Psych Ward Dozen

You are in a crisis. Your life is in chaos. Trauma is all that you know. You cry and scream but you are alone. Your head is so confused and jumbled. You have been awake for two days straight hitting the crack pipe, trying to quiet the pain that has become who you are. Your lips are blistered and your fingers calloused. Your soul is shattered. You’ve burned all your bridges. Your parents don’t know what to do with you. You have no friends. Your family has turned against you. You have no money. You are disconnected from everyone and everything. Just an empty shell of anxiety with no way to release it.

You drive and cry aimlessly. There is nowhere you belong. The world has shut its doors on you. You go to the only place you know to go. Where everyone says is where you need to be. You are so scared. You sit in your car in the emergency room parking lot, chain smoking cigarettes. You can’t think straight. You are so utterly alone. You take the scissors and slice them over your leg. You watch the blood pool and spill and are entranced and calm. You snap back to reality and realize where you are. You don’t know what to do.

Do you go home and try to sleep and move on? But you are so tired. And you haven’t had any relief. If you go home you will die. You are so sad and broken. You have no hope. If only someone would just show you kindness, help you to calm down, and let you sleep. You crave safety. You take a breath and find that last spark of hope and you carry yourself into the emergency room. Broken, helpless, alone, terrified; it takes all of your energy and humility to walk to the desk. You say you need to talk to someone and are feeling unsafe and they look at you like you are nothing. 

Waiting and waiting in the emergency room. You don’t know if you should run or stay put. You are so scared and don’t want to be there. You pace. You keep going outside to smoke. You know you won’t have a chance to once you are admitted. It’s the only thing you know to do. Periodically you hold the hot lighter or lit cigarette to your skin. The heat sends a rush of relief, euphoria, and calm into your body. You are making more scars but that doesn’t matter; nothing matters but making it through the moment. This moment. Surviving until they call your name and you can finally rest.

Finally, they call your name. Asking a million questions and you are so tired. You’ve answered these questions all your life, so you say the answers emotionless, robotic. You are questioning if this is the right place to be. Maybe you made a mistake. You are alone. You tell the nurses that you are anxious. They respond by making judgments about your character, your body, your choices, and your worth. All negative. They tell you to change into a gown and they take away all of your belongings. You are left there half naked and scared in an unfamiliar place, with everything taken from you. You feel so broken, humiliated, angry, and confused. They wont give you any meds. They tell you that you need to talk to a psychiatrist first and the ER psych has 24 hours to see patients. You are in limbo. The pain is so deep. You lie there and cry because this is not what you wanted or needed when you came here.

There is a guard at the door. You can’t leave. You haven’t seen the doctor but they still guard you like a criminal. You are trapped. The doctor finally comes. You answer the questions. You’re so tired. He says they are going to admit you to the psychiatric unit. They make you go upstairs in a gurney, even though you tell them you can walk. You have no autonomy.

Once on the psych unit, you have to list all of your belongings and the staff go through everything to take out all contraband- including jewelry and strings. They make you take out all of your piercings and it feels like they are taking away who you are. Stripping you of everything that is a part of you. You are naked and exposed. They have a paper with a blank picture of a naked female. They make you remove your hospital gown so they can mark on the paper all of the scars on your body. The whole time they are commenting on how you shouldn’t do that to yourself and how you are too pretty to have so many ugly scars. Finally they take you to your room- no door, bars on the windows, white walls, hospital sheets and fake mirrors that wont break.

You sit on the small bed and cry because you feel so violated and angry. But you are so tired and all you want is to escape. Still no meds. You wanted rest and help and kindness; now you are alone and helpless and traumatized. You are stuck. You have no control. You are not a person with a voice. You are a criminal that needs to be handled with caution. You don’t deserve help or kindness. 

You realize how completely alone and powerless you are. How could you end up here again? Twelve times admitted to a psych ward means you must be crazy. Something inside you snaps. They broke you and you are no longer human. You can see it in their eyes when they look at you. You will never be the same after this.