full image - Repost: The mental hospital did more harm than good for me. (from Reddit.com, The mental hospital did more harm than good for me.)
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Ok let’s start this off with some context. A couple years ago I realized one day I was suicidal and instantly told my boyfriend. We made a Poor choose to run away from home with one another. This lasted for a week and in all honesty did fox the issue, it was a fun adventure and it made me see what I had that I take for granted along with giving me a break from life’s stresses. When I was found they took me to the police station where me and my boyfriend fell asleep. I was the wake up in the middle of the night and sent to my parents and unable to wake my boyfriend up tell him what was going on or even say bye, nope just was forced to leave him in zip tie cuffs wondering where I went. You can imagine after a week of being homeless I would want to sleep in my real bed and take a nice warm shower. I even told my parents that I just want to go home. Instead they took me tired and confused into a hospital and just left me there in a badly lit room with 3 other kids no shower and a bed on the floor after having to have all my clothes taken away other than what i needed (shirt pants underwear and i had to fight to keep my boyfriends jacket) i was never told what was going on, how long I would be there, where I would go, or when I could see my parents again and go home. The only entertainment was a tv on Cartoon Network and crayons. After two days I was taken out to a car by a nurse still not being told where I was going and driven to an actual mental hospital. From the moment I got there I begged to go home i said I wasn’t suicidal and i just wanted to be home. This is where another part comes into play, I’m a trans man. They saw me as a man but still put me in the woman’s section only that i couldn’t have a female roommate because it could be sexual. Eventually another trans man came and he was my roommate. Sadly he tried every way to self harm including using a razor blade in front of me someone snuck in and banging his head on the wall over and over and over as I watched wanting so badly to help but not able to do anything but watch in horror. I got one call a night for 15 minutes with family and every night I cried on that phone scared and wanting to go home. To be in my bed my room and to see my little brother again. Once I was finally out i was stripped of all my privacy electronic wise and by that time I was so far behind in school that i had to stay back a year. I’m still not recovered credit wise from it. To this day I’m scared to death of being sent back to that place to the point if I think of it to long I break down in a panic and mumble “i don’t want to go back” on repeat. This lead to me hiding my depression from my parents even more to prevent that.
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