My visit to the psych ward.

Warning: This is going to be long.

Some of you may know by my posts in the past couple of months that I am no longer in a good place in life. I managed to get a good grip and hold on my depression starting at the middle of 2012, and things seemed to legitimately get better in my life until the middle of June 2013 hit. Long story short, it started with little things. Essential technology of mine started breaking (television, phone/phone charger, my computer, most notably), then progressed to much bigger things... my mother's religious pressuring randomly increased dramatically (she's a member of the Jehovah's Witnesses religion, and anyone who's familiar with that religion will tell you that trying to leave that religion is hard as hell and anyone even remotely close to you will do everything in their power to get you to stay), my family's emotional abuse increased dramatically, my father keeps trying to weasel his way back into my life, my boyfriend broke up with me just a few days after our 6-month anniversary and had completely dropped contact with me in those few days between the anniversary and the breakup, I got hired at a new job, but it is really stressful, has crappy pay, and I hardly get any hours. Then, the most important and most stressful thing: my living situation is compromised, and come spring 2014, I may not have a home if some things don't happen fast. Onto the actual incident...

Friday night, and I won't go into too much detail since it's really personal, I found out that my ex had started dating someone about a few days to a week approximately after he broke up with me. And it was someone that he had mentioned to me before in casual conversation, but, while a tad suspicious, I didn't think much of it at the time. He tried to convince me that nothing happened between him and the new person while we were dating, but given how he was completely out of contact and not returning any calls/messages for a few days after our anniversary until the morning he broke up with me, I have my doubts. I also found out that night about some lies and information that was withheld from me during the entire duration of our relationship. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was already under so much stress from my mother constantly talking about kicking me and my sister out come spring time, the main thing that's been troubling me, not to mention everything else that had been beating me down, that this pushed me past the brink. I e-mailed my ex that I was ending things, and genuinely thanked him for finally allowing me to pursue the eternal peace I always wanted. He immediately sent another e-mail trying to convince me not to do it, but I ignored it. I also made a couple of posts here on EC, one saying my final goodbyes to two friends and my late grandmother, another expressing how on the next day, I'd finally find the peace I always wanted. I got e-mails on my phone from EC saying I had gotten some private messages, but I ignored them. I didn't want anyone to try to convince me not to do this, I didn't want to hear about how I was "needed" or how I'd be missed if I weren't there. It was over. I couldn't trust anyone, I didn't matter to anyone, the only feelings I felt were hurt, sadness, disappointment, and anger. I was tired of feeling these feelings nonstop for over a decade. I was going to end things. I planned on working my shift that morning, from 6am to 11am, and after I got off, I was going to buy some sleeping pills, lock myself in my room, and down all the sleeping pills I could.

A few hours later after I had sent the e-mail and made the posts on EC, there were loud knocks on the door. My mother and sisters got up, and I reluctantly got up to see what the problem was. It was the police and a few EMT guys. They informed my mother that they needed to talk to me outside. They took me outside, and the police said that they had received a tip that I had made some posts online about attempting suicide. I kept asking them who told them this, but they wouldn't answer. I eventually relented and admitted that I had made those comments on an online forum. They entered the house again and had one of my sisters bring me my wallet and a little notepad with some phone numbers in it, along with some jeans. My mother gave me a slight hug and told me that she loved me, but it just angered me, and I didn't say anything or hug her back. They helped me walk down the stairs to the ambulance, and I entered the back of the ambulance with one of the EMT guys. He strapped me down to a stretcher and took my blood pressure. He was the one that told me that they had gotten a call because my IP address was tracked and it pinpointed my exact location, so I assume one of the admins here on EC was the one that made the call. He told me that my blood pressure was high, to which I replied "Yeah, no shit." He graciously ignored my cheekiness and asked me why I wanted to off myself. I don't really remember what I said. I was trembling so much and could barely form out more than four-word sentences. The ride seemed to last forever before we arrived at the hospital.

