Hello. My name is Tyler Joseph. I am 17 years old. I am inpatient at Columbus Psychiatric Hospital. I suffer with major depression, obsessive-compulsive behavior and borderline personality disorder. I've tried to kill myself 21 times before. I'm strictly asexual. I selfharm; i cut, burn, and scratch myself. And i guess this is my story.
It started with my parents hating me. Well... They love me sometimes. One day it's "Tyler, sweetheart, do you want icecream and cookies?" And the next day it's "You fucking piece of shit, just kill yourself already! Get out of my sight!" It is easier to believe the worse version.
The first time i've attempted suicide was the day after my 15th birthday. I used my mother's old antidepressants. I thought it could work so i would finally be happy. It only caused a lot of distress in school and at home. They made me go to therapy and took away all of my medication, saying that that was the reason of me trying to off myself. Dumb.
The 6th attempt was the reason i ended up here, in COhPH. It was at school. I cut the veins on my wrists, blood started to squirt everywhere, and i've passed out. My classmate, Safiya, found me in the bathroom, told the teacher and called 911. She somehow kept the slits closed so no more blood could escape. I was rushed to the ER and then to COhPH. My parents beat me up.
,,What's your name?"
,,Tyler Robert Joseph."
,,How old are you, Tyler?"
,,Fifteen."
,,Are you aware of any diagnoses you were given by your therapist?"
,,Borderline personality disorder."
,,Were you prescribed any medication? Are you currently on it?"
,,Yes, Fevarine and Xanax, no, my parents took them away from me."
,,Are you aware of why did they do that?"
,,No."
,,Okay Tyler."
,,..."
,,How many times have you attempted suicide?"
,,Six."
,,Do you harm yourself in any way?"
,,Yes."
,,How?"
,,I cut. And burn. And scratch."
,,Okay Tyler, i think that's all for now. I'll take you to your room now."
And then they took me to my room, all white and empty and boring. It now has several posters, a box full of pencils and paper, and a white lonely ukulele.
,,Tyler? It's medication time." Nurse Wood says, standing still by the metal door. He unlocks it and invites himself in. He's a stunning, sweet, and caring transgender male. He is, i must say, my favorite nurse. I take the three pills from him, two yellow and one blue, and i drop them on my tongue, taking a big gulp of water afterwards. ,,Uhm... Your therapist has left. You've been assigned to a new one. Their name is Sam Eisenberg. They're nonbinary, so i suggest you ask about their preferred pronouns on your first session, which is..." Nurse Wood looks at his white plastic watch, ,,in ten minutes. Get ready!"
I put on my light grey My Chemical Romance shirt and black jeans, which i got in the hospital shop for 2 dollars, i leave my hair as it is, messy and sleepy-like. I check my cuts, rub some vaseline on them, and i'm good to go. As Nurse Wood leads me to my therapist's office, i look around the institute. I stay in my room all the time, i don't socialize, so i don't have any friends here. This is the Child Psychiatric Unit, CPU. So the sight is kinda... Sad. Nine year-olds with schizophrenia, twelve year-old insomniacs, fifteen year-olds suffering from several kinds of anxiety disorders, suicidal seventeen year-olds, including me. There it is, my destination. ,,Doctor Eisenberg?" I knock.
,,Come in!" I nod in Nurse Wood's direction, and he takes it as a 'go away'. I enter the room, which i know very, very well. What do i see?
An angel.
An angel with chopped peroxide-white hair, pale face, red lipstick and black nun-like dress. Their eyes are light green, almost yellow, cheeks full of freckles. They are wearing big round glasses, and they have several cut scars on their thighs.
,,Will you keep undressing me with your eyes or could we start our session?" They smile and offer me a seat. My face starts to heat up as i sit down.
,,So, Tyler-"
,,Which pronouns can i use?" I cut them off. Their teeth shine in a big grin.
,,You can use female pronouns, call me Sam. So, Tyler. How old are you?"
,,Seventeen."
,,Were you given any diagnoses by any therapists?"
,,Borderline personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive behavior, suicidal behavior, major chronic depression."
,,Do you take any medication?"
,,Yes. Xanax, Neurole, Rispene."
,,How many times have you attempted suicide?" I stay quiet as i watch her taking her notes. ,,Tyler?"
,,Twenty one."
,,Any... Selfharm?"
,,Cuts. What about you?"
,,Pardon?" She shivers, and slowly covers her thighs. Shit.
,,S-sorry." I stutter. ,,I cut. And scratch." I show her my arms for a moment and hide them again.
,,So, Tyler, tell me something about your parents..."
As i leave the office with Sam by my side, i think about how much i like her. She's like my older sister, we have so much in common. When we reach my room, i turn to her and hug her really tight. She seems to be surprised, but hugs me back. ,,I want to help you, Tyler. I really do. You are a small bean and you don't deserve the parents you have." She whispers, gently pulls away, and leaves. I wave her goodbye, and drift off to my room door, waiting for a nurse to open them for me. The heavy metal door clicks open, and i enter. Sometimes, i feel like a prisoner. Only the orange suit missing. I chuckle to myself, and reach for the ukulele. I strum a few acords.
,,There's miles of land in front of us
And we're dying with every step we take
We're dying with every step we make
And i'll fall in line..."
I call this song March to the Sea. It's in progress. My door suddenly clicks open, and a nurse comes in. I don't bother looking up. ,,Thank you Nurse Wood."
,,Actually, it's not Wood. I've been assigned to you today." I hear a light whisper. ,,My name's Dayia Gutierrez. I've volunteered." My eyes meet hers, and my breath disappears. I've never seen anyone the way i saw Dayia that day. ,,Volunteered for me..?" I ask.
,,Yes. I am your former geography classmate... Do you remember me?" A faint hint of sadness can be heard in her voice. ,,No. S-sorry Dayia." I stutter, take the meds from her, and head off to lunch.
