- 8,707
- Utah
- ceiling_fan
I was in a psychiatric hospital for 10 days.
I started having episodes of severe anxiety (out of the blue) followed by very bad depression (I've always had depression) which were then followed by urges and thoughts of self harm and ultimately, suicide. The first one was on January 18, it had no correlation with anything stressful in real life and while being very upsetting it wasn't that bad.
The second episode (January 25) had the same progression of emotions, but they were all more intense. This one was at a friend's house, so it was probably awkward for them to see me freaking out for no reason.
The third episode (January 29) had everything much, much worse, especially the suicidal ideations. I had prepared to take 3000mg of Zoloft (15 times my normal dose, and would be fatal or induce a coma.) I was not able to think clearly at all during this time, but I stopped myself because doing this would be devastating to family and friends. The last thing I want is to inflict pain on others because of my problems. My vague post about leaving GTP was made earlier in the day, so I suppose I had felt this episode coming. The next day I saw my Psychiatrist, and my the end of our session we both decided I should be hospitalized on a voluntary basis. From there I went to the ER (which is standard procedure for incoming inpatients
) and by 3 AM I was in a wheelchair being taken from the ER to the mental hospital. I so should have won "Most likely to me wheeled off to the nut house" 
...
Everybody was very nice at the hospital, I didn't know what to expect, crazy violent people attacking staff, people freaking out then being put in a padded room in a straight jacket?
Thankfully it was nothing like that, most of the people there had suicidal ideations or attempts and were unsafe living with themselves. The freaky violent people you see in movies and TV were nowhere to be found. The food was surprisingly good, but it damn well be considering the cost (more on this later.) On February 1, I had my two worst attacks. The first one was in the morning after breakfast and it felt completely out of my control. It's a bit upsetting to write this, but here goes: I calmly got my glasses and went into the bathroom stall. I popped out the right lens of my glasses and snapped it in half (which actually took a lot of effort.) Disturbingly, I remember being disappointed at the plasticy edge I got, I expected more of a glass shard. Keep in mind that I was still in my out-of-control moment. I took the plasticy edge and cut the underside or my left arm (closer to my elbow than my wrist) 26 times. They drew a lot of blood but none of the gashes were severe enough to require stitches. Why did I do this? I had an urge that I simply could not control. It's hard to compare this out-of-control feeling to anything, I guess it's kind of like not flinching when somebody randomly throws something at your face. You flinch before you even think about doing it, it's automatic. (not a good example, I know...) The nurse bandaged me up and made me promise to tell her if I had any more urges like that.
I broke that promise. After the incident, I had everything taken from me for my safety, pens, pencils, my cycloptic glasses, everything. I had to be supervised while eating lunch, not sure how much damage I could do with a plastic fork but whatever. I was put into the Seclusion Room, which sounds much worse than it is. It's just a room with a bed and a camera on the ceiling. Which kind of creeped me out. I'm not sure how long I was in there, but all of a sudden I was putting a pillowcase over my head (I honestly don't remember contemplating or considering hurting myself, and I don't remember looking around the room for things to hurt myself with.) I (with absolutely no control) put the pillowcase over my head, tightened the slack and tied a knot with it. I was barely able to breathe, and shortly I was unable to breathe at all. I don't know how long I wasn't breathing, but I know I didn't lose consciousness. A nurse ran in and tried to take the pillowcase off, but the knot was too tight and I was moving a lot. However, the nurse ripped apart the top of the pillowcase at the seam (good thinking) and loosened the knot. I gasped for air and coughed, in retrospect it was like in movies when someone drowning gets saved.(another bad example...) At this point I was "in control" so to speak so I tried to get out of bed and say something to the nurse but before I could I passed out and collapsed on the floor. I vaguely recall what happened next, they checked my vitals in a room I didn't recognize (it may've been the general hospital next door, I honestly don't know.) Other than a painful bruise on my neck (which is still there) and a bruised knee, I was physically okay. The whole thing was unquestionably far and away the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced. After that I was moved to my bed and placed under 24-hour supervision. 24 hour supervision is pretty much self explanatory, pretty much someone follows you around everywhere, if you're sleeping they'll sit in a chair in the room and read a book or something, but they're there in case you freak out. I think they have 8-hour shifts, and it must be pretty boring for them if I'm sleeping 15 hours...
I've had two attacks since that one, but they were much less severe, largely because someone was there when they came.
So why the hell am I at home right now?
After the 7th attack, I felt (literally, in my stomach) the sense of foreboding disappear. In fact, I hadn't even noticed the feeling until it was gone. Of course I couldn't leave just yet (technically I could, but I would have to stand in front of a judge and plead my case if leaving was against the doctor's recommendations.) All of a sudden I was much calmer, talkative, had energy, was engaged in conversation, things just started coming together.After a few days (5 to be exact) of no episodes or urges the doctors felt I was safe enough to leave the inpatient program. I'm now going to be doing a Partial Hospitalization Program, where you go there from 8am to 3pm and then go home. The first two weeks I go 5 days, the third week 3, and the last week 2. I'll probably be prescribed an atypical antipsychotic (I was on one for 2 years as a mood stabilizer.) So right now I'm on medical leave from school (they'll withdraw me if I don't return by April) and am just chilling at home, feeling much better. Thanks for reading guys, and if you have any questions (about me, my diagnoses, meds, or Psychiatric Hostpitals in general) feel free to ask. Also, please reply if you read the whole thing. I'd really appreciate it.
