Re: Personal luxuries permitted within a psychiatric unit.
If a patient doesn't want to participate in therapy or recreational activities, they don't want to take meds, and the family is not involved, what would be the point of an inpatient stay?
If it's a matter of providing safety until harmful thinking passes, they would probably have a very short stay followed by outpatient treatment.
Other than wishing to stay safe, people usually enter an inpatient unit because something really isn't working for them. Meds need to be started or changed or adjusted. Or they need to temporarily step away a toxic environment. Or out patient therapy has not proved extensive or intense enough to get to the real issues.
For someone whose life isn't functioning the way they want, the logical next step is to try something new. Coming into an inpatient setting with hesitation is understandable, but I think there has to be a recognition that participation is an important step in developing trust and getting unstuck. It may not be fun. The activities may not be things the patient would choose on her own, but the familiar can keep one mired in a soothing, but deceptive trap.
The very act of entering into unfamiliar territory stirs up emotions and heightens awareness. Obviously, people don't want to do this in a setting that is unkind or uncaring. But even the most proficient unit with the best treatment and the highest success rate will feel scary and even hugely uncomfortable in the beginning.
I would advise anyone considering inpatient treatment to research as much as possible about the facility, the practitioners and the treatment methods. And then, having selected one that seems trustworthy, enter in with the knowledge that nothing is going to feel good or normal initially. Trying to gather and hang onto as many creature comforts and defense mechanisms as possible can actually prolong the process.
I'm not suggesting that a patient should be doused with cold water or stripped of all pleasures. But there needs to be a balance between feeling safe and feeling challenged in a healthy way. Trying to recreate the status quo is counter-productive. If the status quo was working so well, there wouldn't be a need for inpatient treatment.
Again, this can feel awful. Having to examine dysfunctional thoughts and beliefs or answer to others in a group session can shake a person to the core. But the old has to be exposed and dismantled before the new can come in. It's like a detoxing of the spirit. Or the washing off of deeply embedded grime. Hard, even painful, but invigorating.
For many, the giving up things they want and doing things they don't want to do will make them angry. Very angry. This, too, is part of the process. So much of depression is rooted in misdirected anger. Other diagnoses encompass anger issues, as well. Staff members are aware that "pesky rules and requirements" can infuriate patients and, to some extent, this is a welcome reaction. Not because they're sadistic, but because patients often come in with layers upon layers of repressed "stuff" that needs to be hauled out into the cold light of day. Nothing like a good old-fashioned temper tantrum over phone privileges to strip away the veneer of niceness that so many of us wear. Then the real work can begin.
As for the exercise and other activities, this might sound silly, but in animals (humans among them) physical activity influences the thought process. In part, it's the action of getting the blood circulating and making the synapses jump and fire. But it's also moving forward, finding rhythm, reconnecting body and mind. Many people with depression or other thought disturbances are either at war with their bodies or they have become so numb they no longer know what they feel. The simple act of going for a walk is a gentle but powerful way of reintegrating the physical and the emotional selves.
Entering inpatient treatment is a big step and one that shouldn't be taken lightly. But so much good can come of it if the patient is willing to venture outside their literal comfort zone and enter in with a spirit of courage and hope. Regulations that seem childish and over-controlling can be the very provocations that help a person become real. Many patients who
hated a program when they entered it have cried when it was time to go because they became so invested in the recovery they found there.
And some of them go on to become the staff members of the future.
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