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(4/5) Psychiatric Hospital by DestinyBlue (4/5) Psychiatric Hospital by DestinyBlue
My story from the beginning:  (1/5) Psychotic Depression by DestinyBlue or if you just want to know what a psychiatric hospital is like, start there :)

Its dark, cold, and late when I arrive. I'm greeted by a distracted staff member who sits me in the empty communal area of the all female acute mental health ward, she tells me she'll be back in a few minutes. I wait. I know the room is probably silent, but that doesn't stop the whispers in my head sounding like there is someone just behind me, who moves away as I turn to look. Perhaps an hour passes, when, without warning, a woman bursts in to the small room, she is wearing a hospital issue nightgown and her hair as wild as her eyes. She runs in my direction, grabbing the nearest chair she hurls it across the room. She gets through another before staff rush in to subdue her. My blood and her screams ring round my ears. She's shouting she doesn't belong in a mental hospital.

I think maybe I don't either. 

My crisis doesn't look like throwing chairs. It looks like sitting on the floor, quiet. Crying is the step before, it's worse if I'm doing nothing. All I can do is wait, silently, for time to pass, and try not do anything I might not live to regret.

Just as I think this, another staff member comes and removes me. Taking me to a small room, she demands my bad, empties its contents on the bare table, and starts manhanding each of my hastily packed personal possessions. Turns out, if you want to, you can hurt yourself with nearly anything. So, for my own good, she says, she takes away most of my clothes(ligatures) my toiletries, mechanical pencils, spiral bound notebook. I don't feel anything until she takes my phone; like hollow pull of a chord unplugged within me. I'm walked to my room, but now my shoes don't have laces so it's tricky.

The room is clinically bare, with a hospital bed on wheels and plastic mattress in one corner, and a battered chest of draws in the other. My own room. My new home.  It has a bathroom, with a press and hold shower, a toilet with no lid, and one of those plastic mirrors which distorts everything. I stare at my contorted face, as screams from another room lap over me.

Tonight I lock my door.

I don't sleep much. Between the noises inside and outside my head (not that I know which is which) I'm on suicide watch, so the staff open my door ever 15 minutes and shine a torch on me. Checks. 

Breakfast is at 8am sharp. Served from a hole in the wall with a shutter. Porridge. The patients line up patiently.

After breakfast there's a community meeting. We have to go round the circle and introduce ourselves and tell everyone our favourite flower. One lady says her favourite flower is self raising. So she can make pastry.

I notice there are so many different types of people here. I learn that wards are governed by your postcode, not your mental illness. So people all types of illnesses are treated on the same ward. After my initial welcome with the chair throwing, I was nervous about meeting the others here. I worry they are dangerous.

In fact, they turn out to be some of the most interesting and sweetest people I've encountered. After going through enough to get you into a psych ward, you probably have to examine your humanity quite thoroughly. They are all ill, but generally thoughtful, reasonable and respectful, as well as being thoroughly interesting -What stories they have! Of course some are unpleasant to interact with, or completely disconnected in their own world, but they are often the most ill. 

To introduce a few: (names and specifics changed) Lola paces the halls in her stilettos, dressed in full glamour like she's ready to be a contestant on 'take me out'. After dinner each day she has a shower, then come out her room in a towel and smeared make-up to do a dance and speak in tongues. Bea is a writer, but says the medication stifles her creativity, so to get it back, she uses crack cocaine. Upon learning I'm an artist, she insists I give crack a chance. Sammy loves flowers. So much so that every piece of her clothing is covered in ornate flowers, they don't match, but she doesn't mind. She smiles a lot. She's been in here a over a year. Ruth is stunningly beautiful, has the best cheekbones I've ever seen, and 2 PHDs to boot. Jackie, The chair thrower, will tell anyone who'll listen that she's trapped here because of a conspiracy theory by her Son. Zara is convinced another another woman on the ward is having an affair with her husband, she throws spaghetti over her at dinner, and is promptly moved to a different ward. Elizabeth doesn't look old enough to be here, she hasn't got a family home to go back to, she has to have a staff member with her 24 hours a day because she hurts herself and bangs her head against the wall. Fliss never says a word. The staff always try and take her food away before shes finishes because she takes so long, I feel protective of her, and don't let them until she is finished. She leans over to me and whispers the only thing I every hear her say "I know what you are: A magician" 

Then there is this girl with blue hair, who carries her sketchbook everywhere, quiet but inquisitive, hearing voices, seeing things which aren't there, not knowing what's real, and wanting to die. 

