Certified, not crazy

Sometimes, our loneliest days are the most important.

I saw a video a while ago of a woman—a psychiatrist, I believe—explaining that she had been rushed by ambulance to a psych ward. She talked about how sometimes, in what others call a psychotic break, the patient actually explains that they feel whole for the first time in their lives.

Please don’t mistake what I am saying; there are most certainly times when a patient is in pain, where medication and observation are a vital, necessary treatment plan.

I have been blessed with the opportunity to see both sides of the coin—both personally and professionally as a paramedic.

To take it a step further, I’ve had the experience of being allowed to navigate a mental break in the comfort of my own home and the homes of my support system. And I’ve also had the experience of storming out my front door, yelling to the medics, "Hurry up, or I’m going to drive."

Oh yes, I have the Ring footage—though we didn’t catch when I kept walking and flipped them all off. (I still giggle when I think of it.)

I was uncooperative. I refused to sleep. I didn’t let the doctor record our conversation so he could have the assistance of AI to build a treatment plan. I talked a mile a minute. I scared my kids, my husband, and even my therapist.

However, I also listened when they said that if I didn't calm down after the medication, they’d keep me. So, I laid back, put a shirt over my face, and went quiet—trying to sleep.

I tell you this because when I walked into therapy, I distinctly recall saying:

"If I let go, you will all think I’ve lost my goddamn mind. I will end up in the psych ward with grippy socks."

And I did. When they handed me the psychiatric hold paperwork, I ripped it up - threw it out. (My mother-in-law retrieved it, and it now hangs proudly framed in my office, signed certified not crazy. Wristband included)

Healing is hard.

Genuinely, healing is lonely.

I don’t believe it has to be, though. I think as society grows more comfortable talking about feelings and being honest in our experiences—with ourselves—we will begin to realize that we are all here for the same damn reason.

To grow.

To heal.

To love.

In my humble opinion, I don’t think there is anything more beautiful than that.

Quite often, I find myself doubting my healing journey, only to receive a call, an email, or cross paths with an animal who sits just a moment longer than it should to stare back at me.

This morning was one of those days—tired from a full summer of activities with my husband and kids, still trying to dry out after a very rainy weekend showing my art at the Oxford Renaissance Festival. But then I got a beautiful email, thanking me for the courage of sharing my healing experience with the world. Suddenly, my heart was filled and my passion renewed. I smiled ear to ear, especially when a blue jay landed next to me and sat quietly in the moment.

I’ve wanted to write this out for a few weeks now. Maybe it was hesitation, or just not the right time. But the blue jay calls for communication and truth—to defend what matters most through loyalty, commitment, curiosity, and courage.

And if there's one thing that is etched into my bones, it is that we must share our experiences … it is the only way we as a collective can achieve sustainable healing.

So to whoever needs to hear this: I hope it finds you. I hope whatever sign you’re looking for is woven into these words.

You’re here for a reason, and I am so very glad you continue to choose to Stay;

Continue to be brave, my dear friends.

From the Panda’s Paw, with love,

Kristin