Living on a Mental Health Ward Part 3: Magical Healing
I was an emergency admission. I had 5 hours from being told to being taken 60 miles away from home so I could be safe. A prison sentence of indefinite length. It was a punishment for no crime. You can see this in my other posts. But slowly overtime I have come to realise that this is not a prison: if it were a prison I wouldn’t be allowed on trips to the park, or out to the cinema with my friends or to the shops to buy a pot noodle. I’m not here as a punishment; I’m here to recover. This (as the name implies) is a hospital. And healing takes time. When an arm is broken it’s put in a cast, but there are no casts for mental illnesses. You have to let it heal slowly over time. And sure you can speed up the process with therapy and pharmaceuticals. But bones don’t heal overnight — why do we expect minds to?