Last summer I started to become depressed. I wouldn't eat sometimes but eat all the time another day. I Wouldn't sleep sometimes but sleep the whole day another time. Depression was taking over my life enough to the point where my parents finally noticed. They took me to the doctor where I was diagnosed with depression. I was prescribed medication and sent to a therapist. I didn't like talking to my therapist so the build up of negative feelings finally got too much and I started to self harm. I would always talk about how I wanted to die to my friends, causing a barrier between us. One day, I snapped and told my therapist I was having suicidal thoughts. She sent me to the emergency room where I spent the whole day there being talked to by tons of doctors. They decided to involuntarily commit me to a mental hospital. The next morning I was escorted to the hospital by police in a squad car. When I arrived they asked me tons of questions, went through all my stuff, stripped me down completely naked and inspected every inch of me for cuts. They had to count and record every cut on my body. I was then put into the normal day in the hospital.
The expectation is that you will go in there and you will have many therapy sessions that will allow you to get better, dig deep, and develop coping strategies with amazing staff who are always there for you. The reality is you spend over 80% of the day locked in the same room with the staff sitting there doing nothing while your peers are getting into fights. You have a few group therapy sessions where the staff do not say anything to you that even remotely helps. For example, when a girl was talking about her eating disorder the staff member told her to suck it up and just eat. When a boy said he wanted to kill himself right then and tried to slit his throat they gave him a sedative. The only reason I got better is because I made myself get better.
I realized that there is so much to live for. My family was crushed when they found out the news of my thoughts, and this made me realize how much they loved me. In the three days I was there I missed my friends. I realized that there are people in this world that have it so much worse and that I need to just be happy with myself and my life. That hospitalization was such a blessing to me and I would not change what happened. If I hadn't of been admitted, I would still be in that same state of mind I was a month ago. It made me appreciate god so much more and made me realize that God has a plan and everything that happens to us is for a reason.
So please, if you are going through this reach out to someone. I promise you that although it may not seem like it, people care. And I know people say this a lot but, coming from someone who has been through it, it's going to get better. Please do not take that precious life of yours. Please do not damage that perfect skin. Your life matters. So please talk to someone and tell them everything. Let them help you. I love you.
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