I took a bottle of 5 milligram ssris, I was dumb enough, naive enough to believe it would kill me. Since I feel like a loser with these voices in my head inhibiting my progress. Every whisper, every time I think I hear someone calling my name and no one is there. Every moment I silently look at the people around me to see if they are hearing what I am hearing. The ward takes your autonomy. It is humiliating because you are treated like a child, and the doctor has say over what you will be drugged with. Do not comply? You stay. The sounds of people screaming because their minds are melting haunt you. The noises like nails on a chalkboard that you can't escape, but worse. You wonder how you got here. You look around trying to understand how you got here. Your clothes are the same medical scrubs as everyone else. You are likely barefoot. Each everyday thing from a toothbrush to showering must be requested - then you have to give everything back. You try to hang yourself but the shower curtains are Velcro on the ceiling and there is nothing to die with. You are frustrated. Voices taunt you endlessly as you try your best to escape. You ponder escape and realize being a runaway psych patient will only get you a reputation in the outside world that affects your ability to rent, work, go to school, ect. Not every job wants to hire people who have been here and some have ways to find out. Doors are shut for you. But if you have been here multiple times this is nothing new. Hours of boredom passes. The sterile environment makes the boredom worse somehow. You are seen as "that person" for being here. You are the type of disability no one touches- the one people call insane. You try to find comfort in a chaplain but they are homophobic and do not comfort you once they find out you are in a same sex relationship. The grief for your dead best friend that made these voices so much worse is overwhelming and you do all you can do- feeling like a child guarded 24/7 by guards- you act like one. You sob. You sob like a fucking baby. Not because of the voices. Not because of the people screaming in solitary confinement triggering your PTSD like hell and you are afraid you are next- not even because the hospital lost your shoes..... No. You cry because your best friend is dead and you miss their embrace. Even the voices trying to scream over your grief do not silence the agony.
The mental ward
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