I miss treatment.
I get it, that’s probably a weird thing to hear if you’ve never experienced any sort of treatment.
But oh man, I miss it.
I miss waking up everyday to my very best friends.
I miss grumbling on gown mornings and everyone waiting in line to pee because heaven forbid you get weighed with a full bladder.
I miss gathering in a circle with everyone and praying before we started our day.
I miss being first table at breakfast so that I was for sure to able to get vanilla yogurt instead of nasty plain.
I miss the structure of my entire day being planned for me and knowing what to expect.
I miss a nurse giving me my medicine in a little paper cup.
I miss sitting in group four times a day curled up in my Disney blanket.
I miss making art in every free second that I got.
I miss nap time. Literally. 18 years old and I got to take a nap everyday. #blessed
I miss sitting in the rocking chairs on the porch and just dreaming of life post treatment.
I miss complaining of how disgusting Hermacita was but secretly loving it when she showed us attention.
I miss therapy sessions in the nap house (still no one knows why it’s called the nap house).
I miss looking for totem teddies at afternoon snack (I never got one till post discharge).
I miss watching the first 30 minutes of Mamma Mia every afternoon.
I miss the feeling of not being picked to do culinary group (HECK YEA, two free art hours!).
I miss playing Contact at dinner.
I miss doing Food & Feelings in pig latin.
I miss the excitement seeing the RPA walk back to the nurse’s office and knowing that she was going to get the box of our phones for phone time.
Heck, I miss my phone being locked up in a box all day and having only an hour each night to talk to friends and family (no social media though!). What a break from the real world.
I miss Phreddy updates at Community (or ommunity-cay as we liked to announce it as).
I miss finally being able to take night showers.
I miss everyone cuddling up on mine and Mandy’s beds in Dragon and having our nightly pow-wows before we were yelled at to go to bed.
I miss turning on the sound machine before we went to sleep.
I just miss it.
I miss the comfort of being there.
I miss the comfort of being able to fully feel my emotions, and having no shame if I randomly burst out into tears in group or at dinner or during phone time or even just sitting on the couch.
I miss being with people who get it.
Those girls were my people. Are my people. Most people aren’t lucky enough to have a good group of girls surrounding them in treatment. But man, I was blessed to have met so many beautiful souls, most of whom I still talk to and am close with today. They’re still my favorite people I have ever encountered in this life. No exaggeration. They are my people.
But I miss the comfort of our yellow bubble. I miss knowing that I always had 15 other people that I could talk to when things got tough. I miss the community.
Glennon [always] says it best. “I tell them that the first time I peeked out of my cage was in the mental hospital. Since it was a smaller world with gentler rules, I felt safe being vulnerable. People wore their scars on the outside, so you knew where they stood. There were no representatives there. It was such a relief to stop acting. There were rules about how to listen well and speak kindly. We learned how to dance and paint and write our feelings instead of eat and drink them. We held hands when we were afraid. I cried when I had to leave.”
I miss living without a representative.
I miss simply being me,
I miss being in a place where crying was okay.
I miss being in a place where no one thought twice if you were having a hard day.
I miss being in place where I was not expected to be happy.
I miss being in a place where I was not guilted or shamed if my day was cloaked in depression.
I miss being in a place where I didn’t feel like I had to apologize for being in a bad mood.
I miss being in a place where I was surrounded by people who were in the mess of it all with me.
I miss the vulnerability that was oxygen to us.
We lived with our hearts on our sleeves and we loved each other so big.
Because we saw each other for ALL that we are. Every single part.
They loved me when I low-key looked like an alien.
They loved me when I was depressed.
They loved me when I cried each week after family therapy.
They loved me when I was sassy in Food & Feelings.
They loved me when I refused a meal.
They loved me when I started smiling again.
They loved me when my refeeding belly was oh so big and beautiful.
They loved me when I sang Annie non-stop.
They loved me when I spent my birthday in treatment.
They loved me when they finally saw the real Sarah Beth for the first time ever.
And they loved the real me too, just as much.
I just miss being in a place where there was no faking it. No mask-wearing. No stuffing emotions down. Emotions continually poured out of each 16 of us, and though it could be overwhelming sometimes, it was so, so beautiful.
Nothing is more beautiful that living completely open.
And we did that.
And I miss that.