They rolled me into the psych ward. They had a nurse take my information. Shortly after, another nurse entered, asked me some questions (why I wanted to kill myself, my medical history, things like that). He told me about the procedures and gave me some hospital clothes to change into. He said he'd be back to do some tests. He came back shortly, this time with another nurse. While he was taking my blood pressure and drawing blood for a blood test, the female nurse was asking me some questions. They were the same questions he asked me. They took my personal affects, and she asked me for an emergency contact number. I foolishly rattled off my ex's number on instinct, as I had memorized it before they took my notepad. She asked if I really wanted to have my ex as an emergency contact, and I blurted out yes. The first nurse that saw me came back to get more info, and I changed my emergency contact to my mother after realizing how stupid I was. He gave me my little wristband with my name and time of admission on it. He misspelled my name as "Brian," which is so typical of my life, but I didn't have the energy to correct him. I was apparently admitted at 3:49am. They led me to the main psych ward, where they gave me a bed near the entrance (their rooms were full). About 15 minutes later, a psychiatric liaison took me back outside to the first room to speak with me. She was much nicer and much more personal and caring the the first few nurses. We talked about what was troubling me, and she really listened and genuinely responded, which I appreciated. I asked her what kind of treatment they'd give me and when I'd be able to leave, but she said she didn't know. I thought she'd be a lot less vague than the other nurses, but she was similar to them in that area. She informed me that I'd have to be evaluated by the nurse practitioner. I proceeded to ask her when she'd be in. She replied that she'd be in in the afternoon. I asked "When, specifically?" to which she replied "Late afternoon." I sighed and asked her what I'd do until then. She said that I'd have to wait in the psych ward. I checked the time. It was around 4:45.

I'd continue to spend the next few hours in the psych ward, lying on the bed and sitting up on the bed. There were other people that were there before me and some that were admitted after me. The most notable ones were the guy that was so high and strung out on drugs, that he had to be put in a special room. He thought we were in the Matrix and had computer chips in us. It was also apparently 1982. He calmed down much later in the day, but I still felt really uncomfortable that they let him out and allowed him to mingle with everyone else. He was crazy cute, at least...but I digress. There was a nice elderly woman who apparently had some form of dementia, from what I took from her conversations and poor memory, and she was prone to crying fits. There was another lady who was admitted for expressing thoughts about killing her ex-boyfriend and herself. There were some more loud/scary patients there, and I really felt alone and scared. We had "breakfast" at 8am, and it was horrible. About an hour or two later, I learned that I could make phone calls, but only 2 per day and 10 minutes each. I tried to call my ex, stupidly, but either their phone couldn't make out of state calls or he changed his number since last month. I used the next hour to mentally chastise myself for my stupidly trying to call him, and decided to save the next call for my mother after I had the visit from the nurse practitioner.

Around 11 or 12, a physician arrived to examine me. He asked me the same questions the previous nurses asked me, but focused more on my physical health. He reiterated that I'd have to wait for the nurse practitioner to come examine me in the afternoon but that he'd try to set me up with a "telepsychiatry" session (which is apparently a session with a psychiatrist over the phone). He sent me back to the psych ward. Around 4 or 5, my mother visited. She asked how I was, and I said that other than being around some scary people, I was fine, or as fine as I could have been. She mentioned about how she was worried, and asked when I'd get out. I told her that I had to wait for the nurse practitioner, but she wouldn't arrived until later. My mother was acting very differently from her usual self, but I hated that it took a planned suicide attempt for this to happen... she said that two of my aunts were in the lobby, but that I was only allowed 1 visitor per day, so it dawned on me that I was basically in a prison in a hospital. She also informed me that she told quite a bit of people from church, which greatly angered me since this is none of their business, but I was too tired to argue. After getting some questions answered from one of the RNs, she left, and I returned to the ward.

