Writing this is honestly more for myself than anyone else, but hopefully it will help some of you who do read it. I wanted to document the two weeks I spent in the Mental Hospital as a way to process it and remember it. This was a very major event in my life and even if no one else around me talks about it, I want people to know that I’m not ashamed of what I went through. Thanks for reading!
April 14, 2015
I had had a really good day actually. I had spent the day visiting my parents, I was really happy during the two hour drive home, I remember singing and stopping to take a picture of the river because it was pretty. I got back to my apartment and found out that my roommate wasn’t going to be home that night, so decided to spend the night watching movies and painting my nails.
Things were going great for awhile, and then my brain decided to take over… after that, like many nights before, I just sat there crying and begging it to shut up and leave me alone. All I could think about was how I was a failure, how overwhelming my life was, how I just wanted it to stop, how everyone would be better off without me.
I had been struggling with depression and anxiety for a long time, pretty severely for the past 3 years and to some extent all of my life. I had moved away from my home town and I was having trouble figuring out life in my new town. Because of my anxiety I hadn’t been able to get a job and my parents were still paying for everything. I was also getting married in just two months. Getting married was something I was excited about, I loved him, but I also felt someone pushed into it, like it was my only choice. And of course wedding planning and a long distence relationship was difficult. I was overwhelmed and I felt guilty for existing.
Suicidal thoughts were not new for me. Especially late at night, but I hadn’t gone through with anything yet.
I had decided that I was going to start saving up my prescriptions so that, if I wanted to, I could take them all at once and just be done with everything. I hadn’t actually done this yet though and I didn’t have that many pills in my cupboard that night. I remember searching on my phone to see if just maybe what I did have would be enough to kill me.
I had tried texting my Fiancé, my friends, anyone I could think of in my contacts, I just wanted to talk to someone. I also sent a text to a suicide hotline. But it was already early in the morning and no one was replying.
I was so tired, and so sick of all these thoughts and my life. I took one of my pills… telling myself I would only take enough to help me sleep and stop thinking. Then I took another, and another. By the time I had taken all of the pills I had, they had started working enough to calm down my brain. To the point where I was no longer sure I wanted to die and I was afraid to fall asleep in case I didn’t wake up. Somehow I managed to stay awake for hours despite all of the pills I had taken (usually just one of the pills would knock me out for the night).
The hotline I had texted finally texted back and I told them what I had done. I also texted my mother saying I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to go to the hospital but because of my anxiety I couldn’t bring myself to call someone (hence the reason why I TEXTED a suicide hotline haha) so the woman from the hotline called an ambulance for me.
I was disoriented so I’m not sure how long it actually took but it felt like just a couple of minutes had gone by when a police officer showed up banging on my door and came in. He walked me out of my apartment to the ambulance. It was probably eight in the morning at this point.
Once I was in the ambulance I signed some papers and they took me to the ER. At this point everything starts to get really blurry, I think they tested my urine, and somehow ended up in an ugly purple hospital gown (those things make you feel more naked in them than if you had nothing on). And then I just sat in the hospital bed in the ER. They apparently asked me to admit myself to the Psych Ward but I don’t remember that part. They sent a guy over from the Mental Ward to watch me ( I found out later that his name was Colin). He was asking me questions to help me stay awake and I managed to mumbled back.
My roommate and another friend came to the ER and sat with me. At one point I asked her if she had seen the girl who just walked by outside, she said “yes”, I said “she had really pink hair, that was crazy!” My friend told me that “her hair was brown”. I was totally hallucinating. Later I also said something about how they had only been there for a few minutes and I was told that they had stayed for a couple of hours! Time was moving so much faster for me. My parents showed up within what felt like minuets even though it would have taken them two hours to drive there.
I eventually was taken in a car to the Psych Ward and asked a lot of questions and who knows what else, I don’t remember any of it. Apparently I talked to staff and doctors who I didn’t even remember meeting later.
Finally I was allowed to go to sleep! It was sometime in the afternoon by now (I believe) and I had been awake since the morning before.
I slept until sometime the next day when I got up to stumble into the bathroom and throw up. I pushed the buzzer and a nurse brought me some ice chips to eat.
The rest of the day is a blur, I don’t remember what I did or anything.
End of Part One.
Do any of you have experiences with staying at a Mental Hospital that you would like to share? I would love to read them!