Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I was sleepwalking every night. But Sunday morning came after I woke in the hall again, startled and confused. Jake took me back to my room and encouraged me to sleep the remaining two hours till vitals. I didn’t think I could but woke up when he came in with the vitals machine and my toothbrush and toothpaste. He stayed as I brushed my teeth and I handed the items back.

I ate a little of breakfast. Some of the potatoes, milk, and coffee. Of course coffee.

The nurse came to assess me. “What’s your goal today?”

“Reading, working on my focus. Staying alive.” I responded.

“Good, good.”

She reminded me it wouldn’t be till the next day that I could expect to receive clothes back and normal bedding. But the suicide blanket had grown on me. I liked its weight and and thickness and warmth. I asked to keep it even if I was allowed normal bedding back. She agreed.

After lunch, I got some very good news. The nurse who had done my assessment came back. She stated they had called the doctor at home to request a lower level of enhanced suicide precautions and he agreed! I was allowed to have one set of hospital pajamas – socks and underwear! – as well as move about the unit. The doctor ordered the suicide blanket stays and I didn’t mind, I wanted to keep it.

“You will need to behave appropriately, and contract for safety. If unable, the smock will have to go back on. You must tell us if you have any suicidal ideation or intent. We want you to be safe,” she said sternly. I nodded quietly and eagerly changed into the pajamas. I felt so much lighter, the smock had been heavy, constantly pulling on my now sore left shoulder.

I wasn’t planning my suicide. I was steadily eating a little more. I did have suicidal ideation but wasn’t planning anything. It wasn’t so loud and overwhelming in my mind. Seroquel helped calm my mind. It was more abstract, my thoughts and feelings. That “better off dead” conviction I’ve carried around for a long time.

I forced myself to go down with the others to the gym and outdoor courtyard. I just wanted to feel the sun and walk around. I attempted to meditate. But I kept thinking how I’d missed the best part of summer, and that it had been an awful summer besides. I made a bunch of phone calls, namely my brother and my coworker watching my apartment and cat. There were a lot of new patients. I had been there longer than half of them. One asked me if I had just arrived when I emerged from my room after 4 days in the smock. “No, I came last Saturday.”

“Are you voluntary?”

“No, they forced me in here.”

She chatted at me while. Said the food was good. I didn’t say anything. I did not socialize with the other patients. They thought I thought I was better than them. Maybe they were right.

I asked to go in the quiet room with the music and they granted it. I thought hard in that little room. I still saw no good future for me, could hardly imagine the next 20, 30 years. I was trying to imagine what life I wanted, who I was and what I wanted to be. There are worse things than being a CNA. I love reading and writing (when I can concentrate). I love philosophy and writing my own philosophical essays. I want to sing.

Oh, you’re sad? While half the world starves? While the amazon rainforest is obliterated? While Gazan children are slaughtered? While my country is in a downward spiral? You’re fucking sad? Fucking pathetic.

I went to the evening group and for once could report no suicidal planning and I felt safe. At shift change Jake came to see me for his every 15 minute checks.

“Look, I got clothes back!” I didn’t think I would till Monday.

“I heard,” he smiled. Just the night before he had told me “one more day. You got this.”

They still wouldn’t let me have a shower curtain or second set of clothes but room checks were now every 15 minutes instead of five and I was allowed to shower and brush my teeth without supervision.

The next day brought a final bit of good news. I didn’t know it, but my detention was nearly over.