Residential

Residential treatment was interesting. It was not something I had ever thought I would have to go through, but here we are. I fought it for a long time. I had sunk into a deep depression over the last few years, and my mom had asked me on many occasions if I needed to seek intensive treatment. I always said no. I'd battled my depression on my own for a while, then looked into online therapy, which led me to Talkiatry.

Talkiatry was fine; I started back on medication and saw a therapist every other week. But, it just wasn't enough. Therapy was fine, but it was nothing fantastic, especially being online. The psych part was less than helpful, I was put back on Zoloft, which I'd used throughout high school, and it didn't seem to be working. Over an almost two year period I was maxed out on the Zoloft, added Abilify and maxed out on that, and I still didn't feel any better.

After I finally came to my own conclusion that I needed intensive treatment, I sought help through Google. Google showed me options and I called them. The first one to respond was Flyland Recovery. They set me up with an in-patient treatment center called Prisma. When I first arrived I was riddled with anxiety and my depression was at an all time low. I had no idea what to expect and couldn't stop crying.

The residents at Prisma were very welcoming and considerate. All I wanted to do was sleep and cry, but they reached out and checked on me and made me feel accepted, even in the completely broken form in which I had arrived. We had scheduled groups for 6 hours a day, but more importantly was seeing the psych provider once a week. After my first visit with psych they decided to ween me off of Zoloft and start Cymbalta. Only two weeks into treatment on this new regiment and I was a whole new person.

Group therapy was mostly helpful, as well. Though I suppose it didn't hurt that we were taken great care of, too. Our laundry was done for us twice a week, we were fed three full, and delicious, meals every day, and snacks and drinks were available around the clock. We even had our rooms cleaned and linens changed for us every week. After not being able to care for myself for so long, it felt good to be taken care of.

I met some great people there, too. People who will probably be life long friends. We exchanged numbers as we graduated out of residential, and a good few of us "coined out" at the same time, or around the same time. In fact, there were four of us to coin out on the same day, and we all left within days of each other. I still talk to them after almost two months.

All in all, residential treatment might not be for everyone, but it worked wonders for my mental health. I was able to focus on my mental health, not needing to worry about the day to day activities of life, and get my mind in a better space.