8 June 2020: Hospital Admission

2:53 AM

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I’m sitting here in the ED. Stripped of all my personal possessions. Clothed in a hospital gown, hospital socks, a face mask and a thin blanket to snuggle with. All that is me, everything that defines who I am is gone. No privacy, no dignity, no safe harbor. 

My fate rested in the hands of a crisis worker who did a hack job on a crisis eval. Asking questions off her checklist and moving on before listening to my answer. Not really listening to what I was saying. But she hears the words “bipolar” and “unmedicated” and immediately decides that inpatient is the right course of action. She didn’t bother to even listen to what the hell is happening, nor did she give two fucks. 

I’m not sure why I’m surprised by any of this. I’ve been here before…too many times. And every time it plays out the same. The pity, discomfort, and sometimes judging looks and interactions with doctors, nurses, and staff…the feeling in humane, like an animal in an open cage. Feeling like none of this is helpful, and may be more damaging in the long run. I’ve felt this before…and I knew it would be like this. Hopefully this time I won’t be handcuffed and transported by the police. 

This is why it’s so difficult to ask for help. Because it feels worse and sometimes it doesn’t feel better. And it’s a crap shoot. Maybe it’ll be better in the long run, but maybe it’ll just be another humiliating experience in my life journey. I’m not sure which way it’ll go, but I’m not holding my breath or having high expectations. 

One thing I do know is I can’t keep going on the way it’s been. And I know that because yesterday I reached the point where I didn’t give two fucks. I bought a pack of razors and the largest bottle of sleeping pills on the shelf, headed to work and sat there tickling my wrist with the razor. I knew I could finish the bottle of tequila, take the pills and cut my wrists and hopefully that would be the end. And it seemed easy. It seemed like the answer. Until I pulled into the parking lot and my boss’s truck was there. And then all of a sudden it didn’t seem so easy. It all of a sudden felt very difficult. 

I don’t know what’s gonna happen in the coming days. Hell, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen in the coming hours. But I’m screaming on the inside, and I’m pleading for some fucking tender mercy. For a small sliver of grace. For a moment of peace to calm the storm raging inside. I just need it to be quiet. I just need it to stop.

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