Miryam’s Blesses the Broken Road- Resident Finds a Home

When I think of going home, I think of Miryam’s House. I found it, as a well known country song* puts it, on a broken road. It was on a hot Monday, the 18th of July, I stepped off a bus on the corner of Maple and Ninth Avenue, and began a journey that would lead me home...

During the previous year, I had moved four times. I left my husband the previous June, carrying just two suitcases. I came to Washington seeking a new life, wanting to leave the past behind. I lived with relatives for the first seven months, until I could find employment and rent an apartment on my own. I lived there for five months.... until my world came crashing down around me.

During the last three weeks in my apartment, slowly my mind began to unravel. I could not sleep. I began hearing voices. I became terribly afraid. The voices grew louder, more insistent, intrusive, and accusing. The voices told me terrible things were going to happen to me, and my family. I had to stop them.

Finally I had a total breakdown. I was taken by police car to Sacred Heart. I stayed in the behavorial Health Center two nights. Then I was taken to St. Joseph’s in Chewelah, and on to Eastern State Hospital, hand cuffed. For the first three days there the voices still plagued me. I could barely eat or sleep. But somehow, as the medications took effect, and I became more aware of my surroundings, I began to feel safe for the first time in weeks. I felt safe from the voices. I knew people were looking out for me. And even though all I had was a bed, a pillow, a closet, a bedside table and a few clothes, I was content. I was safe.

It was at Eastern, my psychologist told me about Miryam’s House. Would they take me? I had to knock on the door...

A woman with a smile and a kind voice opened the door. She showed me to the beautiful room to wait to be interviewed. She brought me a glass of ice water. It was in this room I would come to experience what home is... a place where women would share their stories and hold them in a sacred trust.

All around me was beauty. The color of pale greens and muted pink florals blending together pleased my eyes. There was a whole wall of windows on the east side, with a view of large evergreens. A long window seat spanned the length of the windows. There were beautiful pictures on the walls, and candles, and sculptures, and a white rocking chair, and...

And then I was called in for my interview. I do not recall much of what was said, only I knew this woman understood me, and she cared about me. I went back to Eastern. It would be another ten days until I received a call. She said I could come! I packed up my few belongings. I could hardly sleep that night.

The next day I came back to Miryam’s. The same kind woman answered the door. She greeted me warmly and showed me to my room. I didn’t even unpack my bags. I just collapsed on my bed and slept deeply for two hours. My room was the place I found rest and safety for my weary heart. My room was like a cocoon for me. It was a place I could grow and change. I knew I had come home. *God Blessed the Broken Road, by Rascal Flats