^ That, and also focus on getting the lithium up to therapeutic levels quickly. Look how softly she sleeps now (pic).

Come to think of it, a stint in the real world penalty box of a psych ward would probably do her some good, and give her something real to blog about too- actual original content, rather than just copying and pasting everything from somewhere else as she does now.



"They chained my body, but not my heart - my week in the psych ward", by Darrah Ford
Day 1: Mostly a blur. I remember being strapped down on some rolling thingy and being moved somewhere. I remember trees in the sky seeming to pass by.

Day 2: I'd already made several friends, joining a group of four other women at meals. We risked being given extra days if we complained. Points were gained for going to group therapy, chatting with nurses, laughing. You lost points for crying, being angry, or being negative- I lost a few points. The goal was to tell and show them what they wanted to hear. One day I started to hear an echo that no one else did, and in the group meeting everyone's voices were out of synch with their mouths, like a soundtrack a few seconds behind a movie. I figured it was just a side effect of the new drugs they had me on, but I had no intention of telling anyone about it.

Day 3: I woke in a panic about being there. My racing thoughts were beginning to ease, but the confinement had caused a whole new agony. Almost every day I played a game in my head, imagining that I could convince them to let me go home early, but knowing that it wouldn't happen. When the game was over, I went to my room in frustration where I would close the door and cry. My roommate asked what was wrong to which I could only say, over and over, "I want to go home."

<SNIP>

Day 7: Leaving. Finally. Did my week in the psych ward help me? My usual overflow of thoughts dissipated within a few days but it's still a daily battle. I met some wonderful people and learned that I was not alone in my illness. The comfort we gave each other by our mere presence was more effective than all the pills we swallowed. But I am still reeling from the experience. The isolation and removal from the "real world" certainly contributed to my recovery, but that and the loss of control were terribly difficult to bear. It was an experience I hope never to relive. Given the nature of my illness, however, I can't be sure of it.

To be continued...