*Content Warning: This piece contains references to suicide, which may be triggering to some.*
I had tried to commit suicide when I was 23 years old, which led to my first hospitalization at Shepherd Pratt. Before this, I had done a partial hospitalization through their day program and because of how positive the experience was two years prior, it led me to choose to return there for an in-house hospitalization.
I was terrified. But the fact that I wasn’t terrified in trying to take my life, made me realize that my terror was anxiety left untreated. One thing I’ll never forget is that I drove myself and checked in all on my own, because my parents refused to have any part in my healing. They had felt at the beginning that I wasn’t truly my diagnosis, (bipolar disorder type one), and that I truly didn’t need to be hospitalized.
What they didn’t know however, is that I spent weeks in my bed, afraid to leave, couldn’t make classes on time or at all, and never stayed constant on medicine. The stress of my grandma dying this past summer, a break up, and the loss of so many friends led me to becoming exasperated with emotional pain. And I tried to take my life on October 1st, 2018. I checked into Shepherd Pratt that Monday alone, and prepared myself for the program.
I couldn’t begin to describe my emotions through that checkin day, and how for the first time ever I was completely honest with doctors.
I was all over the place. But through a lot of reassurance by nurses, I came to the conclusion that I needed more than just another day program stint, and signed myself in to their hospital. I didn’t expect to feel so powerless, through the strip search and repeat questioning and blood work. I was a deflated balloon, and just desperately wanted to breathe on my own.
For the next seven days, I stayed on the young adult unit, and slowly participated more in the programs they offered throughout the day. To my own surprise, I had friends visit — and with snacks!
By day four, I really felt like myself and was on a proper medication schedule that straightened my head out. I was amazed at how easy things were becoming, and how things started to fall back into place for me.
My school accepted my medical leave of absence, and I was still on track to graduate. I made friends in the unit who only saw the realest version of myself and loved me anyway, which meant the world to me. I felt so judged before that I could never be myself around people to the realest extent, until now.
If anyone is reading this article and struggling with suicidal thoughts, hospitalization is not the end of the world. But the beginning of a new one.
