2 Days of Institution 2 Days of InstitutionREHABILITATEDREHABILITATED

The following book has themes of depression, suicide, and hospitalization.

If in any way you are triggered by stories such as these, I would recommend you put the book down for your own safety.

Thank you.

-Linda Edwards

REWIND.

I’m not sure I’ll ever remember when it started, but in 2006 I was diagnosed with depression. In an admittant refusal to medicate myself out of fear I would lose who I was, I let the disease eat away at my brain and fester until it became a problem. In 2009, my depression had worsened to become Major Depressive Disorder (MDD). In 2013, the disease had taken over much of my life, becoming a disability until I could no longer stand it. Thus, on December 22nd, I attempted to take my own life.

The people I was surrounded with at the time saw this coming. I was erratic emotionally, my medication at the time had ceased functioning and I was clearly going through symptoms of withdrawal several times over the course of my first semester of graduate school. It was already a stressful time in my life, having moved 2000 miles away from my family and friends. The stability of just simply living was in fragile balance, and it came to a crashing halt that day. Several very important persons in my life began turning away; calling me horrible things and spreading lies behind my back. I was a manipulative bitch, a liar; told to fuck off when I cried screaming I would find a gun and shoot myself; a message I sent out on a social media platform saying I’d like to be dead was liked and favorited.

I was done. I was tired of living and couldn’t comprehend why these things were happening to me. If nobody liked me, then I didn’t want to live anymore. I was ready to find something to harm myself with until I hesitated. And with that hesitation, I called 9-1-1 and was sent to the Emergency Room at INOVA Hospital in Leesburg, Virginia. After speaking with a psychiatrist, I was voluntarily admitted to the psychiatric ward for treatment. I would spend two days in the facility, undergoing intensive therapy, speaking with doctors, eating and sleeping on a schedule, and administered medication. I met various patients in the ward, three of whom struck out to me. A young woman named K. (initial used for privacy’s sake), a middle-aged woman named E., and a very elderly woman named R. The three of them attributed greatly to my therapy and recovery in their own separate ways. K. was a recovering alcoholic and drug-addict, whom I met on the first day and showed me great kindness. She encouraged me during exercises and therapies until she left the ward. E. was possibly a manic depressive with children. She mothered every single one of us in the ward as if we were her own, and she would sing religious hymns whenever she was depressed. R. was a dementia patient, she was very old, but would tell me about her kids and grandkids. Helping her move around the ward was therapeutic.

PAUSE.

INOVA Hospital, Leesburg, Virginia. December 22nd - 24th, 2013.

That’s it. I’ve done it. Now everyone knows that I’m insane. I’ve kept this under wraps and under control for so long. But I can’t stand it anymore. I’m in so much pain. My body hurts. My head is spinning uncontrollably. I can’t stop crying. I have lost control. When I shut my eyes it feels like everything is spinning, like I’m about to die. Where is my light at the end of this? I feel like I’m sinking.

Admission.“You’re new here? I’m an angel sent here to help you. ... This will keep

you safe and I promise to get you out before Christmas.

“I only see myself as worth anything if I’m worth something by the people around me.”I think this is the first time I’ve ever been able to admit this.

“My number one goal is to go home safely, it’s always been my goal. And my other goal is to stay positive in myself and my faith in God.”

I wonder how many times you can play solitaire with yourself before people start thinking you’re crazy.

These pamphlets piss me off.

Sometimes there is nobody around. Sometimes the people that you THOUGHT you could turn to turn on you and decide that they’ve had enough of your shit and would rather see you dead. Or they’ll just leave you. They’ll leave and refuse to answer your calls or texts or acknowledge your existence anymore, despite how much there was a mutual respect for one another, or so it seemed.

It’s hard not to bring up the giant elephant in the room around my family. No questions arose like “why did you try to kill yourself” “why are you in here.” Thank god.

Don’t worry. “They love you very much.”

Medicated. Unable.“I no longer had the capacity to feel anything anymore. Sure I couldn’t feel sadness, but there are so many more sensations I no longer feel.

But I guess that’s the cost of living.”

FORWARD.

Fast-forward to the time of writing this, several months after the episode, I can’t honestly say I’ve gotten too much better. Sure, the continual thoughts and desires of suicide have subsided and my MDD symptoms have all but perished, I still find it incredibly difficult to motivate myself to do...anything. Looking back on this experience has been eye-opening to myself and those around me. I’ve tried to be as open as I could with the first publi-cation of this book, the original 2 Days of Institution, and it circulated around the world in ways I never thought it could. This second revision, REHABILITATED, is an attempt to reconcile the true meaning of what happened, as well as turn the original book into more of a photobook rather than a textbook.

They say that art shouldn’t be my therapy, but in ways it is. Writing about this experience and sharing it with anyone who would listen has been my therapy. I cannot begin to speak about the countless number of books out there that speak to the experience of being hospitalized as something to be feared. Sure, it’s not pleasant by any means, realizing just how insane you actually are; but it is a place where you can let go of the socieyt around you and focus truly on helping yourself. This is not to dismiss the nature of others’ experiences in the ward, nor belittle those who had a rough journey on the path to recovery; but rather, another interpretation.

Though the scars of what happened will never truly fade, my hope is that some part of feeling will return to my skin.

I was fortunate in that my path to helping myself was surrounded by those who wanted in ernest to assist me in any possible manner. I doubt I will ever forget all of the people involved; the patients, the nurses, my doctors. Though at this point in time I cannot remember the incident in its’ entirety, the previous version of this book will help me to never forget the importance of getting better. For everyone reading, do not ignore your feelings, do not ignore your past and how it’s affecting your future.

When the world around you seems so dark, remember there is always a light. Some-where. And I understand that is hard to reconcile when you are at that place, but for the lack of better terms, it does get better. Most certainly not immediately, but intensive therapies and psychiatric appointments have helped me take my life back from this disease.

Because without that one moment of hesitation, I wouldn’t be here to write this.

ADMISSION.

“Dear self, Tonight you stopped putting up with all of the bull you’ve dealt with. You’ve been admitted to the hospital and are seeking treatment.

You can’t have your camera, so I will draw all you can see and feel.

this is your hallway. This s where they keep you. Your room feels sterile and foreign, but safe. You cannot hurt yourself here and everyone seems nice.

Day 1: 10:55pm”

DAY ONE.

Goals always related to psychiatric health.Opportunity to understand more about myself, my illness, and how it may affect my life.Able to do in one day.Learn healthy lifestyle habitsSpecific and do-able.

“My Goals for Today are: 1. Stay positive 2. Be thoughtful and honest 3. Have a comerade (friends are always sometimes great) 4. Stay calm and composed.

I want to ask my nurse or my doctor: 1. Information on other methods of help and ways to cope.”

I’m insane.

I’m insane.

I’m insane.

It’s one of the single sweetest gestures anyone has done for me.

Despite only knowing her for a few hours, I will miss her. I think it’s something that this place does to you.

We exchanged hugs before she left. I almost cried just from her leaving.

Why?

DAY TWO.

So, Ms. Edwards, you said you’d like to go home today?

“More than anything. I don’t want to ruin Christmas.”

Prepare yourself to be released back into society.

No matter how empty you feel inside.

Take your medicine as directed.

Make yourself the model citizen. Make yourself clean. Pretend everything is back to normal.

Despite how uneasy you feel.

Know this darkness will follow you.

but where you lead it is up to you.

FREEDOM.