On my drive to church yesterday, I saw someone from the psych ward. This happens from time to time. Mostly, these are people who exist on the fringe of our society – the forgotten. For the past six months, I have had one foot firmly planted in their world and one in my own. But just when I start to forget my time at the hospital and step back into my life, the universe places someone in my path to remind me. I will admit that I still feel a twinge of embarrassment when I think of my hospitalization, but mostly I wonder about them, my fellow “inmates.” I wonder how their treatment is going. I wonder if they have been healed.
I wonder too if I will be healed – if my doctor and I will ever perfect the med regimen to get rid of all of the symptoms. I still wrestle with some of them daily and most days they win.
What if this is my new normal? What if I never have both feet planted back in the mental illness free world? What if I become one of the forgotten?
Before all of this happened, my greatest fear was losing control. So being thrown into a place where everything was controlled for me except for my meal plan for the next day cured me of that. Now my greatest fear is that I will forget: that compassion costs me nothing, that the circumstances people find themselves in are not always of their making, that people are not their illnesses, and that everyone I encounter has infinite value.
I don’t want to have both feet in my world if it means that I will forget.
Light The Darkness,