The second night I don't lock my door. 

Ward life is pretty regimented, set meals, and three structured activities each day. From music, art, colouring, baking, news, nail painting, discussion, you are not forced to participate, but if you want a good report, and to get out, you should. 

The ward is shaped like a spider, the communal hub and dining hall in the middle, with the corridors like legs branching off, they are long, cold, and dull beige. 

Reality is still not conforming for me, and life is dark and hollow, and now a new hallucination has joined in; Bugs. On the walls, the ceiling the floors, one scuttles over the Doctors face as she's talking to me. But I am not scared of the bugs, I am more scared of having no phone, the disconnect and isolation, my old life is inaccessible. Did it even happen at all? There is one computer, which patients can use, but social media is blocked, and you have a staff member over your shoulder, looking at the pages you visit and writing down what you are typing. No one used the computer much. There is one wall mounted phone, which is almost always occupied, and the cause of the most arguments on the ward. There is a persistent humm of unreality which I don't know if it's caused by the ward or my illness.

There are two types of patients here (and generally in psychiatric hospitals in England) voluntary and involuntary. I am voluntary. Meaning I chose to be in the ward and, theoretically, can leave at any time. (However getting let out is another thing) Involuntary patients are held under the Mental Health Act, there are many sections of this act you can be detained with. That's why it's often called 'sectioned'  Their stay is often longer, and not at their choice. It's done to protect themselves and/or others, they can be forced to take medication. If I hadn't gone voluntarily to hospital when I did, I probably would have ended up being sectioned. Even though I'm voluntary, the Doctor can basically keep me here as long as she likes. So things like behaving and 'playing well with others' are important, I don't want to be switched to involuntary; Which happens to Elizabeth as she wants to leave and staff wont let her, she gets frantic and upset, and the staff restrain and sedate her. 

Really, these wards are a holding pens, there to catch the most ill. They offer a place, with basic needs cared for, but very few services or real rehabilitation. Chronic underfunding for decades has meant there are very few wards left at all, so only those with serious immediate needs get to access them. Beds are scarce, a week in and today one girl who is clearly still very ill is sent home so her bed could be given to someone else. No counselling or psychotherapy is offered to me, I don't even get to speak to my named nurse because she is so busy. There are obvious staff shortages, and because my crisis is sitting quietly, I'm not getting much personal support, staff help the patients throwing the chairs and banging their heads first (of course) But I am grateful for this place, I do feel safer, I know someone is on hand if I ever need, and I don't have access to much I could hurt myself with, the hallucinations are easier to control in here. 

Another week inside, little improvement, I decide to try something I never have before. Medication. I've always wanted to avoid it, if I could, and work through things on my own. I worry the side effects will be worse than the illness, will make me less 'me'. But if the solution is death or drugs. I'll try drugs. I understand enough to know I need every help I can get now. For the first few days I'm tired, really tired, I don't come out my room much, and sleep a lot. After the initial wave breaks, I find a small shift. There are less bugs. Slowly the hallucinations lessen, and my mood also lifts, enough that I can catch my breath again, and steady myself, find some kind of grounding. It's helping. I am still me, and I still have to swim in the lake of darkness, but perhaps the belt of stones has been unfastened.

Two weeks later again and I'm sent home. Twice a day I get visits from the home treatment team. They give me my medication and check up on me. I can call them at any time. 

Reality is starting to warp back into one I recognise, one I can navigate, one which is bearable to live in.

I find a therapist. Her frontdoor is exactly the same colour as my hair. Perfect. Now that's a connection in the world which is good :)

It's February 2016, I missed all of January, so I look at this as a new start, like my new year.

