Lying in a Bed at a Psych Ward. Body Drugged So Much You Can’t Move. Then A Voice Says, “Get Up.”


I thought of that moment tonight. I tried to fall asleep at a decent hour tonight because I am giving it everything I have got to beat this illness, and that starts with developing healthy sleep patterns to improve my life.

Maybe having “The Shack” on the TV in the background wasn’t the best idea, especially knowing the struggles I have been facing in terms of “God” and “Faith” and what the doctors ended up telling me was just mental illness. How do you believe? Why is this such a struggle for me? Why can’t I let it go and just live? Why does this rob me of sleep?

Questions so many questions. I sit here typing at 4:32am, knowing I have to sleep, knowing that I can’t pop a Melatonin because I will NEVER be able to get up and help my father shovel the mountain of snow that is left for him alone to do, (Why the HELL did God make is snow?) I may be wracking my head too hard for answers, and what I am searching more may be simpler than I think. “Keep it simple,” they say – a mantra I have come to know well.

God may have shown me the answer I needed tonight, the proof I was looking for, beyond the doctor’s opinions of my mania, beyond of what believe is my mania.

It may be just as simple as remembering a moment that I haven’t thought about in many, many years.

I was hospitalized more than 17 times in 2004.  I was a guinea pig for the doctors because I beat them at their own game, took their pills, got better, and then threw them the hell out. I didn’t want them, I just didn’t want them. Up until the first moment I popped a pill, I NEVER experienced ANY kind of PSYCHOSIS in my ENTIRE DAMN LIFE.

Until I popped a pill, I was just your average kick-ass, hard working American Woman. 

Then from there my entire world collapsed. I lost my job, my apartment, my boyfriend, my self-respect, and most of all, my sanity. 

They caught me finally, and drugged me up SO MUCH, that I was nothing but a vegetable lying in a hospital bed of their psych ward prison. Lying in a bed, all day, every day, unable to move, barely able to eat, an absolute broken woman as a result of “the system’s solution to my mental illness.”

Then one night, there was a voice. The voice was weak, small. It simply said two words, two words I will never forget, two words that may be the answer to the questions I have been searching for:

“Get up”

“Get up”

“Get up”

Over and over again. Repeating louder and louder. 

No other message was sent. There was no complicated scripture, or nonsense religions teach you. Just two simple words for the tortured soul of a newly diagnosed bipolar patient. 

After the message was loud enough, I completely jumped – NO LEAPED – out of bed, ran to the nurse’s station and called my mom to tell her it was time we talk to the doctors and work out a plan to get me out of there.

That was the last night I lay helpless and broken in a psych ward bed.

It’s funny you know, that same message came through as I tried to sleep tonight. “Get up.”

I am not even going to ask why, all I know is that I am here typing this out for the world to see it.

In a time where there are SO many drugs being continuously fed to us, prescribed to us, pushed on us, and at the same time religious fanatics push their agenda on us, so many people are caught in between – and for the people like us, with mental illness, the battleground for our soul and sanity is embedded deep in our mind. It may be that the mind of someone with a mental illness is where all the answers of the Divine that has been sought after since the Beginning of Time.

Stay tuned.

About shatteredwishes

I am in my late-thirties just trying to figure out life in a big city. "When in life you are handed lemons, make a vodka martini." "When I am happy I enjoy the music, but when I am sad I understand the lyrics."
This entry was posted in Bipolar, God and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Lying in a Bed at a Psych Ward. Body Drugged So Much You Can’t Move. Then A Voice Says, “Get Up.”

  1. Drugs have become the first port of call, it’s easy to hand someone a prescription and say ‘take these X times a day’ than it is to get someone into some kind of talking therapy. Yes, we stepped into an arena where the prevalent thinking was: drugs are the answer. Now, that thinking is being balanced. The value of changing behaviours and thoughts has become the primary currency of the NHS. CBT courses on the IAPT treatment regime are the first line.

    I’m thankful I’ve avoided hospitalisation. I’ve managed to get a grip on whatever has been going on in my head to stop ending up in a hospital bed. I’m not being sanctimonious. I’m having suicidal ideation frequently, visions of self-harm are scarily too frequent.

    I’ve been taking meds for the last … I’ve lost count, certainly the last two years I’ve been on lamotrigine (I still can’t spell the damn thing!) for two years near enough. I’ve not, as yet, been given any firm ‘talking treatment’; counselling or psychotherapy. What progress I am making, yes, I laugh when use that phrase, I am doing so through my own volition. It’s causing, costing a lot of pain that has made things worse. The adage, cliche, is proving true: what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. I must have balls of steel by now!!!

    Keep hanging in there! People listen to you, support you!

    Snow is nature’s pox on our lives. It’s way of laughing at us … in a strange way!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Awww thank you so much for your wise words! I always look forward to your wonderful comments. I have to plainly say, they caught me you know. I kept getting over the top ridiculous mania that there was no stopping me or keeping my mouth shut, (if I was the paranoid type I would totally be on board with the whole “government trying to shut me up” conspiracy), but thankfully I am not.

      Congrats on staying out of the hospital though, that is HUGE! They are so quick to lock us up and just pump us with drugs ya know? But yeah, I see the points you are making. Its kind of a double-edged sword in a way because even though you are compliant, you don’t really feel its helping, and IF you were to speak up its like the only solution would be “up the dose,” or “let’s try another med cocktail.”

      But thank you for your amazing support, I really hope you find peace soon with those thoughts you are having, I really do! Oh yeah, the snow, funny thing about that. As much as I was cursing out God or whatever for that mountain of snow He dropped, the sun came out this morning, shining brightly as ever and melted all that shit! Go figure. Haha.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. There was a time when people would use a term for people with physical and mental disabilities to indicate they were special to God – they were “touched”. Unfortunately, it became a term of condescension for many and it lost any effect of indicating something wonderful. But reading your story, experience and the final explanation you gave, I can’t help but ponder the possibility of something divine reaching out to give you a comforting touch …

    Liked by 1 person

    • It is truly amazing isn’t it? I have been battling with this like REALLY struggling with this the past few days, and then I realized I might be pushing TOO hard for the answer. Reliving that night when the voice told me to “Get up” was a really powerful memory, and I think it might be the answer I was looking for. Thank you again for your wonderful thoughts and perspective!! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.