While I was in the process of self-discovery, I reached out to the friends I had made during my time at the hospital. Among them was Kevin, a fellow battling his own mental illnesses. We developed a strong friendship until he expressed his feelings for me and admired my strength and resilience. Initially, I found him attractive, but as we spent more time together, that attraction evolved into a comforting connection. Additionally, based on a few interactions, I had decided to maintain some distance. Considering my ongoing recovery journey, I was uncertain about pursuing a romantic relationship at that time.

After careful consideration, I confessed to him that I had initially liked him as well but needed time before committing to dating. Through further conversations, he shared with me the illness he battled, which was entirely new to me and initially unsettling. I questioned whether I was getting involved in something complicated, but I reminded myself that there was still much I didn’t know. I realized that not knowing everything shouldn’t be a reason to distance myself. Looking back, it was an incredibly difficult decision to remain friends or potentially pursue a romantic relationship. Despite the concerns echoing throughout my body, I chose to stay by his side as a friend.

During my time at the residential facility, I made progress in lowering my guard and expressing my emotions. It had been a lifelong struggle, but this time, I felt surrounded by people who genuinely wanted me to be myself. They cared about my journey and understood the burden I had been carrying for so long. My world started to feel safer.

While at the facility, I had the opportunity to meet incredibly strong women who had faced similar struggles. I witnessed how different individuals are impacted in unique ways by similar events and cope differently. Many of them were dealing with a wide range of illnesses, including eating disorders.

One book that had been recommended to me multiple times, and which I started reading a few months before my stay at the residential facility, is “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk. This book offers deep insights into how trauma can effect different people by sharing stories of his own patients. He writes his journey trying to understand what trauma is and how it affects a person. Despite occasional medical terminology, the book gave me a lot of insights about what was happening in my body and why. I am very grateful for Bessel van der Kolk’s contribution to the field and the book itself.

I took detailed notes on every line that resonated with me. As I revisit my notes while writing this, every bit still deeply connects with my experiences. If you’re struggling with PTSD or interested in understanding it, I highly recommend this book. Please be aware that there are a few lines and drawings that could be triggering.

One significant symptom that I never realized I experienced is dissociation. It involves detaching from the present and reliving past traumas, sometimes feeling like a third person observing the incident. It’s scary to think about, as I only remember a blur of images from reality during those moments. One instance stands out when Aadish pulled me out of a corner I had retreated to when he triggered me. Vaguely, I recall running back, begging my dad to stop hitting me, feeling every blow as my hands instinctively shielded my body. I can’t remember what was happening around me or how long I remained in that state, even to this day.

The residential facility provided a safe space for me to learn about the symptoms, effects, triggers, and coping skills related to my trauma. However, I still require external assistance to overcome dissociation. My therapist instructed me to write a letter to my supportive friends, explaining how they can help bring me back before I endure the pain once again. Some key techniques involve asking me to name things of certain color around me, where I am, how old I am, who I am with, etc., and, as a last resort, using ice or a frozen orange at my wrist or neck to shock me back.

After three weeks at the facility, my insurance determined that I no longer needed to stay. They were the ones covering my expenses and I was doing much better as well. My therapist was confident that with the tools and insights I had gained, I would be fine returning home with a Partial Hospitalization Program to continue my progress.

Before my hospitalization, I had planned to move to a two-bedroom apartment and had already scheduled movers. During my absence of over a month and a half, Sonia and Anav worked with the movers and organized the basic necessities in my new apartment. When my friends learned that I would be returning to an incomplete setup, they planned a day to help me set up my house upon my arrival. Though my support system may be small, I can always count on them, and I am grateful for each and every one of them.

A farewell party, known as a ‘rock out,’ was held with almost every care team member I had interacted with, including those not on shift. They presented me with a rock inscribed with ‘nurture,’ chosen by my therapist as a reminder to nurture the wounded child within me. It was an overwhelming experience as everyone had beautiful things to say about me, acknowledging my pain and recognizing my strength. I felt seen for who I was and most importantly, I was able to see myself for who I was. I received heartfelt letters from my housemates who genuinely believed that I’d heal and help others heal. “You’ll make a difference”, a lot of them said – I hope I do.