When I was 18, EMTs came into my therapists office and took me away to the hospital in handcuffs. When I got there I was panicked, hyperventilating and crying. I wanted to leave. They took me into some back room and I begged them to let me go talk to my mom but they strapped me down and forcibly injected me with some sedatives. I woke up days later, admitted into Beth Israels psych ward. Im claustrophobic and it made my anxiety and panic attacks infinitely worse to be locked inside unable to breathe fresh air. Everyone else in there was like schizophrenic and talking to themselves and shit while i longingly stared out the window at people in the park, reminding myself they would let me out eventually, in a desperate attempt to subdue my panic attacks. Every now and then someone would have a melt down and start throwing chairs across the room or try to escape and i watched, in horror, as the staff held them down and shot them up. The team of psychologists refused to give me a diagnosis because my drug test had come back positive for marijuana and my eyes werent dilating properly when the EMTs took me. I spent my 19th birthday in there. my family came to visit me and cried and yelled at me about how worried about me they were and I held my tongue. Up until then, Id always been open about my feelings but in the hospital I realized the importance of keeping things bottled up and being dishonest with people you cant trust
Posted on: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 17:50:55 +0000
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