Disclaimer: This could be a serious trigger for anyone who has been hospitalized.

To say I’m not scared to write about my lowest point in life would be a lie. I’m afraid of the criticism I’ll receive for how I got there. I’m petrified that I’ll be misunderstood as this evil villain that’s constantly fighting a battle against mental illness. However, after an immense amount of research and self discovery it became a realization that the only depiction most Americans have of mental hospitals come from Hollywood horror films from the ‘60s. Although we’ve heightened the conversation in the past decade, there’s still this embarrassment attached to admitting you’ve gone to a psych ward. It’s taboo and not an easy dinner conversation to have. 

The unfortunate circumstance of where this taboo ideology comes from is that the majority of patients are involuntarily admitted. This type of admission means it wasn’t your choice to come to the hospital. Perhaps it was suicide attempt and someone overdosed on pills, they would involuntarily be put into a mental hospital after seeking emergency treatment. This procedure makes vulnerable individuals feel like they’ve entered a society jail. They’re so desperate to get out the entire time, that they don’t prioritize the treatment they’re receiving while inside. Their brains are trying to reprogram from the initial shock of being entered into the facility. Despite eerie media imaging, it’s probably the safest place you’ll be your entire life. Everything is suicide-proofed and you’re being cared for by a nursing staff 24/7. The facilitators want you to get better and work extremely hard to find the right medication for you. 

However, I can’t lie to you. I have been admitted to some hospitals that seemed worse than the horror films. I was trapped in chaotic moments and had no choice of where I was being led to. This scarred me from receiving more help for years. It’s so easy to complicate who is trying to help you and what is going to shut you down when you’re suicidal. I highly suggest doing some research if you’ve considered voluntarily (self-admitted to the hospital) admittance. Sometimes you can even do an image search of where you’ll be staying. This can soothe the racing anxiety of your thoughts about not knowing what it’ll be like. However, I want to give you better than a google image. I want to give you an elaborate detailing of my two weeks spent in a mental hospital involuntarily. This is not to warn you, but rather give you a realistic breakdown of how drastic your life will change inside. These are the dark moments no one wants to talk about that can’t be depicted “beautiful” by the media yet. It’s raw, it’s frightening, but it’s real life and I hope that’s what you gain from this. 

There are two main differences for involuntary and voluntary patients. How you got in and how you will get out. Voluntary means you are willing to admit yourself and go in for a pre-examination of your possible diagnoses. Not always, but involuntary usually means you’re coming from an emergency room situation and being transferred over to a psychiatric focused facility. After getting examined by a nurse practitioner, you go through a physical exam to make sure you’re not hiding any drugs. After you’re cleared, you’re given hospital clothes that came from donations. I suggest coming in yoga pants and your favorite sweatshirt because there’s a good chance they’ll let you keep your clothes on so you don’t have to wear thrifted clothing. You’re given a folder that explains your rights as a patient and a notebook to write your thoughts in. After being guided out of halls like a corn maze you find your way to your hospital section. Each co-ed living situation is divided up by level of psychological help. So if you’re depressed from a breakup or having suicidal ideation, you’ll find others amongst the same crowd in your living situation. It’s a relief knowing you’re not going to get hurt and traumatized by someone’s reaction to the hospital. The only thing scarier than yourself is having to watch other people go through the same fears you’re having. You’ll meet a roommate in a shared hospital bedroom with suicide prevention bedding and bathroom essential. I’ve had a wide range of roommates from an amish bible thumper preacher to an elderly woman that was a band groupie in the ‘70s who hated me. They’ll be highly entertaining and probably land a spot in your composition book notes. By the way, if you want to write you have to ask for a pen. You have to ask for everything. You’re limited to playing cards and coloring during the morning, attending peer groups working on mental health all afternoon, and movies and snacks at night. 

While gaining knowledge preparing to go back to the outside world, you’ll meet with a case manager that’ll work with you to receive proper medication and outside treatment such as therapy. These officials determine when you’re ready to leave, which can really frustrate an individual. Your mind starts to think it’s a game of who can pretend to be the happiest. In reality, they’re just trying to help you seek peace. You’ll make friendships with other patients and share stories about how you got into this mess. It’s a transformative experience that can tend to make an individual emotional. It’s totally normal to cry here at all times. Everyone understands what you’re going through. Overall, it can feel like a giant social experimentation. You’re tested to your limits and can lose hindsight of why you’re here. Don’t be afraid to express your fears so you can gain serious knowledge about how to overcome constantly psychoanalyzing yourself. You will get out, you’re not stuck there forever. I promise this place is here for you and they welcome you with open arms. It’s okay to be scared, it’s okay to fear the system. No one is blaming you. We have a lot of work to do to normalize the stigma of hospitalizations. 

If you’re considering admitting yourself but are having major second thoughts, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I would love to answer any questions on this personal decision.