“….I’d pin you to the ground and force feed them to you”

So what happens after you’ve tried to poison yourself out of this world you ask…..


You get handcuffed to a wheelchair.

no, seriously.

After I told the doctor that I just wanted to make the pain go away he became fully aware of my depression or so I thought. The next thing I knew I was put into a wheelchair and handcuffed to it (safety reasons I guess). I think they knew once I figured out what was about to happen that I would try to make a run for it.

The next 15 minutes became hectic. My mom wanted to know what was going on, I wanted to know what was going on, NO ONE WOULD TELL US WHAT WAS GOING ON. All I could think about was did I do something illegal while I was drugged up? Did I hurt somebody else? Why is there a security guard here? Am I going to jail? It was really that intense. After a few more hectic thoughts I gathered myself back together just enough to say, can someone please tell my mom where I’m going!? The nurse finally replied and informed us both that hospital procedure requires them to keep me until  I was evaluated by a psychiatrist. Even in that state of mind, understood those terms. The guard started to wheel me away, alone. I became anxious and asked him where we were going. Hearing the words psychiatric and ward together gave me cold chills. I honestly thought I was going to vomit. It wasn’t until we got off of the elevator and into the hall way of the ward that I finally began to panic. I was smart enough to know not to freak out while I was in front of anyone that determined the duration of my stay. Once safely imprisioned behind the door, the handcuffs came off. They showed me to my room and I was enthusiastically greeted by an older woman getting ready to leave. She introduced herself and we began to small talk. She told me she was seeing things so she checked herself in. When she asked me what a young girl such as myself was doing there all I could come up with was stress. Here we were, two completely different people in the same place for two completely different (but related) reasons. This is SO important and you’ll find out why later on..

Long story short, she gave me her number because she said talking to me helped. This humored me because I couldn’t help myself but I was helping her. It was a good feeling.

They droppped my clothes off shortly after she left. I put them on and took a tour of the place. I became instantly depressed again after seeing the mirrorless bathroom, the older-than-I-am books and games they provided and some of my new house mates. I saw my mom walking through the doors and ran to her whispering, get me out of here mom, please. I didn’t belong here. I suffered from sadness-these people suffered from seeing things. I wasn’t judging them I just didn’t believe I was like them. ( You’ll understand just how wrong I was soon enough- NO I didn’t start seeing things…..). My mom said she had talked to my doctor and there was nothing that could be done; I had to comply, get evaluated and then I’d be released when they thought I was ready. LUCKY ME IT WAS A THURSDAY. That meant that I wouldn’t be seen until Friday and couldn’t be released until Monday because doctors don’t work weekends (at least that one didn’t).

My mom was kicked out soon enough and I spent the next two hours in my room waiting to be seen. I tried to nap the entire situation away but of course when I wanted to sleep, I couldn’t. Finally 4:00pm came rolling around and people rushed to the dining room, food was served. It was high school all over again. I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t know what the procedure was, I stuck out like a sore thumb. A young girl greeted me, “Hey! I’m Kate (her name isn’t really Kate).. just go over there and ask for your food, you can sit next to me.”


All I could think about was how great Kate was for saving the day.

The food sucked, next.


I went back to my room and was finally called to be seen by the Dr. himself. We chatted for a little bit about why I did what I did, what caused me to do it, what makes me sad,happy, angry, etc. He started to wrap up the conversation and said OK well, I’m going to prescribe you 10 mg of this miracle drug that’ll teach you how to get good grades, work less and make more money..Obivously that’s not what he said. He threw this drug name at me after talking to me for 20 minutes. All I could think about was, why was this the first solution? Can we try something else first? Finally I spoke up and told him exactly that. I didn’t want to be medicated, I wanted help but not like that. He looked at me and said “If you were my daughter I’d pin you to the floor and force feed them to you, you tried to kill yourself.”


Enough said. I can’t wait to tell you more about the mental health system and all of the wonderful help I recieved.


I’m being sarcastic..

stay tuned.


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