How Being Admitted Into The Psychiatric Unit Made Me Realize Self-Care Is Not Manicures & Pedicures


In a fast-paced society, it is easy to fall into the hustle and bustle of life. On social media, we are constantly seeing #grinding, #hustle and #teamnosleep and so many of us wear it as a badge of honor. This use to be me until I found myself being forced out of my home by the police and into the psychiatric unit. What? Me? I never thought I would end up in a place where I was told only crazy people go. I remember saying to one of the staff members at the hospital, “I do not belong here. I have a bachelors from Howard University and masters from Georgetown University.”  I thought to myself, “I guess this means I am crazy too.” I could not wrap my head about being educated, having my own car, apartment, family and friends who love me, and being locked in a place that felt like jail. Honestly, I did not realize how sick I was until the psychiatrist asked me the day of the week, date and month and I had no clue.

I am an extremely goal-oriented person. I do not simply talk about my dreams, I go after them but that does not mean I cannot take breaks to replenish myself. Scrolling through social media made me feel like I was not doing enough and taking a break meant that I was not working hard. I found myself in a hamster wheel where I was not taking time to sit with my thoughts and emotions. I felt like the energizer bunny of constantly going after my dreams, working to pay bills and debt without stopping to take care of myself. I was like so many people who walk around being busy opposed to being productive. I did not know what the term self-care meant especially since so many limit it to manicures, pedicures and massages. What I found is that self-care is not limited to those things, but it is self-preservation. Self-care is what feeds your mind, body and spi