This is a little summary of my experience at the Pond House (an inpatient psychiatric facility).
After waiting 6-7 excruciating hours in the emergency room, I was taken into the mental health holding unit. I was going to have to stay here overnight. I couldn’t have my mom or anyone stay with me… couldn’t even have my phone. I was so scared. After crying for what seemed like hours, I finally fell asleep.
I was woken up suddenly by a nurse coming in to take my vitals, then back to sleep I went to try and waste time. Finally my mom and grandma showed up to see me. I just cried and kept crying. My mom had to leave a little bit earlier to handle my life out of here and reach out to my school and let them know where I was. My grandma stayed with me and laid with me until I was transferred. I really wondered if I was making the right decision or not… But this help was long overdue.
Eventually, the doctors explained that they were taking me to the inpatient facility on another floor of the hospital. So my grandma had to leave, and I was back to being alone. The doctors scanned their badges to make their way through many doors in the hospital, and then we made it.
They wheeled me into the inpatient facility. I saw a few other people, but I was way too scared and upset to speak. They showed me around and brought me to the room I would be staying in. I met my roommate, who was a woman in her late 60’s probably. I ended up just laying in bed for the first day.
I was only able to make calls during certain hours of the day, and I could only make calls to people with the “860” area code. If anyone I was trying to call had a different area code, then I had to ask the lady at the front desk to help me make the call. I only had that trouble when trying to call my boyfriend. And I could only make that call twice a day, because of the trouble it was to do so. We also had to visitations a day, at certain times, for an hour each, and it could only be 3 people. The visits took place a tiny common room, you had zero privacy, and the head people listened in. I literally felt like I was in jail… I stayed angry that first day.
Eventually by the next day, I decided that I was going to accept the decision that I made and get the help. I started to talk to some people and mingle a bit. By the end of my stay, I made some really good friends, received the help I needed, and had an experience I would never forget.
I definitely could have used another day at the facility, but if I decided to stay, then I would not have been able to leave until Monday… They do not discharge people on Saturdays or Sundays. I was too scared to stay any longer, so I decided I would get permission to be discharged. That day, my mom came and picked me up, I also received my phone back. Things felt very weird for me. I was literally cut off from society for a few days. I wasn’t able to have my phone to contact anyone, just had to use the facility’s phone. It took me a few days to adjust back to normal, and start to use the coping tools they gave me. Also, I could now start taking a medication to help with my depression. Besides the medicine making me gain some extra weight, it has been a huge help for me. This whole experience was very hard for me, but I was strong enough to get the help that I needed and be brave.
People with any mental health illness, are real people. The stigma needs to end. (A stigma is basically some shame or disgrace that is associated with a certain circumstance, or quality) Stigmas cause people to feel ashamed for something that is out of their control. AND the worst?! Stigmas cause people to NOT get help, because of what others may think of them.
As a person with a mental health illness, I have realized that they best way to end the stigma, is to openly talk about mental health. Also, educate yourself and others who do not suffer. Try to show your compassion towards those with mental health illnesses. Also, be open about your treatment. Do not be embarrassed to say you see a therapist, etc.
PlussLife 