This is a poetry/journal book about my experience in the Psych Ward.
It's all true accounts with names changed for privacy. I wrote this while in the ward, except for the last day.
Please take care in reading. If topics of suicide, depression, rap...
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(Random note: Brianna liked to name my pictures when I colored them, so that's why this one says 'Wolf in Hippie Clothing')
Nothing much happens on this day, except that it's finally not the weekend anymore. I fully expected to be set free on Monday. After all, when I'm medicated, I feel completely normal. It's been this way for days, so I'm entirely ready to go home. I'm also getting really sick of coloring, but I won't stop until I no longer need to pass time.
Allie finds out she is leaving on this day. I'm really happy for her, even though she was in before me. Once again, no ticket to the ball, I think to myself, but then I remind myself not to be so self absorbed and to be more happy for Allie who can see her children.
Not too long after finding out Allie is leaving on this day, I'm approached by a Nurse Practitioner. This happens usually once every couple of days, except for the weekend. Especially when new people arrive in the hospital. In this Psych Ward, you don't actually see a therapist one on one and when you do it's very short and asking basic questions... usually over a video chat. Only one time did I have to attend the treatment meeting, which is when a therapist, social worker, psychiatrist, and God knows what else surround you and speed-question you like you're some criminal. I was sweating my boobs off after that one.
Anyway, I was approached by a Nurse Practitioner.
"How are you feeling?" She asks me.
"I'm actually feeling great," I replied honestly.
"That's great! How do you feel about going home tomorrow?"
"Absolutely! I feel completely ready," I answered, probably way too eagerly.
And so, I found out that I'm leaving on day Twelve. It's both a disappointment, because I wanted to leave today, and also a delight because I'm leaving tomorrow. At this point, Brianna is looking very grim and I feel some guilt. But I know she'll get the help she needs here and I hope when she goes home, she'll feel healthier mentally as I do.
So I spent my eleventh day coloring of course, hanging out with the four remaining Psychos, and bouncing in my chair in excitement until I turn in for the night. Lights out are at 11pm, but because we aren't allowed to shut our doors, and the lights don't actually turn out, I have to ask for a sleeping pill to knock myself out. Joy.
