depression
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“How are you feeling, Angel?” “Shitty. I want to die.” “Are you still thinking of suicide?” “All the time.” “Do you feel safe in the hospital?” The morning of my assessment, the next day on a Thursday. The very nurse who took my bedding and shower curtain was conducting it, and it was curiously early.
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Monday came, and as the MHT came to take my vitals, I woke groggy and lightheaded from the meds I was given for sleep, namely Zyprexa. I took a shower for the first time in a few days, and this took monumental effort. I didn’t go to breakfast but there was coffee. Everything is so
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I startled awake at 6am on the morning of my first day, July 28, Sunday, as the MHT came into my room. The mental health technician (much like a CNA only not wiping ass like I do) wanted vitals. I looked quite disheveled and was exhausted from poor sleep and severe anxiety at my detention,
Documenting my journey through the mental health system 