She Used To Be Mine

A small glimpse into the life-altering experience of being hospitalized for mental illness. (TW: suicide).

On Thursday, June 27th, 2019 I was hospitalized because the mental illness was winning the war inside my head. It had consumed my will to live, convinced me to become a rogue agent against my own body, and assured me that the only way to escape the bone-crushing pain was to die. The suicidal ideations had a stronghold on my mind, stamping out any thoughts that contradicted their plan. I desperately wanted to die.

Months prior to being admitted into the psychiatric ward, I made the commitment to speak and sing at an event my close friend was organizing: Music For Minds - a musical fundraiser benefiting the Calgary branch of the Canadian Mental Health Association to help fund creative therapies that will be offered for free in the community. When Alisha first approached me with the concept for this event and asked if I would like to be involved, I couldn't get the "absolutely" out of my mouth quick enough. The fundraiser was to be a culmination of two of my favourite things - mental health advocacy and performing, it was being put on by someone whom I love dearly, and it was benefiting an organization I am incredibly fond of. I was all in.

Then, flash forward a couple of months later and I was drowning. Staying afloat took all the effort I had in me and I desperately needed help. Weeks of doctor, psychiatric, and various other appointments ultimately led me to the Emergency Room. Popular opinion was that I needed round-the-clock care and evaluation. To be candid, I didn't care much about what they had to say. I felt beyond saving and unworthy of their efforts.

Nevertheless, I ended up at the hospital and spent the week and a half leading up to the benefit concert living in a glorified "jail without bars" - as one of my fellow patients described the ward. Determined to be there, determined to make a difference, determined to uphold my commitment, I worked hard to gain approval for a weekend pass. Meaning I could spend a day and a half off of the unit on my own time. Meaning I was able to participate in the show.

Below is the recording of my performance at Music For Minds. It is a raw, unedited account of just one of the ways being placed in the psychiatric ward has impacted me. A glimpse of the angst that has mixed with my depression as it courses through my veins, creating a cocktail more volatile than Molotov's. And a spotlight on both the pain and growth that I have endured to get to this point.

As you watch the vulnerable and jagged-edged delivery of this presentation, I implore you put down the distractions, mute the Netflix in the background, and allow yourself a few moments to fully connect. Vulnerability is the invisible string that connects us all, and too often are we afraid to grab hold of either end - because whether giving or receiving, it unearths empathy and uncomfortable and raw truths from deep within us, which, for most of us, is a little too far out of our comfort zone. But today I challenge you to make that stretch and grab on to the invisible string of vulnerability. You might be surprised at what you discover.

After sharing this performance with both strangers and friends, I was re-invigorated with passion for what I do and conviction for the fight I wake up every morning to brave. It is amazing the strength that comes from being vulnerable. And as I push through my second week of imprisonment, I am fuelled more than ever to make tidal waves when I get out.

For the dissolution of the stigma will not be a passive and silent end, it is one that must resound with a fevered roar as it smashes the stigma into a million little pieces.

Go bravely, warriors, and be kind to yourself. You are never alone and you are stronger than the darkness that plagues you. You've got this.

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