Documenting my journey through the mental health system

“I’ll never speak on this again. Looks like I’m attention seeking, I know that’s what you’re all thinking.”

“No, we’re not. We think you’re in great danger of hurting yourself,” Dr. P said.

I sat in the turtle suit that seemed to swallow me whole. It was far too big. They took my clothes, everything in my room except my notebook, even my underwear. I was in great danger indeed.

I had been betrayed by my own desperate attempt to get someone to understand, to truly see me. The pain was unbearable. The feelings and isolation and failure was too much to bear.

I felt cold in my suit. The green, thick material lay heavy on one shoulder. I was never so humiliated. I cried bitterly.

“You’re safe, Angel. It’s not a punishment; we just want to see you safe.”

“I want to die.”

“I know. I’m going to increase your antidepressant and your sleep medications. The nurses will be back to check on you.”

I just cried as he walked out the door.