Behind the walls of silence
Hello everyone!
We often forget and neglect the importance of mental health, some are ashamed to talk about it. We neglect mental health and often do not take it seriously until it affects us personally. Like what happened to me.
I have a wonderful family, we all love and care for each other. At first it was difficult for me and I was ashamed, but as I matured I realized that there is nothing shameful in having a problem. My father has been trying to recover from alcohol addiction for a long time. We are all with him and support him. He is persistent and wants to help himself, he decided to go to treatment himself. I have to admit that I admire him, because it takes great courage to take that step. He will be separated from us for a few months, which is not a small period. He will be isolated from the life he is used to. But that is why we are here. My sister, mother and I visit him regularly, we constantly remind him that we are with him and that he should not be afraid, but that he should fight and win the battle he has started.
It is very important to take care of yourself, there is no shame in asking for help, it is a shame to leave someone alone. When we are tired and feel like we have hit rock bottom, let's remember that we can always swim out. The worst thing we can do for our health is to remain silent and keep it to ourselves. It is human to ask for help as well as to help someone. Let's be healthy, let's be human.
When you step through the large, iron doors of the Kovin Psychiatric Hospital, you're not just entering a medical facility. You are entering a complex, often misunderstood world, a world of struggle, silence, therapy, and quiet hope. It's a place that exists far from the public eye, yet so close to what we all carry within us: fragility, vulnerability, and the need to be understood.
The psychiatric hospital in Kovin was founded in 1861, at a time when mental health was just beginning to be recognized as part of general health. At that time, it was called the "Institution for the Mentally Ill", and was one of the first such institutions in what was then Austria-Hungary. The city of Kovin was chosen precisely because of its peaceful surroundings and large green areas, which was considered important for recovery even then.
The walls of this hospital are witnesses of more than a century and a half of struggle, the struggle against prejudice, poverty, war, neglect, but also the struggle for dignity, treatment and progress. In the corridors of this hospital, different regimes, languages, reforms and attempts were made to keep people from getting lost in the diagnosis.
Watch your thoughts, they become words, watch your words, they become actions, watch your actions, they become habits, watch your habits, they become your character, watch your character, it becomes your DESTINY.
Although the hospital itself has preserved some of its old appearance, with tall windows, thick walls and traditional pavilions, it is clear that time does not stand still. In recent years, important renovation work has begun. Some pavilions have been completely reconstructed: central heating has been introduced, electrical and plumbing installations have been replaced, and patient rooms have been renovated, creating a more pleasant and safe environment.
Special focus has been placed on creating spaces for daily activities, creative workshops, psychotherapy groups and occupational therapy. My father said that these activities helped him "get out of his head". He also mentioned nature, the park they have, which is decorated with messages of support at every turn.
In the hospital courtyard, we found patients planting flowers and vegetables, part of horticultural therapy, but also a way to feel useful, involved and alive. In one room, pictures painted by patients hung on the walls. Some were dark, full of pain. Others were bright, almost childlike. They were all sincere.
I was particularly touched and pleasantly surprised by the professionalism and calmness of the doctors. I had the opportunity to see them in action precisely because of my father, we were together, as a family, at that interview when he applied for treatment. She spoke to him with understanding, she did not address him as if he were a patient, but as if she were a friend trying to help him in trouble. The struggle with systemic limitations is obvious, but even more obvious is the will to see and hear every patient.
One therapist quietly said to me:
"People often think that crazy people come here. But those who have been hurt by life more deeply than they could bear on their own come."
Laugh at your flaws, rigidity, and limitations.
The tour of the Kovin Hospital was emotional, difficult, but also ennobling. I faced prejudices that I didn't even know I had. I saw how little it takes for a person to feel dignified, a warm room, support, an opportunity to express themselves. And how far the system is still insufficiently prepared to provide that chance to everyone.
In Kovin, I learned that silence does not mean emptiness. Sometimes it is a silence in which a person is reassembled from parts. Sometimes it is the silence between two therapies, between the past and the future. Sometimes, it is a silence waiting for someone to understand it.
"Don't be a hostage to the past."
Kovin is not just a psychiatric hospital. It is a mirror of our society, how willing we are to see and hear those who suffer in ways that are not visible to the naked eye. The hospital is changing. It is being renewed. It's growing. And most importantly, he doesn't give up.
I hope the time will come when mental health is treated with the same respect as physical health. And that places like Kovin Hospital will be seen not as closed systems, but as beacons for those who need light to find their way back to themselves.
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