Peace, Love and Hospital Food,
Blue x

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~Featured Artwork~

Depression by DestinyBlue She's brOKen by DestinyBlue Last Piece by DestinyBlue Anxiety by DestinyBlue
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carrot2015 Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2019
Last year, I was in a psychiatric closed ward in Poland for a month and liked the stay. I went there because I was suicidal and the hospital helped me. First of all, inside one is cushioned from the outside world and its problems. I was also enjoying spending time with others so my suicidal thoughts vanished.

On the ward, patients were not allowed to have their mobile phones and most electronic devices with them. There was one telephone in the corridor, which was receive-only (people outside could call you but outgoing calls were not possible). There were no fights over the phone that I can remember. These limits were a bit inconvenient, but in the end of the day it was a technology detox; because of it we were spending more times socializing.

I was staying in a general-purpose hospital that has many types of wards (cardiology, laryngology, neurology, etc.) and some
psychiatry. The psychiatric wards are small, the closed one had 20-ish beds if I remember correctly.

In the hospital there are four mental health wards: two day care centres, an open ward and a closed ward. In the day care centres patients are meeting for 4-5 hours each day (during working hours) and going to their homes after that. They have art therapy, psychoeducation, some physical exercises, etc. Same in the open ward, but people there stay in the hospital, which is convenient for those who don't live nearby. The closed ward has a key-closed door and patients are not allowed to go outside.

I had been attending a day care centre for around a month before going to the closed ward.

"I decide to try something I never have before. Medication. I've always wanted to avoid it, if I could, and work through things on my own. I worry the side effects will be worse than the illness, will make me less 'me'".
It's pity that You did not start on the drugs earlier, they could have saved You much suffering and trouble. Many side effects of drugs vanish after a few days even if you get them. In the past, I have also waited too long before having had gone to a psychiatrist (because of various reasons).

In conclusion, psychiatric wards are for "normal" people and it is not appropriate to fear them and be ashamed of having been in one.
DarkUnknow Featured By Owner Edited Jun 23, 2019  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Depression has became like something that will never leave me in life. I mean, it attached so badly like super glue, that I'll have to rip my skin off to get rid of it.
UncleSunday Featured By Owner Apr 1, 2019
indeed indeed friend
Axic0n Featured By Owner Mar 30, 2019  Hobbyist General Artist
So where is 5/5?
miremor Featured By Owner Jul 9, 2018
in Barcelona and Madrid, almost, the psiquiatric is nothing similar at this, if you enter you have a room sometimes with other person, with a toilet, in psiquiatric not advanced, there are nurses mans and womans the doors are always open and there are more rooms with other people if you stay not in your room you can go at the tv place or play at pinpon game there are a room for lunch dinner with all the people with the horary
menutman Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2018
20 mil stars easily, the story is truly well I don't know what to say, just really I don't know, positive obviously, and the picture, oh! Just, can't find the words!
Firecracker-skywing Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2018  Student Digital Artist
where's 5/5?
luko3artist Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2018
5/5 amazing artist
Inky-Shade Featured By Owner May 26, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I think it's supposed to be symbolising that her story (the final part) is not over yet.
Firecracker-skywing Featured By Owner May 27, 2018  Student Digital Artist
ohhhh you are smart. lol i'm dumb. thank you!
Inky-Shade Featured By Owner May 27, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Well, it wasn't really that obvious XD
I just took a guess here :3
Firecracker-skywing Featured By Owner May 29, 2018  Student Digital Artist
oh lol either way thank you
Surdy78 Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2018
Last stage :)
Durtyass Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2018
Gierek76 Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Great style!
EthanCantDraw Featured By Owner Edited Jan 31, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
This really reminds my of this book, "Challenger Deep." If you like Blue's work, you should definitely check it out.
EDIT: Sorry if 'work' sounds wrong... Experience? Documentation? Either way, It's probably one of the best things I have seen on DA.
EDIT: ... I said 'best.' Oh, whatever, you get the idea! Clap 
EthroeTheArtist Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2018  Hobbyist
I have had similar experiences. Though my depression comes from physical pain, a disease I have which makes my skin feel burnt, my muscles bruised, and my bones fractured. It isn't curable and I've watched my father fight through it to support my family for 14-15 years. I've watched him lose jobs over his pain which clouds over his mind and closes off his thinking as it does mine. I'm going on 9 years now and am finally finding some things which I pray may continue lowering the amount that I suffer. I move. I just move as much as I rest, pushing hard against the pain which makes me fall to my knees and cry. This is the only thing I've found to help in the slightest.

