A few years ago, I spent two weeks in a day treatment psychiatric facility. Admitting this publicly is daunting, especially since I haven’t even shared this with my in-laws, and I’m discouraged from doing so. Friends have expressed concern about how revealing this could impact my future job prospects or aspirations for public office. For those looking for any scandalous details about my past, here’s the truth: I have spent time in a mental health institution.
I often feel apprehensive about how others will perceive this information and worry about its long-term implications. Most alarmingly, I fear it might hinder my ability to adopt a child, though social services have assured me that as long as I have a letter from my psychiatrist, it should not be an issue. Nevertheless, I refuse to carry shame about my experience.
According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 3.5% of women aged 18 to 44—an essential period for childbearing—experience “severe psychological distress” each year. This statistic highlights the significant number of mothers who might be struggling. Furthermore, 5.5% of women in this demographic contend with “major depression with severe impairment,” meaning they rate their daily functioning below a 7 on a 10-point scale. I was among that 5.5%, often feeling closer to a 9. Additionally, over a quarter of all community hospital admissions in the U.S. involve mental health disorders or substance use issues, indicating that seeking psychiatric care is far from uncommon.
While 57% of the population believes individuals with mental health conditions receive compassionate treatment, only 25% of those experiencing mental illness feel the same way. As someone dealing with severe treatment-resistant depression, probable bipolar disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and ADHD, I can personally attest to this disparity.
Most of the time, medication helps stave off overwhelming sadness. However, when my medication regimen is unbalanced, I spiral into anxiety, fearing for my husband’s safety during his commute or my children’s well-being in everyday situations. Clutter from my three young children can send me into a rage, and I find myself battling fatigue and panic attacks. When I reached a breaking point, my doctor recommended the day treatment program, but I quickly realized that the support I needed was scarce.
Society often lacks the language to express, “I’m struggling, please help.” In such times, the American Psychological Association (APA) recommends community support and therapy groups, knowing that family and friends may not always be reliable sources of help. In the weeks leading up to my hospitalization, only a few friends and family members offered assistance. There were no meal deliveries or offers to babysit, which is often the case for many facing similar challenges.
Upon entering the facility, the staff was courteous but somewhat impersonal. I completed extensive paperwork and participated in group therapy. Research indicates that about 57% of those with depression who engage in cognitive-behavioral therapy in groups see significant improvement, with 40% achieving recovery. The process of group therapy fosters connection as individuals share their vulnerabilities and stories, creating a supportive environment. I found motivation by keeping a photo of my children on my phone, reminding me of my purpose.
During my stay, I engaged in therapy and learned coping strategies while my medication was adjusted. Contrary to common stereotypes, the facility did not resemble the bleak environments often depicted in media. Instead, it was filled with individuals from various backgrounds, all seeking to return to their families and careers.
Despite the stigma surrounding mental health treatment, we have the choice to either suffer silently or take proactive steps toward recovery. Yet, seeking help often comes with its own burdens of shame. I now realize that pursuing treatment is a logical and necessary decision for many.
Today, I am thriving. I spend much of my group therapy time discussing my children, and my psychiatrist understands that my primary goal is to be more than just functional—I strive to be the best parent I can be. I often share stories about parenting and homeschooling to illustrate my capability as a caregiver, countering the stereotypes associated with mental illness.
I manage a tailored medication regimen that, while extensive, is no more than what many heart patients require. I care for my children and maintain my writing pursuits. My husband trusts me completely with our kids. While I occasionally experience bursts of anxiety, I recognize these as normal and manageable, thanks to the treatment I received in the facility and ongoing support from my psychiatrist. I have no reason to feel ashamed.
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In summary, my time in a psychiatric facility transformed my understanding of mental health and support. While the journey is fraught with challenges and societal stigma, it is crucial to seek help and dismantle the shame associated with mental illness.
Keyphrase: Mental health treatment experience
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