Hey guys/gals! Just a quick insight into who I am:
A 22 year old student aspiring to be a chiropractor. I compete in the Miss America Organization, volunteer my heart out, and tag team on life with my mother. My interests fall between fashion and adventure and I speak fluent sarcasm.
Oh and I suffer from anxiety and depression.
You can follow me on instagram: amannndda
Once again it swiftly creeps in like the wind, opening the door that was only cracked open slightly because I like my privacy.
It sweeps the rooms of my mind to find the place where I store all things that create my happiness. It weaves itself through them and like a poison, grazes the surface and drains the life out of each and every happy stored thought.
It creeps out as swiftly as it had creeped in, leaving the door wide opened, leaving me feeling exposed and unsafe.
I sit there paralyzed
I haven’t been very productive with not only the blog lately but a lot of life things. I’m sure most of you can relate.
Why does it matter if the setup in a psych ward and a jail are the same, and why am I being so sensitive about it? Because people in the ward aren’t there for criminal activity. Why treat the two groups the same? People serve time in jail for crimes, whereas patients in a psychiatric ward are there as a safety precaution to protect themselves and get better. Let me tell you, that environment wasn’t making me better.