I'm young. Unusually so for the physical illness I have, Fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia, a term which is hopeless in and of itself. When you've tried everything, gone to every 'ologist under the sun and still haven't found any explanation for the pain that makes sitting up in the morning a 2 hour long process, they tell you that you have Fibromyalgia. Unexplainable, incurable, lifelong, unending, pain. Pain that I've had for over half of my life. Pain that made a 16 year old boy hold a knife to his throat and beg to be taken somewhere safe. Somewhere where he couldn't hurt himself.

My mother called my therapist. My therapist told her to take me to the ER. We got in the car and my mother drove me there while I begged both to be taken somewhere safe and to die. I waited in the ER overnight and talked to a social worker. She told me that protocol dictated I would have to be taken to an in-house facility. So I was. They tried for local but failed. I was shipped off two and half hours away in the tiny backseat of a police car. My legs cramped and screamed and I had nothing to do but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. The windows were blacked out so I couldn't even see out.

It was 10:00pm on January 3rd when I arrived in a facility which I was sure had the AC on. It was freezing and silent and terrifying. My emotions, unlike yours, were completely intact, so the fear of this strange place, missing my family, insurity of the future, all of these crashed in on me in waves. I cried. I'm not ashamed to say it. The pain makes me cry occasionally but after 9 years it no longer conjures tears. This was not a cry of pain so the tears came freely. In thick warm waves down my face. I calmed and was greeted by a nurse. She wasn't distracted, per se, but she wasn't touchy-feely. She was here to do her job and I was the next thing on the checklist. She took my height, weight, etc. Drew blood and took me back to "The Unit" where I would be staying. There were three units: Unit 1 housed minors (like myself), Unit 2 housed adults, and Unit 3 housed the exceptionally blood-thirsty. I was, of course, placed in Unit 1, an icelandic, round, mostly open area with a nurses station and rooms around it's circumference. Each room housed 2-4 patients.

The nurse sat me down at one of the many tables in the unit and began asking me questions such as my birthday, whether I wanted to harm myself or others, you know, the basic getting-to-know-you questions and then escorted me to Room 32 which I would be sharing with another male of similar age. I got my bathroom but the only thing that separated it from the rest of the room was a curtain. The doors to the rooms were always open while occupied so privacy was a joke. I didn't really mind though. I'd asked to be taken somewhere safe, somewhere I could be watched, and they had delivered. I felt very safe and mostly frozen.

I climbed into my bed. The mattresses weren't quite the right size, so they hung a bit off the edge on one side but that wasn't a big deal. I laid there for a few minutes and stared at the ceiling. The overwhelming loneliness hit me like a 100 tons of water and I cried again. A few minutes after laying down a nurse came in and talked to me. She was super nice and told me a bit about the inhabitants. She put such a positive spin on the place that I fell asleep with a smile on my face, excited for tomorrow.

The nurse the night before had promised me that I'd be aloud to sleep in since I'd been so late getting to bed but apparently she forgot to relay the promise to the other nurses because they not only didn't let me sleep in. They woke me up an hour before everyone else. Food. My unending list of rediculous food allergies has returned to curse me yet again. They needed to have me tell them, yet again, every single thing I couldn't eat and then try and name everything I can eat. My food allergies consist of: Gluten (wheat, barley, malt, rye), corn (corn syrup, corn starch, food starch, maltodextrin, etc), apples, pears, plums, peaches, pineapples, nectarines, kiwi, cherries, walnuts, and almonds to name a few. It sounds pretty daunting but the menu usually had something I could eat and when it didn't the kitchens would be this super awesome chef salad.

