Taylor.
I sat in my car, thinking to myself. It was 1:30 AM, and I should be in bed. But no, I'm in front of a mental hospital, making an important decision that could potentially change my life.
I wanted to go in there. There's doctors and nurses in there to help me, and diagnose me and get me through treatment. There's people like me in there who could comfort me when I needed it. I know I needed to go in there, but a thought was holding me back. And that thought was my dad.
I can imagine it now, him getting a phone call around 2 AM about his son being crazy and in a mental hospital. There'd probably be a lot of screaming, mostly that his son is not crazy and is just being dramatic. I don't want to deal with that shit.
However, I can't stay home. It is literally hell for me. I can't stand that place anymore, and this place seems like a safe haven for me.
I had a hand on my steering wheel and was staring off into space when I suddenly jerked my head up. There was a nurse of some sort standing right outside the door, staring at me and my car. Then I realized I still had the car on, so a running car in a parking lot of a mental hospital at 1:30 probably looked a little strange. I turned the ignition off, and the nurse scurried back into the abyss of the mental hospital.
As I opened the door, a cold breeze from the winter Tennessee weather hit me. For some reason, it felt like a reminder that this is where I should be. I headed over to the entrance, stopping for a second. Should I do this? Do I really need to do it, or am I just being dramatic?
Hold up, I'm turning into Dad. I'm not being dramatic. I know there is something really wrong with me, and that I need help. I am doing this whether Dad likes it or not.
I stepped in, and the first thing I saw was lights. Lots of them. All bright and shining on me and everything else. It was a little overwhelming, but I quickly got used to it. Then, I noticed the reception area, or whatever it's called, is completely white. No color, just all white. This probably makes the lights seem even brighter. Great.
For 1:30 in the morning, the place was pretty busy. I expected people in wheelchairs and people hooked up to things to be walking around, but there was only one of those here. Everybody else was either a receptionist, a nurse, or a doctor. A few of them stared at me for a few seconds, but then went back to work.
I walked over to the nearest receptionist. She was filing some papers, and typing fast on the computer.
"Um, hello?" I said cautiously.
"Hi, how can I help you?" She said as she looked up at me.
"Uh, um, I kind of want to kill myself-"
"Here, fill out this." She said as she handed me some forms.
Alright, this is a little odd, I thought as I was filling out the forms. I guess it's a requirement though, so they don't find out I'm some serial killer or something like that. Most of the questions were pretty basic, asking my full name, birth date, address, phone number, etc. Oh great, once they find out my phone number, my dad is going to be getting an unexpected and unwanted call.
The later questions were the questions I didn't exactly like.
"Do you suffer from depression?" One of them asked.
I honestly don't even know if I am, since I've never been self diagnosed. I checked "Not sure."
"Suicidal?" Yes.
"Self-harm?" No.
I got through the questions, then handed the sheet back to the receptionist. She got up and then lead me to a room that looks like a doctor's office. An interview at 2:00 in the morning is going to be fantastic.
I sat in the chair, looking around the room. Again, it was almost all white. The chairs were black and there were some drawings on the wall, so that made the room a little less dull. And again, there were bright lights. Everything seemed to shine brighter here.
After about five minutes, a tall man probably in his thirties walked in. He placed a clipboard on the desk and sat on the spinny stool right in front of me.
"Hello, Mr. York, how are you doing?" He asked.
"Uh…." Oh yeah, I'm swell.
"Oh, my apologies, it slipped out. My name is Dr. Flanders and I am a psychologist/therapist here, so I should be able to help you."
"Alright."
"Okay, good, now I just have to ask you a few questions."
Dr. Flanders then went on to ask about fifteen questions, some about basic things, like school and such. Others were like have I ever self-harmed, or have I been bullied, etc. Those weren't my favorite questions.
Throughout the entire interview, I was yawning and rubbing my eyes a lot. By the fifteenth question, I felt like I was going to pass out. The doctor noticed.
"Okay, you seem pretty tired, so I'm gonna let you rest. I'll take you to your room, where there's scrubs laid out if you wanna put them on now. Just warning you, don't be alarmed by the camera in your room. It's for Suicide Watch." Suicide Watch? Looks like I'm gonna be watched 24/7 by some security man. Awesome.
We walked through the halls, and it was a pretty interesting walk. In one ward, I heard a lot of moaning, then I heard some girl scream in pain.
"Uh, is she okay?"
"Yes, I'm pretty sure she's fine." He peaked in the room. "There's a doctor working with her now, but she's just a little hard to deal with."
We kept going, passing through different wards with different sounds. Finally, we got to my room in a small ward.
"Here you go. Your bed is over there by the window, be careful not to walk your neighbor, though. You'll meet him in the morning."
The doctor left, and I pretty much just collapsed on the bed, on top of my scrubs and the blanket. I'm pretty sure I fell asleep in two seconds, even though the bed was not that comfortable.
I woke up around 3:30 in the morning. I had only gotten an hour of sleep, which is what I usually get, but I was more tired than usually.
Soon, something caught my attention. There was a strange man standing in front of me, staring at me.
Like any person would, I started to scream, hoping this guy wasn't a murderer.
"No! Shh! Stop screaming! I'm not gonna hurt you but just stop screaming!" He said, trying to shush me.
I quieted down, but the damage had already been done. I heard running footsteps coming down the hall, probably coming to this room.
"Ah, shit." The guy jogged over to his bed and practically leaped in it, then "fell asleep."
"Hey, are you okay?" A doctor said as he peered in my room.
"Uh, yeah, I just had an uh….nightmare."
"You're gonna be okay, right?"
"I should be fine."
"Alright, if you need anything, just hit that button." The doctor then left.
The guy then came back over to my side, swung a chair next to my bed, and sat down.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him.
"Look, before you say anything, I'm not a creepy pedophile. I'm your neighbor/roommate/whatever you wanna call it."
"Okay, but why in the world were you staring at me while I was sleeping?"
"You may not believe me, but I'd been there literally a minute or two. I wake up pretty early to go out and go around, so I just wanted to see who you were before I'd miss ya in the morning."
"…You could've woken me up!" I realized I was arguing with a complete stranger, great.
He thought for a second. "Yeah, I probably should have. Anywho, what's your name, kid?"
"Taylor, you?"
"Jeremy. How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"Ooooh, I'm twenty-three. Not too much of a difference."
"Yeah, I guess."
"So, what are you in for, kid?"
"I wanna kill myself." I said as I saw him snicker.
He probably felt me glaring at me. "Look, kid, I'm not trying to be insensitive, but I know that. This is the psychiatric war, or depression/suicidal/self-harm ward as I like to call it. I meant how."
"Swallowing pills, that didn't work out."
"I see that."
Wow, he didn't beat around the bush. "Look, can't you get in trouble for talking to me this late since there's cameras watching us?"
"They don't care this as long as I'm not trying to kill you or have you jump out that window with me."
"Then why did you leap into your bed?"
"…Good question."
He sighed. "Look, kid, or Taylor…."
"York."
"Alright, York, I'm tired from this party. I'm gonna head to bed, sorry for scaring the shit out of you earlier. Maybe I can show you around tomorrow. Goodnight."
"It's fine, and goodnight to you, too."
Jeremy got back and went back to his bed, and I could hear snoring within five minutes.
I laid back down and just thought about things. Have I already made a friend after being here less than two hours? Or does this Jeremy guy just want something out of me? I'll wait until the morning.
Somehow, through all this thinking, I drifted off to sleep, forgetting the events of today.