Three days into the second semester of school, I finally decided to clear out and organize my “everything folder”, which I find easier and lighter to use than binders.
I took out the assignments one by one, all the binder papers I used to finish math homework. Suddenly, I was struck by the dates of the assignments. This picture shows all the hw I kept and ignored after being discharged for the third time.
This is the work I did in the hospital bed of the psychiatric ward. I not only survived, I actually did lots of homework there. In that room labeled 5-3, I studied. I cried. I screamed at the nurses. I spoke to countless interns, psychiatrists, and other inpatients. It was tough. I still feel somewhat unworthy because of my mental health. It is tiring. It is relentless. It is boring and a burden for others. It is also not my decision to struggle with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. As I have been studying the book of Job in the Bible recently, reading the painful words of his cry to God kept making me feel related to him. Suffering happens to innocent people; Child Abuse happens every day.
There is no why or cause, I am trying to stop finding the root of the bad things God allows in the world. The reasons may be too complex for our minds to comprehend. For what I know, God cares more about our response to these stressors. Are we able to remain faithful to Him? Job was a righteous and good man. His anguish is something we still experience everyday. God does not stay completely silent. He is alive and working in and through our lives in remarkable ways that may be invisible. I wait upon His deliverance.
Looking back at these assignments, artwork, phone cards that I was in possession of, I shed tears and wipe them away in humiliation at myself. It is nostalgic. It is proof that God has been with me this entire experience of hospitalization.