It wasn't long until they brought in breakfast and everyone began waking up. At this point in time believed that the patients were a 50/50 split. Half of them wanted to kill themselves and the other half wanted to kill me. So when an angry looking emo girl with a half-shaved head and a curtain of blood-red hair covering half of her angry eyes I was sure I was looking at the face of future murderer. However as I soon learned the patients here were almost entirely on the suicidal end of the spectrum.

I believe it's time for some form of introductions. My fellow patients and friends as follows (with names and personal stuff changed, obviously):
- Iris, Emo Girl: Depression, self-harm, voices, the works. She's hot mess. My bestie and girlfriend.
- Clay, Roommate: Depression, my roommate, didn't talk much, gay,
- Star, Small & Sassy: Foreign (from North Africa? I think?), Tripped her (adopted) mother and laughed, super sassy, super cute, super funny, super young,
- Clara: Came in beaten up, nice, didn't get along with Star,
- Lacy, Majorly Goofy: Depression, bullied, funny, cried often,
- Ruby: Grew up way too fast, depression, bullied, misunderstood, bisexual,
- Wren: depressed, voices, abused, bullied, lesbian,
- There were many other patients I just don't have the time or memory to write all of them.

I made lots of friends and watched them heal and improve and leave. I also got much of the help I needed in order to improve. I feel that I grew a lot over my 11 days there. I'm not proud of what I did to get myself there but I saw so much good come from it that I don't regret what I did to get me there.

Blue, thank you for your story. I hope mine want too long. Good luck.
- Ethroe
menutman Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2018
Definitely powerful! The story in the desc. And this are two pieces of well written experience stories, I have to thank you, my mum has fibro, and I have depression, so this definitely helps
IllegalCatToss Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
It's bothering me so much that there's no 5/5 xP
xFlamie Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2018  Student Filmographer
Maybe it's because the last chapter of her life isn't over yet, she's still fighting and living her life the way she dreams it should be🖤
Just a guess though..
Alisenokmice Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
the same QwQ
pikachu365 Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2018
UniversalKinase Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2018  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Your portrayal of this is brilliant, and haunting.
A world upside-down, devoid of the things life is supposed to have.
chaconfabricio Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2018
Cool. I get you. Great writing. Happy birthday! :)
TheDoodlingFox Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2018  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Its hard not t cry reading your stories, I feel bad, I hope you are ok and don't want to inflict self harm, or die. You are worth it ^^.
cjmarsh725 Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2018
I can totally relate, more than once unfortunately. The saddest thing is that it takes time to recover from the experience even though the experience is supposed to be for recovery. The harsh reality is that when basic human dignities are stripped from you then even the staff, unsurprisingly, treats you as less than human. The most tragic thing I've ever witnessed is people whose minds are even more damaged than mine being treated so poorly by the people who are supposed to be helping them.
pusheenqueen Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
What's the 5th? Also I wish you wellness and good being 😁😘
StrawberryScissors Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2017
I'm touched, I hope you get well :)
H-Everybody-Lies--MD Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
I suppose I can make a comment on here. (Trigger Warning: Explicit mention of suicide)

I've been hospitalized 9 times, averaging about three per year since I was diagnosed in end of September 2014. This year it was four times (so far). I was originally diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on self-harm and suicide obsessions (note: NOT suicidal ideation) and then I developed secondary depression over the winter break. Then, then I became genuinely suicidal while also dealing with the OCD on the obsessions which are like involuntary, intrusive thoughts about hurting myself that I did not want to act on (until I did). I tried to kill myself for the first time on January 6th 2015.

