Day Three

The third day in the psych ward was my favorite. The third day was all about writing. Two of the three groups we participated in were writing groups. Ever since I became comfortable enough to speak, I had been quietly telling everyone I was a poet. So the third day, was my day. On the second day, during our fifteen minutes outside, I stumbled into a conversation with a nurse and another intake. They were discussing different forms of healing that don’t include medicine. They mentioned art, painting, writing and that’s when I fell into the center of their conversation. The nurse asked if I did slam poetry (honestly the fact that she knew what slam poetry was shocked the hell out of me). I went on to tell her about slamming for San Diego and Boston, the merchandise I’ve created and the workshops I’ve run. By the end of our fifteen minutes in the sun, the nurse was warmly intrigued with my safe space and writing workshop outline. She told me the next day she would be running a writing group with everyone. She then asked if I would be open to joining her in the group, as a facilitator. She asked me to run a shortened version of my workshop with everyone and it felt like a switch turned on in my head. I remembered who I was and what I’ve done and what I’m able to do. I took time that night to plan out the workshop and journal about my excitement. Woke up early the next morning to shower and get dressed (I wore my San Diego Slam Team t-shirt because I’m a dork and I’m extra). I made sure I was the first one in the common area when it was time for group. I figured, if I do well running this workshop, if I show them how level headed and how capable I am, then they’d have to let me go home on Monday. This was my chance to prove how “sane” I was. If I’m running a workshop in the psych ward, I shouldn’t be a patient in one. The workshop went really well. Everyone who was capable of participating, did. A couple people used to write poetry but hadn’t in a while. They told me my workshop broke that cycle. The nurse and staff gave me compliments. On day two, during our fifteen minutes, the nurse told me “Sometimes, people end up in here because they really need the help. And sometimes, people end up here because they need to help someone else”. Day three made me feel like I was worth something. Like I had meaning. It felt like I helped someone. For the first time since I was rolled into the hospital, I felt like I had purpose again. Day three was my favorite day at the psych ward.

This free write was written in the second group on the third day, after the workshop I facilitated.

Today is day three

And we are still here

Still together

Still fighting

Still surviving

Today is another day

No one chose to give up

It is another day

Everyone chose to live

To pray

To love

To breathe

It is my third day

And I feel stronger

Feel happjer

Feel thankful

Today is another chance

To remember your worth

And to embrace your flaws

Today I dare you

To love yourself more

2 thoughts on “Day Three

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