The nurse practitioner finally arrived around 6:30pm. I wasn't seen until around 9pm. I was only the second person she had examined. It was really nice talking to her. I let her know about literally everything that was bothering me, save some stuff that was still bothering me from the past, and she listened and responded in a personable manner. It felt really good to let everything out, finally tell someone in person in detail about my struggles growing up gay and one of Jehovah's Witnesses, and just about everything that's transpired in the past couple of months. She had...strange and interesting views about homosexuality, but she was totally fine with it. I didn't feel like pointing out her flawed thinking, so I let it slide. She said that she could prescribe antidepressants, but that there was a chance they'd worsen my condition. She asked if I wanted that, and I replied that I really didn't want that risk. She also mentioned how important it was that I build a support network, not only online, but offline, and that counseling could do wonders. She said she'd give me the number to the mental health facility across the street from the hospital. She made me promise not to attempt suicide again, to which I agreed, and she gave me a hug. She left to go talk with a physician about giving me a final exam and getting me released. I got my clothes back and changed back into them. "Matrix Man" saw that I was going to leave and we got into a conversation. He asked when I got there, and I told him I got there at around 3 or 4. He said he'd been here longer than me, but he was actually wrong since he was admitted around 10am. He left and wished me "good luck out there." The nurse practitioner came back with the physician. The physician took me outside the ward to examine me and give me instructions for if I wanted to follow up with a local clinic to see if I needed antidepressants, and she also gave me the information to the mental health facility across the street. She deemed that I could leave and informed me that I could use the phone to call someone to pick me up. My mother arrived and picked me up around 9:45pm.

I got home and devoured my bag of Dorito's I had bought the day before and played some Tekken. I hadn't slept since Thursday night and it was Saturday night. I hardly got any sleep that night, despite being utterly exhausted emotionally, physically and mentally. The next day, my mother invited the same two aunts over for dinner that Sunday. I wasn't up for visitors, but I had no energy to combat her over it. Since then, my mother and younger sister have been "nice" around me. Or rather, they just haven't been antagonistic. But other than that, there's been no real change. They're walking on eggshells around me, it seems, and I no longer try to not "appear" depressed (I'm openly lethargic and slow-moving, I don't really smile, I don't talk). I'm just glad I get some relief from the emotional stress of my mother and youngest sister, even if it is most likely temporary.

After Saturday, there's just been this big hole emotionally. I'm still sad/depressed, but much of the more intense feelings I felt (the jealousy, anger, extreme sadness, hurt) are just in limbo. I don't really feel anything. I'm not going to try to commit suicide anymore, at least. Being in that prison with those people with nurses that half-cared and didn't want to answer questions was enough to convince me that it just isn't worth it. I know that I'll probably still struggle with thoughts of my actual dying in the future, though, until I can get proper help for it. Even thought it's only been a few days since then, I can already see a big change in my personality. This always happens once I hit rock bottom and start the process to recovery. As a result, I'm in almost no way the same person I was 2, 5, 10, 12 years ago. It feels like I've emerged from some cocoon. I feel different. It's not necessarily good or bad, but I feel a lot smarter about certain things, so I guess that's good. I've also noticed that I've been much more sarcastic and snarky recently, and considering how much of that I already was before, I guess I've just turned into a knight in sour armor (if you don't know what that is, just imagine Batman's usual disposition, and that's basically how I am now).

I now know that the only place I have to go from here is up since Saturday was the lowest I've ever been. I know it'll be hard, and I know I'll rely on you guys for more support in the future. I'd also like to apologize to those I worried. I was just in so low a place, I didn't see anyway out. At least I'm more angry than depressed about where my life is now, so hopefully I'll be able to take steps more quickly to have the happy life I've always wished to have. I guess this thread isn't about advice, but more for support. Especially now, I could really use all the friends I can get. Right now, it's only really possible online, and until I get some more money in my pocket, I can't really go out and and look for LGBT centers or group counseling or whatever. I'm going back to college next fall, so I'll hopefully make some friends there, and I'll hopefully make some friends before then. Thank you guys so much for being there for me. I'm genuinely sorry I made some of you worry, and I'm grateful for all of you. Thank you if you took out the time to read all this.