It was at the end of January when horrid snowstorms happened and I missed my train to campus that I was hospitalized for the first time. My method of choice was where I got off the train and had it not been for my stuff (backpack and books) and a person pacing on the train platform, I think I would have drowned. Instead, I called my school's counseling center and they advised me to go to the hospital and I remember telling them, "No, I think it makes more sense for me to kill myself first and then go to the hospital." I was disoriented and couldn't remember what professor's or classes I had and everything was just heightened. I had miraculously signed a release form the week prior, at the center, so they were able to contact my parents and I went home only to wind up in the hospital. That was my first one. (Because of my recent attempt and the action I had taken another week prior I was determined a danger to myself. I've NEVER gone through an evaluation and not been hospitalized... Lucky me.)

In March 2015 the day after self-injury awareness day, I brought pills to school and another method to kill myself before my counseling appointment. It took an hour with the graduate student before I told him that I had the methods with me on my backpack. I was hospitalized again, picked up by ambulance that afternoon. That was a hard one because I was so scared and threw the graduate student under the bus so fast, trying to pretend like he didn't know what he was talking about and that I was fine and didn't need to go. They realized what I was doing though and I remember he was still there for me to expel my fears and doubts. He also drew with me for a little while before the campus police arrived and the EMT's, and I'm forever grateful for that distraction.

In June 2015, upon finding out the OCD-Institute in MA would require a 3 month waitlist I became suicidal once more. Cue another hospitalization.

In the fall 2015 I wound up in the OCD-I for 5 weeks. That was helpful. I continued my recovery and was free from self-harm for about 9 months with a couple of lapses. Life was good for a while.

And in September 2016 I got hospitalized again. I was on my way home after school from a particularly stressful time with charcoal in a drawing class I took, when I passed by the pond slowly... then sped up quickly afterwards in the anger that I didn't drive into it to die. It just so happened a police officer was cruising by in the other direction, pulled over, put his lights on and came back for me. I told him when he asked that I was feeling suicidal, I was less than a mile from my home, and he immediately got on his radio to get an ambulance to me. He was very, very kind. I didn't get a ticket, although I'm certain it would have been less expensive than the stay XD. My Mom was not too pleased, angry and helpless, and was short with me with the astonished paramedics.

Time went on, and in November 2016 I was hospitalized again.

In January 2017 I was hospitalized again, right before my first suicide attempt 'anniversary' where I was deciding I'd be getting high off of 'pills'.

Later on, I started a job that wasn't a good fit for me, it was a mental health worker but within the prison system. A little stressful, let's say. I tried to kill myself for the fourth time in March 2017. I ingested 600mg of a particular pill. I hallucinated and pretty much was acting like I was drunk, given what I took, and nodded off for four hours missing my classes and a meeting before I came to and realized my Mom was going to be picking me up and I didn't want her to see me like that. I reached out to a friend of mine who works at the university, something I still regret to this day. Although, I know I wouldn't have made it to the counseling center on my own. I got lost in the building I was in and asked someone for directions because my short term memory was shot to pieces and I remember hearing my voice slur (which was NOT a list of side effects that could happen) and I was very, very scared. I made it to my friend and he brought me into the counseling center. I couldn't even walk straight, I had to hold onto him for support and I kept leaning over to my right side. I had double vision when they handed me the pen to sign the paperwork and I couldn't recall why the letter P looked off when initialing my name, until I drew another line and it made an R. Some of the lines I just checked off rather than initialing. When the therapist I met with on emergency asked me questions I would hold the question in my mind for a moment, forget it and then have to ask again what the question was. That was the one and only time I was hospitalized after an attempt. My other attempts never landed me in the hospital. My second attempt left me with a permanent side effect.

I spent three days in the hospital and came out just as suicidal as when I went in. I started writing more suicide letters and reached out again to my friend who got me in contact with the dean of students at school and we had a meeting where the EMT's came up and we sorted out what was going to happen, which was by far the best way it could have gone. I was self-harming at the time and we spoke about that and when I went to the ER, the psychiatrist there was very, very nice and actually asked my own input for what treatment I wanted since at this point I was dealing with chronic suicidality. I appreciated this by far. It was decided I needed to go though, so I was shipped off to my eighth hospitalization.

