There’s only so much you can say about partial hospitalization.
Literally. There is only so much you are allowed to talk about. Confidentiality is one of the key values. With that said, here is what my week has been so far.
I started the day after Intake, so… Wednesday. I did not know I could stay awake. I suspect a lot of this week has been adrenaline-fuelled (“Wheee, lots of new humans!”). I didn’t do much in groups that day because, well, that day was my first day. I had a lot of folks to meet with. I only managed not to get pulled from Coping Skills, which is basically the Marsha Linehan Power Hour. Y’all. I do not like that woman. She creeps me out. She made up her own treatment modality, which, awesome, but parts of it leave me feeling like standing up for myself is never the solution.
Thursday was my first real day of getting through groups. We did qi gong second session, which I needed very much in order to remain conscious; the other option was meditation and no. I would have gone to sleep. Or some part of me would. Health and Wellness kinda zoomed past me, and then it was lunch, and family time. My dad came to family time. It was amusing in a “he’s overqualified to be a family member” way. We did work some stuff out, though. We managed to do better.
(It’s 9:34 am and I want to go right back to bed. You do not know how exhausted I am.)
And Linehan wasn’t as annoying this time either. Shorter DVD, less fuss about being willful — yeah, willful is useful when you have a gut sense of “something is wrong”. Maybe if I’d been more willful as a kid, I wouldn’t be in partial now?
Friday simultaneously rocked and sucked. Sucked because Adalyne looked like she was on her way out — thank God she was not, just had a bad day — and rocked because I finally found my footing. We watched “Who Moved My Cheese… The Movie” which was corny-cute. I met with the social worker, who gave me options for after and a few useful phone numbers besides. We planned our weekends; I should just have written DMAFP, in hindsight, because Friday night I was bushed. Saturday morning I am bushed. It’s like the part about fibro where you don’t go from 0-100 got ignored in all this mess. Am I responsible? Probably. Maybe I need to talk to someone. The groups are helping but the tired is not, and I feel like one is going to undo all the good work of the other. And whether this is technically post-Lyme or fibro, you’ve basically got to treat your body the same way.
So I guess Monday I’ll talk to whoever about that, see what can be done — do I turn up later to spare my body? I can’t leave earlier because coping skills are important, but I can afford to miss relaxation. Man, I got that one down. And if I flunk because I hate feeling like shit, then I flunk. I’ll be disappointed. I’ll make appointments with other therapists. Maybe I’ll look into other, less intensive sources of rehabilitation in the community. Too bad the social worker’s out Monday. Still. The RN might have something to say. Mildly flulike symptoms are not normal. Annnnd I’m probably hyper-focusing on the somatic end of things, but you know, I’m more than a brainbox. I’m a human. A whole human. Who misses things like exercise and is now a lot more willing to go out and do them (in nice enclosed places). I’m pretty sure I didn’t magically pick up something catching just because I took this risk. Will take this risk again Monday. Oh, God, I’m of two minds right now and it hurts.
Literally. Ow. Where’s my Advil?