“So that’s about it Fran, I just feel ashamed for these thoughts. Like people aren’t supposed to think like this that’s why I beat myself up every single day.”
“Well Ryan I’m not going to lie that is pretty radical, for just having your parents not believe you, but you shouldn’t beat yourself up for it.”
“That’s where I think your wrong Fran I think it’s completely necessary to beat myself up if I don’t continue to tell myself this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be thinking this I might actually go through it.”
She looks at me with concern. “You actually think you would go through with these thoughts?”
“Well mostly the ones that are about me, like the one where I split my fore arm into and let the blood run out.”
“Ryan that is not normal I think you should really seek help. I know of this place up in Mason, it will get you in and treat you I personally know the psychiatrist there. That is the best place for you at this time.”
“We’ll see Fran I’ll talk to my mom about it when I get home but I’m not going to act on these thoughts tonight this is just what I feel and what I see.”
“I know but it’s better if we get you the help you need Ryan here, sign this release form we lost the other one, sorry about that.”
I grab the pen from her hand and sign my name, wishing I known what I just got myself into. How I just signed my life away right there. After saying my fair wells to Fran I got back in my car and turned my mp3 on. The track, Slipknot Iowa as I scream in the car to the lyrics I drive home carefully. As I open the front door I see my mom staring at me while talking on the phone, I can sense another lecture is on the horizon. She finally gets off the phone.
“Ryan, I know this is sudden but I’m going have to take you to ER when dad gets home.”
“Uhhh mom I don’t know what your talking about I have band practice tonight.”
“I know but it won’t take long Frances just called and she wanted you to go to the ER tonight, I think it’s a good idea.”
“Mom please, I really just want to go to band practice tonight we haven’t had it for the past weeks I just want to go play and then we’ll go to the hospital tomorrow.”
We argued like this until my dad got home, my heart rate escalates as the conversation continues. The final verdict is me going to the ER. Once we get there both my mom, dad and I have to explain what is wrong with me. I was checked for drugs, and then I was transferred to the pysch ward. My parents were not allowed to go with me from that point on. I was taken to a room where a nurse evaluated me further poking me with her constant questions. Ironically her shift ends right in the middle of her questions and another nurse, a fresh younger nurse takes over. She has more panic in her eyes when I tell her everything and I can tell I’ve not made a good case for myself already. After she takes me out of the small questioning room she takes me around the wing I’m staying in. I see one of the orderlies, I’m happy to say I’m much taller then him but with the taster around his belt I don’t think I am too much of a match. I’m taken to what the say is one of the last rooms available, I don’t question it but I’m thrown in the hottest room where a camera is conveniently placed in the room. I’m locked in the hot room where I doze off for the night before I’m awaken by the orderly telling me that there is going to be another patient in my room. I fall back to sleep to the snores of my new room mate and before I know it I’m awaken again for breakfast. I grab a lunch tray with cereal eggs and a sausage with some milk. The sausage and egg taste awful, and I notice I bite on something hard inside the egg. I pull out what I can, and see a small pill in my food. I throw away the remains and begin eating my breakfast. After I’m done I begin throwing up immediately hopefully it’s just the greasy sausage. I go back to the only entertainment room in our wing where a television is playing. Nothing violent, just the discovery channel, lifetime, and some other sitcoms. My parents walk in and I’m surprised to see them, I talk to them for a couple of hours before I’m forced to go to group therapy. Luckily a case worker comes in and takes me out of the group therapy before it’s centered around me. I get to tell my side of the story, but I know they already believe Fran before they are going to believe me. I try and tell them that they are thoughts nothing more and that I was not going to attack anyone I have it under control. The case worker sends me back and then meets my dad as they talk I can tell my dad is working his magic trying to show this man that I’m completely normal. Everyone in my wing gets back and I notice for all these rooms, I’m the only one that gets a roommate and a camera. I start to panic as my father continues to talk to the case worker. They think I am some kind of monster, and my appearance isn’t helping. With flannel long hair, and jeans I look more like my roommate a hell’s angel then a college student. I notice that the nurses watch me and him the most that’s why we are in a room together easier to lock the door then to pacify us. Next therapy session begins and I’m finally questioned why I’m here, I tell them I would rather not discuss it, but they don’t like that, one bit. As two orderlies come in to watch the therapy session I’m forced to tell why I’m truly here. The eyes of the other patients grow wide now, I’m seen as a monster to everyone. I shift uncomfortable in my seat as they move on to the next person, I hold my head in shame. Once I get out of their I finally get to see a psychiatrist. Who diagnose me as a suffer of general anxiety disorder, with a hint of depression. I’m finally allowed to escape from this hell. But unfortunately I’m not allowed to another night and I begin to lose it. I go into another group therapy session where I’m forced to listen to the same song and dance. I then am asked what I like to do. My anger gets the best of me, and in a impatient tone I tell them I wish to go home. They tell me I am at home now, until I’m fully cured.
“what the fuck do you mean I’m home now?”
“That is not appropriate language Ryan please change your tone or we will have to send you back to your room.”
“But I told everyone what happened my therapist overreacted I’m not insane I’m not a murderer.”
“Well we want to make sure, your in a safe place now you can discuss anything you want with us.”
“Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I told you that I’m controlling every urge not to jump out of this chair and rip your fucking face off.”
After I say these words I feel a sharp intense pain in my back followed by a heavy electric pulse that ran through out my body. Defenseless I lay motionless on the floor trying to figure out what exactly just happened to me. I see to figures stand over me before picking me up and moving me to a secure area. I am then forced into a chair with leather straps as my case worker walks in.
“Ryan I’m so sorry, you could have been out of here if you didn’t say that back there.”
“I don’t know why I said it, I mean it was just, she made me so angry. I feel like I’m not getting any help here I’m just forced to be here.”
“Ryan you need to relax I don’t think we can give you another chance we have to be sure that you are not going to kill anyone.”
“I haven’t yet what makes you think I will now?”
“It’s just signs show that your more likely to kill someone then anyone else in the pysch ward”
“Please, just let me go I promise I’ll get treatment I promise I’ll see another therapist and a psychiatrist just let me out of here.”
A month passes before I’m finally released, on a heavy does of depression and anxiety meds. I’ve failed all my classes of the semester over this incident and I’ve grown very paranoid and sick over the pills and the hospital. But I’m finally blessed with the luxury of being out even though the pysch ward robbed me of my peace of mind. Now I’m forced to have dreams of this horrible place being tied down separated from other people seen as a horrible being. I am free.
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