It was two years ago, maybe even longer. The staff on the psychiatric unit were doling out my favorite snack: two soft, sugar cookies with white frosting and little colored sprinkles on top. These cookies were treats on the psych ward. We got some only at intervals, sometimes at lunch time, sometimes at snack time, never on a regular basis.
I liked to wrap my cookies in a napkin and smuggle them out of the cafeteria for later consumption. Often, I would lie awake listening to the never-ending noise in my head and reach over for one of the little cookies which I stock-piled in the dresser beside my assigned bed. They were a comfort food on the ward--sugary, fattening, sweet.
Later on, I would abhor the sight of those cookies. Once I was outside and no longer an in-patient, I was vehemently opposed to eating that specific type of cookie. One time, my mother brought home those soft, sugar cookies from her workplace. I took one look at the two cookies she generously offered me and my stomach churned. It was THAT cookie---that exact brand of cookie. I shook my head and refused it. It was not because I was trying to lose weight and avoid sugar (which I was, but one cookie would have been okay). It was because that cookie represented confinement. It represented a locked ward and horrible memories. It represented my illness.
For two years now, I have avoided those cookies. They seem to be everywhere, at Save Mart, Target, Food Co., they are stocked in every major grocery store! I would shop for food and sigh as I passed the bakery. There, amongst the brownies and tiramisu cakes, that specific type of sugar cookie with the white frosting and the sprinkles. Those cookies haunted me for two years. Like decaf coffee, they are two fixtures in the psychiatric hospital that I can depend on to be there each time I am involuntary hospitalized.
This last week I turned it all around. I was approved for graduation from my University on July 3rd. My degree will be posted on August 10th. My admission into the graduate program was cemented. It was a great feeling. After 1 year at the University I had achieved my goal of obtaining my Bachelor's degree from an accredited University. I had gone from being a chronic hospital basket-case, in and out of psychiatric facilities and community college classes, to a full-time University student with no major psychiatric relapses. I decided to celebrate....I bought the sugar cookies with the white frosting and the little sprinkles on top. I took them home. I sat them on the tabletop and opened up the little plastic container. My mother came in and I told her the story of the sugar cookies.
"So why did you buy them?"
"Because I want to taste them. They taste like victory now. I want to taste them as a graduate student not as a mental patient. From this point, the cookies are symbols of my recovery." She smiled, I chewed. The cookie tasted delicious. :)
I liked to wrap my cookies in a napkin and smuggle them out of the cafeteria for later consumption. Often, I would lie awake listening to the never-ending noise in my head and reach over for one of the little cookies which I stock-piled in the dresser beside my assigned bed. They were a comfort food on the ward--sugary, fattening, sweet.
Later on, I would abhor the sight of those cookies. Once I was outside and no longer an in-patient, I was vehemently opposed to eating that specific type of cookie. One time, my mother brought home those soft, sugar cookies from her workplace. I took one look at the two cookies she generously offered me and my stomach churned. It was THAT cookie---that exact brand of cookie. I shook my head and refused it. It was not because I was trying to lose weight and avoid sugar (which I was, but one cookie would have been okay). It was because that cookie represented confinement. It represented a locked ward and horrible memories. It represented my illness.
For two years now, I have avoided those cookies. They seem to be everywhere, at Save Mart, Target, Food Co., they are stocked in every major grocery store! I would shop for food and sigh as I passed the bakery. There, amongst the brownies and tiramisu cakes, that specific type of sugar cookie with the white frosting and the sprinkles. Those cookies haunted me for two years. Like decaf coffee, they are two fixtures in the psychiatric hospital that I can depend on to be there each time I am involuntary hospitalized.
This last week I turned it all around. I was approved for graduation from my University on July 3rd. My degree will be posted on August 10th. My admission into the graduate program was cemented. It was a great feeling. After 1 year at the University I had achieved my goal of obtaining my Bachelor's degree from an accredited University. I had gone from being a chronic hospital basket-case, in and out of psychiatric facilities and community college classes, to a full-time University student with no major psychiatric relapses. I decided to celebrate....I bought the sugar cookies with the white frosting and the little sprinkles on top. I took them home. I sat them on the tabletop and opened up the little plastic container. My mother came in and I told her the story of the sugar cookies.
"So why did you buy them?"
"Because I want to taste them. They taste like victory now. I want to taste them as a graduate student not as a mental patient. From this point, the cookies are symbols of my recovery." She smiled, I chewed. The cookie tasted delicious. :)
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