Working on a psychiatric ward has quite possibly been one of the worst and best experiences of my life. It’s a constant pick-me-up, because I always realize that I would be doing way worse; it is a constant bring-me-down because it consists of a couple dozen people who are doing way worse. Sometimes, I come home and sit down on the edge of my bed, just to stare at the wall in front of me while I try to process how humanity functions on a day-to-day basis. The things people do to each other, or to themselves, are so horrendous at times. Polypharmacologic overdoses, superficial wounds, physical arguments, child abandonments– it is devastating.
(Going from a psych ward to working in fast food was also a horrible experience. You think your life is difficult because you’re seventeen and your parents won’t let you stay out past eleven? Try being fifteen and having your best friend commit suicide, and you can’t go to the funeral because your mother tells you “people die. Get over it and go to school” then hitting you and sending you on your way. Try being with a man for eight years, being his wife, raising two children together… and having him sleep with another woman in your bed while you’re still in the hospital with his second son).
This has brought my life into perspective in two ways: one, as I’ve mentioned, it has made me appreciate where I am in life so much more than I ever could have. Two, it has made me more skeptical of people, in a good way. Well, to the drama queens, in a bad way, because I don’t really care if you don’t want to work drive-thru window because it’s cold outside. You can suck it up. You’re not spending the night in the hospital because living on the streets has made your psychosis so bad that you tried to kill yourself by swallowing broken glass. It’s made me appreciate little things more, like how much of a step it can be for some people to make eye contact, to smile, or to accept human touch.
Today, I was overjoyed because one of my patients ate a snack bag of pretzels. Do you have any idea how pathetic that is? ‘Cause it is… but at the same time, it was a monumental moment where she started eating again. Maybe she’s not ready to be discharged, and maybe you don’t care that some girl ate a few ounces of a pretzels, but it means a lot to me, and her, because it means she’s ready to start trying to get better.
Some people like to be around children because of their innocence and the way the offer an untainted view of the world. I like to be with broken adults, because they offer a tainted view of the world, and I get to help bring them back to that childlike place. Children grow up to become adults, it is inevitable– they will become tainted by the world they live in. We just have to wait and see what taints them first. I get the really tainted ones– the ones who may not even want to live anymore. I get to work with them, convincing them that life is worth living, that they can see the world again in a wonderful way, that they can find their strengths and enhance their quality of life.
I get to help patients learn to find God, love themselves, get a job, or even just talk to someone else. It’s little steps, sometimes painfully little, but it’s a step nonetheless. Some patients are eternally frustrating because they are frequent flyers and I will probably see them a few times a year until the day they die, but still, I can know with peace that for those days that I see them, I can show them Jesus in those moments that I am with them.
People ask me Isn’t it so depressing working with all those people? and I can honestly tell them– No, I would find it depressing working with children, knowing what they have coming. These people? This job? This is helping people get better, to me, this is making my difference in the world– I help people eat pretzels and change their lives.
