However, I did not think I should be there at all.  Had the people at the hospital listened to me, I would not have been there. 

Next day, I was quickly removed from that first unit.  There were many questions as to why I was placed in that unit in the first place.  As the story progresses, you will see why I was taken to that particular hospital.  Saying that it was an actual blessing will have to suffice for now.  There is so much of this experience that I wish to share with you.  I am going to take my time and tell this story of blessing and victory as it happened.

Our days were very busy, from the time we woke until we retired at night.  At first I was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder 1.  this is said to be the worst type…hardest to manage.  My psychiatrist ordered 1,000 mgs of depakoate each night for mood swings and 50 mgs of visteril for anxiety. I knew I did not need the deopakoate, but I had no choice because I was not there voluntarily.  That fact made me even angrier and my anxiety even worse.  Each of these meds causes tremendous drowsiness.  Each day it was more than a chore staying awake during the mandatory hourly group therapy sessions.

My stay at this hospital was for evaluation, to see if I was sane or insane.  Frankly, some days I was not sure myself.  The combination of my meds and all the terrible things I witnessed made for a mind-blowing environment.  Sleep deprivation causes your mind to play tricks on you. That combined with my high  state of anxiety, caused me to be confused and very afraid.  In the beginning I was angry and I made it known.  Patients were allowed to voice their feelings no matter what they were.  The first three days I could not think clearly and therefore I could not express myself ad I wished.  After about three or four days, I realized the reason for the steady pace and the lack of free time to just lie around.  Most patients were on meds that slowed them down and caused them to be very sleepy.  Sometimes I found myself nodding like a heroin addict.  I really detested that!  I was very resentful until I had the time to really observe what was happening and how efficient the staff was in the midst of the constant chaos that is a mental facility,

and cooperate fully, I would be there indefinitely.  To me, that was not an option.  That fact gave me the courage to make it through until the end.  Physically, I was not feeling very well at all the first week.  Fighting sleep, being active and able to eat as much as they required was a really horrible task.

Around the eleventh or twelfth day, my glucose level dropped to fifty-six.  I nearly fainted.  Had it not been for the nurse catching me, I would have fallen.  Before I went to the hospital, I was in the process of losin weight.  My diet consisted of very little carbs.  I was eating enough for someone not extremely active.  The activity level during this period was very vigorous.  Now the nurses and aides began watching me eat.  That annoyed me also, but I understood. 

During my stay in the hospital, I decided to quit smoking and began wearing the nicotine patch, after the first three days.  The withdrawal symptoms were not very bad because of all the protein in the diet.  Little did I know what was coming later as far as the smoking cessation was concerned.  That will come at the end of the story.

 My story is seen as a true victory because of  my age and medical issues.  I was the oldest person in the groups almost the entire time.  The one lady that was older than I am did not have medical problems.  Some nights I cried and prayed until I fell asleep.  One night I was so afraid that I did not know what to do. 

The fear was not irrational because there were no locks on the doors.  It is just that the intensity of the fear had overpowered me.  That day had been filled with escape attempts, suicide attempts, and patients attacking staff.  It was a truly harrowing day.  As I began to enter my sleep, I heard a voice say to me,  “Be still”.  There was very little volume to the voice, but I heard it clearly in the midst of all the noise on the unit.  That was the voice of my Heavenly Father assuring me that I was going to be fine.  That voice carried me through, 

I was asked many times about hearing voices during sessions with the psychiatrist.  I assured them that the only voice I hear in my head is that of my Lord, Jesus.  After that night, the voice stayed with me and I began to realize why I was there.  Why I was brought to that particular hospital baffled me.  Before I left, I knew every reason for my being where I was.  There were nurses praying, there were patients praying, there were many people praying for someone to come to give the young people some hope of getting better.  The majority of the patients were young people who mixed mental illness with drugs.  They each said the drugs helped numb the pain.  My physical pain was obvious when I arrived.  As we all made our emotional pain and the causes known, I realized that I have been through nothing compared to many of them.

I dare not repeat any of the stories of depravity and flagrant child abuse heaped on those young minds so early in life that were exposed in the sessions of group therapy.  Let it suffice to say that my story was tame in comparison. As I reflected on each day as I lay in my bed at night, I could only give God praise.  I did not care it someone heard me praise Him.  Each day I drug myself out of the bed, showered, washed my hair and dressed before anyone.  I know that God carried me through that ordeal. 

At one point, I thought I was going to be released early.  I had to see a judge along with the psychiatrist.  I was turned down and let down.  I was angry at the doctor and told her so (nicely).  I truly thought my thought process and level of anxiety was fine; she knew better.  After I left the river of denial, I began to encourage the young ones; they all began calling me “Mama Sharon”.

 After a particularly trying day, I noticed a nurse’s lips as she passed by me.  She mouthed, “Thank You”.  At first I could not understand what that was about.  I had noticed that once I accepted my need to be there and understood what brought me here, I began counseling others as they came to me.  I don’t think it was so much anything I said.  I truly believe that my inspiration to them was dragging myself and never complaining about anything.  After hearing my Savior’s voice, I knew that I was not only sent there to begin healing, but to encourage others and tell them of the God who is hope when they think there is none.  I told the staff and the patients that were staring at me often, “Don’t watch me, watch God. I was perceived as crazy when I was admitted to that hospital.  I was forced to take medication that I did not wish to take.  I knew that I would not need the Depakote, for I am not bipolar.  After my first visit with my psychiatrist after release, he asked me why I was taking  that med.  I told him what was diagnosed when I was hospitalized and was ordered to take it.

 He said I have no symptoms of the disorder and my blood work was normal.  I know my God brought me through this storm and He will be with me as I weather the rest of this storm.  I have therapy twice a month.  For you who have never had therapy, let me say, it is one of the best things I have ever done for me.  Each time I go, my anxiety lessens. I was given all the tools needed to keep my anxiety under control.  I look forward to my sessions with my therapist.  I have a way to go as it concerns my nerves, but I am back and feeling better than I have in years, emotionally and physically. God sent me there for His reasons and positioned angels there to care for and encourage me.

During those days when I could not think clearly, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit as clearly as I have ever felt anything. As I think on it I realize that I could have been sent to a raunchy hospital where patients get minimal care. Instead I was planted in a very nice hospital staffed with people who are well educated in their fields and treat patients with love.

My purpose for sharing this experience is simply let you know that it was because of nothing I have done to deserve preferential treatment. My healing was made possible because in my darkest hour, my faith in God did not waiver and my God shone brightest.