When life shows signs of fitting me for a straitjacket, I’m lucky that I have five years of working in a mental hospital to fall back on when I need to cope.
Let me reiterate, Modern Philosophers, that I said five years of working in a mental hospital.
Something I took away from my experience is that no matter how bad my life might seem, someone else definitely has it worse.
I also realized that sometimes the least sane people at a psych hospital are the ones who had the keys to come and go as they pleased.
But that’s a story for another day.
Tonight, I’m focusing on another great take away from those five years: my friend Kori.
Affectionately known only by me as Killer, Kori was just a newbie psych tech who was very easy on the eyes when we first met one fateful afternoon on the adult ward.
Sure, I convinced the former cheerleader to do a back flip in the hospital lobby the day we met, but I had no idea she’d figuratively bend over backwards to help me through some rough times years later.
I tend to bottle up my feelings on my darkest days, and it’s nice to know that I can let it all out because there’s someone willing to listen.
Of course, Kori gives me @#$% and tells it like it is, but that’s what real friends do. She lets me wallow and feel sorry for myself at first, but then challenges me to man up and take a more honest look at the situation.
I don’t have many people I trust when I’m feeling vulnerable, stupid, and need a kick in the ass to keep me from getting lost in all the dark clouds.
When I need to find the shining moment of sanity in a very overwhelming situation, I take great comfort in knowing I have a Killer on speed dial to put me out of my misery.
We will be forever connected by our time at the mental hospital, and even tonight, Kori referenced those experiences to give me a different perspective on my situation. It’s difficult to feel sorry for myself when I’ve seen the things I’ve seen, and been involved in situations far more frightening like codes in the middle of the night when staffing was thin and the patients were just as violent as they were during the day.
That’s why it helps to have a friend like Kori to yank me back from the edge of Nothing Ever Goes My Way Ravine.
We really have no control over what life hurls at us, but what we can decide is how we react to every situation, and then cope with the aftermath.
I’m not sure if this post makes any sense at all. I really just wanted to thank Kori for coming to The House on the Hill tonight to listen to me when I just needed to get it all out of my system.
You never know who you’re going to meet at a mental hospital, but if she’s willing to do a back flip for you on the night you meet, she’s probably a keeper!
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