Upon leaving Berlin, my dirty little secret

On Friday June 14, 2013 I found myself huddled in the arms of a good friend, voluntarily checking myself into a psychiatric hospital on the outskirts of Berlin, St. Joseph's Krankenhaus in Weissensee. What I thought would be a stay of several days, turned into an entire month. How did I get here? came the internal question, from someone who seemingly always had their proverbial shit together. Sure I had had a traumatic and abusive childhood, but I had always managed to live a productive and exciting life, had a successful career, and was pursuing my dream to make art having moved to Berlin 5 years prior for that purpose. I can freely admit now, that I had very little empathy for those suffering from anxiety or depression because I did not understand it, and heck, I had overcome the trauma of my youth. If I could do it, anybody could. Then one day, the perfect storm arrived at my door, and sent me spiraling into a vortex, the depths of which I could never have imagined. 

My decision to check myself in came as I could no longer bear the excruciating effects of the anxiety that had taken control over my body—the night sweats, insomnia, panic attacks, restless legs, loss of appetite, extreme weight loss and an inner tremor that was present in every moment. The worst part of it all was the overwhelming sense of dread that pervaded every cell in my body. Dread was something alien to me because I had no experience with it. Sure I had at times dreaded going to work on Monday, I dreaded doing my taxes, I even dreaded going to the gym from time to time. But this was something different.  It was deeply physical, excruciatingly painful and carried along with it a sense of desperate hopelessness. There was no place of comfort for me in those days, as I was staying with a friend and the voice came inside my head to throw myself off the balcony. Did I really want to die? Of course not, I am a lover of life, I  always planned to live to be over 100, but now I just wanted the suffering to end. Even the smallest of tasks seemed monumentally challenging, like going to the market for groceries, meeting a friend for coffee or even taking a shower.

I remember in the first days at the hospital, lying in my bed and feeling totally overwhelmed at the task of having to recharge my cell phone. I lay there thinking, all I need to do is get the charger out of my locker and plug it into the phone and then into wall. It was just too much. I spent a lot of time pacing the halls in the night, pacing the gardens in the day, then finally decided to take the medication that was offered to me on an as needed basis by the doctors. This was a turning point of sorts, because the symptoms of the anxiety began to slowly subside for the first time in months. There was a ray of hope as I began to feel some relief.

I would like to take this time to mention that I was met with great kindness and compassion at the hospital in Germany, and the experience I had there both with the medical staff as well as with the other patients changed me in a profound and meaningful way. You know the old saying, that which does not kill you only makes you stronger. I believe that 100%. This experience which at first brought me to my knees, then opened a door for me, teaching me humility, acceptance, compassion and non-judgement. It became a spiritual turning point where for the first time I lay prostrate like a child in an open field, fully open to new ideas and new ways of thinking. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I hope that I never sink to those depths again, but I can honestly say that I am grateful for having had that experience, because without it I wouldn't be who I am today.  

My heart goes out to anyone who is suffering from severe depression or anxiety, and all that I can say is to trust in the fact that all things are temporary. This too shall pass, but seeking help and not being afraid to talk about it with others is the key. Don't be afraid, it is an illness like every other illness that requires treatment, sometimes medication, and a lot of support from loved ones and friends. You wouldn't hesitate to go to the doctor or hospital if your appendix burst.Talk about it as much as you need to with whomever you need to. 

For the past year, I have shared my story with only people who are close to me. In a way, it has been my dirty little secret. By openly publishing this story, I hope to help in the fight to destigmatise mental illness.