my last in-patient psych hospital stay
I wrote this in August 2021, but I just found it as I was going through files on my phone. Thought I would share it in case it’s helpful for anyone.
TW: suicidal ideation, hospitals, mental illness, American health care system, probably more. Don’t read if you’re low on spoons.
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Note: This was my 3rd time in In-patient. It was by far the weirdest and most unpleasant of the three. I’m not sure how to process what happened. I originally wrote this just as a note on my phone so I’d have a record.
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I was at the ER for about 20 hours (I got there at about 11:30 pm Wednesday). It was rough. I couldn’t get comfortable. Too hot, too cold, sweating, shaking. I did my crying for a few hours. Mid-morning (maybe 3 am or so) I was feeling better - not good but not in danger. At this point, I was wishing I would have looked into an IOP program rather than going to the hospital…
I ended up sitting in this room they called “the pod.” I met a homeless guy who came in to get his meds refilled (fuck the American healthcare system- you shouldn’t have to go to the ER for your basic meds…). He had been in jail for over a decade, covered head to toe in ink. So soft spoken, so kind. Even with his issues, he was comforting everyone else.
At 5-5:30 pm on Thursday I got transferred to a psych hospital. I was reminded of how uncomfortable ambulances are.
Once there I went through some violating shit (that’s still fucking with me). They went through all my stuff (without asking), then they did a cavity search. Hadn’t planned on being butt-ass naked in front of two nurses and two hospital cops… and then they put on an ankle bracelet. Fun.
I only got to eat twice the whole time and never got my meds. So I was having withdrawal symptoms from being off my psych meds for that long. More cold sweats and vivid, violent nightmares. Also, I had a headache that turned into a migraine. Take your meds - withdrawal sucks.
I was supposed to stay 72 hours minimum, but I talked my way into leaving early. It was causing more trauma than it was helping. I feel like I should get some punk rock points for talking my way out of the psych ward on Friday the 13th (my attempt at humor currently).
(The next day)
I got a notification that my chart was updated so I just read through it. Maybe I’m misreading something but apparently, I have a history of Anorexia and PTSD. I mean that’s news to me, but why not… Also, my blood work looks like maybe I’m anemic again. Cool, cool.
So yeah that was my last few days. Needless to say, I want to live in the woods and just not be a part of this society anymore.
Lastly, for whatever it’s worth, these were the two songs that were stuck in my head during this whole time