I don’t even know where to begin..Things are murky and confusing in my head but I think it’ll be good to let it all out.
The past week has been really tough. Well, my life has been really tough! But since last week Saturday, things just escalated in my mind and the events culminated in my husband taking me to mental health emergency room at Jackson Memorial where they Baker Acted me (involuntary admission) and I ended up spending almost four days in a psych unit.
I was in a really dark deep place in my head. When M, my husband, took me in, he told them I was acting strange. They’d ask me what he meant, and I remember staring at the wall saying I don’t know, and nothing is wrong with me.
I don’t remember much of Friday anyway. I think maybe one day I could jot down the descent into this deep depression, but I don’t think I’m ready yet..I just wanted to mention that I was at 9 on a scale 0 to 10 of suicide intentions, and I had a plan and was going to overdose, but my husband was so worried that he took me to the shittiest hospital in Miami-Dade county (he didn’t know any better, bless him) where they detained me in a psychiatric unit until they finally let me out yesterday afternoon.
I for sure didn’t wanna be there, but it quite quickly became a respite.
You’re locked in with seriously mentally ill people, it is such a bizarre experience that I think it changed my thinking and view on life in a really profound way.
Everyone asks why you’re there, and as I started to improve (I’m Borderline, so small triggers take me down, but then my mood can also improve quite quickly too, and so in about 10 hours I was fairly functioning again), people really wondered why I was there.
So many of the other patients would come to me and say hey, you’re normal, why are you here?
The orderlies treated me like I was different too. Sometimes, especially at the beginning, I also thought what the hell, I’m normal, I shouldn’t be here, I’m “above” these people.
But then you realize you also have a mental illness; depression is such a mindfuck because you can function and keep up appearances until, well, you can’t.
So there I was, a Master’s Degree educated foreign multilingual married woman, in the middle of the bottom pit of the county.
And I was just like the rest of them. I needed help.
I found out Jackson is a public hospital, and they have no intake limits. By law, they have to take everyone. The first night I was given a mattress in the middle of the triage floor – we were over 50% over-capacity, and more people were coming in.
Lack of resources, lack of interest in the patients by the orderlies/guards/care workers (they regularly ignored patients) and even the nurses (my nurse NEVER spoke to me until my husband went to her and said a few words and suddenly I think she realized shit, this girl has insurance and a family and isn’t one of these homeless druggies so better treat her better…) meant that we weren’t there to get better, we were all there to keep us safe from ourselves, and more so, keep others safe from us.
Lots of processing to do, but I will for sure keep blogging about this experience, I’m alive, I’m okay, and I just really want to live and be happy and a productive human being with a future.