There, they brought up the idea that I was dealing with obsessionality on suicide and self-harm and depressive symptoms AND that I may have some traits of borderline. So the OCD has melted away now and I get fun mood swings instead. In June 2017 I was hospitalized again because I was suicidal and wanting to overdose on a higher amount than before, even though the idea came to me for self-harming at first. I spoke with my fiend who was concerned and spoke in depth about it to my therapist who ordered the evaluation. Because I had accessed the pills and knowingly separated them out I was hospitalized. It sucked because I was more preventative that time and it felt like a punishment rather than a safety measure. I spent 16 days in that hospitalization, met my friend Kaiden there (whom we still communicate and hang out on a weekly basis) and was feeling suicidal again when I got out, unfortunately. I haven't gone back to the hospital since, although I've had some close calls. I'm hoping it lasts like this through the semester as well. This is my last year in college and I want to look into becoming a peer support specialist and mental health worker once I graduate. I have to be in recovery for a year and be out of the hospital for that amount of time, too.

I guess I was feeling nostalgic today to write this comment, but my main point is that for all the times I was hospitalized, some places definitely better than others, I'm glad that I was. I needed it at the time for various reasons and I may need it again in the future and that's just a part of what managing these mental health conditions is for me at this moment in time. There are some things I regret but I don't spend too much time thinking about them. I get flashbacks now and then and nightmares too, but overall I'm a fighter and I'm doing the best I can. I'm very open about my story and what I've been through, and like you, Blue, I share my story so other people can feel less alone and be helped by my experiences. I've made a lot of art through the years and I've met many people in that time, professionals and patients alike, and I don't regret that. People have told me I will make a great therapist one day, I am hopeful that that is true. I am also hopeful that one day I won't want to die as much, and I hope I survive like a true survivor radiating badassery to make it to that day. I will do everything I can, and if I have to go to the hospital again to be safe and to achieve such dreams, well, I guess I'll just have to pack my bags and bring some good books with me again.

Thank you so much for reading, whoever has. You are not alone. You are loved, your are important, you are worthwhile. Reach out to someone, anyone, if you are struggling. Your life is worth living. Big hugs!!!
ElegantlyTwisted Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2017  Student Digital Artist
you’ve been through a lot. You must be very strong. Your story really touched my heart. Get well soon. 
BlackWidow1001 Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
;-; you touched my heart (p.s. hope your ok) Miuna Crying Icon 
H-Everybody-Lies--MD Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey there! Thank you! :huggle:

I've been on a good streak this week, it's starting to go down a bit at this moment in time yet it'll go back up eventually. Thanks for reaching out! :) :heart:
BlackWidow1001 Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
welcome I hope you have a good week though X>
kmateta Featured By Owner Aug 20, 2017  Student Filmographer
Where's 5/5???!!!😭
wasteland-tree Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
psychiatric hospitals are cold, sure, but they're full of nice people and good food and you get a free journal
MelodySilverpaw Featured By Owner Edited Aug 5, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
I was unwilling. Three times. The third being worst, since it was "residential treatment".

I never wanted to be there, and was very adamant about telling every staff member and parent I could about how awful it was and how it wasn't ever going to help me. Because if I said even *one* positive thing about it, I'd've lost. Lost the battle. They could say, "Well, at least there's that, right? It's good that we sent you there."

