This is, without a doubt, one of the most terrifying days of your life.
Scratch that. It's the most terrifying day of your life.
You look at the admission papers the doctor has filled out to the best of his ability, the only thing missing being your signature. You look at the line stating your reason for admission : Major Depression.
Major Depression? You think. I don't have depression! I'm just going through a lot, that's all! Plenty of people would be down after going through what I have.
Lately it seemed you just suffered one blow after another. First, your asshole of an ex-boyfriend, the one you'd been with for almost a year, left you, and when you tried to be friends like you two agreed on, he acted very cold and distant. What the hell was he mad for? He left you!
Within days of losing your boyfriend, you found your stepmother whom you loved very much (Yes, it's possible to get along with step parents) had cancer. She had it before and while she was okay, your dad warned you that stress could bring it back. When you lost your boyfriend, you became very emotional, causing a lot of –you guessed it- stress in the family. You knew deep down it wasn't really your fault, but you still felt guilty.
The next fucking day, you found out your dad had diabetes. Your dad was always a pillar of strength for you and you looked to him when you had none. So when he lost control over as simple a choice as what to eat… it was very frightening to you. What was worse was in the days before you found out what was wrong, you noticed he lost a lot of weight. He also had a couple incidents where his blood pressure got dangerously high; like, stroke level high.
What was a cause of high blood pressure?
Oh yeah, stress.
So naturally you felt even guiltier about that.
But these are just feelings. Feelings aren't enough to get you put in a ward, especially if you don't talk about them. And you weren't talking.
No, what got you here were the cuts on your wrists and the noose you tied with your bathroom robe's belt.
You weren't really going to use it, you tried to convince your parents. But you had lost a stepsister the same way and your father wanted to make damn sure he didn't lose you too.
Both parents tried to fight back tears as they went up the elevator with you and took you to the nurse who explained how procedures worked in the ward. Since you just turned 18, you'd be in the adult section. But my mom said I'd be with kids my age! You thought fearfully, looking to her. That was the only comforting thought you had to hold on to. You imagined a bunch of creepy old men and bitchy women.
The nurse tried to comfort you, reassuring you that you'd be put in the high functioning section, away from the woman who was currently glaring daggers at you in another section. You decided if no one else, you could at least befriend this nurse. She was very nice to you and you liked her. She'd moved here from Nigeria and had a very strong accent, which you found somewhat amusing (not in a mean way).
You held your breath as the time came to meet the other patients. To your chagrin, most of them were well above your age, the closest to your age being 25. You feared they wouldn't like you.
But the minute you opened your mouth, that changed.
They told your parents you'd be okay. They mostly reassured your mom, since she was the most emotional of the three of you. They asked your name, how old you were (they had trouble believing you were 18), and why you were here. To your surprise, they were so… normal. And they were so friendly.
Still, you fought back tears as your mom and dad said goodbye. They promised to call and visit you later that day. You were lucky to have come when you did; you only had to wait an hour that day, and since tomorrow was the weekend, there were two visiting hours.
By the way, guess what day you were admitted? Friday the 13th.