I started having episodes of severe anxiety (out of the blue) followed by very bad depression (I've always had depression) which were then followed by urges and thoughts of self harm and ultimately, suicide. The first one was on January 18, it had no correlation with anything stressful in real life and while being very upsetting it wasn't that bad.
The second episode (January 25) had the same progression of emotions, but they were all more intense. This one was at a friend's house, so it was probably awkward for them to see me freaking out for no reason.
The third episode (January 29) had everything much, much worse, especially the suicidal ideations. I had prepared to take 3000mg of Zoloft (15 times my normal dose, and would be fatal or induce a coma.) I was not able to think clearly at all during this time, but I stopped myself because doing this would be devastating to family and friends. The last thing I want is to inflict pain on others because of my problems. My vague post about leaving GTP was made earlier in the day, so I suppose I had felt this episode coming. The next day I saw my Psychiatrist, and my the end of our session we both decided I should be hospitalized on a voluntary basis. From there I went to the ER (which is standard procedure for incoming inpatients
) and by 3 AM I was in a wheelchair being taken from the ER to the mental hospital. I so should have won "Most likely to me wheeled off to the nut house" ...Everybody was very nice at the hospital, I didn't know what to expect, crazy violent people attacking staff, people freaking out then being put in a padded room in a straight jacket?
Thankfully it was nothing like that, most of the people there had suicidal ideations or attempts and were unsafe living with themselves. The freaky violent people you see in movies and TV were nowhere to be found. The food was surprisingly good, but it damn well be considering the cost (more on this later.) On February 1, I had my two worst attacks. The first one was in the morning after breakfast and it felt completely out of my control. It's a bit upsetting to write this, but here goes: I calmly got my glasses and went into the bathroom stall. I popped out the right lens of my glasses and snapped it in half (which actually took a lot of effort.) Disturbingly, I remember being disappointed at the plasticy edge I got, I expected more of a glass shard. Keep in mind that I was still in my out-of-control moment. I took the plasticy edge and cut the underside or my left arm (closer to my elbow than my wrist) 26 times. They drew a lot of blood but none of the gashes were severe enough to require stitches. Why did I do this? I had an urge that I simply could not control. It's hard to compare this out-of-control feeling to anything, I guess it's kind of like not flinching when somebody randomly throws something at your face. You flinch before you even think about doing it, it's automatic. (not a good example, I know...) The nurse bandaged me up and made me promise to tell her if I had any more urges like that.I broke that promise. After the incident, I had everything taken from me for my safety, pens, pencils, my cycloptic glasses, everything. I had to be supervised while eating lunch, not sure how much damage I could do with a plastic fork but whatever. I was put into the Seclusion Room, which sounds much worse than it is. It's just a room with a bed and a camera on the ceiling. Which kind of creeped me out. I'm not sure how long I was in there, but all of a sudden I was putting a pillowcase over my head (I honestly don't remember contemplating or considering hurting myself, and I don't remember looking around the room for things to hurt myself with.) I (with absolutely no control) put the pillowcase over my head, tightened the slack and tied a knot with it. I was barely able to breathe, and shortly I was unable to breathe at all. I don't know how long I wasn't breathing, but I know I didn't lose consciousness. A nurse ran in and tried to take the pillowcase off, but the knot was too tight and I was moving a lot. However, the nurse ripped apart the top of the pillowcase at the seam (good thinking) and loosened the knot. I gasped for air and coughed, in retrospect it was like in movies when someone drowning gets saved.(another bad example...) At this point I was "in control" so to speak so I tried to get out of bed and say something to the nurse but before I could I passed out and collapsed on the floor. I vaguely recall what happened next, they checked my vitals in a room I didn't recognize (it may've been the general hospital next door, I honestly don't know.) Other than a painful bruise on my neck (which is still there) and a bruised knee, I was physically okay. The whole thing was unquestionably far and away the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced. After that I was moved to my bed and placed under 24-hour supervision. 24 hour supervision is pretty much self explanatory, pretty much someone follows you around everywhere, if you're sleeping they'll sit in a chair in the room and read a book or something, but they're there in case you freak out. I think they have 8-hour shifts, and it must be pretty boring for them if I'm sleeping 15 hours...
I've had two attacks since that one, but they were much less severe, largely because someone was there when they came.
So why the hell am I at home right now?
After the 7th attack, I felt (literally, in my stomach) the sense of foreboding disappear. In fact, I hadn't even noticed the feeling until it was gone. Of course I couldn't leave just yet (technically I could, but I would have to stand in front of a judge and plead my case if leaving was against the doctor's recommendations.) All of a sudden I was much calmer, talkative, had energy, was engaged in conversation, things just started coming together.After a few days (5 to be exact) of no episodes or urges the doctors felt I was safe enough to leave the inpatient program. I'm now going to be doing a Partial Hospitalization Program, where you go there from 8am to 3pm and then go home. The first two weeks I go 5 days, the third week 3, and the last week 2. I'll probably be prescribed an atypical antipsychotic (I was on one for 2 years as a mood stabilizer.) So right now I'm on medical leave from school (they'll withdraw me if I don't return by April) and am just chilling at home, feeling much better. Thanks for reading guys, and if you have any questions (about me, my diagnoses, meds, or Psychiatric Hostpitals in general) feel free to ask. Also, please reply if you read the whole thing. I'd really appreciate it.
Last edited:
)
)
.