But it wasn't.
morningstarskid Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2017  Hobbyist Photographer
I had my 3rd break from reality in 2 yrs this one was bad...i ended up in Crisis where o stayed for 3 weeks MDD.. the Dr there was a blessed mam got me back on track with meds and suggestions on major life changes with my career on auto motive management and alcohol abuse..He saved my sanity...been back 3 times for med interactions but hes got me back eacj time..?I believe the plan i have in place the meds and career decision to leave that world afrtr 32yrs was necessary for my sanity..
dragontransformation Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2017  Student Digital Artist
I went to an institution in October 2015, sadly I did not have as good of an experience as you and my mother fought to get me out of there a week after I volunteered to go in. I am so glad that you are feeling better and your art inspires me greatly. Continue on in life and I hope that you'll still be okay in the long run.
BMoraes13 Featured By Owner Apr 16, 2017  Student Filmographer
Blackrose141 Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
while reading your series, I found it really comforting that someone else suffers from what I suffer. I started hallucinating at age 9. I was also delusional and believed myself to have various powers and to be inhuman. Now I just have episodes here and there. And to be honest, I probably should have been hospitalized a few times when the full breaks were becoming more frequent. Now I'm just medicated. 'm never 100% in reality, but I don't suffer from full breaks as often anymore. 
ghostk1ller Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2017
When is the last edition in this is coming out ?
CuteMeetsPaper Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
This made me cry. I dont know but i felt a prison vibe when i read about this.
GEZIM1885 Featured By Owner Aug 4, 2017
Its Really Sad And Intense What She Holds In It Thats Why Youve Felt Like That . By Just Look At All This You Get Really Sad Also Scared .
Chocolatekitty27 Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I'm so glad that you're getting help- much love <3
White-Pencil Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for sharing your experience. I think more people should be properly educated about how psychiatric hospitals work... But that's another thing.
This question may seem out of place, but how was the food?
GrumpyCat20 Featured By Owner Feb 27, 2017  Student General Artist
I actually know what you are feeling. Let me explain, I went to a psychiatric hospital too. Even if I'm a young soul and I want to go there cause it helps me a lot. I have been in the same boat as you, and I feel like we kinda have the same story. I don't know if you have the same as me but it was pretty hard. No friends and we were cut of the world. When I went there, everyone was actually very protective with me. Being the youngest made me scared but I went over it. As people say life is not a present to some people. Sometimes it's a nightmare. But think about all those good moments of your life with your boyfriend or your friends and then smile. Smile with them real smiles. A lot have appended to me and I feel like we are kinda the same but at the same time we are not. But I want you to know that I lived the same thing and I'm still living it. It can be hard but I just think about my friends and my family and then I smile.

Ravenqueen2002 Featured By Owner Feb 5, 2017  Student General Artist
Your art warms my art and inspires me at the same time :)
ExplodingElephunky Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
This really got me in the feels.
UltimateLazerbot Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2016   Digital Artist
I'm going to give this all a look eventually
I read the description and i gotta say I never being in one of those places myself came to understand how it is to be in one of those.
My brother who struggled with suicidal thoughts and still does Id imagine was in there not to long ago, it wasn't a mental institution but i think the place before that, the ward you spoke of if I'm not mistaken. He was also voluntary put himself in because of his suicidal thoughts, he was only there about two-three weeks before being let out, his condition was far from the worse in the place. needless to say he's taking medication and doing check ups as well.

Me I'm not fond of those places, i don't react well to it, with the drugs and how the place was, it was far from the best kind of place like that, it was offputting in a manner i couldn't really put into words that i could explain. it worked like those places do for the most part though.
KorraLover10 Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
AHHH! SHIAT! That put a really bad image into my mind.... My great aunt was put into a mental hospital by her husband and she told my mom, "Never ever get yourself in this situation. Sometimes no one wants to help you, so you have to deal with it yourself, even if it hurts." And currently at the age of 60 she's struggling to live through each surgery because of the medications that were supposed to help her. I don't want to end up like her, sedated, sitting helpless and guarded when I could be seeing the world. That's why I'm willing to deal with this "mental illness" on my own. I'll go crazy if I'm put in a blank room, thus I paint my bedroom walls with my random art. I tell myself every time I'm close to wanting to cut myself or ending it with an overdose, "It's okay, you made it this far. One day you can tell your future child how strong you were. Be the ultimate role model for them. Like everyone says, life WILL get better. Plus you'll experience worse pain than this, so you gotta get through alright?" And after that pep talk I'm able to stop and talk to my friends, who are extremely supportive. I also can't stand it when anyone tells me I can't write or draw anything. If they snatch it, I start scribbling on furniture or scraping pictures into the walls. I also like moving at my own pace, even if it's much slower than everyone else because I like to take time to think about my life. If I was ever put into a mental hospital like that, I'd probably be stuck there forever because I'd really go mad in that situation.
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